Western Sahara

Yesterday’s party went on for pretty late. It’s interesting that by the end there were only foreigners, hardly any Hungarian. Everyone loved us, it’s really cool to have cold Czech bier in the desert. Let us thank Liquid Gold and Budovar(aka Budweiser)! The local Tuaregs asked us to turn off the music, as it bothers the camels in their breeding. But maybe it was some other participant. The desert was nice without music as well, moonlight, starts, upside down star signs. Everyone could tell how good it was back in the days, when people were close to nature, they told stories around the camp fire and the same two stories all the time. There was no rush, no hassle, and an infected appendix and it was over for you.

Ikarus met with sand first time in Tatooine, but handled it well. The roads are very good, there are much worse roads at home. Yesterday morning Tuti drove, he managed to drive 280 kms in 4 hours on the 1 lane local highway. Today morning Gyula started behind the wheel. We drove on EU sponsored 2 lane motorways, 200 kms in approx. 5 hours. Today we have to drive 6-700 kms, all the way on concrete road. I guess we’ll be there by 2am. Aravind wanted to get there by 5pm to eat the Spanish ham and fry goat on the beach, we won’t. There’s something wronge with the bus and we can’t push it – so they say.

The terrain is flat, somewhere camels and goats, but the promised sand dunes nowhere, apparently they will be in Mauritania. A Norwegian guy popped on the bus, Attila, Aravind and Tamás went for the left over of the bier. We figured how to scare off the beggar kids. Tamás has to hold the camera in their faces, they get scared from him.

We reach West Sahara. We have no idea which country we’re in. Theoretically Morocco. There’s no border, and we can pay with dirhams. Some West Saharan don’t think this, they say that they are the last colony in Africa. It is said that in the hearth of the country fights are going on leaded by an organization called Polisario for the freedom of West Sahara. Their name reminds me of an inoculation. We could organize a nice party on Kossuth square, our Arpadliners would tamtam for Transylvania, the Moroccans for Melilla and Ceuta and the West Saharan for West Sahara.

We reach the city of Laayouane, we fill up with petrol. Another Norwegian joins us. We think they switch. But than a huge blondish read headed waving and running giant appears in the mirror. Oooops. We’re going around and around in the town on the narrow streets. There are a lot of tailors, they sell those tiny dresses with deep cleavage, which I’ve never seen on anyone on the streets, they must be wearing them at home. Tuti wants to drive, he says it’s like the 7^th district without cars. He doesn’t get a chance. We stop in a parking lot for servicing. Soma and Gyula get rid of the tank.

Meanwhile we have something to eat in a local Moroccan buffet. The young locals all come here to have a chat and eat, many of them in European clothes. There are much more dressed in European style than the local. The food is almost the same as in any bigger city in Europe, although there was no shawarma or falafel. Nor goathead, although I'm up for trying it now.

Aravind went to change dirham, I stayed behind. I tried to find out how much the bill was, and suddenly a local starts to speak in English with an accent from London to watch out and don’t let them fool me with the bill. Ok. Discussion, who, from where, where to. I ask who he was. He says he’s Moroccan from Marrakesh and he’s just a tourist. Here? There’s nothing to see, and even the sea is far away. He says that he lived in England and he had a Hungarian girlfriend. Interesting. In here everyone either had a Hungarian friend or a Hungarian girlfriend, and they mention right before they get to the business and they want to sell you something. I waited what this one wants; either takes me to his shop or wants to sell cigarettes to me. But neither. He says that back in the day he was a PE teacher, nowadays he’s a policeman. ‘There are many secret agents around here’ – he says. But you don’t have to be afraid, they are looking after you. Wow, great! Aravind came back with the money, shaking hands, we leave. We pop in to the next place for a tea. It’s a very strange place. It’s very posh and suspiciously clean. The toilet is just like everywhere in Europe. And the Wega coffee machine, and even an Italian would drink their espresso! There are not many guests, but when we sit down, interestingly 2 men sits down right next to us. I’m willing to say only complete bullshit in Hungarian slang. Have fun with the translation, guys!

In Laayouane two types of people is usual. The 10-12 year old kid, who begs for cigarettes, and the adults on the streets who want to sell boxes of smuggled cigarettes. The kids might belong to the family, and begs the cigarettes back? It’s a very smart business model, it only fails on the point that I don’t give kids cigarettes. The business is skyrocketing in Laayouane, everything can be purchased for half of the price than in Morocco. I enter the local CD shop, chat with the chaps, they are good guys, they write me music. We’re just getting to the bottom of the topic when I’m told that the bus is ready. They took the tank for welding, the mechanic didn’t ask for any money, he just said your welcome. Maybe the former PE teacher from the buffet talked to him? Or he just welded a tracking device or an African refugee in our tank?

Having left the town we see some sand dunes. Once, back in the day I was asked to bring sand from the bottom of the pyramids. Of course, I forgot it, and who the hell carries sand anyway? At home I went to the first playground, and got some sand from the sand pit and that’s it. I was found out when they found a local cigarette end in it. Dunes disappear, sand stays, and we reach the sea. What a beach, bro! It’s a pity that apparently it’s full of landmines. They know what life is! The sea slowly swallowed the sun, and we’re doing 70 km/h on the motorway.