Caravane Route
To 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