# Denmark to Sahara in 10 days.



## Whereamiwhatdoido (Jan 5, 2016)

A thursday afternoon, 3 years straight-edge, not even a cigarette. One of the peers who stayed in his drugabuse when I went travelling had a plant growing in his backgarden without realizing before harvest. He gave the folded newpaper of about 3 grammes of wild-grown pot, lots of leaves, sticks and seeds and a good 20 buds that were just big enough combined to make myself a killer joint. Smoked it, and all was good. Ate my dumsterdiving scored pineapple, laying on the kitchen floor, with a gratitude of supreme character. Went upstairs to crash on the floor aswell, through the window I scimmed a man at the neighbors house, looking at me in my window.

The paranoia was there again, immense and encompassing. He was certainly going to kill me, I was certain that the entire criminal syndicate of the Danish lowlands were out to get me out. I packed my backpack with professional precision. Sleeping bag, thermos, tea, 2 wool socks and off I went. Staright out of town and got a ride a mile down the road. Got to the train station, got a ticket to the larger city ahead. Went to the lady at the ticket exchange and asked her "how for can I get for my entire fortune of 1150 dkkr?" A bit struggling with the fact that 1150 dkkr is about 160€ or $200 and I was calling it a fortune she started searching trains to Germany, after going through a few stations, Stuttgart was to be read on my ticket. The last bit of money was spend on food items and two thin ground mats. Off to Stuttgart, dodging the big city, and fooling my followers(paranoia) I got off the train the township before my destination. Got to the highway, and off I was. Skipping the next three days of hitchhiking through europe I arrived in Gibraltar, 4 days after my departure from Denmark. Next morning as I went to the private boats pier I was met by 3 lads, eastern european, they were trying to hitchhike a boat ride out of europe. Like the 8-9 other guys at their little camp they were all stuck, missing the late summer leavings as this was end November, or 1st of December. The founder of the camp arrived 3 weeks prior, and was settled to have to wait, dumpsterdiving just acoss the airfield, they were all pretty happy about their welfare. Not me. Next morning I headed to the other side of the Bay where the ferry leaves for Africa, specific, Morroco. Met with the fact that every passenger got to pay 20€ to cross, I sat down and waited for someone to pay my ticket. Not much happened and I went to the bathroom. Coming out I met two travellers, a boy and a girl. Her name was Happy, and His I forgot. They were going to travel Morroco, with their dog. We spoke about what travellers speak about when they meet in exciting places and they paid my ticket. Their dog needed a vaccination, they needed to find a vetenarian. So off to Morroco I went without my fare-paying new friends.
This is getting pretty long, so I'll fast forward through my epic encounter with the camions, or lorrydrivers who took me 600 km south, feeding me and employing me wih cigarettes and fruit in abundance, the hoodied mugger who almost clubbed my neck when I got to the transit center of a big gas station, little note, be careful to not go into dark places with no one around looking for trucks at night, you might just peek over your shoulder and the outlining of a hoodied man with a 2ft club in his hands is 5ft behind you. Luckily I got to people and light in a very calm and focused pace. The tourist towns passed me by and the idea of getting to South Africa, cape of good hope seemed proper for my adventure at hand. So arriving in the town of Guelmin, a Mouritanian man greeted me, and hearing of my desire to go south, passionately told me to stock up on cigarettes, the only viable currency in the desert he told me. Where after I made a comment about having no money, he just about ballistically exploded in my face. Headed to the outskirt of the city. Just at the doorstep to Sahara. 200km to the next town. No money. No ciggarettes. No water. At that point I ate my last bit of cheese and freaked out. I had gone to the desert to starve or die in another uncomfortable way of lack of sufficient basical needs, because of my paranoid idea back at home. I went back to town, and a local bought me some cigarettes after I explained my worried face, slept at a families house after asking the father for food. Went to the beach next day, and all went well till someone at home out of compassion bought me a flight home. Arrived home after hitchhiking from Dusseldorf airport to Denmark, three weeks after my initial departure.


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## Mankini (Jan 5, 2016)

Ow ow Danmark!!!  I lived on Fyn for 3 months and loved it


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## Matt Derrick (Jan 5, 2016)

marijuana's a hell of a drug?

on a serious note though, interesting story, i'd just try and use the enter key to separate your thoughts a little more.


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## Whereamiwhatdoido (Jan 5, 2016)

Yeah that's what is missing. Doing my best with this little smartphone. 

But I'll remember my spacing if I write more stories. Thank you for the tip.


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## Tony Pro (Jan 5, 2016)

Ahaha, those fucking Guelmin cigarette scammers. I read about them on Hitchwiki and thought 'huh, that's an odd detail to include.' But then I ran afoul of them myself when I got down there. I lied and said I wasn't going to Mauritania, they said 'oh well you know down in Tan-Tan there are only nomads, money is worthless to them, only cigarettes have value.' I told them I was pretty sure the nomads accepted money like everyone else on earth.
I've never met anyone who's been through there who wasn't offered a truckload of cigarettes. It's probably the same two assholes perpetrating the entire scheme.

It's bullshit of course. In Dakhla i shared a hotel room with a guy who made a decent living by smuggling cigarettes OUT of Mauritania and INTO Morocco.


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## etpyh (Jan 6, 2016)

Awesome story.


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