Saturday, May 26, 2012

Journey Back to France


"Where all think alike there is little danger of innovation" - Edward Abbey

The Sahara Desert is out of this world, but it is also out of the way. Traveling south to the Moroccon border with Algeria meant I then needed to travel back north to France, through Morocco and also Spain. I decided against flying because it would have been more expensive and also because I wanted to stop in a few places on the return trip. Very well, I began on a shuttle from the Sahara to some small city in Southern Morocco (forgive me for not remembering the name), and from there, took a bus to Fez – a ten hour bus to Fez. How it takes a bus ten hours to travel 400 km is a question for the Moroccon government, not me. Maybe it was the rotaries every 2 kilometers, or maybe the tight turns going over the Atlas Mountains, or maybe even the police checkpoints for seemingly no reason at all; but maybe it was something else!

Let me take this opportunity to provide an insider traveling tip: Africa is fucking hot! I could handle the time it took on the bus; traveling a lot has a way of dulling the pain of idleness, but the heat was almost unbearable. The bus had no air conditioning, and also windows that didn't open – great design Morocco, and to add on an extra layer of uncomfortable, there was a full house of sweating passengers. If it sounds real bad, imagine it twenty times worse and you may start to get the picture.

I feel I should say a little something about the Moroccon Police Force; the ones who carry around guns with duck-taped handles. On that never ending ride in the grill, we were stopped, as mentioned, many times by law enforcement, or at least that's what they call themselves - I'm not sure what law they enforce. One particular incident was revealing. They boarded the bus and walked directly to the back, where three men from Senegal and myself were sitting. Since we all looked different; three black guys and a white guy, our passports were checked. No big deal, but then the Senegalese men were taken off the bus for further questioning and with no cause at all, their bags were searched. I'm not sure the atrocities ended there either, as I was not outside with them at the time, but I can say they were all taken away in separate cars. My U.S. Passport saved me a lot of trouble and inconvenience; something I can't say about my travel neighbors, but I suppose that is the way of corrupt countries, like it or not.

By and by, I made it to Fez and spent the night. The next morning I went to Tangier and then over the water to Tarifa, Spain - Back in Europe! Tarifa is a small city on the intersection of the Atlantic ocean and the Mediterranean, and therefore is extremely windy. It is the kite-surfing capital of the world. In the ocean, there are hundreds participating in this activity, but on the beach, no one is sun bathing, or throwing frisbees, or building sand castles; it is just too windy - the strangest beach I've been to, that much I'm sure. Anyways, this is where I spent some time to break up my long trip to France. Nothing interesting happened during my stay there, which is a good thing for a place one wishes to rest, but my theory of Southern Spain having the most attractive women in the world was verified. This conclusion is the result of a lifetime of investigation and vigorous scientific methodology.


From Tarifa, I took a bus to Algeciras, - from Algeciras, I took a train to Madrid, - From Madrid, I missed the last train to Barcelona – From Madrid, I took the metro to the other train station in Madrid – from the other train station in Madrid, I caught an overnight train to Barcelona. In Barcelona, I spent a night with Matt (fourth time we've met on my trip). From Barcelona, I took a train to Cerbere – from Cerbere, I took a train to Avignon,..........FRANCE! I never imagined in my life I would be so happy to be in France. That happiness lasted until I heard the French language again. I wonder when the next flight to the Sahara Desert is? 

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