Today we rode for forty minutes (advertised as two hours) to a camp in the desert. We rode on camels—I was on Bob Marley, Mom topped Jimi Hendrix, Dad rode Ali Baba, and Ethan sat upon Shakira. We’d gotten scarves at a shop in town earlier before going to a lake, where eight men set up shop right in front of our car, selling stone camels, wannabe fossils, and other trinkets and baubles.

The man who walked with our camels said that there would be nine guests in the camp, but in the end there were eighteen: four Moroccans, two Frenchwomen, three Spaniards, and nine Americans. The family of five came with three kids: Autumn, 16, Andrew, 14, and Amy, 11. They’ve been living in Naples, Italy, for three years and are currently on spring break. In two months, on June 15, they move to Hawaii.

After supper (rice with eggplant salad and tagine with mystery meat), the five kids climbed the dune. From the top, we could see the lights of the two nearby towns, which made us realize how close we were to civilization.

Eventually, we went back down to where the thirteen adults (plus “musicians”) were listening to the men who walked with our camels play the drums. Shortly thereafter we went to bed in the cold tents.

Ciao!