Journey Along the Atlas Frontier

OURZAZATE, MOROCCO -- April 4, 2006

My journey along the Atlas frontier, central Morocco's mountain range, begins. Transportation connections prove to be a bit trying. I wait at the bus station until 2:30 PM for the bus to Ourzazate, a town known mostly for it's film studio and for its staging ground into the mountains beyond. Other than that, it doesn't have much going for it. I am planning to use it as a base for exploring the recently restored kasbah of Ait Ben Haddou, only 24 km away.

As I wait for the bus to pull out of the station, a man with no arms slides his way down the long aisle and back, asking passengers for a few dirham. Generous people stick a few dirham in his shirt pocket, as he walks past. It is one of those surreal moments when I think to myself, "Only in Morocco." Then the agonizing bus ride begins. The aisles are so narrow that my legs cannot extend straight in front of my body.

Five hours later, my lower back is screaming for Advil. What remains with me, however, is the majestic scenery that I enjoyed out my unkempt, oil-and-fingerprint-laden bus window. Narrow roads that wind up and up into the mountains, hairpin switchbacks bringing us to the brink of sudden death and then above it, the outline of mountains looming in the distance... there was a new vantage point around every bend. The sweeping views across open desert landscapes, mountains folding over themselves, tiny villages scattered here and there, the boxy outlines of their earthern skeleton rising above the desert floor... these are the images that are burned in my memory.

~Melanie