Adrar Vacation...part deux

I know this post is long over due, but we've had problems with electricity lately.  Broken machines, cut wires, the donkeys got tired in their giant wheel generators, I'm not really sure.  When asking any of several Mauritanian friends, the response is a very ambiguous: the machine is broken.  I can never tell if these broad answers are to cover one's ignorance of a subject or to get his point across to someone with bad language skills (me!).  Anyhoo, vacation...

...So we reach Atar after an exhausting 12 hour train ride (on which I was repeatedly woken up between 1 and 6 a.m. to the sounds of a 12 year old arguing about the price of a glass of tea for which he just paid around 15 cents) and a beautiful 3 hour truck ride (through some truly spectacular, hilly terrain).  Atar is known as one of the biggest tourist destinations of Mauritania.  Every year, many foreigners travel here, and to neighboring Chinguetti, to partake of historical expeditions, camel treks, and oasis visits, just to name a few options.  

Unfortuneately, for Mauritania, certain incidents have kept many tourists at bay for the last couple of years.  Therefore, Katie and I found Atar to be much less active than a normal day in Nouadhibou, which was a great change of pace: few cars, friendly people, good food.  If you're ever in Atar, Mauritania, I recommend 'the sauce lady'.  

While in Atar, we stayed with fellow married couple Sam and Kerri in their beautiful compound complete with garden, hammock and spotless terrace perfect for outdoor sleeping.  After a day or two of much needed relaxing, we caught a taxi ride through the mini-mountain pass to Chinguetti for a camel trek.  Big thanks to our friend Carl for organizing that.  You'll have to take a closer look at our pictures from the trip to see both of us on camels, sand boarding (eat your hearts out Adam and Andy!), the dune that sings, etc.  It was an amazing trip.  Two short stories to pique the curiosity: 

1. One camel was bitten in the foot by a snake and we got to watch our guides drain the wound. This is why I am walking for some of the pictures.  We shared camels, mine was the white one named Balthazaar, or Barry for short. 

2. The singing dune basically makes a lot of noise as you slide down on your rump.  In the moment it reminded me of the glorious chorus of low end brass from the mother ship in that kick-ass scene of "Close Encounters of the 3rd Kind" but in reality (watch the video) it was more like an 8th grader playing his tuba during an asthma attack.  Compare the videos and tell me what you think.  

After our Chinguetti trek, we got a ride back to Atar.  We spent the next 3 days relaxing, getting to know the city, and we even ventured to a (disappointingly dry) oasis.  One of my tasks during these last 3 days in Atar was to find old clothes at the "dead toubab" stores for the ride back on the train.  Riding with the iron ore gets very dirty.  We opted for howlies (turbans), 2 big winter coats, and corduroy pants.  There are also these great big soft blankets for sale at all of the markets.  We decided to get one for what would surely be a cold train ride through the Sahara in the middle of the night.  PROM #7: 

4000 UM ($16).  I know this might seem a little pricey, but c'mon, SUPER Luxury!  I've never even had normal luxury before!  The guy who sold it to me must have thought it was one of those Super-Mega-Ultra blankets because he started out at 9000UM and I had to bargain with him for about 20 minutes (no joke).  This is pretty common in Mauritania and you can really get taken for a ride if you don't know the correct price of items.  This is why I was sure to ask my fellow volunteers before venturing into the market.  On my way, a man approached me and tried to get me to buy these wall tapestries.  I kept saying I wasn't a tourist and I didn't need a tapestry but a blanket.  He finally understood and he proceeded to 'guide' me to the best place for this (probably his cousins shop).  He grabbed my hand and led me into this cool covered market area hidden from the main roads.  This was the same man I eventually bargained with.  Here's how the conversation basically progressed:

Arab Street Salesman:  This is the best blanket in all of Mauritania.  For you, 9000UM.

Me: 9000UM!  That is too much.  Please diminish the price.

A.S.S.: I can't.  This is premier quality!

Me: I don't need top quality.  I'm using it to stay warm on the train.

A.S.S.: You are taking the train? With the iron ore?  You are white, buy a ticket for a seat!

Me: I don't want to do that.  

A.S.S.: Are you French?

Me: No I am an American working in Nouadhibou at a school.

A.S.S.: My grandfather used to live in America.  I know Amercians.  You are very nice people. 8000UM.

Me: The price is 4000UM.  My friend in Atar just bought a blanket like this for 4000.

A.S.S.: 4000UM!! No way.  Your friend bought a different blanket, 2nd or 3rd quality.  This is first quality.

Me: The quality is not important.  It will just get dirty on the train.

A.S.S.: That is no problem, this is what you do.  After the train, take some water, do you know water?, take some soap, do you know soap?, and wash like this [rubbing hands together], then you have a great Mauritanian souvenir!  

Me: I'll look elsewhere [Threatening to leave the shop is a great tactic to get them to lower prices]

A.S.S.: Okay, Okay.  7000UM, because my grandfather likes Americans.  He knew a man named John from California.  Do you know this man?

Me: No and no.  The price is 4000UM.

A.S.S.: I have lowered the price.  You must raise yours.  That is how this works.  What is the highest you would pay?
Me: Okay, okay.  4000UM.

A.S.S.: [Dumfounded look]

Me: Thank you, I'll look elsewhere.

A.S.S.:  Wait, hold on, hold on.  You win, 5000UM.

Me: Goodbye.

A.S.S.:  I can-

Me: 4000UM

A.S.S.: You must-

Me: 4000UM

A.S.S.: It -

Me: 4000UM

A.S.S.: Give me the money.

And that was it.  Bargaining in Mauritania, fantastic.  We got our clothes and blanket.  We hopped the train (after another raucous encounter with the street kids of Choum - another story involving thrown rocks, a song directed at us entitled "You'll never get married" [an insult I suppose], French/Hassaniya cursing, chasing/grabbing/shaking/spanking kids all in view of the Choum community that must have been more entertaining than anything on TV that night) and made our way home. 

Story's over?  No way.  Upon arriving home, with 5 guests, after an exhausting 15 hour ride (the train slowed to a crawl for the last 3 hours/50 kilometers) we discovered the power was out at our house and with it, the pump that gives us water.  No water to drink, no showers for the 7 iron ore covered travelers!!  Needless to say, I was not happy.  Especially since this was not the first time Somalec, the power company, had cut our power.  

I stormed the offices at 2:00 (they usually close at around 2:30).  I was wearing soot covered pants, shirt, cheap flip flops, I was sweaty, and my face was filthy.  I reached the counter and slammed my fist on it (resembling my pops in his hey-day of stickin it to the man).  I gave a less than friendly "Isalama aley-kum!" and proceeded to say, in French:  "Look at my face!  What do I need?  I need water.  You cut the electricity, and that cuts the #@!$%# WATER!"  I couldn't tell if the lady behind the counter was scared or entertained, probably both.  A young technician approached me and said how this was no problem and for a mere 3000UM he would turn it on again in a flash.  I was livid.  After some time and the arrival of my landlord we figured it all out and got the power turned back on...bribe-free.  Ugh.  Fin.  Mike à l'exterieur.