Sahara: A stranger in a strange land

Day Two:

Dawn. Deep indigo sky. Dead quiet. Absolute stillness. Bitter cold. Eyes locked on that Dune out there on the horizon. Gotta get there. Got. To. Get. There.

Day Zero:

So, why Sahara? Why Morocco?  Easy, because it is ABSOLUTE! What dragged me here is the Cinemas! Always has been a huge part of me. At twenty-four frames per second, they shaped me. Introduced me to my Idols, let me travel through time, built my dreams. Finally, a way out, a door to the world. Those landscape shots of, "Lawrence of Arabia," "Gladiator," "The Mummy", all imprinted on my brain and then it hit me, after I had already booked the tickets: "Babel."  A film way ahead of its time, back in '06.  I've seen it twenty, thirty times, easy! Back then you had DVD’s and no internet. The plot?  Humanity's interconnectedness, despite all the borders and bullshit. One event in the Moroccan desert sets off a chain reaction among four families in Mexico, United States, and Japan. And get this: in the last year, I've been to Mexico, the States, and Japan. Now I'm here. Coincidence? Manifestation? Entropy mirroring cinemas? Fuck if I know! As Long as I can call shotgun for the front seat! Thee lord shall steer thy ship.

Day one:

Started on a train from Tangier lurching towards Fes, then I’m in guided tour tempo traveler with Saidh at the wheel. Yeah, laugh it up—a wannabe traveler crammed in a tourist van? Yes! Did we stop at every souvenir shop?  Damn right. Those fixed menu lunch stops for the busloads of tourists? Oh, we did that too, I was there, fork in hand, unashamed. I'm here for the full spectrum - the authentic, the plastic, the pure, I don't care, I want it all. This place has so much to give. For now, couscous, tajine, bread, and a million miles ahead.  “Yun Hi Chala Chal” humming in my head, echoing off these Atlas Mountains. It is a raw country. Long empty roads. Peaks like jagged teeth that go on forever. Then coming down the mountains hugging the rim, you can see the river carving rocks into gorges. Desolate. Grandeur. Heavy on the heart. Out here we're all just animals, clinging to the edge, some grazing, some gazing and the wind howling. Finally, you pass the gate of Porte du Merzouga and there it is. Sahara at last, Something out of this world, almost Martian. Picture perfect.   

Let me rewind a little! On day zero I made a deal with Saidh! The deal was sunset at the Sahara, not an add on but the main plan. Supposed to be wheels up at 5 AM in Fes, right? But this phantom, Saidh, the Moroccan Batman! Still not done with his night duty I suppose. Now nowhere to be found! I'm pacing, thinking, Is this guy real? Did he just pull a Pepe Silvia on me? The clock’s ticking tick-tick-tick, and by now I’m convinced, this is it, man, the whole trip’s circling down the drain! Hours late, he rolls up, that goofy smile and we haul ass, but the Sun’s already dropped, the dunes are just shadows. The one thing, hmmm... may be one of two things I wanted to see. I repeat, sunset at Sahara, not an option but the whole notion! And he just…smiles and somehow the bastard gets away with it. That sheepish grin, like a kid caught stealing cookies. No apology, no excuse and I’m smiling too. You order another mint tea, and you move on. Because it is what it is and sunset’s a ghost already.

It gets dark real quick here, like flipping a switch and the Berber brothers show up. the OG Beta testers of these terrain, ready to escort the tourists to their desert lair. upon arrival, I’m a little appalled by the sight! hut? Camp? No. This is a full-on Oasis! Beats some of the places I’ve crashed in NYC! hot shower in the middle of the nowhere, hell yes, I’m sold! Then they hit us with the welcome feast, a spread that’d make a king blush and you already guessed it - couscous, tajine and bread! Same same but different sandbox, sure, but in this setting? It hits the spot. The party kicks off—techno starts thumping loud, I see Saidh already doing his drunken camel impression and eyeing me up for the dance floor. Nope. Not tonight, hombre. I’ve got my own agenda: slipping away to wallow under that ink-black sky, roll down a fat dune, feel the sand between my toes. Look up. Nothing but black and diamonds. That’s the MVP. Then, I hear the drums. Distant but insistent, hook in the ear, luring me in and I follow. You always follow. I arrive at something almost like the end scene from Skypeia, just fire and drums, no radio waves or electromagnetic waves detected here. Just warm air drummed to that primordial rhythm. A figment of some fevered, spice-induced dream! This is the real deal; this is why I’m here. Some way to wave the day and the year away.   

Day Two continue:

Here I am, perched on this amphitheater of a sand dune in the dark, staring into the void where the horizon’s holding its breath. Waiting for the star to take the stage. Ever since that Sunrise scene in “The Mummy”, I wanted to be here, chasing that same hit. Starts slow: First, a purple smear across the edge, then a rip in the night’s skin as it starts to bleed. It's not light, it's fire. A molten fury erupting from earth's skull, making everything come alive. A blood-orange beast and I’m caught like a vampire pinned down in the spotlight. No shadows to duck. The air’s still cool, but you can feel the heat coming, a slow-rolling hellfire curling up every hair on my body into this madness. Stammering for thoughts. Forecast said epiphany but didn’t expect to be a “Thought orphan” at the end. If I ever vanish between the planes of existence, you will find me here with sand between my toes and grinning like a fool. It is moments like this that gives life a patina of the cinemas. This is it, the sun staring down at you, daring you to blink, time to walk straight into the abyss. One cannot step twice into the same desert. For it’s not the same dunes and He’s not the same man. I will be back, I can’t help it, this country has spell spun me in an hourglass sand. Just a matter of time before I flip and start chasing this high again.