The Sahara (Part 1)

I really don't know where to begin about this trip. After figuring out the logistics of transportation (the six of us affordably ended up with a driver in a mini-bus that seated 14), the rest of the planning was easy. Stocked with bags full of snackies for the trip down, we made ourselves at home on the bus, preparing for the eight hour ride south to Erfud.

A narrow, winding two-lane road runs the length of the route.
Occasional stops are necessary to let goats and sheep cross the pavement. More frequent are the slowdowns as approaching villages along the route, reminiscent (for lack of other reference) of drives

Down in the Sahara

through the countryside of Europe. Hanging in front of the ubiquitous butcher shops studding each village are carcasses of the very same animals we have been stopping to avoid hitting; charcoal grills smoldering in anticipation.

We finally arrive at the kasbah in Erfud, fully intending on rocking it. It is the quintessential concept of a man-made oasis: palm trees, a lit swimming pool, sticky drinks with umbrellas; everything I'd expect from a four-star safari. During dinner at the on-premise restaurant, two camels are paraded into the dining room for the benefit of the few tourists braving the off-season--one does a stupid pet trick, picking up a water bottle and gulping it down like a marathon survivor.

As if the evening wasn't surreal enough, the later entertainment in the tea salon was a surprise provided courtesy of local villagers and a just-married couple paraded in to the tune of local Taureg beats, all just for the fifteen minutes necessary to have their wedding photos taken. Laughingly and unsurprisingly forced by the kids to dance along, we took it in sober (any other state and it would have been easier) stride and literally jumped right in, stopping to take photos with the children. All the while observing the sadly obvious desperation on the face of the new bride.

A walk around the premesis under the moonlight completed the night, and before I knew it we were stopping to shop for turbans in a jaw-droppingly depressed town, hassled by kids with shiny fossil necklaces, dug up from the vast sea that once covered the land we now treaded.