11/29/2023 Bikepacking Morocco Day 113 : All we need is just a little Patience

I’m getting a little sad because I think I’m going to miss Morocco. This morning as I was fighting the pre-noon headwind, a car honks, pulls over, and hands a 500ml bottle of water out the window. That was good because I had carelessly left town for a 100 mile ride with only 750ml in tow. I saw the Spanish flag on the man’s Jacket and asked, “Hablas español?” He said, “no, Sahrawi people!” “People” - probably the only word he knew in a foreign language. Their car was packed full of 6 or 7 people. They smiled and drove on.

The Sahrawi people are the the nomadic people of this disputed area called Western Sahara. The name derives from the Arabic word, “Ṣaḥrā” - which means “desert”. You got it… when you say “Sahara desert,” you’re saying “desert desert”

A little bit later, a truck driver parked on the side of the road flagged me down from behind his truck. I stopped and went around back. All the 18 wheelers here have these little fold out cubbies on the side that seem to serve as a mobile countertop. Atop his platform, he had a stove; he invited me to sit and have some tea. Unfortunately, the sugar had already been added. It made me sad to turn him down - he spoke only Arabic - but he still really wanted me to come have tea with him. What would we have talked about?

A few hours later, a family having tea on the side of the road wanted me to stop and join them. People will just pull over in their vehicles to have these roadside tea parties. Given the frequency of these invitations, I am certain that I will be joining someone BEFORE they add the 300grams of sucrose.

I gotta say that as difficult as it is to manage type 1 diabetes, the impact on social interactions might be the worst part. Having to pre-dose insulin and then wait to eat… it destroys the spontaneity that makes life beautiful. I can potentially drink the sweet tea, but have to be judicious about when and where - especially when exercise and remoteness are involved.

The wind began to change from a side-headwind to a side-tailwind. My speed increased from a patience-requiring 12 mph to a brisk 22mph. If you ride 10 hours, that means you can cover an additional 100 miles in the same amount of time. That is hella significant now that the jumps between civilization are 100 miles.

I’ve passed some 70 police checkpoints during my time in Morocco, but it wasn’t until today that I was asked to stop. Twice, in fact. Because of the conflict between Morocco and Western Sahara that I told you about yesterday, Morocco really wants to make sure that the tourists are safe. They asked me many details about my itinerary, the time of day I would be each part of the next leg, and where I would stay. They didn’t want me riding after dark. I got a little suspicious when then they asked for my phone number. But, they were being really nice and patient. I gave them my WhatsApp and asked, “Why do you need my number?” They came back with, “for your safety on the road,” as they kindly patted me on the back. You could tell by the looks on their faces that they were sincere - and doing this for me.

These kind of interactions are why I say that I’m going to miss Morocco. Yes, there were some nuisance kids that I called out earlier in the trip… But I’m constantly impressed with how patient and helpful the majority of people have been here. I feel like a turd for only knowing 5 words in Arabic, yet people are always so tolerant and never ever act annoyed, impatient, or anything negative.

People in the US are generally pretty nice, but if I knew only 5 words of English, I think it is safe to say that I would have pissed off at least one American during the course of 26 days.

Something to think about tonight: How does it come to pass where entire countries have a certain way of “being?” I guess you act like what you see. I wish I could bring a little bit of Morocco back home. Well, maybe I will: Smile big at people and be more patient.