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It’s not long before a group of women, in vibrant saris and knotted hair take a liking to me – a solo blonde woman with a giant camera and an open curiosity.
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I’m in a dusty desert town, somewhere in the Kasbah Valleys of Morocco. I am being scrubbed raw by a woman our guide calls ‘Mama Africa’.
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All have, at one point in time, been the capital of the country. Each one has ancient medinas and royal palaces, and each also has its own very unique vibe.
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I’ve approached deserts before; Mongolia’s Gobi, India’s Thar, Egypt’s Western Desert. All were powerful and desolate and imposing. Yet still, the Sahara felt different
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One traveller’s journey beyond the ancient medinas, rolling deserts, and piled Tagines of Morocco, and into the snow-capped peaks of the Atlas Mountains
