Into the Sahara

Lured into the Sahara by a small tour operator we met outside of our hotel. I had paid the night before for 'local transport' and a camel trek and camping in the Sahara. We woke up to discover that local transport meant sharing a taxi with 7 people for 5 hours, driving further and further into nowhere, stopping along the way to take people's groceries to their village. We were promised that at the end of the ride, someone would be there to meet us. Sure enough, with nearly no English, a turbaned man meets us in a dirt parking lot, by the dirt road, in a dirt village populated with more donkeys than people. Tea is served, with lots of nodding and smiling followed with the sound of donkey's approvingly braying in the distance, and a distinct feeling creeping over...where the hell are we and how do we get out of this?



Where is everyone else I asked? "Where are the other tourists?" "Nobody else. Only you."

Is this where we die?





Signs of legitmacy. Another 30 minute car ride later in a rumbling beater of a car decorated with Persian rugs and a giant "TURBO" sticker covering most of the windshield. We are dropped off at the side of the highway where two camels and their handlers await. The handlers, each about 11 years old, sport impressive moustaches and speak only Berber and Camel. I had attempted to secretly arrange a camel for me and a donkey for Marlena, but was told the donkey would be 'tres fatigue' in the desert.