This morning we piled into two 4x4s to head into the dunes. Our first stop was at a man-made oasis, where we learned about the rather brilliant irrigation system that has been in place since the 12th century, bringing sweet water to the desert from the Atlas Mountains. We watched some men come to get jerry cans full of water from this source.
12th Century irrigation system.
Into the roadless desert
We then drove into the dunes, where there are no roads, just the tracks of vehicles every which way. Our drivers seemed to have an instinct about where to drive, and we rarely spun out in the sand. We arrived at a large lake, Lake Dayet Srij, right there, in the middle of the desert. Unusually heavy rains in the past couple of years have filled what had been a dry lake bed, bringing birds plus a few tourists and trinket sellers. And a particularly enterprising man with a van equipped with an espresso machine. While I didn’t try it, desert coffee is apparently fantastic.
New lake in a long-dry lake bed
"Desert Coffee"
Trinket guy
I'm hoping one of my botanist friends can identify this spiky flowering plant
Our next stop was at a nomad encampment for a visit. This group of nomads has been at this spot for some twenty years, tired of moving about, it seems. We were expected, and were welcome to explore their home with its various structures, and then were invited to sit with the women, a mother and her adult daughter. They brought us tea, of course, and some peanuts to nibble on. They dressed Milica in wedding clothes, laughing with us.
Nomad home
Amazigh (Berber) flag
Kitchen
Conversation before tea
Milica wears a wedding dress:
This particular nomad family regularly hosts tour groups, as I understand it, and I suspect this may be their main source of income, being that they are paid by the tour leaders. These women told Mariam that her visits are the best, because they cannot communicate in Moroccan dialect (which is not precisely the same as Arabic) with guides who don't speak Amazigh, which of course Mariam does. So we get to have a conversation, ask questions, learn about their family. These people are illiterate, have no address, and live with almost none of the amenities most of the world takes for granted. This family has a small solar panel, provided by the government, that powers a single light bulb in their kitchen. They receive some government or NGO support, but their needs are minimal.
After bidding farewell, we were driven further for a stop at Dar Gnaoua, in Khamlia Village where we had lunch of “Berber pizza," a flatbread filled with vegetables, followed by a drumming lesson and a performance of Gnawa music and dance. This music seems more akin to Sub-Saharan music than to what I’ve been hearing in Morocco, and the people looked more Sub-Saharan as well. The drums were djembes, which I suspect were brought in from elsewhere.
"Berber Pizza"
Always tea
Ready for a drumming lesson
Curious about this kind of music I’ve never heard before, I found this:
The day already filled with awe, it was time to head deep into the dunes to Camp Chebbi. This is one of many glamping camps in the area, each consisting of ten or so large tents arranged in two rows facing each other, with a central walkway and a large dining tent at one end, the other end open to the desert. To call them tents is a bit misleading; these are cabins, really, with canvas walls, fully equipped with plumbing and electricity, including a heat pump for warmth or air conditioning, both of which we needed. They are powered by solar panels. Water is brought in, in huge vats.
Camp Chebbi
After we'd settled in, there came what we’d been waiting for: a camel ride up into the dunes to watch the sunset. Our scarves were wrapped into turbans, whether for show or protection, I don’t know, but we thought we looked pretty cool. Uh huh. Mounting a camel is a bit of a feat. The trainer puts a foot on the camel’s front leg so it won’t stand up before the rider is ready. The rider tosses a leg over that great hump of a back, and leans back in the saddle while the animal thrusts itself up. Have you ever ridden in one of those simulators that, you know, take you on a swooping flight to the moon or something? It’s like that, except in this case there’s the very real possibility of falling what seems like two storeys to the ground below. None of us fell off, but some of us might have maybe screamed.
I do look pretty cool, right kids?
Bettyanne's square scarf didn't work very well
Just mounted
This feels as awkward as it looks
Success! Good camel!
My camel peered around several times to see who was the creature on his back this time. These animals do this twice a day, every day, for years or even decades. Not sure how I feel about this, but I suppose it’s not a different life from any domesticated, working animal, and camels have been domesticated for some 3,000 years. We were told that only male camels are used for these rides, that they are fully mature before anyone rides them, and that they are well cared for. I have seen camels in India kick up a fuss, I’ve seen them hobbled, I’ve seen their nostrils pierced. Our camels seemed better off than that, and were very good-natured. But of course, we know what happens when a camel ages out.
My gentle, patient steed
After our ride, as darkness fell, we had dinner in the dining tent, warmed by a wood fire. Then the people working at our camp lit a huge campfire on the dune above the tents and transformed themselves into musicians. They sang and drummed in a style I’ve always associated with West Africa, but they told me it was Berber music, that they grew up with it.
Milica and I wandered away from the fire to better see the stars on this clear, moonless night. One of the musicians followed us up the hill (we later learned he was not supposed to do this), and showed us the constellations, and took some long-exposure photos of us and the stars.
And so ended another astonishing day. A "holy-shit!" day. A day I would never have thought possible to experience.
John and I have been writing songs together and playing as a duo since January 2021, after being inspired watching The Beatles: Get Back. We don't have a lot of songs or performances under our belt, but we get a lot of satisfaction in what we've done. We played our third "Lunch Gig" at the Pender Island Community Hall on June 14th.
Apologies for the poor sound -- this was a live stream recorded by the Community Hall on an old iPhone.
For better quality, you can check out last year's performance at the same venue (but outdoors.) We had it recorded by our brilliant local videographer, Kenta Kikuchi.
When we think of Portuguese music, we think of Fado, the mournful songs of sea and longing, accompanied by the Portuguese 10-string guitar. Elly and I went to the Fado museum in Lisbon for an introduction. We heard recordings by a number of the greats of the Fado world. But Fado is meant to be heard live.
I really wanted to see a Fado performance in Lisbon. The travel guides make it seem an easy thing to do, and, sure enough, Fado performances were everywhere. These take place in little restaurants that charge a cover and serve expensive meals. The hitch was that we couldn't get reservations (we didn't know we would need them). Our hotel called at least four places, with two nights to choose from, and nothing was available. So, no Fado. I guess I have to plan ahead for my next trip to Portugal.
Other Music
When I was first researching places to eat Lisbon, I came across two videos of local buskers/café musicians both playing "Stand By Me," and not particularly well. Didn't find any other songs by buskers, just "Stand By Me." I deem it Lisbon's theme song. Here is the one busker we saw in Lisbon:
There was better music to be heard in the streets, though, like this trio in a restaurant patio, the sound echoing around the neighbourhood. Seeing this short clip now, I realize I should have let the camera run longer -- not used to what I can get away with on Youtube.
Returning to Lisbon the second time, we went to this restaurant in hopes of having an evening of this brilliant trio, but it was a Monday, and the place only had live music on Wednesdays and Thursdays.
