We have reached Nouakchott and right now are sitting at Auberge Sahara - a pretty hostel, where we sleep in a tent like accomodation on the rooftop. But more importantly this place is THE place to be for selling cars - though at low rates, admittedly. I have stopped counting the number of long arabic kurta and sunglasses wearing hookers with whom I have been discussing our car-deal in my very basic french. They either call me sister, or they do not even look at me, probably very irritated that now they are forced to do bussiness with a woman. What to say, they piss me off a bit and I am neither impressed by their arrogant behaviour nor by the weapons they sometimes wear in their belts. This car is not a cadeau. If they piss us off just a little bit more we might decide to drive to Bamako, in Mali, where we do not need the dechargement (unregistration of the car in the passport)... Lets see, it's a constant coming and going here and I slowly start having the impression that this place is less a youth hostel than it is a smuggling/dealing place...
But so far we have been the luckiest people in history. Our drive through the desert was wonderful and strange and sometimes wondefully strange. We did not have to bribe a single time though we were stopped to show our passports for about a twenty times from here to Laayoune (we kept our own statistics).
Sleeping prove to be more difficult than hoped for, as mostly we had to camp in vicinity to the road - which meant we could seen by the numerous police patrols - and mostly where asked to come along to the police station to camp there safer (though admittedly we feel safer far far away from the police...). I befriended a wonderful street dog and only heartbrokenly left the sweet and poor chap back alone in that harsh desert.
One night we were camping somewhere in the middle of nowwhere close to the ocean (which is always quite close to the route and therefore takes the scary edge out of travelling through the desert). It was quite stormy and we had decided to have our dinner inside the tent. Travelling through the desert adds one ingredient to all your activities - sand. So that is also true for food. Our food supply therefore changed to bread - with sand, reis mit scheiss - and sand, couscous with vegetables - and sand, coffee - and sand and so on - and sand.
So we were sitting in that tent and eating out typical german elaborate sandwiches, which means bread with 100 hundred ingredients when suddenly a male voice materialised outside along with the howling winds.
We looked at each other for a moment. Then Daniela slowly opened the zip and stuck her head out of the tent: Yes please? Outside is a young man from the military with a big Kalashnikov. He tells us in french: I am here to guard you the whole night. We dicuss quickly the meaning of what he has just said, then Daniela nods at him and says: ok, merci. and closes the zip. We continue eating. After a minute or so we discuss the meaning of his words once again. Is he really here to guard us with that big gun? Is he still here? Jano peeks out. Oh gosh, he walking up and down out there... We decide that we cant ignore it longer and invite him over to sit and eat - he refuses the food, as he says he gets everything at the military post close by, but takes a seat on our sleeping bags. What a super-surreal situation. And once more we wonder what is fact and what is fiction... are we crazy, stupid, lucky, naive - or just not so scared???
In the end he (luckily - as we would have been really sorry to cause that much trouble) doesnt stay the whole night and we sleep undisturbed in this Wild-West-Sahara.
Another adventure is the border crossing. We have been warned that we will loose a lot of bribe to the guards, including our canisters of petrol, as petrol is super cheap in westsahara but damn expensive in mauritania. Lea, who does this trip every year has told us that we have to plan giving one 20l canister of petrol to the cops... before the border we rearrange our stuff in the as always cramped trunk... I have the idea to cover our petrol canister under the pile of sanitary pads and toilet paper we are driving around - hoping that in this chauvinist world such intimate items might keep them away from further search...
When we finally reach the douane and they open the trunk its a tense situation... will they find our treasure? We lift a mattress - this is the bedroom, the food piles on the other side is the kitchen. He touches the sanitary pads and asks - is this medicine? We answer, oh these are sanitary padss, that is the bathroom. He quickly pulls his hand away and we all laugh. Yaya, beat them with their own weapons. Happily we keep our canister with us;) Now the last challenge is to drive over the non existing road through a 4km long minefield. Some guys try to convince us to pay them so they will guide us. But its easy enough to see the trails and follow them. On the side a small truck got stuck in the sand and has caused lots of excitement.
Anyway we manage it, including playing Bernd-das-Brot when they ask us to pay 10 euros at the border. Which means we just do not react. Finally they wave us through with a nevrmind shrug...
In the desert we sleep next to some Tuareg tents and are invited over for tea - we never get to see the woman living there, just hear her voice - and most probably taste her tea.
Finally in Nouakchott poverty is very obvious. Not much to buy around and only people, garbage and dust around. What a place to sell a white mercedes limousine!
But so far we have been the luckiest people in history. Our drive through the desert was wonderful and strange and sometimes wondefully strange. We did not have to bribe a single time though we were stopped to show our passports for about a twenty times from here to Laayoune (we kept our own statistics).
Sleeping prove to be more difficult than hoped for, as mostly we had to camp in vicinity to the road - which meant we could seen by the numerous police patrols - and mostly where asked to come along to the police station to camp there safer (though admittedly we feel safer far far away from the police...). I befriended a wonderful street dog and only heartbrokenly left the sweet and poor chap back alone in that harsh desert.
One night we were camping somewhere in the middle of nowwhere close to the ocean (which is always quite close to the route and therefore takes the scary edge out of travelling through the desert). It was quite stormy and we had decided to have our dinner inside the tent. Travelling through the desert adds one ingredient to all your activities - sand. So that is also true for food. Our food supply therefore changed to bread - with sand, reis mit scheiss - and sand, couscous with vegetables - and sand, coffee - and sand and so on - and sand.
So we were sitting in that tent and eating out typical german elaborate sandwiches, which means bread with 100 hundred ingredients when suddenly a male voice materialised outside along with the howling winds.
We looked at each other for a moment. Then Daniela slowly opened the zip and stuck her head out of the tent: Yes please? Outside is a young man from the military with a big Kalashnikov. He tells us in french: I am here to guard you the whole night. We dicuss quickly the meaning of what he has just said, then Daniela nods at him and says: ok, merci. and closes the zip. We continue eating. After a minute or so we discuss the meaning of his words once again. Is he really here to guard us with that big gun? Is he still here? Jano peeks out. Oh gosh, he walking up and down out there... We decide that we cant ignore it longer and invite him over to sit and eat - he refuses the food, as he says he gets everything at the military post close by, but takes a seat on our sleeping bags. What a super-surreal situation. And once more we wonder what is fact and what is fiction... are we crazy, stupid, lucky, naive - or just not so scared???
In the end he (luckily - as we would have been really sorry to cause that much trouble) doesnt stay the whole night and we sleep undisturbed in this Wild-West-Sahara.
Another adventure is the border crossing. We have been warned that we will loose a lot of bribe to the guards, including our canisters of petrol, as petrol is super cheap in westsahara but damn expensive in mauritania. Lea, who does this trip every year has told us that we have to plan giving one 20l canister of petrol to the cops... before the border we rearrange our stuff in the as always cramped trunk... I have the idea to cover our petrol canister under the pile of sanitary pads and toilet paper we are driving around - hoping that in this chauvinist world such intimate items might keep them away from further search...
When we finally reach the douane and they open the trunk its a tense situation... will they find our treasure? We lift a mattress - this is the bedroom, the food piles on the other side is the kitchen. He touches the sanitary pads and asks - is this medicine? We answer, oh these are sanitary padss, that is the bathroom. He quickly pulls his hand away and we all laugh. Yaya, beat them with their own weapons. Happily we keep our canister with us;) Now the last challenge is to drive over the non existing road through a 4km long minefield. Some guys try to convince us to pay them so they will guide us. But its easy enough to see the trails and follow them. On the side a small truck got stuck in the sand and has caused lots of excitement.
Anyway we manage it, including playing Bernd-das-Brot when they ask us to pay 10 euros at the border. Which means we just do not react. Finally they wave us through with a nevrmind shrug...
In the desert we sleep next to some Tuareg tents and are invited over for tea - we never get to see the woman living there, just hear her voice - and most probably taste her tea.
Finally in Nouakchott poverty is very obvious. Not much to buy around and only people, garbage and dust around. What a place to sell a white mercedes limousine!
Pitschi-Platsch in a new perspective
...as we have finally reached the West-Sahara
Laayoune - military and the king - nothing else
At first they laugh at my scarf... but then I can laugh ;)
Desert Photoshooting ;)
The Desert-Feel
Ocean specialities....
empty roads...
...or empty roads with camels ;P
Visit to the moon
Deserttown Chic
Game: search Alma!
Military guy in the night (after hiding his kalashnikov...)
Our little friend - who even sleeps next to our sleeping bags... saaaad moment to leave him behind... :(
..desert shopping...
Sunrise at 7am (we nowadays sleep from 8pm to 7am)
Ein Leben am Abgrund, oder was ?!
the military chap makes me shiver. and the gun...glod!!! the moon has better roads than india. thats for sure. ugg. so is india further than the moon? bloody politicians here.
ReplyDeleteall I can say about the bunch of you is that you are really brave! Enjoying the read and can't wait to read some more! maybe when your down in India, we'll get to go out on some adventures together :) be safe
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