Timeline 1981 - Location Algeria
Leaving Bou Saada after eventual hot baths , a soft bed and boiling eggs (which I had to get from the Veedub as the hotel had no eggs!) we felt much refreshed and travelled on westwards through Ain Oussera and on to Tiaret a pleasing town on the edge of the Tell Atlas where we stopped for coffee. It was a real mixture of Ancient & Modern having Berber roots back millennia with plenty of more modern French influence .
Onward westwards to the town of Mascara where there was a market in full swing selling everything from Babouches (Shoes) made from old car tyres, a plethora of used clothing in various states , donkeys and of course plenty of food stalls . I was particularly drawn to one such food stall which appeared to be selling something entirely black and had a large cluster of people around it . On venturing closer it became apparent that the "blackness" was in fact a complete covering of flies on a confectionary stall and the vendor would occasionally wave a piece of old cardboard about to reveal the various "delights" lurking underneath. The stall was very popular indeed - but not with me! We overnighted in a small square here and once again were besieged by people wanting to buy any Western goods but of course our van was now nigh on empty!
The next day we made an early start having refuelled in order to make the crossing to the Moroccan border and pressed on through Sidi Bel Abbes a large most interesting town in a large lush area famed for cereal production and a redundant French Foreign Legion post.
Our journey on this day and indeed everyday consisted of driving through the Northern edge of the Sahara , lush irrigated areas , salt flats and scrub so was very varied and not the slightest bit boring. It is also worth noting that in the several days in Algeria we had not met or seen a single European which was actually most refreshing! Onwards through Tlemcen which was the biggest town we had yet encountered and were now making straight for the border at Zouj Beghal . Closing in on the said border we passed through a small village called El Bettim and noticed there was what appeared to be an encampment of ancient European camper vans & tents and proceeded to investigate . We were greeted by a motley collection of hippies with trademark long hair , filthy jeans and a rag-tag collection of hand painted campervans . "Hey man where are you going" - "Morocco" I replied "Well man you've got no chance - the border is as good as closed and we have been here for weeks trying to get in" - "We shall see" I replied! We took tea and some awful communal lentil dish with them but in fairness they were very hospitable.
Sheelagh and I returned to our faithful Veedub and decided on a plan of campaign to enter Morocco and decided the only chance we had was to present ourselves in the best possible light so scrapped the idea of entering that afternoon and backtracked to the last village. Here I found a barber in an old tin shed had a good trim and a lovely wet shave - North African barbers really are superb and I enjoyed the experience a lot until !! - he asked me "Are you circumcised?" - needless to say I was shocked but managed to stutter "La" (no) at which point he said no problem he would do it "moins cher" - "non merci!" I replied and paid him with a healthy tip to prevent any further discussion. The next morning I donned a pair of mustard corduroy trousers, viyella shirt , old school tie , sports jacket & brown polished shoes whilst Sheelagh outfitted in a lovely floral dress which I remember to this day . Sheelagh tidied the inside of the van and off we went - I felt very odd and very hot but needs must!
We drove to the Algerian side of the border post and stopped when bidden by two machine gun toting border guards who asked what we wanted . We got out and I think they were quite taken back to see our presentation and on production of our two British Blue Passports waved their firearms and ushered us into a sort of concrete bunker where a more senior officer was sitting at a tatty old desk with an ancient typewriter and an equally old telephone. We communicated in French as our Mahgrebi Arab was very minimal and I informed him Her Britannic Majesty commands we wished for unhindered passage into Morocco as I gave him our passports . He grunted and asked for our currency document - shit I thought we never changed money so its blank . I produced it from our vehicle folder and passed it to him - "why haven't you changed any money since leaving Tunisia?" " We had no need there was nothing to buy and we bought all our foodstuffs with us " I replied - "and what about fuel " he asked - " really sorry we paid for it in dollars " " that is illegal he grunted" - and so it went on! Eventually he sent a team to inspect the contents of our home on wheels whilst we sat and sweated in the bunker and after about three hours he lectured us on "Algeria's very strict currency regulations" produced a huge rubber stamp and stamped our passports . The padlocks were removed from the frontier post and we were ushered through. Phew - what relief! Pretty glad he didn't do a personal search we had bundles of scruffy Dinars stashed all over our bodies!
Next Week - into Morocco!
Leaving Bou Saada after eventual hot baths , a soft bed and boiling eggs (which I had to get from the Veedub as the hotel had no eggs!) we felt much refreshed and travelled on westwards through Ain Oussera and on to Tiaret a pleasing town on the edge of the Tell Atlas where we stopped for coffee. It was a real mixture of Ancient & Modern having Berber roots back millennia with plenty of more modern French influence .
Onward westwards to the town of Mascara where there was a market in full swing selling everything from Babouches (Shoes) made from old car tyres, a plethora of used clothing in various states , donkeys and of course plenty of food stalls . I was particularly drawn to one such food stall which appeared to be selling something entirely black and had a large cluster of people around it . On venturing closer it became apparent that the "blackness" was in fact a complete covering of flies on a confectionary stall and the vendor would occasionally wave a piece of old cardboard about to reveal the various "delights" lurking underneath. The stall was very popular indeed - but not with me! We overnighted in a small square here and once again were besieged by people wanting to buy any Western goods but of course our van was now nigh on empty!
Our journey on this day and indeed everyday consisted of driving through the Northern edge of the Sahara , lush irrigated areas , salt flats and scrub so was very varied and not the slightest bit boring. It is also worth noting that in the several days in Algeria we had not met or seen a single European which was actually most refreshing! Onwards through Tlemcen which was the biggest town we had yet encountered and were now making straight for the border at Zouj Beghal . Closing in on the said border we passed through a small village called El Bettim and noticed there was what appeared to be an encampment of ancient European camper vans & tents and proceeded to investigate . We were greeted by a motley collection of hippies with trademark long hair , filthy jeans and a rag-tag collection of hand painted campervans . "Hey man where are you going" - "Morocco" I replied "Well man you've got no chance - the border is as good as closed and we have been here for weeks trying to get in" - "We shall see" I replied! We took tea and some awful communal lentil dish with them but in fairness they were very hospitable.
Sheelagh and I returned to our faithful Veedub and decided on a plan of campaign to enter Morocco and decided the only chance we had was to present ourselves in the best possible light so scrapped the idea of entering that afternoon and backtracked to the last village. Here I found a barber in an old tin shed had a good trim and a lovely wet shave - North African barbers really are superb and I enjoyed the experience a lot until !! - he asked me "Are you circumcised?" - needless to say I was shocked but managed to stutter "La" (no) at which point he said no problem he would do it "moins cher" - "non merci!" I replied and paid him with a healthy tip to prevent any further discussion. The next morning I donned a pair of mustard corduroy trousers, viyella shirt , old school tie , sports jacket & brown polished shoes whilst Sheelagh outfitted in a lovely floral dress which I remember to this day . Sheelagh tidied the inside of the van and off we went - I felt very odd and very hot but needs must!
We drove to the Algerian side of the border post and stopped when bidden by two machine gun toting border guards who asked what we wanted . We got out and I think they were quite taken back to see our presentation and on production of our two British Blue Passports waved their firearms and ushered us into a sort of concrete bunker where a more senior officer was sitting at a tatty old desk with an ancient typewriter and an equally old telephone. We communicated in French as our Mahgrebi Arab was very minimal and I informed him Her Britannic Majesty commands we wished for unhindered passage into Morocco as I gave him our passports . He grunted and asked for our currency document - shit I thought we never changed money so its blank . I produced it from our vehicle folder and passed it to him - "why haven't you changed any money since leaving Tunisia?" " We had no need there was nothing to buy and we bought all our foodstuffs with us " I replied - "and what about fuel " he asked - " really sorry we paid for it in dollars " " that is illegal he grunted" - and so it went on! Eventually he sent a team to inspect the contents of our home on wheels whilst we sat and sweated in the bunker and after about three hours he lectured us on "Algeria's very strict currency regulations" produced a huge rubber stamp and stamped our passports . The padlocks were removed from the frontier post and we were ushered through. Phew - what relief! Pretty glad he didn't do a personal search we had bundles of scruffy Dinars stashed all over our bodies!
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