With the clock ticking, we boarded a train to Casablanca the next morning. We opted to upgrade our accommodations, as we were in desperate need of a decent nights’ sleep; sleeping pills had failed us, and we would be slumming it for a while. After consulting our LP guide we decided on Hotel Guynemer. The staff was wonderful, but our room was the size of a tiny jail cell or Manhattan apartment, making it difficult to move around and repack.
With only one full day in Casablanca, we had a lot to accomplish. We managed to secure bus tickets for the 31 hour trip to Dakhla, Yellow Fever vaccinations at a local hospital, find a bookstore with a few English titles, and get the necessary goodies for the road. Needless to say, it was a long day.
The next morning we loaded up our backpacks and walked to the CTM bus station a few blocks away. The thought of spending 31 hours on a bus made me antsy; my prior record was about half that. Fortunately, we stopped often, so I was able to enjoy an occasional cup of coffee and stretch my legs. It was bearable. Definitely not fun, but I could do it again if need be. We also met a nice man who gave us fruit and kept an eye on our seats. Part of me thinks he assumed we were without lunch money, but I can’t be certain. We were looking pretty disheveled at that point. Whatever the reason, we were both very appreciative.
The drive took us through Southern Morocco and into the disputed Western Sahara region. There was nothing but desert flatland’s for miles. It is one of the most sparsely populated areas in the world – a vast sea of nothingness. Morocco and the Polisario Front (Sahrawi liberation movement, assisted by Algeria) both lay claim to the land. A few days after passing through the area of Laayoune, Moroccan security forces raided a refugee camp, leaving 4 dead and 70 wounded.
Exhausted, we arrived in Dakhla and quickly found a place to stay. That night, the hotel staff arranged for us to meet with a driver who could take us out of Morocco/Western Sahara and into Nouadhibou, Mauritania. The meeting went well, so we agreed to leave the next morning. He suggested we start our journey at 7am, and then asked us if we’d like to make it later. We said 8am, but then he told us 7am would be better. Why even ask? This is a reoccurring theme in Arab culture. They want to make you feel as though you have options when in fact, you don’t – in šhāʾ Allāh (or in šhāʾ-BLEEPING-Allāh, as I like to say).
Rich snapped this photo while on the bus. Yes, that’s an Ostrich and Marlin in the middle of the desert. Random. Very random.
