It was a local bus, it stopped everywhere. As we inched our way toward Algeria and into the Sahara, the military presence increased in every town. Finally, a taxi dropped us off in the middle of the desert, a ghost town. We were fifty kilometers from the border.
In a small garden courtyard, over a pot of tea, I negotiated hard, a camel for my girl, a night in the desert. A deal was struck and my guide and I walked alongside Darlene, regal on her camel. From high in the dunes, we could gaze over the black Sahara and into Algeria.