Sevaré, Mali To Bobo-Diolasso, Burkina Faso Via Bla, Mali

I went to the gare routiere at 6am to get a ticket, but the 7am bus was already sold out. Dammit! But there is an 8am bus and they told me I can still get to Bobo. Whew! I paid CFA 5000 (US$10) for the ticket to Bla. Since I had some time, I went back and had coffee, tea and breakfast. Then I still had time to take a needed shower and shave so I look nice and clean to impress the customs and immigration people. Checking out was fun. Again, I had a liquidity problem. The lack of circulation CFA 1000 notes is so annoying. My bill for room, food, beer, and water came to CFA 21000 (US$42). I gave them 3 CFA 10000 notes wanting CFA 9000 in change. They just sort of stared at the third CFA 10000 bill. OK, I took it back and gave them a CFA 5000. Again, they couldn't deal with it. Dammit! I hate this stupid illiquid economy they have here! I gave them one of my last two CFA 1000 notes. Ugh!

Then I headed with all my luggage to the gare routiere. When I got there, they told me that they would make the ticket from Bla to Bobo for me. That was CFA 15000 (US$30). Again, Bani does the system where you board the bus by name in the order you bought the ticket. I got mine early, so I got a good seat out of the sun.

Then we were off. The trip was uneventful until where I got off and a guy from the Bla gare bus companies met me and took me to the stop for the bus to Bobo. It was 1:30 and he predicted the bus would be here at 3 or 4pm. So I have some time to kill. I got some cookies and journaled for a while.

Then at 2:20, a Bani bus came. The guy pointed at me, so I got my stuff and headed to the bus. They didn't want to let me on because the bus was full. I told them I had a ticket and that the Bani people in Sevaré had called ahead to make sure I would get on the bus. Negotiations continued while the bus driver kept inching forward. Finally, they made me pay CFA 2000 (US$4) and I got on. The bus left. The aisle was full, but I crawled over some people and they brought a cooler over for me to sit on. There was a pretty white girl just over my right shoulder. She seemed to be reading Oliver Twist, so probably English speaking. After a few minutes a guy got off and I got a seat.

I was relieved. The appropriately named Bla, Mali is not a place I want to get stranded for my 40th birthday. I want to usher in my fifth decade of life in the mellifluously named Bobo-Dioulasso, Burkina Faso. My new found assertiveness got me on the bus--and hence helped me set the right tone for starting my 40's.

At about 5pm, we hit the border. The border procedure goes in three roughly equal half hour chunks. First there is the Malian exit procedure. There were two Americans, me and the girl is just finishing up her Peace Corps tour. She was doing tourism in Gao. She probably knows the annoying guide who sat with me when I just wanted to drink my beer and write in my journal. We went to a separate table outside in the sun where we sat on bamboo chairs and filled out forms with some odd questions like my parents' names. But mostly just the standard boilerplate questions. It just seemed odd to write some of these for an exit stamp. They didn't actually look at the papers. They stamped the passports without even touching the papers. And no fees.

Then back on the bus to go to Burkina immigration. There, I stood in line until they took me into the building where I had to fill out a similar form to the one I just finished. The funniest question on there was my religion. I just put Christian since I used to go to a Unitarian church in Houston (where you can be an atheist). Then you walk by another gendarmerie where a guy looks at your passport and hands it back for no apparent reason. Again, no fees.

Finally, customs. We all had to get all our baggage and line up. We slid our baggage down the table as people popped off the end after inspection. The Peace Corps girl got an extra inspection. I figured I would too, but my bag was the first set of bags that he didn't even open--just let me through. Nice.

Then we got back on the bus. It was now just starting to darken. After about 50 minutes, we stopped at a police checkpoint. This was a new experience. A policeman came on board and inspected stuff. He looked at the bus driver's luggage, and the bus company's cooler. Then he started doing detailed inspections of the luggage of the people at the front of the bus. One guy was transporting 2 packages of powdered milk. He opened them and sniffed the contents. He looked at my water bottle bag and checked my cookies. Then he headed further down. I thought he was going to do this to the whole bus, but the search only lasted about 8 minutes. On the road again. Again, about 50 minutes later, another police checkpoint. Another policeman got on and started his search. The funny thing is that he searched all the same places as the first guy.

Finally, at about 9pm, I was in Bobo-Dioulasso Whew! A couple of guys said they'd take me to my hotel for CFA 1000. I figured it was high (it always is) but it's 9pm, dark, I'm in a new city, and even though it's high, US$2 is not egregiously high. Actually they took me to a taxi and then charged me CFA 500 while telling me I had to pay the taxi man CFA 1000. Oh well. US$3 is still not egregious. I just want to get to the hotel and unwind.

And I did. The room is OK. There is a shared toilet (only 1), but I get a shower. And the price is right--about CFA 6000 (US$12). It's centrally located and has a terrace bar with no waiter, but you can get the reception guy to grab a beer from the fridge. And I sat and wrote in my journal. I did that until midnight when it turned October 3, 2008. I was now 40.

October 3, 2008 8:10 Burkina local time