are you German?

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I keep seeing these weird things in the desert. Like the upside down plastic bottles. Like the written notes hanging in the bushes. Like this thing:

It’s probably far from the truth, but I like to think that the desert inspires people to express themselves artistically. A truck driver spends hours and hours on the road looking at sand, and then suddenly something overcomes him, he slows down, dust rises up as the truck comes to a halt, and he sets out to create a piece of art.

Why not?

Maybe it was this guy:

We passed another desert restaurant:

But mostly it was just the desert road in all its imposing emptiness:

One time I saw what looked like a bus stop, but it was leaning to the side, and there were weeds all around it:

These two gentlemen stopped their car to give me some bread:

And shortly thereafter, a big truck came to a halt. “Are you German?” the driver asked me:

I didn’t know how he knew that I was German. Maybe word had traveled that there was a German dude with a beard walking through the desert? It reminded me of an episode with a mysterious Australian lady many years ago in China.

Anyway, the truck driver spoke a little bit of German:

He had learned it in school.

And then the desert stopped. Just like that. There was a small river or canal, a stream of water that we crossed, and behind it, the land was green.

There were pink plants:

And then I took another Let’s Walk video, and I filmed all the way until I arrived at our camp:

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It was on a field next to some sheep:

And even though the Boss didn’t want to admit it at first, there was an army of mosquitos in the air, which we combatted using some spray I had brought from Germany.

We all smelled like lemons that night.