This day is all about DISTRACTIONS from the long road ahead. We will travel about 260 miles to our next destination, Ghardaïa. Our route, while on paved road, meanders through the Sahara. And there is not a whole lot to distract as we motor along on N46 and N1.
Leaving Bou Saâda, the scenery is classic red Saharan desert—flat stony plains, cactus and palms, occasional low hills, and long horizons under an enormous sky. Temperatures have warmed and I finally can wear a short sleeved shirt. The land feels empty, broken only by scattered village, palm clusters, and the faint geometry of foggaras.
New country, new breakfast. While still centered around strong coffee, breakfast appears heavily influenced by the French, traditions left behind when the they left Algeria in 1962.
Morning meal is a tasty mix of sweet and savory – think coffee, breads, and pastries. Lots of breads line the tables, including traditional semolina-based bread, eaten with butter, honey, jam, olive oil, or cheese. I do taste the sfenj, a light but chewy fried doughnut dusted with sugar and dipped in honey. Something I must try later is baghrir, a semolina pancake soaked in honey and butter. However, this morning I enjoy my usual: yogurt and nuts.
The weather is definitely not what I expected. The morning temperature reaches a cool 56°F under cloudy skies and with very brisk winds of 23mph. Only bearable with 3 layers of long-sleeve shirts, a windbreaker and scarf. Thankfully, no rain.
Touring: not for the weak or the slow. It rewards those who can function on little sleep, adapt to early wakeup schedules, and climb vans and jeeps with the agility of a mountain goat. Usually, in-room coffee saves my morning. Bathrooms require timing, yet I constantly remain at the mercy of other women’s weak bladders.
Meals are aspirational and after a few days of planned 3-meals a day, entirely too long and too much food. Just a quick stop proves never quick. If you require slow mornings, naps, or emotional support when plans change, touring invariably separates you from those expectations by day two.
I hardly imagine I am currently on the Mediterranean Coast. The wind blows cold and strong, just the type of gale that blew Odysseus off course for years. We crossed the Djera-Zarzis Roman Causeway above the Boughrara Gulf on arrival to the small, resort island of Djerba. There appears much to see before we exit the island, this time by ferry, for other destinations.
