The next day we wake up bright and early after a late night to get on the bus. I've only slept 3 hours, but I expect that I would be able to sleep on the bus since we have a 4 hour bus ride until lunch and then another 5 hours until we get to Zagora, the gateway to the desert. I manage to doze off for a while when suddenly I am jarred awake. We are in the mountains. We are climbing and descending mountains--there is no way I am going to be able to sleep. So I stay up and I watch as my surroundings change. It is the first time I really feel like it's winter in Morocco, there are patches of snow and an icy bite to the air, but it still feels more like early spring than winter. If I were a poet, i would be able to describe those mountains, but I guess it suffices to say that they changed continuously. Sometimes they were big piles of black dirt, sometimes they were jagged peaks. After lunch I managed to go back to sleep and when I woke up, we were no longer in the mountains, we had arrived to the desert. It was the outer desert, so there were still plants and it wasn't all sand, so it reminded me of my disappointment with the Arizona desert. I saw too much green. I wanted the Sahara I had seen in Lawrence of Arabia. Eventually we arrived at our gorgeous hotel in Zagora that had a pool (that one of my friends was crazy enough to swim in). We all eagerly anticipated riding camels the next day.
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