Globicyclette in Mauritania

Salam Aleikoum!

Hello voyager friends (of real and virtual voyages). Here are the adventures of Globicyclette in Mauritania. What a change compared to Morocco! Come with us and discover how, in three weeks, we have crossed the desert, fought (and won) a battle against heat and dysentery, climbed high passes, slept in the shade of oases, ate camel meat, survived with the help of fermented camel milk, learnt how to breath through three centimetres of cheich when the temperature reaches 45°C, and discovered the kindness of Mauritanians.

12-14th September: Globicyclette takes the Desert Train.

We had left our globicyclists at the exit from the No Man's Land that separates Morocco from Mauritania. So here we are at the border post. Its not impressive, in fact just two small sheds made of corrugated sheet and cob, one for the passports, and another for the customs. Elsewhere is just desert. 20 € later we are officially in Mauritania, with a temporary visa for three days. (20 €, I think we were done again, but how do you barter with a customs officer?). In response to our worries about having only three days to go to Nouakchott and obtain a full visa, the customs officer smiled: here in Mauritania the police are lenient and three days can be stretched. Fortunately so, because it will take us 15 days before we obtain our full visa! Anyway, the officials have friendly smiles (even those that did not get 20 €), and reward us with a "Welcome to Mauritania". It's a good start!

We continue our route, under a blazing sun and surrounded by sand dunes, towards Nouhadhibou the second biggest city of the country. Nouhadhibou is on the coast, at the extremity of a peninsula, and we are greeted by the cries of terns. Our winged friends from Iceland travelled faster than us! The whole town is arranged around the principal avenue. There is a joyful chaos of grocery stores, fruit stores, carpet shops, carts pulled by donkeys, and a plethora of ancient vehicles which overtake on all sides, and generally on the beaten earth that serves as a pavement for pedestrians. The general impression is that the people are poorer than Moroccans, but livelier. Moreover, the kids that gather around our bikes don't ask us for dirhams! We spend the night on a campsite (at Ali's, where we take advantage of his gas cooker to make tons of pancakes). Tonight is the first night of Ramadan, and we drift into sleep surrounded by the call of the muezzin: "Allaaah Akbaaar"!

The next mission for Globicyclette is to go to Atar, a town situated about 500 km to the east of Nouhadhibou, in the middle of the Mauritanian desert.

Our means of transport will be the "Desert Train". It is a goods train that conveys iron ore from the desert mines to Nouhadhibou, and returns empty to collect another load. It's a cheap way to travel for voyagers going east!

However the mission has hidden traps:

Trap number 1: Ramadan; it's not posible to greedily devour our stock of pancakes in public. It would be too cruel for those that fast (everybody except us). We nibble small pieces of plain pancake behind our cheichs. Gloups!

Trap number 2: The wagons; there are no steps or running boards. The wagons are simple metal tanks, 2m deep, perched over wheels 2 metres above ground. In other words, we have to climb 4 metres and hoist the bikes with us. Luckily, we are accompanied by friendly and muscular young Mauritanians, who hoist our material along with enormous sacs of onions, potatoes, blankets, ..., . We are not the only ones to take advantage of the empty train!

Trap number 3: The comfort; yuck! We sit on a metallic floor, over metallic wheels and it's not comfortable. We are shaken in all directions, and each jolt the wheels make the tank resonate with a din of a forge. It's impossible to sleep!

Trap number 4: The worst; the dust. The iron ore is tenacious, and there is enough left on the floors of the wagons to make us travel in a thick cloud of dust. It is imperative to wear goggles, and breathing is possible only through our cheichs. Little by little, the dust works its way everywhere. We are completely grey from head to foot!

However, the friendly atmosphere in the wagon makes up for the lack of comfort. Dumbfounded, we watch our neighbours prepare tea, and then a meal on a small fire that they light on a pile of sand in the corner of the wagon, meanwhile we are unable to drink from our water bottles because of the bouncing!! The Mauritanian smiles are contagious, and the 10 hours in the "train of hell" is not as infernal as that. But our mission is not finished; the train stops at Choum, 80 km from Atar. 80 km in a desert that has just been flooded by recent storms (do you remember the African floods in the evening news?).

But here, there is always a solution! At 2 o'clock in the morning, covered un dust and under a threatening storm, we embark in an ancient Land Rover, at least 20 years old (sturdy beasts these Land Rovers), with Phileas and Heidi on the roof rack.

11 people squeeze inside and zou! The driver heads off in absolute darkness, under pouring rain, along a trail that only he sees. And the inevitable happens: we get bogged down. So we spend the rest of the night, from 4 a.m. to 7 a.m. trying to extirpate the overloaded Land Rover from sandy mud, digging with our bear hands. Phew, we eventually succeed, after 3 h of effort. Now that it is daylight, it's easier to avoid the ruts!

15-22th September: A week in Atar, Mauritania in the off-season.

You can't imagine our state of fatigue and filth when we enter Atar. We would have sold Phileas and Heidi for a hot shower! First stop - the campsite, but ... argh! The campsite is closed! All the campsites in the region are closed, we are out of season! The tourist season here is from November to March, now it's the rainy season!
Are we losers? No, we intend to discover the "authentic Mauritania", not the tourist version. Nevertheless, the perspective of a good shower has disappeared.

We were wandering through the town centre in search of an affordable alternative when a guardian angel materialised on a street corner. The guardian angel is called Saad. He was quietly reading a newspaper in front of a web-café when we asked him if he could recommend a cheap hostel. "I own several hotels in town, but you are not the sort of traveller for hotels, come to my place, I have a spot for your bikes, and you can have shower." Halleluiah! (or should we say "Allah Akbar"?), we will be eternally grateful for his hospitality! And no need to sell our bikes (beg pardon Phileas and Heidi).

We install ourselves for a day, and a second day, and finally we spend almost a week at Saad's, in a courtyard opposite his house. We discover a man that is cultivated, dynamic and truly charitable.
Saad explains his multiple activities: he has an incredible creative energy, a Jack-of-all-trades, and always successful. He has a big store down town, a civil engineering business, a tourist hotel in a nearby oasis, and another in construction at Azougi. He is an organiser of the "Mauritanian Race 200" (a 200 km rally in the desert), owns several houses for rent in Atar, organises camel treks from his hotel, participates in the organisation of the Paris-Dakar by providing accommodation for the VIP, ... He still has a thousand other ideas in gestation ("slimming trips" in the desert, trips for the depressed, "zen" trips, trips for artists, ...).

He explains that Mauritania has only recently opened up to tourists (1996), and that the perspectives are immense. He must be very rich, but he is modest in his appearance and in his speech. He is very proud of his three daughters, 9 months, 2 years, and 10 years old. "Toutou", the eldest, is truly charming. To give him some publicity, go and have a look at Saad's web site: http://www.azougui.com, he will make you discover ... and love Mauritania.

It is thus that we discover the town of Atar, which strikes us by its poverty and its dirtiness. The roads of beaten earth are scattered with detritus that is chewed by dozens of rubbish-bin-goats. The market is held on the ground, and the vegetables are scarce: some onions, peppers, pumpkins, and sometimes a few tomatoes. But the people are friendly and warm. We discover a baker who makes delicious brioche bread. After a few days, the state of the roads no longer bothers us. However, another particularity remains difficult to tolerate: the heat, a continuous stifling heat, which immobilises us fom midday until 5 p.m., and which stops us from sleeping at night. The minimum temperature is 31°C, and rises to more than 45°C in the afternoon. The slightest effort makes us suffer, and we spend numerous hours just waiting for the relative cool of the evening. The coming pedalling is going to make us suffer!.
However we don't spend the whole week at Atar: we use Saad's house as a base camp to visit the region with minimal luggage.

We discover the oasis of Azougi, 8 km from Atar. Saad is building a new hotel there, and we spend a night on the building site. We discover a future hotel of individual traditional bungalows made of dry stone, cut by hand. It's superb, and the finished complex will be magnificent. A recommendation: if you come this way, don't miss Saad's hotel! The nearby oasis is superb with the customary date palms full of delicious fondant dates.

A second trip takes us to Chinguetti, some 80 km from Atar (via a memorable pass at 12%!). Chinguetti is classed as a World Heritage Site by UNESCO. This little town in the middle of the desert dunes has much of the history of Mauritania (also called Chinguetti country) within its walls. The old town, made of dry stone walls has several libraries, in which are conserved several thousand ancient manuscripts, often abandoned there because of lack of funding from the government. Luckily, the desert air is very dry. It helps to conserve them!
In this town, where the nomads of the region meet, accompanied by their herd of dromedaries, we come across Mohammed-Mahmoud and his brother Sidi-Ahmed. They also offer us their hospitality, Mauritania is a country of welcome! These two generous men speak of their association, "Friends of Chinguetti for humanitarian action", which tries to help the impoverished families of the region. Through their intermediary, we discover a school for nomads, with very limited resources, and for which we will create a twinning with the schools of our home county.

If you are interested in helping the school for nomads, here is Mohammed-Mahmoud's e-mail address:
nemoud_nomade@yahoo.fr.
And to continue with our free publicity, we add that Mohammed-Mahmoud is also a guide trained by "Terres d'Aventure" and he will be more than happy to organise a camel trek for you in the desert.

Before we leave Chinguetti, the town offers us its "best of": a sunrise from the dunes of the Sahara. It suffices to walk some 500m beyond the last houses and the civilised world disappears behind the yellow and ochre dunes. The desert, in its overwhelming immensity, leaves us pensive.

23-28th September: or the real crossing of the desert.

After some digestive problems that we will not detail here (see "worst moments" below), it is time for us to continue our voyage. It was difficult for us to leave Saad and his lovable daughters, he gives us advice for the days to come: "It will be very hot, always wear your cheichs ". We have new cheichs of white cotton bought in Atar on Saad's advice, we will not regret buying them! "Carry at least 20l of water with you", "Do not pedal between midday and 5 p.m.", and "Don't hesitate to flag down a car and ask for a drink".

The road that lies before us is in fact a real challenge. It crosses a desert with no water, and with a blazing sun. More than 60°C in the sun, 47°C in the shade, and to sustain an effort in these temperatures is a real exploit! So we fill all our water bottles, 18 in all, they make our bikes heavy, and we set off! The good news is that the road is flat, straight, and even slightly downhill. The bad news is that the wind has decided to blow against us.

To get an idea of what we are facing, sit in front of a hairdryer running at maximum speed and heat! For the next five days we pedal from 6.30 a.m. until midday, and from 4.30 (or 5) p.m. until 7 p.m., sunset. Between the two we choose the biggest acacia tree we can find (or a telephone relay antenna if there is nothing better) and we sit in the shade waiting for the temperature to decline. By midday, pedalling becomes very difficult and it's sometimes on the edge of being sick that we make our halt. We are pushing ourselves too hard, we must take it easier! On our way, we see nomad's tents, dromedaries, and occasional carcasses of cars and ... dromedaries! Gloups! We refill our water-bottles in the rare villages on the way, and also with the help and kindness of passing cars. We wave them down, and they give us at least a litre bottle, sometimes straight from the icebox! One of our halts helps to motivate us for the following days: what do you find in the middle of the desert? An oasis of course!

The Oasis of Terjit turns out to be a real piece of paradise, just like the cartoon films of our childhood! Hidden in the heart of the burning desert, there is a narrow valley, and in the valley there are palm trees and water! And shade! And even a natural bathing-pool! Cool! O.K. the oasis is very famous and generally invaded by tourists, but don't forget we are off-season. We have the whole oasis almost to ourselves. A dream! It's difficult to pull ourselves out of the water, but the souvenir of the cool clean water remains in our heads.

The rest of the trip is monotonous and difficult because of the headwind. We plug our mp3 players into our ears to help keep our spirits up: the sound of some western music does us good!
The penultimate evening, we stop alongside a telephone relay and ask a nomad family, who have established their tent nearby, if they can spare some water. But while we fill our bottles, a strong wind rises and in the space of a few minutes we are the middle of a sandstorm! Moktar, our host, does not loose a minute. He pushes us into his tent and closes all the openings. We are sheltered in a tent that is shaking in the wind, and we are once again thankful to our good luck that made us stop just at the right time. Our little yellow tent would probably not have withstood the storm!

Moktar and his family are happy to have us with them, and immediately invite us to share their tea, their meal, and even their tent for the night! They speak only Hassani (Mauritanian), but their kindness is international!

29th September -3rd October: Nouakchott, ... and then destination Senegal!

Nevertheless, we are glad to arrive in the capital at last. This time the campsite is open! Aaah! Th joy of a shower after five days of bathing in dust that grates in our teeth! We all needed a complete clean-up, bicycles included! We spend a day resting before starting our next mission: obtain a full visa! It is not a simple task. We benefit from the precious help of Bouba (Boubakar), who has fallen in love with our bikes, and decided to be our friend and guide during our stay in Nouakchott. He does all he can to help us with the administrative formalities, and also to obtain spare inner tubes, find a web-café, hire a taxi to go to the beach, etc. After a day of patience, we eventually obtain the precious stamp on our passports, with the help of the general secretary of the French embassy, that we encountered by fortune in the street. Ouf!

In the meantime, we have visited the "Fishermen's Beach": a never-ending line of multi-coloured pirogues are hauled up on a beach that smells of rotting fish. It's very different from the French Riviera!

Behind the coloured pirogues we see the small huts of the fishermen, made of planks and branches, they are very poor people. In the waves, young men have fun doing body-surfing in the rollers: they do it much better than we can! In the evening, Bouba invites us to share the "break" with his friends. The "break" is the end of fasting imposed by the Ramadan until sunset. The Muslims are only then allowed to eat and, above all, to drink: in the prevailing heat, spending a whole day without drinking is a real ordeal! So we find ourselves sitting on a mat with a dozen other youths, and suddenly we are presented with sweet tea and buttered toasts! Mmm! In the sky overhead, turning pink, we see some strange birds. But no! They are not birds they are huge bats! Nearly a metre wingspan! We have never seen such animals ...
Now that we have accomplished our administrative formalities, shopped, cleaned, washed, and replied to e-mails, it is time for us to leave this hot town and head towards the cooler air of the Senegal River. Our various calorific, digestive, and material problems have put us behind schedule. We decide to skip some halts and take a taxi from Nouakchott to the small town of Aleg, 300 km to the east. From there we pedal due south towards the river, which is also the frontier between Mauritania and the Republic of Senegal. After some pedalling, a sight makes our spirits rise: grass! Yellowed grass, certainly, but grass all the same!

After weeks of desert and thorny acacias, the sight of grass prairies amazes us. Mauritania is not just country of scorched dead earth and camel bones. On the green hills we catch our first sight of Mauritanian cattle.

Well a sort of cattle, with horns that would make Camargue bull jealous. In fact they are zebus that nonchalantly watch our strange bikes go by. Decidedly, from dromedaries to zebus, the Mauritanian animals are phlegmatic! Reinvigorated by the green landscape, we pedal happily in scenery that is almost too perfect to be true; it is almost like being in a cartoon film. The hills are covered by close-cut green grass, like the proverbial "English lawn", where herds of zebus graze peacefully, near to small villages of houses made of dried mud and cob, between which pass small groups of women in veils, coloured like bunches of flowers ... and it is (a little) cooler. So we fly along at full speed towards Bogué, a small town on the riverbank.
At Bogué we find the most primitive border post so far: a river, a mud hut of 4m², with two policemen and a pirogue! As usual, each time that we try to cross a border, the police try to racket the rich millionaires that they believe us to be. Here, the strategy is simple, scarcely concealed, via the pirogue man. This latter is summoned by the policemen, and he announces a fare that is 40 times higher than normal (we documented ourselves before arrival)! Well, this time it's really too much: we refuse to be the victims of another con trick, since we know that the money will go directly into the pocket of the policemen. We are furious, collect our luggage, and declare that we prefer to make the 200 km detour rather than pay such an extortionate fee. Curiously, after a quick consultation, the pirogue man comes running after us and announces a fare that is much more reasonable: the policemen have abandoned their racket! Youpi!

We cross the border to our fourth country in a pirogue! The craft is not large, 1m at most. Our bikes hang over each side, let's hope we don't capsize! No, the pirogue man knows his job and we disembark on the muddy Senegal bank with no problem. Will we find the same landscape as in Mauritania? Will it be cooler? Are the people as friendly? (Will we find bananas?) ??? The replies to all our questions will be in the next log book!

Some details of daily life

Eating...

Well, let's be frank, you won't come to Mauritania for the gastronomic experience... let's remind you that it is almost impossible to grow anything in the desert! The only abundant resource in Mauritania is onions, which we learnt how to cook in all possible ways. Finally, sandwiches of onion - garlic - tomato concentrate with "herbes de Provence" (brought from home) is not so bad! In the evening we eat pasta - tomato concentrate - onions. Oh, and we must not forget the eggs which are a cheap and convenient source of proteins. However, it is necessary to specify "raw eggs please". One evening, it was just not possible to make a planned omelette (with onions) ...
Luckily, the Mauritanians know how to bake good bread, and it's possible to buy a good baguette everywhere, without forgetting the delicious brioche bread (sweet) in Atar.
Ramadan and the "break". It was not the best time of the year to sample Mauritanian cooking. We arrived in the middle of Ramadan. For 99% of the adult population, it is forbidden to eat or drink from sunrise to sunset. The "break" of the fasting is announced by the muezzin from the summit of his mosque. The "break" is an important ceremony, even deep in the poorest villages! About an hour before, each family installs a large mat in front of the house, in the courtyard, or even on the (unpaved) pavement. The women then bring the necessary ingredients for tea, dates, camel milk, and sometimes bread and Roselle fruit. They mix the milk slowly with water and whip it to make it froth. It is also an opportunity to meet and chat. Then when it is time to "break", the whole family comes and solemnly shares the milk in big bowls, and then the dates and the tea. At Saad's, they even served pancakes! A couple of hours after the "break" the first meal is served, generally a Mauritanian camel couscous, or camel with potatoes. But that is only a start. They serve a second meal (couscous or rice with fish) around midnight, and then a third meal at about 4 o'clock in the morning! By that time we are generally asleep ... (or at least trying to sleep, whilst our hosts feast nearby).

In the category "we tried it for you":

Saad served us regularly camel stew with onions and potatoes after the "break". The dromedary meat (well here they all call it camel, but it has only one hump!) is quite like lamb ... mmm!
"Camel milk" ... Mauritanians, they like it, but it's too strong to our taste. Traditionally it is served at the "break". Often they dilute it with water, and that is better! We also tried rice pudding with camel milk: it's edible. !
"Foster Clark" is the local equivalent of "Moroccan Tang", it's just as synthetic, comes in all (artificial) flavours, but it helps to make water from the canteen at 35 °C more drinkable.
"Lust"; this dish with a decadent sounding name is in fact a simple cheap preparation that keeps hunger away. It consists of dumplings of flour and water cooked in camel gravy. Similar to Italian gnocchi, not bad at all!
Sand! ... It gets absolutely everywhere. We chewed it permanently during the whole of the desert crossing. We also ate couscous with sand, proudly served by one of our hosts: "You like it? Don't be shy, finish it all!", "Yes, shcrunch, thank you shcrunch, mmm".
(Over-)spiced fish with rice, at 2 o'clock in the morning. A family kindly hosts us during Ramadan. Tired out, we go to bed after having eaten down town, and leave them to their evening gathering. But at 2 a.m. they drag us out of bed and present us a huge plate of fish and rice. Our hostess, thinking that we were going to stay with them, has cooked for us. So now we must eat! We are not really hungry, but we dig in heartily, only to discover that the family loves hot spices, ... and we don't! It really is too hot, our eyes water and our throats burn ..., but the whole family is sitting with us! So we swallow as much as we can bare, and scatter as much as we dare around the edge of the plate.
Bissap: a sort of purple iced herbal tea, made from the red Roselle flowers (a sort of hibiscus), served at the "break". Very sweet, flavoured with cinnamon and other spices, it's somewhere between grape juice and grenadine syrup. It's delicious!

The worst moments

Our trip through Mauritania was sometimes very difficult. At times we pulled through because we were together ("it's better to laugh about it than to cry!"), and also by thinking by about all the signs of friendship that we had received, about our family, and our wedding where so many people came just for us... and it works!

So pell-mell:

The attempts of customs officers to swindle us.

The dust and dirt in the desert train.

The heat, which even prevented us from sleeping.

The desert sand grating between our teeth.

Health problems: we have both had many digestive troubles (and a sore throat for Olivier) during our trip. We ended up exhausted and in need of comfort. It is not easy to live with gastroenteritis when all we have is a dark shack over a hole in the ground, flies, and a drinking well 10m away! (and no toilet paper in stock). We sometimes felt very alone.

The winner of the loneliness contest ... (scatological, be warned!) Amanda, after having spent her morning emptying herself over the hole, she tottered out towards the well to collect a jerrycan of water to "flush" the mess. But before she had time to get back, the kids from the family went to the toilet, maybe to see what she had been doing all this time. The one came out and called all his friends. Seconds later Amanda was surrounded by a dozen kids taking turns to admire her faecal artwork, while the kids from the house scold her bluntly "what's that? Put it in the hole!!". Oh yes, she got yelled at because she didn't hit the centre of the hole in the Turkish toilet. There were times when we really missed home!

Problems with the equipment: This time we have had many problems. Olivier must have reinflated our tires more than a hundred times. We have many punctures and our wheel rims are not compatible with the local inner tubes. So we glue rubber patch over rubber patch, but with the heat the glue doesn't hold. And our "Dutch Perfect" tyres don't only get bulges; they give up.

One of them split completely and exploded the inner tube, and the others only just finished the journey... We covered 500 km in the desert with a tyre sewn together with nylon fishing line!
To summarise: Down with "Dutch Perfect", Hurrah for "Schwalbe Marathon".

And lastly the "giftvultures". We thought that we had left the kids asking for dirhams behind us in Morocco, but no! We quickly discover that it is worse here! At first sight the young kids seem cute, but it's only camouflage...! The giftvultures look like children, but in reality they are vampires! They see us coming from far, and the gather together, howling in a sanguinary pack. As soon as we cross the 500m borderline, they start the chase. The charge our bikes as fast as their little legs will carry them, hurling their battle-cry "GIFT, GIVE ME A GIIIIFT". You're in trouble if you can't do more than 20km/h! Giftvultures are fast running beasts! If they catch up with you, they grab the bike, jump onto the trailer (Bob hates that!), smear the rear view mirrors, pull on the handlebars, and give their battle-cry again, "GIIIIFT". Of course saying "no" is totally useless; the word is not part of their vocabulary. The only thing we can do is to push on the pedals like madmen, pray that the hill will soon flatten, prise their fingers away from the handlebars or the mirrors, and vainly repeat "ma andi chi!", "ma andi chi!" (" I have nothing"), a magic incantation that a Mauritanian voodoo magician taught us on the way. OK, OK, perhaps we are exaggerating a little, but that's the way it feels. And to make it worse, some of the children are really sweet and polite, just a little curious, and we unsheathe our anti-giftvulture defences too quickly. Anyway, on the outskirts of Terjit, we are successful in repelling an attack by a horde (it was downhill, they didn't stand a chance).

The best moments

Don't get us wrong. Mauritania is a fabulous country, and our difficulties are all forgotten when we think back to ...

Saad's hospitality. Every evening he discreetly left two glasses and a large jug of ice-cold bissap in "our" yard. A real pleasure...

The laughs of Toutou, Saad's daughter. They illuminated our way through Mauritania.

The friendly atmosphere in the Desert Train.

The coolness of the oasis in Terjit.

Sunrise over the dunes in Chingetti.

Saad, when he told us "The road to Nouakchott is like jam"!

In the desert, between Atar and Nouakchott, we were pedalling in 42 °C when a four-wheel drive overtook us and then stopped. A Mauritanian stepped out with two bottles of cold water which he gave us saying, "Long live France, long live biking". We scarcely had time to reply "Long live Mauritania" and he had already disappeared!

Seeing greenery again between Aleg and Bogué.

A "break" in company of Bouba and his friends at Nouakchott.

The long discussions with Saad and his friends in front of a camel and potato stew.

Our halt in Akjoujt, the only village in the middle of the desert and the only place where the children don't ask for gifts! Whilst we were drinking tea in a shop, a young girl took affection for Amanda, and pulling her by the hand, asked her to come to her home ("just 10 minutes!"). There, she covered Amanda with jewellery, and ... make-up! Olivier had a hard job to conceal his mirth when his Amanda-Barbie came back. But Marianne, the young girl, is sincerely kind-hearted, and she made a present of the jewels that Amanda is wearing!

The hospitality of Moktar and his family, who saved us from a desert sandstorm.

In the desert, for a midday halt; there was not a single tree in sight, so we climbed over the fence around a telephone relay antenna, to rest in the shade of the solar panels. Then a security guard appeared ... oh-oh ... will he kick us out? Not at all! Instead of being surprised or angry at finding us there, he just opened the door of a small building where the air is cooler! And not content with that, he went into his "shack" and came back with some tea, and then with some delicious camel and onion soup! All without a single word, just a smile from ear to ear... would strangers have been treated the same way in France? We don't think so!