Morocco

Sahara desert. Morocco. How did I come there? I was working in london, taxibike driver, one crazy friday night I got an amazing luck, I made 270 pounds that night (that's another story), As I didn´t have a European visa, I decided to go to Morocco, alone. The goal, to reach the Sahara, so I flew to Marrakesh, where bad looking arabs try to scary you in the labrinths so others can 'help' you so you tip the hero guys... They dont know I am from Colombia ha ha ha, I got scary anyway, but I didn´t give a penny to them. There I meet a Moroccan guy called Mohamed who shared my dream, so we took a 4 days 500 Km trip to M´hamid, where the road end and the desert begins, I slept in the town and then took a 3 hours trip to the real desert, and then one night in the nomads camp, walking in the desert, we met this family, who (I dont know how) came out with cups of tea... I felt like my trip was completed. I wouldn´t solve the world's problems but now I at least confirmed, they are real. My Moroccan new friend was a little particular, just eating his own bought meat, which we brought to cheap restaurants where tea was original and food was as authentic as anti hygienic. 500 km again and back in Marakech, I left Mohamed and I was alone in an arabic city, where beer is forbiden, where they have mosques and etc, searching for a Hotel I felt like getting a very cheap one, and I saw a ghost like monk tunic guy in the roof of a hotel, I gent to reception and it was alone, I realized that the guy in the roof was the receptionist, and I don´t know why I decided to find an open room and just take it, I tried some doors.. closed, later I woke up from my drunkeness and I left the place, now im glad nothing bad happened and I know that loneliness can drive you crazy. Next morning I left my hotel (I found and paid a cheap one in the end) and I felt like petite dejenee (breakfast in french), my last authentic Moroccan meal, I had a lot of free time to catch my plane and I even had my bus tichet to the airport, but after 2 hours the bus didn´t come, now I had to take a (beautiful) taxi, a peugeot 205 called three place because it can carry 3 people.. and then I discovered that it was Marakech's marathon! all roads closed, even the ones to the airport.. after surrounding the airport, I ran and run, I was lucky I never check in bags, because I only carry my backpack, so I managed to be the last passenger in the plane. Fuck back in London, they stopped me in the airport, let me waiting for 2 hours, then they searched all my belongings, my walled and my notebook, asked who was mohamed, they guy in the picture of my camera and asked why a Colombian goes and come from several countries like Bolivia, China, Indonesia, Tailand or Morocco, they thought they just caught a big drug dealer, but it was just me! a taxibike driver. After all that I was again in the streets of london, and that night I worked again at night, whit all my new experiences are in my head.