From Agadir to Dakhla for the first time flew "Royal Moroccan Airlines". Halfway through we made a stop in El Aaiun, half of the passengers got off, the other half got on. After an intermediate landing, rations and drinks were distributed. Those who came out in El Aaiun are biting their elbows. I got off at Dakhla, and some of the passengers flew on to Casablanca. Perhaps they were fed hot.
I don’t know how it is in the independent part of Western Sahara, but in Moroccan-controlled Dakhla, it’s clean and safe, like in an ordinary Moroccan city. Dakhla is located on a long and narrow peninsula, the shape of which is immortalized in the city monument. In historical terms, the city is not interesting. Surfers come here for the beaches and winds. There are many consulates and missions of states that have recognized the independence of Western Sahara. Among the mosques there is one Catholic church, which the locals call the cathedral. Many speak Spanish. There are no tourists in October. In the evening Dakhla I walked for a long time and with pleasure. Because I guessed that in the next city I would no longer want to walk after sunset.
