Erg Chebbi (More Sand Dunes)

This time I had to get on a camel to get a real perspective of the dunes near Merzouga-one of the largest areas of dunes in the world. I also got to experience the furnace, oven-like heat of the south at this time of year and see the Tifalalt oasis around Rissani, where the royal family has its origins. Gorges, kasbahs, the poverty of the area, contrasting with jet setters and movie directors who find the area of interest, are astonishing. Saw the Tiffeltoute Kasbah, where the cedar doors to the salons were used as a backdrop in Lawrence of Arabia. My driver had worked with Mike Douglas and other stars in filming Jewel of the Nile. Tourists, particularly from France, fill the hotels in Morocco in general in March and April. In the picture, you see a very young boy struggling to carry water home in plastic bottles. Women and children in rural and poorer areas spend a large part of the day just carring water to their homes or where they live-sometimes in part of an old kasbah. I encourage everyone to watch former President Clinton's television program (with Sanjay Gupta) on his global initiative (the Clinton Global Initiative). It is informative, accessible to the average person, and provides practical ways a person can help the 1 billion people a year who live on less than 1 US dollar a year. All most of them need is opportunity. I spent my night at the dunes at L'Auberge des Hommes Bleues (Inn of the Men in Blue). It's a former kasbah, where the employees also live, and rent out some of its rooms to tourists, along with camel rides on the dunes. It didn't have air-conditioning or, to say the least, the most upscale, facilities. However, I did think I was going to be able to spend the night on the roof. This night was cloudy; and the lights of the establishment meant that the stars wouldn't be as visible as on a completely dark, clear night. But the idea did seem to have a bit of adventure to it. After my Berber meal of bread and tangine of beef, fried onions and vegetables, with a cooked egg on top, and some entertainment by 3 Tuargeg drummers, I lay down on my pallet on the roof, complete with flashlight. The kasbah staff were noisy until quite late; and dogs wouldn't stop barking. But, I thought, here was a chance to sleep without much on, on a kasbah roof all by myself, and take in the stars and eventual cool of the night. I pulled my sheet up, since a few gnats were attempting a landing, and put myself in a mode to relax. Just then whirling winds, called chergui, began to blow in off the desert. Well, one puff of wind wouldn't scare off a Tuareg, so why should I be afraid. A few large sprinkles began to fall. Surely, they won't last long, since it doesn't rain in the desert. The mini-storm, though, kicked up quite a fuss. And just as I was preparing to make a move to the room below, the receptionist appeared on the roof to check on me and help me if need be. This only added to my distress, since I wasn't dressed for any public appearances. I did get down to my room and finally settled into a night's rest–long, round bedroll for a pillow and all. A hotel assistant made one last call to make sure all was well. So much for a romantic visit to the desert, sleeping under the twinkling aura of the stars, and thinking with Paul Bowles that you could come to the desert for a "baptism of solitude." Travelogues speak of the euphoria experienced in the majestic presence of the desert, that its very emptiness guarantees its beauty and excitement. I'm sure that's true; but my experience with the desert was just beginning.