"This article is a somewhat "long" story but is enough to preserve my memories of the trip to the Sahara desert, because I know if I don't write it now, these memories will soon fade like the way sand is blown away by the wind."
the world is really too big
I have been to the northernmost regions of the world, with snow and aurora borealis. I have also been to ancient cities to see the works of time. I often think that those trips have made me “wow” enough. My horizons have been opened to the maximum. But it was only when I stepped foot in Africa in Morocco that I suddenly realized that the world is still very large, and there are many exclamation points out there waiting.
Portrait of Travel Blogger Ly Thanh Co. Readers can read more of his interesting articles at: https://lythanhco.com/
For this desert trip, because I don’t know how to drive a car, I had to hire a group desert tour in a 16-seat van. It seems that this is a popular way to explore the desert. When I was at the central market of Marrakech, countless buses arrived at 7:30 am to pick up passengers, taking the same route. In my group, only my companion and I were Asian, the rest were from the US, Europe, the Middle East and South America. And right on time, the group started to leave Marrakech in the early morning.
Atlas Mountains Curves and Afterno Uno
The trip from Marrakech started at dawn with only one stop on the outskirts of the city for a quick breakfast. After that, the bus continued on at a leisurely speed of 70km/h.
The packed convoy sometimes wobbled and spilled things from the luggage compartment because of the winding roads as they went deep into the Atlas Mountains via Tizi Ntichka. The group of Americans kept telling each other “you must always keep your body hydrated” and every 15 minutes they picked up their water bottles and drank them down. Each person kept two bottles, one in their hand and one on top. So the luggage that fell out was mostly water bottles. After an hour of sharp turns like the sunlight outside the window. One group, consisting of 2 men and 2 women, held both water bottles with them to avoid dropping them on their heads.
“Those kids are so stupid!” I said to my travel companion, K. After a week in Spain alone, it was fun to sit and judge people in Vietnamese with Kim. Kim giggled in agreement. She has vestibular problems, so sitting on a swaying bus like this is not easy. Even for someone as strong as me, I sometimes feel nauseous when the bus hits potholes or rocks in the middle of the sandy road.
We stopped at a bend in Tizi Ntichka Road, overlooking the Atlas Mountains and the winding roads below, where Kim and I rode the waves as if on a train. But the view at the stop was strangely spectacular. The sun was hotter than in Marrakech, but I still had to wear a thick coat when I got out of the car because the temperature was not too high in the winter in Morocco, and the wind kept blowing back down the road from the Atlas Mountains.
The car continued on its way. Stopping soon after 45 minutes.
A bearded man wearing a cobalt blue turban with white patterns that matched his Djellaba, only his flip-flops detracted from his neatness.
“Welcome everyone to Kasbah Ait Ben Haddou, I am Brahim, I will be your tour guide in this area.”
Finally, there was a tour guide. Perhaps because I hadn’t read the tour information carefully, I was always wondering why there was only a middle-aged driver, no one else. The stops were all rehearsed. Everyone in the group got off with the same puzzled look. The two Israeli guys sitting next to the driver were responsible for telling the group how many minutes the bus would stop. The driver did not provide any further information about his stop.
But at least at Kasbah Ait Ben Haddou, the group had Brahim as a guide. I hoped to hear good stories about the place.
The car was parked quite far from the earthen and stone structure, which formed a solid fortress in the middle of the desert. A small stream ran through it. A crowd of white vans were gathered by the river, where there was a stone gate. More than a dozen horses were surrounded. Some were on horseback, some were standing below. All were dressed in traditional costumes.
“Everyone, don’t go through, they’re filming.” – Brahim shouted to the group. I couldn’t help but look at them curiously, raising my camera, I zoomed in to see what they were doing. Obviously they weren’t locals, as there were people holding weapons, hopefully fake, moving under the direction of someone who seemed to be the director or his assistant. Looking around me, the people in the car were showing the same curious look. “I don’t know the names of anyone in this group, at least not yet.” – because I was sure that by lunch time everyone would start to mingle.
After the film crew, who had vaguely heard about Brazil, left, the group began to go deeper inside the magnificent architecture that they had only dared to admire from afar.
As they walked, Brahim explained about the giant earthen structure.
Ksar, meaning castle, is the name of a cluster of earthen buildings surrounded by high walls, this is the form of housing and settlement before the Sahara desert encroached here. Ksar, although meaning castle in Berber, is actually only the size of a small village.
Houses are packed together inside defensive walls, reinforced by corner towers. Ait Ben Haddou, in Ouarzazate province, is a striking example of southern Moroccan architecture. Within the walls, many houses are packed together – most of them modest in size, but all have upper floors decorated with clay tile motifs.
Brahim did not forget to mention that this place was recognized by UNESCO as a world cultural heritage thanks to its architecture. He proudly showed off the movies that had been filmed, some of which I had seen but had not recognized until now.
It took only 10 minutes to reach the highest point of Ait Ben Haddou. The surrounding scenery could not be called overwhelming because of its grandeur, but it made people faint a little because of the desolation of the desert, the vastness of the sand stretching to the horizon, only until they met the Atlas Mountains that had just passed this morning.
Before leaving the city, everyone stopped by the roadside to put on a cotton scarf to cover their heads. Being used to the scorching heat in Vietnam, the 30 degree weather in Morocco was nothing. Kim and I didn’t mind, we quickly walked to sit at the restaurant across the street because we had nothing but a piece of khobz bread and a cup of hot milk coffee.
The restaurant is decorated with colorful patterns, at first glance it looks like a riad in the middle of the desert. The colors are blooming like spring flowers, on each wall are tiles put together to form a mosaic mural with repetition. But the feeling lacks the sophistication often found in riads in Marrakech. But the swimming pool inside the restaurant makes visitors more sympathetic because looking out at the desert outside, the turquoise color of the water under the Saharan sunlight is so smooth.
Photo: Unsplash
It took more than fifteen minutes for the group of friends in the van to appear at the restaurant. I was so hungry that I didn't care who was sitting around the table, just quickly took the menu to order. A combo of grilled meat skewers and Moroccan salad, I was craving vegetables. Kim ordered a mixed grill dish with pumpkin soup. I was secretly happy because I really like pumpkin soup, I would be able to eat with her. But neither of us knew it was a wrong decision.
Looking up from the lunch menu, I noticed that next to me was a couple from Colombia, the girl was petite, about 1.5 meters tall, and the bald guy had a muscular body, showing off the results of his workouts thanks to his tight white long-sleeved shirt. On the opposite side was a Belgian family, a couple with two daughters, but taller than me, the best identifying feature was the orange-blonde hair, all of which were curly.
After questions like “where are you from”, “first time in Morocco?”, “how many days are you staying here?”, the table had nothing more to say. I turned to Kim and spoke in Vietnamese. The Colombian couple started the conversation in Spanish. The Belgian family from Bruges spoke to each other in German. The beauty of traveling with a Vietnamese person is that you can have public yet very private conversations in your mother tongue.
“Do you want to play?” – the mother of the Belgian family asked, shuffling a stack of Uno cards. I immediately forgot about the conversation with Ky and smiled without forcing myself. Board games are my favorite thing in the world. Especially Uno, because of the sweet memories.
Two years ago, when attending the wedding of a friend named Thien Anh from high school, the group of four who used to be very close to each other had the chance to meet again after many years of not seeing each other. If they did, they would only meet each other in small groups, and no one bothered to mention it for a long time. After the lavish party at a wedding restaurant in District 3, but only after the wedding was over, everyone told each other to go to a nearby coffee shop to chat a bit. Sitting bored, also like there was nothing left to say. One of the group took out a deck of Uno cards and played. Played until 12 midnight. Since then, we have met every two weeks or so. Everything has healed as if we had never left each other in high school. And I happily played. It was strange that the conversation was more open, and now I also knew the name of everyone at the table. A sign for the upcoming trip into the desert, there are still many beautiful scenes, and there are still friends on the bus for us to connect with.
The Uno game lasted for 15 minutes but it showed me that as long as we find something in common, a new story will begin.
MORE INFORMATION:
- Current job: Copywriter and manager of Ly Thanh Co Travel Blog.
- 2018: Traveled to 14 European countries and 2 Asian countries; launched the book "Youth in your wallet, what can you buy?"
- 2019 Plan: Launch the second travel book about the journey to Northern Europe, Western Europe, Japan; and continue to explore Africa.
At Travel Fest 2019 held in Hanoi recently, he was one of the special guests of the talk show sharing experiences about different types of tourism. He is also one of the "7 impressive travel bloggers of 2018" that Travellive has introduced to readers.
After each trip, Ly Thanh Co always feels like he learns a lot of new knowledge, satisfies his curiosity about the world around him and that is also the source of creative inspiration for his current writing work.
