Arfoud, Morocco

It's here folks, a new year. In light of my teenage sister telling me "Leave your opportunities open!", I was reminded of a line from a Shel Silverstein poem, "Anything can happen, child, anything can be". That's the beauty of beginnings, they herald hope, chance, and moments that make you say or write, "Holy shit!!"

Riding on top of this fellow, it was more of a Holy. Effin'. Shit. like moment because I was freezing my ass off. You read that right, I was freezing in the Sahara Desert. It was pouring, it was gusty, and I was cold as hell. I was so cold I yelled to my friend, "I think I have frostbite!" Bless her. What I should've yelled was "It's raining in the Sahara Desert?!? ... It's raining in the Sahara Desert -- holy shit!!"

He sounded like Scobby

Storm clouds above water logged dunes...

As previously documented, my brain doesn't register much when I'm cold (take heed non-existent fiancé). However, after five years, I can still recall details as small as a... Well, you can surmise the simile given my love for puns. Our guides were impossibly sweet, even after the biblical weather parted. And how it did, like enlightened sadness.

I wish I could tell you more about Arfoud, but we didn't rent a car and our hotel was a decent drive from the town center to burden our proprietors. We ended up basking by the pool and reading. Every now and then one of us would look up from our book at the cloudless blue sky.

In the desert, a nature call wrested my friend from sleep. She kept on apologizing for waking me up to accompany her. I don't know why when we had made a bathroom pact right before falling asleep. The minute I drew back the flap of our canvas tent, in my loudest whisper, I cried, "Holy shit!! The stars...thank you for waking me up!!"


Length of Stay

Two days

Docking Index

     

Five anchors, Arfoud remains to be determined since I would either freeze or boil to death apparently.