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My next entry will discuss Aziz's volleyball game (with considerable assistance from him, since I know so little about the art of that game) and our treks through the Sahara, from which I am writing this entry right now. As always, don't blink for a second lest you miss an entry! They should be appearing more frequently now that I have a break from studies and am going on a twelve-day excursion touring the whole country.
My next entry will discuss Aziz's volleyball game (with considerable assistance from him, since I know so little about the art of that game) and our treks through the Sahara, from which I am writing this entry right now. As always, don't blink for a second lest you miss an entry! They should be appearing more frequently now that I have a break from studies and am going on a twelve-day excursion touring the whole country.
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==The Soaked Sahara, Part One==
27 January 2008, 20:39
My, what a wonderful landscape! We have entered the Tunisian Sahara, and it has presented some of the most gorgeous views that I have ever seen in my entire life. Accentuating this geographic panoply of mountains, plains, salt lakes, and dunes was the fact that despite being a desert, it rained for four days straight - an aberration which has not happened here for fifteen years. So torrential was the rain that one of our hotels, with its open-air roofs and supposedly sun-licked walkways, was flooded with an inch of water in certain areas.
Our exploration of this forbidding terrain began with a train ride through the mountains on the fringe of the desert. Our vessel careened along carefully-navigated tracks that followed, not fought, the natural undulations of the terrain, though occasionally a particularly thick knot of mountains made it necessary for the track to wend its way through tunnels. Every so often, the train would stop and we would be able to leave and immerse ourselves in the scenery.
While standing atop jagged medium-sized rocks which ran down a steep gradient ending in a small streamlet, I beheld the mountains with this smooth, almost vertical surfaces patterned by a dazzling spectrum of auburn, tan, beige, and sienna arranged in horizontal streaks. The only vegetation growing here were some rugged-looking flowers with soft lavender petals and some grungy shrubs which grew out of the few sand pockets interspersed between the rocks. Further along the tracks, I saw an impressive ravine - a miniature fjord, I would contend - where the rain-fed streams flowed between two impressive pillars of stone, coated in that ancient gamut of browns and orange-reds. Accentuating these eternal edifices was a true blue sky far into the distance.
The last train stop brought us to a flatter area, strewn with gray pebbles and small stones. Given my natural inclination to climb anything which looks reasonably sturdy, I crossed the train tracks (we only were let out on one side of the train and waltzed up a irregularly-shaped outcropping of some pewter-tinted boulder. Being the highest point where a fall would not risk me breaking a bone, I looked out and felt the wet wind blowing into my face, my eyes tearing and reddening from the abundance of moisture, but still joyous that they were taking in this magnificient natural scenery. Words cannot do this justice - I will upload some pictures alongside this entry (and actually do it this time) so you can appreciate these desert fringes a bit more.
The interior of the train presented its fair share of surprises too. An elevated seat allowed me to look above the roof of the train from the safety of some Plexiglass windows, which were clear enough for me to take a few pictures from. Several locals waved to us from the sides of the track - I got off a smile and a wave before we zoomed yonder towards the desert. A few members of the group spoke a little bit with a Brit, who had been climbing in these mountains half a century prior and also traveled extensively throughout North America as well. Perhaps the most peculiar moment was, while I was ordering some Bugles, one of the workers remarked that I "looked like Harry Potter" (I firmly deny this accusation) and was pining to know whether Daniel Radcliffe was still alive after a fight which apparently broke out at one of his private parties. Describing this event sent one of our group members into a wild fit of laughter.
That afternoon, we took a cadre of SUVs out into the remote desert, devoid of any signs of civilization beyond the paved tarmac road we used to get there. The first stop took us to a bumpy plain, over which was scattered various tough-looking desert shrubs and the processed lunch of the wild camels, who were grazing there before our arrival but lazily sauntered away from us. Nevertheless, a few of us had the audacity to chase after these slow beasts. Adam apparently evoked the ire of one cantakerous camel and was being chased by it some seventy-four yards away from the road. He eventually was able to best the camel and darted back to safer terrain, beyond which the camels stopped caring about his intrusion. After a few more sprints across this beautiful, barren landscape, we saundered back to our SUVs to continue our trek.
I proudly became the envy of every basement-dwelling nerd as we arrived at the legendary set of Star Wars, still preserved in the governate of Tatouine (تطاوين). Funnily enough, The buildings on this set closely mirrored the traditional Berber house architecture of mud-brick walls, but had just enough of that extragalactic flair to be recognized as a distinct entity. Odd silver-gray pillars were abound on this set, tapering at their tops to a long, fine antenna. Outside of these buildings, we climbed about on the various unstable staircases with the abandon of Victorian-era children who were finally freed from their stuffy, pampered life. Going inside the buildings was slightly underwhelming - there were no internal walls, only the back-faces of the exterior ones, and the wooden scaffolding had remained in place. (Yes, I did climb it - I got high enough to peer over the wall, but I quickly ceased my ascent when I heard a questionable creak from one of the boards.) The upside was that the windows in these buildings made for a nice pose for taking pictures.
Returning to the hotel was an adventure in and of itself - the SUV drivers showed no restraints in freestyling over the rolling dunes, and we took several dips and dives with our fate in their hands. Consultation with my fellows afterwards made me suspect we had one of the wildest of the pack. He took us to a flat sandy plain with some regularly arranged, jagged brown rocks, each about the size of a large gorilla. In vainglorious spite of these risky conditions, he had the chutzpah to pull off a few donuts between these pillars of doom. Yet, having experienced some reckless drivers in my own family, I felt strangely safe in this hunky metal chassis - the driver's movements were graceful and calculated, the mark of a man who constantly flirts with death but never quite manages to kiss Her. (Sorry for the allusion, ladies!)
Upon the next morning of being alive - الحمد لله! Elhamdullah! - the group boarded the SUVs once again to spend a whimsical but physically taxing morning blazing across the dunes. Since the rain had stopped by now, this was the desert wearing her most sincere face - dry, featureless, and utterly without remorse, yet still a joy to play on. Ikram, our Arabic professor, made her enjoyment obvious, calling out her distinctive "whoo-whoo!" as she tumbled down the first dune we climbed. After a laborious trudge up that same dune, I lunged down the other side, spewing sand everywhere as momentum took a hold of my now-puny physical form. This rapture was so great for Ted that he ended up falling down, rolling until he hit the foot of the dune. A group of macho men who have titled themselves The Trifecta plowed into the interior and gave heroic poses at the broad, flat peak of one dune. Our immersion in the natural landscape had to come to an end, however - but as I ran down that very slope I had first conquered, I kicked around the sand in such a bizarre manner that I managed to get some in my mouth. For a moment I became a camel, wildly spitting on the side of the road until I cleared out enough of the grit for me to be satisfied.
As you guessed from the title, you'll be hearing more of my outstanding adventures in the most impressive desert in the world. Watch your step, hold on to your reins and don't close your eyes, I'll be taking you on a wild ride! As always, keep your eyes on this space!