Chez Said

Ahmed and I caught the 10pm bus for Ghardaia. I bought two tickets for 350 Dinar each, and found comfortable, upholstered seats.

In the dark we headed west, a trip I had hoped to bicycle, a trip that would have taken me almost a week accomplished in 4 hours, a trip in utter darkness, stars, the beam of the headlights revealing only sand and the occasional truck carrying three 12 meter long, 90cm diameter steel pipes; on the horizon, occasionally, the glow of some distant settlement. At every police checkpoint the interior lights went on, the bus approached very slowly, and conversation between the police and the driver was perfunctory. Otherwise, we drove very, very fast.

In Ghardaia, Ahmed approached a waiting pickup truck, and for 200 Dinar (2 Euro), the bicycle and all my junk was schlepped off to Ahmed’s house where I spent the night on a mattress in his living room. In the morning, baguette and coffee. Ahmed answered my list of questions:
1. Could I move freely without a guide? Yes, within the M’zab valley.
2. Could I move outside the valley alone? No.
3. Could I prolong my visa? Yes, at the Commissariat de Police, but I need photos.
4. I have photos.
5. How do I get to Tamanrasset? By bus, leaving daily, no guide required.
6. Where do I stay for a few days while I explore the area? He had a place in mind.
7. How to get to this party on Saturday, 120 km from here? He would arrange it.

I paid Ahmed 6000 Dinar for 2 days of service, plus an extra 1000 Dinar to express my thanks for his help and generosity. He found another pickup truck, delivered me to a friend with a kind of hotel in the palm Plantation outside Ghardaia, and left me to my own devices.

Chez Said

This is not the trip I had imagined for myself: it is better. Bad information, bureaucracy, unexpected acquaintances, unimaginable kindnesses, and a bit of pedaling and openness to whatever might transpire have conspired to construct a situation I could never have planned for or imagined. I will not be bicycling across the Sahara, and I couldn’t care less.

Ghardaia, Algeria