Test #3: HELL, THY NAME IS JEBEL TOUBKAL

Marrakech was a great jumping-off point for two side trips. The first was a voyage to the Sahara Desert. You may wonder why we would choose to go there at this particular time of the year. We wondered as well, but figured "what the hell?" It was so hot already, what were a few more degrees and what better place to sweat than the desert...it´s SUPPOSED to be hot there anyway, right!?!

Although we were crammed into an unairconditioned minivan with 12 other people for hours at a time, we were with a GREAT group of fellow travelers (including a guy from Manhattan who spent time in a Thai prison a couple of years ago --- now THERE´S a travel story!) and it was SPECTACULAR!!! Miles upon miles of bone-dry red desert, bizarre rock and sand formations, incredibly lush and green palm tree oases, giant crumbling kasbahs, ancient villages that melted right into the mountains, winding roads with sheer STEEP cliffs and truly breathtaking views (and no or battered/missing guardrails, natch). "Wow" is an understatement.

The highlight of the tour (and I would have to say a highlight of my life and I wouldn´t be exaggerating) was Merzouga, which is the start of the giant sand dunes (Erg Chebbi) of the Sahara. We got there in the late afternoon and then rode camels into the desert at sunset. I felt like I was part of a caravan on the old Silk Route. It was surreal. The dunes are absolutely beautiful, with the colors and shadows shifting with the sun. The destination was a Berber camp in the middle of the dunes, about 25 miles from the Algerian border. After dinner, we climbed to the top of one of the dunes (easier said than done, as they are HUGE and vertical) and just laid back on the still-hot sand, listened to the Berbers play hypnotizing drums, felt the hot desert wind and looked up at a jillion and one stars. It was completely and totally still and silent... the desert just absorbed everything. I have rarely felt so at peace or so "out" of time and routine. We slept out in the open, the only sounds were the camels farting and making hideous shrieks in their sleep ... or maybe that was our fellow travelers.

The second trip we made was a four-day trek into the High Atlas moutains. Woe is me. Our total lack of physical fitness became painfully clear on the first day, as we labored in the midday sun on a 10km, 3200 vertical meter hike to the Jebel Toubkal refuge. It was RELENTLESS and we both thought we were going to die. It was one of the worst days of my entire life. Every time we turned a bend, we saw another endless, uphill, scree and boulder-filled path on ANOTHER mountain ... and knew that´s where we were headed. Meanwhile, fat old grandmas with huge bags of shit on their heads, kids strapped to their backs and wearing flip-flops or high-heeled mules were speeding by us without a drop of sweat on their brows! We were PATHETIC!!!! We weren´t even CARRYING anything, as we´d hired a mule and a guide to deal with all that!!!!


When we finally reached the "refuge," I started crying and wanted to do a Dorothy and click my heels and be home. We were staying in a nasty dormitory room with wall-to-wall beds and nasty backpackers, our muscles were screaming, there was no electricity, it was hideously cold (from one extreme to another!) and the bathrooms were DISGUSTING. The worst was yet to come, as Eli got VIOLENTLY and continously sick all night long and had to make numerous trips down the treachorous dark steps to the basement lavoratories, with only the light of his watch to guide him! (Until I woke up and reminded him that we did have a flashlight.) He was so sick that we were not able to make the ascent up to Toubkal the next day, but went back to the village instead. Let me tell you that going back downhill was no piece of cake either. It was only made palatable by seeing how miserable all of the OTHER hikers were as they stumbled up the hill!

The next two days of trekking were hard, but rewarding and incredible. We hiked through remote Berber villages (many without any electricity, all sans telephones), in mountains that were just stark and beautiful, filled with brightly-colored birds and flocks of huge "The Birds"-like crows, mountain goats, sheepherders, echoing gorges, endless views ... and scary village inbreds who wanted Eli to kiss their babies and who chased us through the streets. (I had nightmares after one encounter with a girl/woman "thing" that scuttled down over a hill and chased us while making horrible noises and flapping her hands and twirling her psycho whirligig eyes.) We slept outside under those stars; one night, there were so many shooting ones that I ran out of wishes!!!! Well worth it.

Final destination was Essouira, a "sophisticated" beach resort filled with expats. We treated ourselves to a few nights in a fancy and character-filled hotel called the El Riad al-Medina,which has hosted many rock stars, including Jimi Hendrix. Verrrry nice. It was a weird scene, though, as we wandered onto a late-night beach-side "festival" that appeared to be geared to a HUGE Moroccan gay scene, with the spicy addition of some highly-slutty Moroccan girls. Very strange.

The only other thing of note was the worst train ride in the world, from Marrakesh to Tangier. Eli got in a huge verbal fight with the guys in our compartment, escalating to him saying things like "You are a LIAR and you should be ashamed." I´d be more than happy to provide further details if required/requested!

Ciao! Stormi