tripoli tales: sleep deprivation, sand in my sensor, and a falafel mystery
i've been up since before dawn, chasing that stupid golden hour that never seems to materialize out here in the libyan desert. my camera's buffered with more dust than a grandpa's attic, and i'm pretty sure my sensor has a permanent orange tint. i'm a freelance photographer, which means i get to paid to pretend i'm not lost half the time. right now, i'm somewhere near the town of mizda, if you can even call it a town-more like a smattering of buildings that look like they're made of the same clay as the ground. the weather's doing that thing where it's ten degrees celsius but feels like nine because the humidity's sitting at 76% like a wet blanket over the whole scene. i just checked my portable weather gizmo (good thing i packed it, because the sky's giving Nothing but a flat gray promise of maybe-rain). it's the kind of damp that makes your lenses fog up the second you step out of the car. i've got my jacket zipped to the chin and i'm still shivering, but it's not the cold-it's the weird feeling that the air itself is holding its breath. i'm trying to capture the desert, but the desert is refusing to be photogenic today. the light is flat, the colors muted, and the sand looks like it's been left out in the rain. i keep thinking about the shots i need for the magazine spread-'the mystic libyan dunes'-and right now they'd look more like 'mud puddles with attitude.' maybe that's the point: the desert isn't here to perform for me. it's just...there. huge and indifferent. i'm using my old nikon with a 24-70 f/2.8, the one that's been through more wars than i have. the lens cap's stained with who-knows-what. i should've brought a plastic bag for it, but i'm too busy worrying about whether my rental car will get stuck in the sand. the road out here is less a road and more a series of suggestions made by a very optimistic goat.
if you get bored, tripoli's just a short drive away-'short' being relative when you're navigating a path that could be a dried riverbed or someone's abandoned driveway. the capital's about a two-hour push if you don't get lost, which i've already done twice today. the idea of a proper espresso and a warm bed is tempting, but i'm here for the light, and the light's currently playing hide-and-seek behind a curtain of humidity. speaking of rumors, someone told me that the best falafel in the region is actually served at a gas station outside mizda. i heard it from a truck driver who claimed his watches all told different times-he wore three, one for each time zone he'd crossed, he said. i'm skeptical, but i might check it out later. apparently, that gas station is listed on TripAdvisor as 'Café du Désert' (though it's more of a shack with a cracked sign). the reviews are...colorful. one guy wrote, 'the falafel changed my life and also my car's oil.' another said, 'i think the owner is a secret agent.' if you're curious, you can see the TripAdvisor page here. accommodation out here is...basic. i found a guesthouse on Yelp called 'Riad Sahara' that claims to be 'charming.' i'd say it's 'basic' with a capital b, but the owner, ahmed, makes a mean mint tea that's almost worth the spider-shaped crack in the bathroom wall. if you need a place, check the Yelp listing. there's also a local forum-some expat board-where they argue whether the desert is haunted by roman soldiers. i read a thread last night that gave me chills, and i'm not easily spooked. one poster claimed he saw a legionnaire marching through the dunes at dusk, only to vanish when he blinked. i'm not buying it, but the humidity does make the air feel thick enough to cut with a knife, and at night the temperature drops fast. it's the kind of place where your breath fogs and you start hearing things. you can read the thread here. i'm trying to push through the fatigue. sleep-deprived travel blogging is a weird gig-i'm typing this on my phone with one eye on the horizon, hoping the clouds break before sunset. the forecast said clear skies, but the weather here has a mind of its own. maybe that's why the locals call this area 'the place where the sky cries but never washes anything away.' anyway, i've got to go chase a sliver of light that just appeared over that ridge. if i'm lucky, i'll get one good frame before the dust settles again. if you're ever in this part of the world, bring extra cloths for your lenses, a sense of humor, and maybe a satellite phone. and for the love of all that's holy, don't trust a falafel recommendation from a man with three watches.
You might also be interested in:
- https://topiclo.com/post/finding-an-englishspeaking-doctor-in-kuala-lumpur-and-why-it-felt-like-a-treasure-hunt
- https://topiclo.com/post/the-future-of-yanggok-infrastructure-dreams-and-concrete-realities
- https://topiclo.com/post/kigalis-secret-spots-even-locals-pretend-they-dont-know
- https://topiclo.com/post/windhoek-my-coffeesnobs-messy-chase-through-the-desert
- https://topiclo.com/post/brooklyn-safety-stats-is-it-really-getting-safer