Late in the afternoon, drive slowly through the valley of Ziz. Move smoothly. The car seems to suit the road drawn parallel to the dry riverbed. The valley narrows into a gorge and reopened shortly thereafter. From time to time, a palm tree breaks the monotony and reveals that at another time of year somewhere, must have some water.
light leaks away on red slopes. Almost every minute, change color. Fatigue is diluted in a deep relaxation and a bit strange. It is the peace of anonymity, in the distance.
silent. Only hear the roar of the engine on the road laid out in the middle of nowhere. On the map, we have not stepped on the tiny corner of the Sahara to which we turn, on the ground, took more than three hundred miles of barren hills and empty roads hit by a steady wind. Borges' labyrinth of the medina of Fez, in which we lost yesterday and again, it only remains in memory a buzz off. My colleagues are
travelers militants. As I watch fascinated, no wonder why we keep moving. I know I will when I move and drag me when falter. I guess, like sharks, we need to move constantly to avoid suffocating.
It's dark when we left the town of Erfoud. The pavement ends shortly after and we have no choice but to get into the dirt tracks. We soon see how the dry, rocky desert interspersed with sand. Less than half an hour after leaving the road, we are stuck in the sand. The wheels turn and the car unopposed ends up digging into the ground. Two teenagers Berber
those who have unsuccessfully tried to slip, they laugh at us. A lack of a better plan, we decided to laugh with them. While we wait to you see your brother with a Land Rover, we understand that we are part of one of the favorite pastimes of young people who live here: seeing how stuck in the desert unsuspecting European drivers.
Two hours and a shower later, we had dinner one tagine of vegetables in the kasbah in which we stayed, not far from where they have been caught. We recall the incident with a laugh, but we are aware that has placed us in our place. The traveler is the last to arrive at a place, is the less I know, who else will be learned.
light leaks away on red slopes. Almost every minute, change color. Fatigue is diluted in a deep relaxation and a bit strange. It is the peace of anonymity, in the distance.
silent. Only hear the roar of the engine on the road laid out in the middle of nowhere. On the map, we have not stepped on the tiny corner of the Sahara to which we turn, on the ground, took more than three hundred miles of barren hills and empty roads hit by a steady wind. Borges' labyrinth of the medina of Fez, in which we lost yesterday and again, it only remains in memory a buzz off. My colleagues are
travelers militants. As I watch fascinated, no wonder why we keep moving. I know I will when I move and drag me when falter. I guess, like sharks, we need to move constantly to avoid suffocating.
It's dark when we left the town of Erfoud. The pavement ends shortly after and we have no choice but to get into the dirt tracks. We soon see how the dry, rocky desert interspersed with sand. Less than half an hour after leaving the road, we are stuck in the sand. The wheels turn and the car unopposed ends up digging into the ground. Two teenagers Berber
those who have unsuccessfully tried to slip, they laugh at us. A lack of a better plan, we decided to laugh with them. While we wait to you see your brother with a Land Rover, we understand that we are part of one of the favorite pastimes of young people who live here: seeing how stuck in the desert unsuspecting European drivers.
Two hours and a shower later, we had dinner one tagine of vegetables in the kasbah in which we stayed, not far from where they have been caught. We recall the incident with a laugh, but we are aware that has placed us in our place. The traveler is the last to arrive at a place, is the less I know, who else will be learned.
