Frisco and Needle and Weeble and...

At the end of my last post, I mentioned that we were on a three-day and two-night trip to the Sahara Desert. I wasn't lying, but I forgive you if you thought I was. I know, pics or it didn't happen. Well, I have pics and stories.

That's the Sahara Desert. Now I have been to the Sahara Desert.

Our story begins in Marrakech where Alrica, Ryan, Michelle, and I were picked up at 6:50 AM, (a good hour and a half before sunrise,) bundled into an extended van with incredibly stiff seat belts, and driven around the city to pick up the other nine guests who would share the journey with us. Our guide was Mohamed and our driver was Mohamed's brother, Ayoub.

Mohamed in Tinghir on Day Two (without any notice I was going to take his picture)

First, we went up. Not straight up, this was a van, remember, not a rocket. So first we went west and up. We drove up into the High Atlas Mountains which we had to cross. The Atlas Mountains are in three ranges: the High Atlas, the Middle Atlas, and if you guessed the Low Atlas, you would be wrong. Insert Wahwah sound. No, the third range is the Anti Atlas.

High Adventure in the High Atlas?

We came down (not straight down, read above) and eventually reached Aït Benhaddou. Here we had lunch and then toured Ksar Aït Benhaddou. Breaking that down, "ksar" means castle and "aït" refers to the Berber tribes (more on that term in a moment), "ben" is son of or descendants of, and "Haddou" was the first great chieftain of this place. The ksar is across the river from the modern new village of Aït Benhaddou. There are still four families living in the old village, but it doesn't have electricity or running water. It is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, so nobody is going to bring in running water. Though there are some solar panels these days. Because of this, almost all the families have moved to the new village with those amenities and roads and schools.

The guard tower is the top, the kasbahs at the bottom right

We climbed the peak, seeing the two kasbahs (complexes that have four towers) which were the homes of the wealthy, the middle region which held the homes of the regular people, the mosque, the synagogue, the chief's tower, and at the very top, the guard house.

The chief lived in the left tower. The two on the right were used for the judicial system.

This was a major destination in the trading route between Timbuktu, Mali and Marrakech, Morocco (starting long before those two nations had the borders they do today.) It was peopled by Berbers, though the Berbers don't like the term, the Berbers. That was what the Romans called them, a variation on barbarian. So while, in English, it is what we call these people, it isn't what they call themselves. They are the Amazigh. (That "gh" at the end is pronounced like the French "r". It's softer than a regular "r", more of a purring sound. It's hard to explain in writing.)

Those are the kasbahs seen from above

The other people who lived here were Jewish. The Jewish citizens would mine salt and bring it Aït Benhaddou. Here they would trade it with the caravans from Timbuktu for all kinds of goods. Traders had to travel 52 days to get from Timbuktu to Aït Benhaddou. They would stay for as many days as they needed to complete their trading, and then go for 3 more days to reach Marrakech. The caravan trade ended about 140 years ago, so it is not what the village is known for today.

What is it known for? Ksar Aït Benhaddou is a popular spot for making movies that are set in the desert. For example, parts of Lawrence of Arabia and Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade were filmed there. Recently, Gladiator 2 was filmed there. (Gladiator 1, which was only called Gladiator since they didn't know at the time it would have a sequel, had also been filmed there.) For the filming, the production company built an arena next to the hill on which the old village sits. And then when filming was over, they had to tear it down and remove every vestige of it. World heritage site, right.

From Aït Benhaddou, we traveled to the city of Tinghir. (Again, that "gh" is the soft French "r" sound.) Here we stayed in a hotel. And I have to get a bit into the less fun tour part of the story now.

That Time Erich Ran Out of Spell Slots

I once read about this description of introverts who have to do extroverted things in terms of how many spoons they have available. But I've seen another description that I prefer, spell slots. In Dungeons and Dragons, a wizard has spell slots of different levels. Maybe the wizard has six slots for first level spells, and six slots for second level spells, but only four slots for third level spells and so on for other higher level spells. In this description, if the wizard is out of second level spell slots, a third or fourth or higher level spell slot could be used to cast a second level spell. But then you have one fewer slot in the higher level.

I want to apply this model to "things Erich doesn't normally do." I only have so many slots at various levels to do things that are uncomfortable for me or outside of my norm. The further outside my norm, the higher level spell slot that is necessary. For example, my appetite in the morning is negligible to non-existent. But if I have to eat breakfast anyway, that's a first level spell slot used up. If I have to eat cucumber or watermelon, that's a second level spell slot burned. If I have to eat cucumber or watermelon for breakfast, that's both a first and second level spell slot gone. If I had to share my toothbrush with someone else, that would be like an eighth level spell slot, and I'm not sure I get slots that high. (In reality, I would just throw that toothbrush away and start anew, but if that weren't a choice, high level spell slot.) But you understand my meaning. I hope.

I can regain spell slots. I don't know exactly what replenishes them, but things like enough sleep, playing a puzzle game, writing a mathematics problem, writing a song, eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. You know, moments of comfort, familiarity, and fun.

In Tinghir, Alrica and I were given a room that holds two people. Ryan and Michelle were given a room that holds four people. I started unpacking only to have Mohamed show up and say there was a mistake. There wasn't a separate room for each of us. We were all in the four person room. But we had paid for two separate rooms with two people each. So this was a surprise.

That means I have to pack back up and move. Having to pack up quickly and unexpectedly is about a third-level spell slot. It's stressful. What did I unpack? Did I get it all. Also, I now have to share a room. (Yes, I was going to share one with Alrica, but we're pretty comfortable with each other's quirks. It's different with people who don't live with you normally.) This night was going to be a fourth-level spell slot. Okay so we move. Ryan and Michelle go out to an ATM. Alrica gets on the phone with the tour company. I need a shower. I decide that while Ryan and Michelle are out, that would be a good time for a shower. But I want to be done by the time they get back, so I go super fast. That's only a first level spell slot, but it is still a spell slot. While I am drying off, Alrica gets a call back and now the hotel has a different room for the two of us. Great, I don't have to share, but... You guessed it. I have to pack quickly again. But the rest of the night is fine. However, I don't think sleep recovered any spell slots for me.

The next morning I have to wake up unnaturally early. What's more, I have to go eat breakfast. And then pack into the reasonably uncomfortable van seat. Spell slots, spell slots! We had a fun tour that morning, and I will talk about that in a moment, but I want to keep on my spell slot theme. These tours have a racket for lunch. You are taken to a particular place to eat. It's in a small village. There's nowhere else to go. So you have to eat there. You are trapped, literally tourist trapped. And now you are going to pay way more than you would pay in Marrakech or Fez for similar, but inferior, food. Your only other choice is not to eat. And I was tempted not to eat, but I didn't know how long until I would eat again, so I ate and overpaid. Burn another spell slot.

After lunch, we are on our way to the desert. And we make a stop at a place that you can buy traditional desert garb, a jilaba and a turban for a man. It's different names for a woman, maybe a kaftah. I'm not sure. Mohamed wants to get a picture of all of us in this desert garb. But that means you have to let the people in this shop dress you. I am not fond of other people dressing me, especially strangers. Sure, when I was very young, I'm sure my mother dressed me often, but I've lived enough years to fall out of that habit. When I'm in a play and I have a quick change, I will let the dresser dress me, but this is someone I've worked with and built up trust in. I could accept Alrica dressing me. As I said before, we're comfortable with each other. Now I am being told to do this dress up game for a turban and jilaba that I know I am not going to buy. But I said no. This will probably cost me a fourth level spell slot, and I know I have camel riding and sleeping in a frigid desert in a tent yet to come. So I said, "No." I couldn't afford the spell slot. And even then, I got pressured about my decision and had to stand my ground, costing me a lower level spell slot. But I just couldn't do it. I couldn't let total strangers touch me and dress me, and wrap a piece of colored cloth around my hair that was probably wrapped around a different person's hair thirty minutes earlier when the tour group before ours arrived. I just didn't have the spell slot I could spare.

Back to the Happier Parts of the Tour

Let's jump back to the morning tour. We were driven into a canyon with a guide named Abdul. Abdul lived in a village along the Tudra River. Our van stopped at the source of the river which comes up from underground and is surprisingly warm. Abdul told us about the river, the life along the river, the canyon, the rock climbers. He led us on a hike downstream and we reached the mouth of the canyon. Here we kept walking along the river, among the gardens maintained by the people in Abdul's village. Everyone has a plot. They grow many crops like almonds, alfalfa, green beans, and more. The people trade with one another. If one villager needs more alfalfa for his donkey but has cabbage to spare, he trades with someone else with the opposite problem. And the big product of the village is true Berber carpets. We got to learn about the process, the dyes, and see many of the finished carpets. (Quick note: I did have to take off my shoes in the house where we saw the carpets. For me and my flat feet, that's another spell slot right there.) But it was a great tour, Abdul was a wonderful guide, and I enjoyed it thoroughly.

Tudra Canyon stretching before me

The village garden with canyon wall backdrop

Jumping back ahead, we finally reached the Sahara Desert. This is in the southeastern part of Morocco, not too far from the Algerian border. Here, we left most of our belongings in the van, taking only a day pack. And we mounted camels. Yes, I rode a camel (thank goodness I previously saved a spell slot to do it.)

Giddy-up, Frisco!

I will be honest: I loved riding the camel. I loved seeing our shadows stretching on the dunes. I loved the stark beauty of the sand all around us. While it might have cost me high level spell slot to do it, I was repaid in the riches of fun. I named my camel Frisco, because I was like the Frisco Kid, riding through a foreign landscape. Michelle was right in front of me. She named her camel Weeble (because it wobbled, but it didn't fall down.) In front of Michelle was Alrica who named her camel Needle (because its fur was so full of hay, Alrica felt she was riding in a haystack.) And in front of Alrica was Ryan, who didn't name his camel at all. Of course, if you are a regular reader and you've read about The Car That Shall Not Be Named, you might be surprised, having assumed it would be Alrica who refused to name her camel. But keep in mind, Ryan is her cousin. So maybe the non-naming trait is genetic.

Sunset in the Sahara

After dinner in the desert, I walked out alone on the dunes. I wanted to get over a dune to block the lights of the camp. There I laid on my back and gazed at the stars. Even here, there was some light pollution, but far less than most everywhere else I ever find myself. We must never forget how many stars there are out there.

Our tent was spacious. The night was cold, but we had a lot of blankets. My nose and whichever cheek wasn't on the pillow got very cold though. And when I had to wake up horribly early once again, I did not want to step out of the warm bed. I stepped out, of course, I didn't have much choice, but it was cold. Deserts get notoriously cold in the night, and it being January here in the Northern Hemisphere, this drop in temperature was aggravated. I had breakfast, again, and then rode the camel back (I was on Weeble this time) as the sun rose while we were out on the dunes.

The last day was tough. It was nine hours drive in an even smaller bus to get across the Middle Atlas Mountains and then to Fes. Our driver spread out the stops, so if you had to pee, too bad, you were waiting a long time. We didn't have lunch until nearly 2 PM. That wasn't a problem for me, since I had eaten breakfast which I don't usually do. But Alrica was starving. What was different this time was we were in a real city, the city of Midelt. But what the driver did was pass through the city, going past shopping and restaurants and ATMs and anything with options. Then he got out to some lonely road and dropped us at a place that had no locals eating in it, where once again we could pay way too much for the same food we had been getting everywhere we had been. I was fed up with this and refused to eat there. So instead, Alrica, Ryan, Michelle, and I walked about ten minutes to reach a more major road. Here we found a place selling sandwiches for a much better price.

The afternoon drive was again long. We did pass through Ifrane National Park where we saw some Barnaby macaques. They are interesting to see, as they seem to have no tails. But they are actually monkeys. Some Barnaby macaques don't have tails, and some do, but they are very short. After this stop, we headed to the city of Ifrane which looks like an Alpine village in its architecture. Here we were able to visit an ATM and a mini market.

It's a macaque-aque-aque-aque-aque-aque-aque-aque. You outta know by now.

Finally, we made it to Fes, found our riad, and gloriously slept.

I now have some spell slots saved up again. Maybe writing blog posts helps to regain them.