The Sahara. Land of salt caravans, touaregs, lost european adventurers, the death of St. Exupery. A week in Morocco could not go by with out a little taste of life amid the sand dunes. We drove east out from the busy city of Marrakech towards the remote interior of the continent. Away from europeanized hotels and food, and into a land of black clad woman and turbaned men. The sand is the first thing you see. Starting by small sand dunes dotting the landscape and sometimes the road. The wind picks up and starts blowing it around and into your mouth and hair even though you think you are safe and protected in a car. We arrived at a dusty outpost hotel where the camels wait. A quick unpack for one night spent in a tent and we are off into a whirling sand storm on the backs of these large lumbering, but not so harmless, giants. Our tents appear around the bend of a giant sand dune, towering over us like a 5 story building. We spend the evening listening to live music and eating sandy but delicious tagine. The air seems to spark in the light as sand particles continue to twirl and float around us even inside the tents. The next day we wake up covered in a fine film of the finest softest sand. The camels are waiting for us again to take us back and out of this place. We feel like we stepped out of time and into a different way of seeing the world. Back to modernity though - electricity and running water feel like a treat and a reminder of the outside world.