lines in the sand

from himalaya to sahara

We woke just before dawn, after a night of drumming under a bright moon. The air was cool and damp, and it seemed like our little camp was home to the only people in the world, and the world was silent, except for the occasional snort of a camel or raven's chuckle. I watched Tsewang follow the edge of a dune in his socks, marvelling at the softness of the orange sand.



I wondered what was running through his head, this boy from the Himalaya, sifting the Sahara through his fingers.

orange and pink

How lucky we were to have arrived just before sunset! The sky took turns between pink and purple, while the orange sand blushed. Though every photo I tried to take from the back of my loping camel blurred, you can still get a sense of the colours and the calm.

Pedro somehow managed to snap this not-so-blurry photo of me, secretly carrying a lentil-sized Baby within— followed by Tsewang wrapped in a brilliant blue turban.

erg chebbi

The soft orange dunes on the horizon appeared like something out of a dream— a smooth line of colour in a greying landscape that suddenly grew into waves. Here lies the edge of the Sahara: Erg Chebbi, where we were to spend the night.



First, we needed to find our camels.

a welcome respite

There's something so calming about deserts, whether they're made of the finest grains of sand or the roughest rocks. The quiet, the radiating heat and cool nights, the colours... I have loved deserts since I was a child, since my family left California for Dubai in the early 80s. There's a vivid, clinging memory in my mind of watching a snake move across the yellow sand past the wall of my primary school, the scent of oleanders on the breeze.

The peace I found in Figuig's surrounding desert was a welcome respite after a hectic time in Rabat. Work routines need to be broken by little adventures. It's good for the soul.

where the palms lie

In a far corner of Morocco near the Algerian border lies the town of Figuig, a little pocket of green palmeraie surrounded by rocky golden desert.

the desert

western sahara

Just a little trip down south to the Western Sahara...

sketches of oman, part 2

...by the sea, in the desert.

a good omen

A wadi is a dried river bed, which can suddenly transform into a torrential channel of mud and water, flooding villages, and anything in its path. On a good day, wadis are excellent places to explore; to find Desert Wheatears perched on rocks, to chase blue-winged butterflies (whose names I must learn), and to discover the skeletal remains of livestock and their predators.



As I readjusted the found turkey feather I had tucked in my hair, there was a flutter of movement out of the corner of my eye. My heart jumped— could it be? I scanned the rocks ahead of us, and locked eyes with an Arabian red fox. I had secretly hoped to see a fox during this trip, but as soon as I could utter the words to alert Pedro and Gil, it hopped over a small boulder, fluffy tail trailing behind. I'm not superstitious, but this felt like a good omen— a wonderful sight on our last day in Oman.



Ma'a salaama, Oman. Shukran.
I hope we meet again.

the edge of both sea and desert