Back to the Sahara desert for a beauty fix

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 By Norma Hopcraft

In desert camp I laid in the sand that night for a while to soak in the vast display of stars, sharp and clear, with the Milky Way a cloudy streak across the apex of the sky. So many billions of stars in just one galaxy, and there are an estimated 2 trillion more galaxies. That's up from an older estimate of 100-200 billion because of the Hubble and Webb space telescopes.

I left the night-sky vista reluctantly when the desert chill drove me into my tent. I was grateful to crawl between clean white sheets, with a soft blanket above, and then the rough camel-hair blanket. I was overnighting in a tent in the Sahara desert. It was beyond my wildest dreams.

The desert was beautiful in morning light.

Camels were still with us, some nestled into the sand overnight. I believe that the Tuareg tribesmen, les hommes bleus, who guarded the camp overnight, used them as their mode of transportation to get to their jobs.

The temperature is about to go up with the sun.

I couldn't get enough of these exotic (to me) creatures.

A panoramic view of the desert, ending with our mode of transporation back to civilization.

Our driver, whose name I regret forgetting. All the Tuareg drivers displayed an infectious joie de vivre. Their music does to (look into downloading some Tinariwen, Grammy-award winning Tuareg musicion). Tuaregs are a specific ethnic group within the larger Berber people of North Africa, who are known for their nomadic culture and distinct Berber language, Tamasheq.

"Berber" comes from Roman times and means "barbarian" or "foreigner." The Berbers refer to themselves as Amazigh, or "free people."

Here's yours truly in blue.

Our SUVs took our group back to town, perched precariously at the edge of the dunes, in a scene that's at least 1,000 years old--except for the SUV on the left edge.

In town, a tower inscribed with Berber designs.

Our bus headed away from the parched region into the High Atlas mountains.

News from the crossroads of beauty, adventure + creativity!

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 I'm whisking you away from the Sahara desert temporarily to share some news! 

 I've been writing away at the crossroads of beauty, adventure, and creativity. And I've emerged -- with a new novel! Here's the cover! Subscribers to my blog are the first to see it!

Envy Kills. I had fun writing it, in hopes that you would too as you read it. 

"Meet Tricia Maguire. What fun!" says Readers' Favorite. 

 "She's feisty but funny, holy but horny, nosey but nice." 

An ambitious young widow and journalist, Tricia dreams of romance and children with Justin Hardy, and a leap from her small New Jersey paper to The New York Times. But she's fighting more than deadlines -- her weight, her biological clock, her envy, and the scars of a disastrous first marriage that left her wary of men. 

When a shocking murder rocks the local museum, Tricia investigates with daring. Every suspect hides a darker motive than the last. A chase through a swamp. A gunfight in a solarium. An unstable killer. And in the end, Tricia discovers that envy does indeed kill. 

Will she achieve her Times-worthy ambitions -- or finally choose love? Can she make peace with herself before her battles consume her, despite her spiritual leanings? 

A witty, suspenseful mystery steeped in the grit of noir Central Jersey. 

You can preorder the ebook at a short-term price of $1.99. Paperback available soon.

Just think! A mystery in noir Central Jersey, in time for Halloween! Perfect! 

Praise from early readers just came in: "It's got really interesting, believable characters. Really well written -- rich, deep, interesting." -- John M, an English major 

"I'm loving it! It's fun!" -- Valerie J. 

Preorder Envy Kills before the price goes up! 

I hope you enjoy reading the novel as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Life-Changing Moment & Desert Camp!

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By Norma Hopcraft

My life changed radically during a long day on the bus crossing Morocco's dry southeast region.

We passed a man walking. The most recent hamlet was three miles behind us and we didn't pass another hamlet for five more miles. 

And the tumblers in my mind spun like crazy. 

I finally saw with utmost clarity that I was very rich. 

This man couldn't even afford a bicycle. Meanwhile I spun by on a bus, having been able to afford a plane ticket from America and this tour.

And one of our guides had told me that poor Moroccan girls go to Saudi Arabia and other oil-rich Arab countries to become second and third wives. In spite of the resentment of the other wives that they have to live with, they consider this a big improvement in life--at last, enough food.

I live now thanking God for the level at which I live. No matter that it's not as extravagant as some other people's. I have a bicycle in the garage and enough food on the table.

After a long dusty journey, and our camel ride and 4x4 drive across the desert dunes, we arrived at our desert camp for the night.

At the edge of the desert camp was a rest area of sofas, cushions, and rugs. The rest area led to the desert.

Our group walked out to watch the sun set over the dunes.

When the sun goes down over the Sahara, it's a big relief.

A caravan heading to their night camp.

An animal leaving his mysterious signs in the desert.

A Tuareg man, un homme bleu, passing us as he heads to his camp.

We stayed in tents (with running water). My bed had what I believe to be a camel hair blanket.

The dining tent. Tuareg men served dinner. We were within walking distance of the border with Algeria. There's a lot of tension between Morocco and this country. We were told not to go near.

 

Mystery and Beauty of the Sahara Desert

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 By Norma Hopcraft

The Sahara is a dry plateau not necessarily covered with sand dunes, Aziz, our group's guide, told us. In fact, he insisted we were not in the Sahara yet.

But for the last full day we'd been bussed across a dry plateau. When we had stepped off the bus for a break, our footsteps sent up puffs of dust. We'd been parched even though drinking lots of bottled water. 

Then we came up to some sand dunes. I got my first camel ride, my first 4x4 drive on sand dunes, my first night ever out under the desert stars.

In my opinion, we were in the Sahara. You can decide for yourself from the pictures.

The sand dunes ahead of us said "Sahara Desert" to me. I was there, in my opinion, in this mystic desert, the setting of thousands of stories.

A troop of camels rested on dry ground from their labors carrying tourists.

My first ever camel ride! What a hoot--I had to hang on tight while the camel got lurchingly to his feet.

Tuareg tribesmen handled the camels. They traditionally dress in blue robes.

A profile of my camel. I admired the sand-filtering fringe on his ears and his eyelids.

Some people rented ATVs to go out onto the barren dunes, in the distance.

My shadow, hanging on for dear life on the rocking camel, trying to fire off some shots without blurring.

Our Touareg guide helped me with this shot. Looks like I do too much sitting and writing ...

Camels are tall! I was way up in the air. The gait of a camel is uncomfortable, and so was the saddle. I couldn't imagine crossing the whole desert like this, day after day. 

When we got back from our 30-minute camel ride, both the camel and I were relieved.

Our driver of the 4x4 took us out to our desert camp for an overnight. He was dressed in the traditional blue bubu (robe) and turban that doubled as a scarf. The Tuareg are known as "Les Hommes Bleus du Sahara". They are renown as fierce warriors. They also live in a matriarchal society. The women are in charge. I saw one man in blue veil himself with his scarf, covering his nose and mouth, as a sign of respect for women when I passed him in a narrow passageway.

Our driver took us over sand dunes like a roller coaster. He was playing Tuareg music on the radio, an artist named Tinariwen. This musician won a Grammy for World Music. His genre is known as "Desert Blues," and it sounded great as we swooped through the Sahara. He's available on Apple Music and probably Spotify. I play his music all the time, now that I'm back from Morocco. He's a great favorite.