“I ended up becoming friends with some sort of dodgy real estate gangster who worked next door. It’s a long story, but basically this guy took me 400 km to the next city, gave me a tour of all the sights, put me up in a luxury hotel…”
…My left knee jams under the accelerator grip, and the next thing I know, I’ve lost power, lost my balance and I’m toppling, slowly and gracelessly toward the ground. A group of monks are laughing at me uproariously. I pick myself up with Buddhist humility, and ride slowly and carefully out the temple gate… Flashback:…
…Some time in the next few minutes I am going to shit. If I don’t find a suitably private place to do it, it is going to happen in my pants, and I know from experience that when you feel this sort of urgency in the tropics, the results are usually liquid, and that means…
In the desert, any bar is a good bar, but you don’t get to choose your drinking companions… I step into the shade of the “La Boussole” bar and collapse gratefully onto a couch beside the dining table. Outside, in M’hamid, the temperature is living up to the Sahara’s reputation. (Above: watering holes…