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Previous:
Fes |
Caravane
Route
To Figuig |
Next:
Figuig |
| "In
this dry expanse of land there are no fertile grounds. Occasionaly,
you spot a small garden, with vines, fig or peach trees. In this
place, such gardens resemble Adam's paradise." (Leo,
299) |
| We
left Fes on the afternoon train to Oujda- due West towards the
Algerian frontier. A quick rest in an Oujda 'ghost hotel' was
rudely interrupted by a 6 am bus departure to Figuig. We drove
the 350 kilometers down the furthesmost Eastern road in Morocco,
in a busload of turbaned men, veiled women and... sheep. Occasionally,
the bus stopped, unloading this merry caravan, while suspicious
(and somewhat flirtatious) police officers inspected our 'oh
so many times inspected' passports. After 7 hours of toiling
through bumpy roads, treacherous sun and bitter winds we arrived
in Figuig- the end of the world... |
Inside
the bus |
Filming
our adventure |
Outside
the bus |
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