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Chances are, if you ever find yourself in the middle of the Sahara while on a trip to Morocco, it will feel familiar.

You'll wonder at the silent strangeness of the dunes at Erg Chebbi near Merzouga, but fully expect to see people or things you "know" from books and movies -- Paul Atreides and the Fremen, Luke Skywalker or even Lawrence of Arabia -- pop up from behind the hills of sand.

In the Valley of 1,000 Kasbahs, approaching the desert on an

all-day driving trip, my husband and I pass through what seem like

hundreds of small towns. I'm casting about for a subject of

conversation when I spy something that reminds me of home:

construction.

When I ask about what seems to be a boom in homebuilding, our

driver says that many of the towns' residents work in Spain and

France. They send money home for family members and to build

palatial houses for their eventual return to Morocco.

I also am struck by how the streets in the small towns are filled

with men. Women are almost nowhere to be seen, but when they are,

they're mostly covered.

I expected that in this mostly Muslim nation, but the reality of

the near-absence of half the population from many towns' streets

saddens me. I've been told that Morocco has some of the most

liberal women's rights laws in the Islamic world -- and when I was

in Fes and Marrakech, large cities, that distinction made sense.

But my Western eyes have a hard time adjusting to these towns. I

wonder what these women think of their sisters in the big cities,

and vice versa.

But some things are the same everywhere: When we drive past a

school, we see teen boys wearing jeans and slouching under the

crushing weight of their bookbags while teen girls walking nearby

giggle on cell phones.

Do camels laugh?

When we arrive at Merzouga, we are greeted, as we had been

everywhere in Morocco, with hot mint tea. We wait awhile before we

set out for camp because our guides want to time the trip so that

we will see the best of the Sahara at sunset.

Merzouga is in southern Morocco, near a disputed border with

Algeria. Guidebooks say Morocco's desert has nothing on Algeria's,

but visitors to Merzouga are uniformly impressed with what they

see.

Here's why: It feels like the end of the Earth.

At base camp, you're surrounded by sand as far as the eye can see,

with a 400-foot dune as the backdrop. You imagine yourself as

Columbus, seeing what feels like uninhabited land for the first

time.

As we watch our guide, Ibrahim, prepare the camels for our trip, my

husband and I pull long-forgotten knowledge from grade school and

half-remembered documentaries to get ready for our first up-close

experience with these animals:

They don't rear up. We think.

They spit. (Our conversation takes place at a comfortable

distance.)

They run, but usually not with people in tow.

I say a silent prayer as Ibrahim instructs my camel to kneel so I

can hop onto the folded blankets he has placed on her back. As she

rises, I start to wonder if this trip is a good idea for someone

who is as much a city girl as I.

The camels mostly ignore their human cargo but snort repeatedly at

what I start to imagine is some hilarious camel joke at my

expense.

Lively companions

About 45 minutes into the ride, we stop to enjoy the sunset. Trying

not to groan in pain, we dismount to take pictures as the sun

changes the sand from beige to pumpkin to scarlet.

We mount our camels again, and after a thigh-chafing

hour-and-a-half, we arrive at our camp in the desert.

What seem like mountain-size dunes are a backdrop for the camp,

which is composed of 10 to 12 tents set off by sparse groupings of

date palms. I'm exhausted after our long ride but am strangely

hesitant to leave my camel. I've grown attached to her during our

journey.

The guides -- Ibrahim is joined by another Berber escort, Moha --

immediately usher guests to a meal tent, where we gladly accept

more mint tea to ward off the approaching cold.

The camp also includes three sleeping tents and a cooking tent.

Guests get to know one another while seated on cushions on the

sandy floor of the meal tent.

These camps have a reputation for being especially popular with

Spaniards and Frenchmen who pop over for quick weekends the way

Floridians might take trips to Miami or Key West.

The guests in our camp for the night include 10 men from France who

are spending a few days riding motorbikes through the dunes, and

four Spaniards: a 60ish man, his 30ish son and two of the father's

contemporaries.

I understand French well enough to follow what's being said but not

enough to participate in a complicated discussion about motorcycle

maintenance. The Spaniards don't speak English, but because I speak

Spanish, we manage to have a lively conversation.

A Mexican art student who says he has been living with the Berbers

for a few weeks appears from nowhere when talk turns to a subject

in which I have no expertise: the best place in the world to score

hashish (the verdict: Chile).

Tales around the bonfire

Our dinner, a one-dish meal with what I think are chickpeas and

goat meat, arrives just as I start to despair of ever feeling warm

again. Because my husband and I didn't think to pack a dessert, our

Spanish friends share their dulces with us as dinner winds

down.

During an after-meal bonfire, Moha shares stories about camel

disasters so disturbing that if I had heard these first, I never

would have consented to ride one. He follows those stories with

tales of games -- one sounds like a cousin of Spin the Bottle --

that he played with childhood friends on December nights in the

desert not unlike this one.

His family once lived in the desert, but tourism has provided them

with the opportunity to live in a town. Still, he says, he prefers

to spend his nights in the sands, returning to his apartment home

only once every two weeks.

And the sandman comes

As the night grows colder, and the fire begins to die, the

Frenchmen hike to the top of a dune, where they enjoy a few beers

by moonlight.

We retire to our tent. From the comfort of my bed -- a few blankets

laid on the sand -- I hear the Frenchmen return to camp. I pull the

hood of my jacket over my head to protect my ears from the bitter

cold. In minutes, one of their number is snoring loudly enough to

make his companions laugh.

Finally, just before 11, the camp falls silent, with the exception

of our French companion's rhythmic snoring, and the occasional

grunts of the nearby camels.

I toss and turn, but when I finally drift off, I dream of the hot

mint tea that will greet me after the morning's call to prayer.

Getting there:

Royal Air Maroc (royalairmaroc.com/eng) offers direct flights from New

York to Morocco.

When to go::

Summer is high season. To avoid crowds -- and find lower lodging

prices -- think about traveling in late fall, winter and early

spring. The Dakar Rally, an off-road race to Dakar, Senegal, is

scheduled to pass through Morocco in January 2008.

Where to stay:

L• La Mamounia, Marrakech's most opulent hotel, is set

on former royal grounds and was frequented by Winston Churchill

from the 1930s to 1950s. mamounia.com.

L• Hotel Riad Omar: Within easy walking distance of

Marrakech's Djemaa el Fna square and the Koutoubia Mosque, this

hotel offers small but comfortable rooms ringing a central

courtyard and a hammam (Turkish-style bath); riadomar.com.

L• Fes Hotels

Riad Dar Dmana: This family-run guesthouse with five rooms and

three suites is near the center of the city's medina (old city)

section. Traditional Moroccan food is served on a candlelit patio;

riaddardmana.net.

La Maison Bleue: This nearly 100-year-old Moorish residence in the

medina was built by a judge, and his grandchildren have opened its

six rooms to guests. A spa offers several treatments, and you can

wind down from a day of shopping in the library or on the rooftop

terrace; maisonbleue.com.

In the desert

Auberge les Dunes d'Or: Start here on your journey to the

magnificent dunes of southern Morocco. This facility offers

traditional, basic rooms -- and an opportunity to take camels out

for a night in the desert and a stay in a Berber tent; aubergedunesdor

.com.

Tour operators

Experience It! Tours, Morocco: This agency offers several package

tours of the Imperial Cities and treks to the Sahara; from $1,000

per person. Custom tours with a private car and driver can be

arranged; experienceittours.com.

The Africa Guide: This clearinghouse for agencies that operate

tours in Africa also has maps and visa and hotel information; africaguide.com.">Chances are, if you ever find

yourself in the middle of the Sahara while on a trip to Morocco, it

will feel familiar.

You'll wonder at the silent strangeness of the dunes at Erg Chebbi

near Merzouga, but fully expect to see people or things you "know"

from books and movies -- Paul Atreides and the Fremen, Luke

Skywalker or even Lawrence of Arabia -- pop up from behind the

hills of sand.

In the Valley of 1,000 Kasbahs, approaching the desert on an

all-day driving trip, my husband and I pass through what seem like

hundreds of small towns. I'm casting about for a subject of

conversation when I spy something that reminds me of home:

construction.

When I ask about what seems to be a boom in homebuilding, our

driver says that many of the towns' residents work in Spain and

France. They send money home for family members and to build

palatial houses for their eventual return to Morocco.

I also am struck by how the streets in the small towns are filled

with men. Women are almost nowhere to be seen, but when they are,

they're mostly covered.

I expected that in this mostly Muslim nation, but the reality of

the near-absence of half the population from many towns' streets

saddens me. I've been told that Morocco has some of the most

liberal women's rights laws in the Islamic world -- and when I was

in Fes and Marrakech, large cities, that distinction made sense.

But my Western eyes have a hard time adjusting to these towns. I

wonder what these women think of their sisters in the big cities,

and vice versa.

But some things are the same everywhere: When we drive past a

school, we see teen boys wearing jeans and slouching under the

crushing weight of their bookbags while teen girls walking nearby

giggle on cell phones.

Do camels laugh?

When we arrive at Merzouga, we are greeted, as we had been

everywhere in Morocco, with hot mint tea. We wait awhile before we

set out for camp because our guides want to time the trip so that

we will see the best of the Sahara at sunset.

Merzouga is in southern Morocco, near a disputed border with

Algeria. Guidebooks say Morocco's desert has nothing on Algeria's,

but visitors to Merzouga are uniformly impressed with what they

see.

Here's why: It feels like the end of the Earth.

At base camp, you're surrounded by sand as far as the eye can see,

with a 400-foot dune as the backdrop. You imagine yourself as

Columbus, seeing what feels like uninhabited land for the first

time.

As we watch our guide, Ibrahim, prepare the camels for our trip, my

husband and I pull long-forgotten knowledge from grade school and

half-remembered documentaries to get ready for our first up-close

experience with these animals:

They don't rear up. We think.

They spit. (Our conversation takes place at a comfortable

distance.)

They run, but usually not with people in tow.

I say a silent prayer as Ibrahim instructs my camel to kneel so I

can hop onto the folded blankets he has placed on her back. As she

rises, I start to wonder if this trip is a good idea for someone

who is as much a city girl as I.

The camels mostly ignore their human cargo but snort repeatedly at

what I start to imagine is some hilarious camel joke at my

expense.

Lively companions

About 45 minutes into the ride, we stop to enjoy the sunset. Trying

not to groan in pain, we dismount to take pictures as the sun

changes the sand from beige to pumpkin to scarlet.

We mount our camels again, and after a thigh-chafing

hour-and-a-half, we arrive at our camp in the desert.

What seem like mountain-size dunes are a backdrop for the camp,

which is composed of 10 to 12 tents set off by sparse groupings of

date palms. I'm exhausted after our long ride but am strangely

hesitant to leave my camel. I've grown attached to her during our

journey.

The guides -- Ibrahim is joined by another Berber escort, Moha --

immediately usher guests to a meal tent, where we gladly accept

more mint tea to ward off the approaching cold.

The camp also includes three sleeping tents and a cooking tent.

Guests get to know one another while seated on cushions on the

sandy floor of the meal tent.

These camps have a reputation for being especially popular with

Spaniards and Frenchmen who pop over for quick weekends the way

Floridians might take trips to Miami or Key West.

The guests in our camp for the night include 10 men from France who

are spending a few days riding motorbikes through the dunes, and

four Spaniards: a 60ish man, his 30ish son and two of the father's

contemporaries.

I understand French well enough to follow what's being said but not

enough to participate in a complicated discussion about motorcycle

maintenance. The Spaniards don't speak English, but because I speak

Spanish, we manage to have a lively conversation.

A Mexican art student who says he has been living with the Berbers

for a few weeks appears from nowhere when talk turns to a subject

in which I have no expertise: the best place in the world to score

hashish (the verdict: Chile).

Tales around the bonfire

Our dinner, a one-dish meal with what I think are chickpeas and

goat meat, arrives just as I start to despair of ever feeling warm

again. Because my husband and I didn't think to pack a dessert, our

Spanish friends share their dulces with us as dinner winds

down.

During an after-meal bonfire, Moha shares stories about camel

disasters so disturbing that if I had heard these first, I never

would have consented to ride one. He follows those stories with

tales of games -- one sounds like a cousin of Spin the Bottle --

that he played with childhood friends on December nights in the

desert not unlike this one.

His family once lived in the desert, but tourism has provided them

with the opportunity to live in a town. Still, he says, he prefers

to spend his nights in the sands, returning to his apartment home

only once every two weeks.

And the sandman comes

As the night grows colder, and the fire begins to die, the

Frenchmen hike to the top of a dune, where they enjoy a few beers

by moonlight.

We retire to our tent. From the comfort of my bed -- a few blankets

laid on the sand -- I hear the Frenchmen return to camp. I pull the

hood of my jacket over my head to protect my ears from the bitter

cold. In minutes, one of their number is snoring loudly enough to

make his companions laugh.

Finally, just before 11, the camp falls silent, with the exception

of our French companion's rhythmic snoring, and the occasional

grunts of the nearby camels.

I toss and turn, but when I finally drift off, I dream of the hot

mint tea that will greet me after the morning's call to prayer.

Getting there:

Royal Air Maroc (royalairmaroc.com/eng) offers direct flights from New

York to Morocco.

When to go:

Summer is high season. To avoid crowds -- and find lower lodging

prices -- think about traveling in late fall, winter and early

spring. The Dakar Rally, an off-road race to Dakar, Senegal, is

scheduled to pass through Morocco in January 2008.

Where to stay:

• La Mamounia, Marrakech's most opulent hotel, is set

on former royal grounds and was frequented by Winston Churchill

from the 1930s to 1950s. a href="http://www.riadomar.com"

target="_blank">mamounia.com.

• Hotel Riad Omar is within easy walking distance of

Marrakech's Djemaa el Fna square and the Koutoubia Mosque. This

hotel offers small but comfortable rooms ringing a central

courtyard and a hammam (Turkish-style bath).riadomar.com.

• Riad Dar Dmana, in Fes, is a family-run guesthouse

with five rooms and three suites is near the center of the city's

medina (old city) section. Traditional Moroccan food is served on a

candlelit patio; riaddardmana.net.

• La Maison Bleue, a nearly 100-year-old Moorish

residence in Fes' medina, was built by a judge, and his

grandchildren have opened its six rooms to guests. A spa offers

several treatments, and you can wind down from a day of shopping in

the library or on the rooftop terrace. maisonbleue.com.

• Auberge les Dunes d'Or is the place from which to

start your journey to the magnificent dunes of southern Morocco.

This facility offers traditional, basic rooms -- and an opportunity

to take camels out for a night in the desert and a stay in a Berber

tent. aubergedunesdor .com.

Tour operators

• Experience It! Tours, Morocco, offers several package

tours of the Imperial Cities and treks to the Sahara; from $1,000 per person. Custom tours with a private car and driver can be arranged. www.experienceittours.com.

• The Africa Guide is a clearinghouse for agencies that operate tours in Africa. Maps and visa and hotel information are available. www.africaguide.com.

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