M'Hamid Nomad Festival

Of all the variety of garbs I have seen in Morocco, these LmlHfa (?) are the most stunningly beautiful flowing wraps.. every woman in her own glorious hue. I had to buy one.

Some of our artisans waiting for tourists to come look at their products... they waited a lot and got little reward for it.

So .. I've become Berber. Jess too.

Artisan bonding ... or maintaining sanity from boredom.

Houssane and I with our display

Sara F. and her artisan ... with their billlows.

Andy in a new turban and our favorite billows-maker

The little boys... well.. sometimes I wish they didn't exist. Sara demanded that a crowd of thirty of them follow her. She said she was taking them to the gendarmes (police). She looked like a pied piper walking down the street. They came to a cross roads and when the boys couldn't tell her which way to go she picked up her phone to call the police. They scattered like mice.

This man was our savior. He miraculously got our tents up and kept the little rascals away. Granted.. sometimes that involved grabbing them by their hair and shoving them away or screaming at them or spitting on them...

M'hamid is a port to the dunes.. but I never saw any real dunes. Lots of camel caravans though. Our "campground" is in the background.

50 Days by camel to Tinbucktoo... Seriously.

Bus ride home... I was hanging out the window trying to catch the last rays of sun.

More camels. Jessica and Ann where talking in the street when three camels charged out of no-where.. it was a camel race. Ann grabbed Jess.. she was literally 3" away from the camel's hoof that would have trampeled her.

Photogenic, I must say.. this happy fellow.

There was an unwritten memo ...