promised to be just what I was look-
ing for. We would stay in permanent-
ly erected ‘genuine’ Bedouin tents,
eat typical Moroccan food and have a
sing-song round the fire.
It was unexpectedly serene and
beautiful. We set off just before a mag-
ical dusk, plodding through the Erg
Chebbi dunes atop our camels. The
only sound was the enchanting sing-
ing of the Moroccan mother on the
camel in front as she and the animal’s
rhythmic gait lulled her baby to sleep.
At dusk, amazingly clear stars ap-
peared and this ‘just for a laugh’ over-
night tour became something else for
the five kilometre wander through the
hills and vales of the dunes. At the
Bedouin camp we ate freshly made
lamb tagine, drank my wine and
joined in the singing before settling
down on our comfy bedding inside a
big brown tent. Next morning, they
sang “Happy Birthday” to me. I tried
climbing to the top of what looked like
a small dune but which seemed to get
bigger the higher up I went. I didn’t
reach the top before being called
down to mount my steed and return
to Merzouga where the only pouring
going on was fresh orange juice and
mint tea. It was dry and hot and I was
happy.
The romance of the desert was then
shattered by 4WD vehicles and motor
bikes racing about the dunes. The
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