Horse (Dromedar) With No Name

And there we see them, still far away, but they shine red, the dunes of Erg Chebbi. The journey to Merzouga drags on, until we finally arrive there, in the village that borders the dunes. We search for the camping and drive through the alleys, somehow we are disappointed, Merzouga apparently has nothing more to offer than the desert, it simply lacks charm here. We visit several campings and then decide on Le petit Prince, which was recommended to us several times because the hosts are very friendly. And they are!

In the evening, it's finally time, we start the dromedary tour. One thing upfront, it's incredibly touristy! Countless dromedary caravans, quad and jeep tours, motocross riders,...
But when we see the joyous eyes of our children while they are sitting on the dromedary, we are also thrilled. Our guide is named Azru, the dromedaries have no names (Dromedar With No Name). We ride further into the dunes and just before the sun sets, our guide leads us to a lonely dune. The children immediately tumble down the slope and despite the whole tourist swarm, I feel like I can enjoy this moment just for myself. In the camp, there is a really delicious dinner, in general we are very positively surprised by the Moroccan cuisine. When the many stars have been twinkling above us for a long time, there is a small drum concert. Milla is thrilled and doesn't want to go to bed. Eventually, we fall into a deep sleep in the tents lined with carpets between the sand dunes.

Via 'Flamingo Lake', we are now a few kilometers further on a really beautiful camping right by the dunes and have a few relaxed days. The men bury the car in the sand (yay, buying the sandboards was worth it), while the women let their souls dangle by the pool and I hum: 'In the desert, you can't remember your name...'