Skipped breakfast. Wrote a letter and then sat with Jim while he tried to fix my camera lens (doing weird things). Ended up leaving him to it.
Into market with Bob. Best (black market) currency exchange rate we were offered was 16 dinar to the US dollar from a shop owner. Decided to think about it and headed into the town square. Saw some beautiful carpets I couldn't afford and bought some yummy cakes. Went back to change money at 16 dinar and found the shop shut. Panicked, knowing we had to get cash. Met Markus, who directed us to the carpet shop next door where we got 20 dinar without a quibble; left 200 dinar richer.
Back at the hotel where I found Jim still struggling with my lens, but he hit the jackpot around lunch time: fixed lens!
Drove out of town, into rubbly desert and we were soon breathing sandy air and everyone’s clean clothes and bodies were coated in a fine layer of red grit. The landscape changed from rubbly desert with rocky hills on the horizon and camels and donkeys beside the road to more and more sand and our first real dunes. We had to swerve around sand drifts across the road. Wisps of sand skidded across the road in the wind and through the sides of the truck when a vehicle overtook us. The truck floor quickly became a sea of sand.
Pulled off the road to camp behind a large stony hill in a dune desert as dry as bone. So different from just two nights ago and that mammoth rain storm.
Helped with the spuds for dinner. Then sat down to write to mum and dad. Beautiful crisp night. Bloody cold.
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