I am sitting at a restaurant about twenty minutes walk from my hotel. It’s a quiet place with nice staff. I’ve had an omelet and mint tea, and I’ve long ago decided that when I come back to Sweden I’m gonna start to grow my own mint and make the tea every morning. But with less sugar. Much less sugar.
I am a little tired of being here, I would like to continue my travelling. Waiting like this … I did it last week in Rabat, I’m doing it now in Dakhla. I want to get going, keep on moving. Restless soul. It’s a nice city, but I’ve met few people who speaks English. Yesterday I managed to buy some paper, envelopes and stamps so I can start writing letters to send home. It took me a lot of sign-language and arms-waving to get it, but I did. The man behind the counter also waved his arms a lot and it must have looked as we did some new kind of aerobics for people watching us. I do love it, but still. I want to get going, I’ve been waiting for too long now.
I keep on wondering who I will meet for my trip to Atar, will I go alone or will someone show up to join? I miss my fellow travellers a lot, both of them are in Mauritania now. I wonder what they are up to, how they are doing. Yes, I really really miss them.