If I Go, Be Sure to Bury Me in the Clouds

I tend to fall asleep in public transport. Any kind. From iron ore train to crowded bush taxi, bus to boat. It's become quite a talent of mine, and I have to admit, it is kind of nice to wake up from a peaceful nap, look out the window, and see some beautiful new part of Afric... OH MY GOD, WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!!!

Okay, so only sometimes does it happen like that. Today was one of those days. After hiking down out of the mountains, I took a grand taxi back up said mountains from Ouled Brahil to Marrakesh. First of all, there's so much to say about Marrakesh in the few hours I've been here that it will take a completely different entry. This is about something else. The road to Marrakesh weaves through the High Atlas mountains through the Tizi n'Test. This pass is the only way through the mountains without resorting to hours of detours through Ouarzazate to the east or Agadir to the west.

Okay, so now that I have some background out of the way, where was I? Oh yes, death and destruction. It's difficult not to panic a bit when you wake up to the screech of tires and nothing but sky in front of the car. Then it turns, and you realize you've only almost driven over the edge of a cliff at 40k an hour. And then you realize that you still have 140km to go with a Michael Schumacher wannabe in a crappy Mercedes Berliner on a twisty, one-lane mountain road filled with blind turns. It's like the best rollercoaster ever. You know, the one at the county fair that's been shut down across the state for maiming too many carnies? Ya, that one. Anyway, I found myself praying to whoever would listen that we'd make it out alive as we burned up the mountain road, oblivious to any sense of danger or stomach-churning G's. Go ahead, lady in the front seat, throw up; in this case, it's warranted. I'd join you, except I have about a liter of orange Fanta sitting in my stomach, so anything that comes out my nose is going to end up looking like a Nickelodeon advertisement. It's Slime Time!!! Gross. There have been many times in Africa that I've been glad of a broken speedometer. In cases like these, ignorance is bliss.