09 Jul Morocco: the hidden secrets of the south

There are trips that seem like déjà vu of the previous one, same route, same landscapes, more of the same?
But the truth is that they are totally different, some places change, other moments, different friends... There is only one thing common to each trip, the permanent humour, the laughter. When they are gone, I will stop taking people with me.

The incredible places, the adventure, a little bit of wine and a good guide like me, stimulate the good mood, and taking people from Ohio de Manzanares, the laughs are guaranteed.

I also tend to worry too much about making sure people eat well, which is essential to keep a good mood alive. For this group, I opted for a fusion cuisine with a markedly Mediterranean character in which the star products were fuet and melon, thus achieving a balanced and innovative diet capable of providing the calorie intake required for such a large-scale adventure.

And so on, day after day... Maybe the fuet got out of hand.

On every trip I discover new places that add to the list of places to get lost in. I love to show these places to my friends, but more than that I like to discover them with them, places that from then on unite us and belong to us forever.

This time I discovered two very different sites. One of them is on the Telouet track, the old caravan route to Timbuktu. There are some salt mines there that I was always in a hurry to get to Ait Ben Haddou, until I decided to stop...

I discovered the second site by chance, on the internet. I saw a photo of the peaks of Jebel Saghro reflected in the mist on the Draa river and I didn't stop until I got there.

The place is called Hara and is a hidden paradise in the heart of the immense palm grove that rises in Agdz. Sunset by the river, falling asleep on the shore watching the stars or strolling at dawn through the semi-ruined Jewish quarter, can make us rethink our life of ties, timetables, boss and office and ask ourselves why the hell we haven't left it all behind and are already living there... Dangerous if not controlled, with something similar many of us started our life as a dogflautist.

Other old places, where the absence of simpsonian tourists has led me to believe that they belong exclusively to me, are the sea of dunes of Erg Chegaga, the lost city of Bounou or the unreal horizon shown by Fata Morgana on the plain of Lake Iriki,

This time I'm not going to talk about those mixed feelings that assail me when I get away from everyone and enjoy the solitude among the dunes. After my last entries I have been told that my writings are predictable: there are doses of humour, dreams to be fulfilled, the memory of old adventurers, distant loves and, if anything, the odd gin and tonic.

I'm not even going to talk about gin and tonics, I wanted to have made a dry trip, very healthy, not even a beer, just colacaítos, but I don't know at what point the whole thing got out of hand.

I recognise that my writing can be predictable, but I assure you that my travels are not. I like to be flexible, to go off schedule, to adapt to the situation, to get into some trouble... what some might call improvisation à la mecagoendiez and what I call adventure.

And from which you always come out so well, because you know how we Portuguese parachutists say, "a sorte protege a os audaces". Although on this occasion I didn't want to get too carried away by the adventure, as my brother-in-law Eduardo and my sister Nuria were in the group, who, although much more mature than me, will always be my little sister, and we have to take care of her.

My sister has been wanting to take a trip with me somewhere in Africa for years, and now I've put the poison in her body. I can already see myself travelling with her through the lost oases of the Ametlich... I'm delighted, besides, this way she can explain to my mother why I sometimes prefer to be lost in some African desert, instead of savouring her famous Sunday paella.

Some friends have told me that in my entries you can sense that I am in love and that I feel butterflies in my stomach and there are those who say that my nights of reflection in the desert have made me evolve and a certain hint of feeling can be seen in me as I am giving more depth to what I write. So I am tempted to break the spell of the dawn in the desert with the sound of a sonorous morning kuesko, to show that I still have the same sensitivity as a well-done grilled steak.

I'm finishing up now, I've got myself tangled up again. I hope you liked these hidden secrets of the south as much as I did. There are many more waiting for you. It is a short trip but with devastating effects. By the time it ends, at sunset on the last day, on the terrace of the Dar Kamar, broken from exhaustion and emotions, caressed by the gentle breeze as we listen in silence to the call to prayer, we know that we will never be the same again. Not even me...

And I've kept a surprise for myself, another place I'm looking forward to returning to, but that will be with the next group that joins me.

I leave you with some more photos in case any of you are getting the urge to follow us.