DAY EIGHTY-THREE We were up before dawn to cook breakfast then packed up and drove off. The day was overcast and cold with a stiff breeze blowing.
It took about six hours to drive up to the border with our only stop being in a little town for coffee and cake to use up our last few Dinahs.¹
We got to the bleak Algerian frontier at 1:30 and sat round for 2 hours while the officials checked out our passports and currency declarations and searched the truck. One of the guards, as he was looking through our collection of books asked hopefully, “any sex?”
About a kilometre separated the offices of Algerian Customs from the tents of Moroccan Customs. As soon as we pulled up a man asked to see the truck’s “insurance” and promptly pronounced it invalid. Scotty would have to take a bus up to the other Algerian/Moroccan frontier post at Oujda to buy some.
So, once again stuck in no-man’s-land between borders, we pitched our tents in the sand beside the road and spent a cold night.
¹The Algerian currency is the Dinah.
CurseOfTheTraveller 