MD’s Bivouac: “But what is it?”

This Wednesday, unexpectedly, came the surprise. As I thought about the cold that would happen in the bivouac of Hailnorth of Saudi Arabiawhere the minimum temperature is about 3 degrees, with a thermal sensation of 0º, the news came that changed everything, or at least, within a day. “Fabio, we inform you that you will have a hotel night today, January 8, to return to the bivouac tomorrow”. That was the email that suddenly changed my face. The tiredness, the chapped lips, the dry hands and the stiffness of the past few days gave way to an immense, unexpected joy.

The day before, I only slept 3 hours on the floor of the press room the night before because of the cold, my body lying on the carpet, wearing winter panties over my face to hide my eyes from the lights in the room. . of the press, although it was a bit difficult to breathe, and with the constant and annoying noise of security employees, local or from surrounding countries, watching social media videos at full volume throughout the night.

You can imagine my great joy when I knew that, after 8 days in the desert, I would be back in civilization in a few hours. to eat dinner in a restaurant, shower in a decent bathroom and sleep on a mattress. And in Dakar you realize the importance of things that in Spain we don’t take for granted, something that in Dakar is considered an everyday luxury.

But the story does not end here. The surprises are not over yet. When we arrived at the small hotel in Ha’il, we felt like rock stars. The owners welcomed us as if we were their most important guests in decades. They filled the entrance with an arch of white and red balloons. And at the reception, a big cake one meter long and half a meter wide and plates next to it with a knife to cut it. Tea, water, coffee, dates with pistachios, typical salty pastries filled with meat and sauce and all kinds of chocolate. And a rose for each! “Go, go,” said one of the employees, with his 1-year-old daughter in his arms, indicating to me that everything was for us. I’m hallucinating. I tried to talk to the man, but unfortunately, very little English is spoken in Saudi Arabia.

Then I went up to the room. If you turn on the television, the first thing you see is a 24-hour channel with live images of pilgrims walking around the city non-stop. Mecca accompanied by the prayer of the Imam. At his side, a prayer rug and the book of Koran.

We decided to enjoy a nice shower. But the water is too cold. I went down to ask the employees for help. They didn’t understand me. They finally seem to have fixed it, but the The hot water took 30 seconds to dissipate. I would never go back.

In the trunk of a car

We called a driver to pick us up to go to a restaurant. There are 6 of us and we booked a trip in a 6-seater vehicle. “And the other two? It was for 6!” We tried to explain to the driver. His response was mimed. His finger pointed to the trunk. We opened it and the two of us got into the trunk, sitting on its floor on a prayer mat and holding onto the sides as best we could while the driver drove in the Saudi style, that is, constantly changing lanes and braking for others more cars, something common here.

Are you going for coffee?

At the restaurant, we enjoyed local food and while we were eating dinner, there were three Saudi men watching us at a table. Later they moved to our side. They took pictures of us trying not to be seen. We are something different to them, remarkable and unique. And at the end of the dinner, they gave us a phone with a translator. “Are you Dakar pilots?” They are interested in our work. We understand each other as best we can because one of them speaks a few words of English. And immediately after that they invite us for coffee the next day at 11 am. They followed us on Instagram to write to us. If they come to the bivouac, you have to be hospitable to them, something enriching to understand their customs.

We ended the night at a 24-hour supermarket next to the hotel. “Arabic?” they asked if we could exchange words. They don’t know English. They are from Pakistan, but some locals go there to buy. One of them kindly took me by the arm several times to ask where I was from, in a warm and hospitable manner.

back to reality

The next morning, after enjoying a pleasant sleep (finally) on a mattress, life looks different. The day before I had problems getting the receptionists to understand that one of our colleagues didn’t have a room and that they would let him sleep with me. The room is spacious, with a living room and a double bedroom and lots of room.

But before I left the hotel the next morning, I had a hard time explaining that to the receptionistI won’t give him the key, which my partner will do later when he leaves for the bivouac on the next bus. They do not trust him and, as expected, they go to the room with the excuse of breakfast. They knocked on my partner’s door. He needs to wake up. There was a man with a box. My partner thought it was pizza. Obviously, it’s not. had a pita bread style pancake, hummus, olives, salad, cream cheese and jam with cheese.

I returned to the bivouac. Back to our harsh reality. At 7:30 in the morning, no journalists were sleeping in the press room. I quickly understood this and then my suspicion was confirmed. The security employees dismissed the media who wanted to sleep on the floor of the room to protect themselves from the cold of the night. I understood: the next night it was time to sleep again in a tent, covered up to the eyebrows, with a balaclava, a pair of pants, a t-shirt and thermal tights, ski socks, clothes, coat and jacket . . This is the Dakar.