S.. Uh.. Desert and the City!

As a well taught cosmopolitan girl in Amsterdam I have always enjoyed the city life in general: its tight schedule, quick pace, crazy traffic, annonimity and upbeat life. Even though proportioned to Dutch common customs, I have always been quickly able to adapt to the city life in general. I confess to like the ability to put on make-up, heels, keep in track with occasional fashion influences and maintain 'Sex and the City's' final season as my bible of life in the jungle of city-style femininity.



And still, many times my parents have reminded us that life could have been slightly different for us if they had remained in North Morocco's Rif Mountains, with little to no abilities of progress in life. As a child I never enjoyed our visits to the country side as there were no toilets, running water or electricity. As a 12 year old girl I remember waking my mother up in the middle of the night because I had drunk a little too much tea and had to 'go pipi', between the cactus plants' needled surrounding which was called the toilet. While fearing snakes and risk of tipping over between the cactus plants my mom pushed me to hurry up as the oil lamp could turn off any moment. I looked up to thank god that there was something like the city. As soon as we had the possibility to organize our own summer holidays I chose to not return from that summer on. Thus, one of my final experiences with 'basic life' ended at the age of 12 while concluding under those country stars that I was more of a city girl instead.

Almost 14 years after this experience I had the opportunity to travel back in time and meet with my past again, only this time I travelled south: to the Moroccan desert I went! During the first night of arrival I panicked a little as I noticed little lightening around me and had to get used to my friend's stories about the village's prevailing patriarchal structures. My deep frustrations and years of feminist struggles came up to bother me after a long and tiring journey. When I woke up the next morning and realized that there was no wifi connection in addition I knew I had to kick off from my life as - what the owner of the guesthouse called- a chicken of electricity. As I found out how sweet and welcoming this family was and the wind blew through our windows as one of the few sounds entering the house, I slowly accepted to slip into relaxation.

While taking a look at my (humble) beauty case and present make-up articles, I couldn’t help but laugh at myself in the mirror: what was I thinking? My hoody and worn out shoes did not seem to bother the dunes or villagers either. I noticed that the people around me laughed much more, looked more rested and happier than the city's average inhabitants.
Still, I had to get used to another way of living. After having been through a sandstorm, few hours walk through the desert and riding a camel later that day, my bruised muscles woke me up in the middle of the night.  I seriously questioned the use of my expensive gym membership in Amsterdam..

The days after I learned to appreciate my afternoon naps, enjoyed meeting and dancing with original 'Gnaoua' musicians, corresponding in Tamazight with local inhabitants, walking through the dunes while seeing a perfect sunset and star sparkling sky later that evening. Finally, I had to accept that I had come to be fond of the desert and its pace of life.

When I woke up early during my final morning while driving off on the back of a motorcycle and enjoying a perfect sunrise, I realized that life came close to perfection for 10 minutes. Nothing else seemed to matter as the fresh air cleared my mind, the sunrise caressed my eyes and desert had sneaked a way into my heart. At that moment I realized that I have always been a mixture of the desert and the city, only this time it was balanced more than ever before!