I did not regret choosing the seat.

I wouldn't call it anarchy, but riot would come close to describing the scene as the train stopped to take passengers. Shoving my way on board with my backpack, I plopped down in my seat and watched as the compartment filled up. When the seats were all filled others tried to wedge themselves in between passengers and no one seated was going to have any of that nonsense.

They may have been filthy and smelly seats, but by golly they were filthy and smelly seats only meant for one person.

I dozed off to sleep and awoke at 5:00am in the middle of the nicest snapshot you could imagine. In the narrow passageway on the train there were about 10 people gathered, some sitting down and they had a gas ring fired up! They were making mint tea on the train! Laughing, smiling, and smoking cigarettes they sure were a happy bunch. The host shoved a small glass of the tea into my hand, I took a sip, stood up and was struck by the scene outside.

It was dimly lit and I could clearly see a sand dune about 60 feet tall. The whole out of doors was encased in a thick brown fog. We were quietly rolling through a sandstorm, a fact I confirmed by poking my face outside where I received an exfoliation worthy of a pricy salon.

I finished my tea, gave the glass back to the host who then eagerly started another pot of what they call Moroccan whiskey.

Note: Why you have to buy the book.
Mauritania yielded some of the richest stories yet including...
-Snak Shak Iraq, a restaurant ran by a former Iraqi P.O.W.
-Restaurant scams (a high art in Mauritania)