Morocco was nice, easy and comfortable. Compared to here - like a luxurious vacation. Only now, in Mauretania I can feel like real Africa begins. But the adventure already started in Western Sahara, where we got picked up by a Malian guy driving a white van from Spain all the way home, who went for a couple of days and nights without sleep, so was more than happy to hand me the steering wheel. So this is how I ended up driving for two days through hundreds of kilometers of the desert. We were invited to join him all the way to Mali, where Kati and I are also heading, but we wanted to do a few things in Mauretania.
All there is here really is desert and dust but... a lot is happening. A whole night ride inside an empty open cargo container of the longest train of the world, together with some locals, a bicycle, a fridge and a goat is a one story. Besides, we just came across the Paris Dakar ride passing through, so - what else could we do other than hitch a ride with one of their support trucks.

I hope to be able to share some photos soon, there are a few interesting ones. We've just arrived to the capital but we have yet to come across a faster internet connection.

 Here's a fragment of our journey - through Kati's eyes. I'm really happy to be travelling with her right now. And yesterday we met another girl hitchhiking alone through this part of the world. So we're having a little female hitchhiker's gathering here in Mauretania. We might travel together for a while and share more stories and photos soon. For now - enjoy

Kati's story:

Wow!

I would be abusing your good will if I used all the words necessary to convey the funny, striking things that swirl around us.   So I will be brief, and forgoe telling you numerous anecdotes about hitching a ride across Western Sahara in a crappy van with no map.

Lets see...I got hit by the car, then I went back to the place we were staying and painted a mural and politely refused two marraige proposals, both by men named Mohammed.  We then hopped a freight train, which I will remember for years (perhaps that is because it will take that long before I manage to get the resulting dirt our of my skin).  It is the longest tain in the world, and maybe also the dustiest.

Really, it was marvelous.  Kinga and i wove our cold fingers together and occaisionally peeled our scarves aside and peered up a the open sky.  It was stars behind stars behind stars, until there was realy no black in the night at all, jut layers of stars.  We ate a chocolate bar and agreed that life was pretty damn near perfect.

In the lovely little dance routine that life has choreographed, we just so happened to be traversing this swath or Mauritania at the precise moment that the  legendary Paris-Dakar Rally was approaching. In the distance, across the desert, we began to see enormous crescendos of dust, as these fantastical race cars devoured the landscape. I felt like we were watching the arrival of space invaders. We were winding up a narrow hill at our own leisurely pace when the leading car sped right up to our bumper.  It was emblazoneded with slick decals of corporate sponsors, and driven by men in spacesuits and helmets.  They impatiently banked left, then right, desperately grasping for a sliver of road wide enough to pass us. But life allowed us to have a laugh at their expense - laughter filled with big yellow tombstone teeth and cracks of dust around the eyes. Even the goat on his way to slaughter seemed to recognize the irony and bleat in enjoyment.  Here we were, the salt of the earth slouched together in dusty backwardness and yet somehow managing to impede these giants of speed and domination.  I was very contented to watch them eat our dust. Or course, as soon as the road widened just a bit, it was we who quite literally ate their dust.  They tore ahead of us and whited our colors out. Still, the fleeting moment of triumph was satisfying.

So that night in Atar we snuck into the race campgrounds and mined our prospects.  It was another world. This massive movement of 500 racecars and thousands of support vehicles plowed through the Sahara like a locust invasion. It displayed a shocking indifference to the people and mud houses that surrounded it.  Inside the camp was alive with bright lights and the buzz of generators.  Thousands of mechanics in matching jumpsuits labored like ants to pull the tires off the cars and tighten evey bolt. Everything looked new and shiney and expensive. I gathered that almost none of these people ever ventured out of the encampment to look at the life around them. We were told that it cost upwards of a million dollars for each car to participate.  A quick bit of math revealed that just a couple of Rallies required more money than the entire national debt of Mauritania.  It was absurd.  How can such folly and excess have the gaul to exist alongside such striking poverty? The little Lisa Simpson in me was outraged, and my mind whirred with critiques. I helped myself to their refreshments with a sense of indignity.
And then the next morning I was willing to let my sense of adventure deafen my morals, and we were on the side of the roads with our thumbs out. It was a tricky hitch.  Every person in the rally is loaded down with badges and wristbands and official rules.  They were forbidden to take anyone. "Eet ees eemposseeble" we were told by many a Frenchman.  But we insisted anyway.  And somewhere around noon, after about a thousand rally vehicled had passed us by with honks of acknowledgement, one truck finally pulled over.  We couldnt believe it.  We grabbed our packs and ran with hopeful eyes. A French team was willing to bend the rules for whatever reason, and they threw open the back of their truck and let us climb in. Kinga and I high five each other and basked in the glory of a mission accomplished.  We hitched a ride on the Paris Dakar! Now everytime I hear this race referenced I can yawn and flex my coolness. Even we were seduced by the glamour for a moment. It was such a cool, memorable ride.  I cant say the view was spectacular, because we were in an unlit, windowless chamber full of sharp metal objects that made a lot of noise and swung very close to our eyeballs. But really, it was cool.  Especially when they threw open the door and we were in the middle of the desert.  They gave us red wine and baguette which we feasted on beside the sunbleached skull of a camel.  Kinga and I looked at each other a lot and laughed at the turns that life takes.

So, now we are rally rats.  We are just riding this as far as it takes us and enjoying the complementary beverages.  We are camped at the Nouackchott airport, living a life so thuroughly detatched from the people around us. Actually, it is a lot like Burning Man, only without the sparkles. It is fascinating. But if you have read this far than I have already abused your attention span.  Ask me about it when I see you. Who knows what tomorrow holds.  We have befriended a semi-sketchy Bulgarian pilot with a fondness for the drink.  He says we can ride his plane to Mali.  Hmmmm.....it is hard to turn down a free plane ride.  Lets see...

Whatever happens, we are feeling very much like we are riding the crest of a very great wave.  We are feasting on faith and drunk on absurdity.

Enjoy the photos.  Love to you all.
kat

"Mauretania offers naked scenery, endless views, forgotten towns, weird journeys along nonexistent roads, the world's longest train, and timeless tea-rituals in nomadic tents." - this is an introduction to Mauretania from my African guidebook. And this is pretty much what we experienced during the last week or so, hitching through Mauretanian desert together with Kati and Rebeca. I'll hopefully share some photos soon, and Kati might write something.
Right now we're heading towards Mali. We decided to go through Senegal and ended up detained at the border, because it turned out I need a visa (even though European Union citizens don't need one). Anyway, after the night spent at a shabby border post of white-robed Mauretanian custom officers, yesterday we managed to sneak into Senegal through another place. It's a whole different world here again. I'll be back, but right now we're hitching towards Mali...