Mark's 2008 Travels

St. Louis

2009-02-03T07:37:00.000-06:00

We had a nice uneventful trip to St. Louis. We made it on exactly one tank of gas. Yay. After checking in to the Motel 6 on the south side of St. Louis on I-55, we headed into St. Louis downtown to check out the arch and the downtown area. Lot's of nice trendy looking restaurants. Yet the downtown looks so dead.

After that we headed back and did some shopping at Target and Schnuk's grocery store which is pretty good despite the name. Back in our room, we had premade chicken, cous-cous, salad, and wine. Yummy. But Elena didn't like the cous-cous--it tasted stale to her. We had gotten it from Whole Foods in Madison. We also forgot to pick up a bottle of water. Those premade chickens are pretty salty.

February 3, 2008

St. Louis Or Bust

2009-02-02T08:34:00.001-06:00

And we're off. In the next few minutes I'll pack up my laptop, put it in the car, then start our drive to St. Louis. Next post--from St. Louis.

Elena Returns

2009-01-22T10:23:00.002-06:00

It's been a long time since I've updated my blog. I've been at home with my parents leading a life with nothing really travel related to blog about. But now Elena, who was in France and Morocco with me, is back. We'll rest up for a while. Then it's off to the Pacific Northwest.

Since it's snowy in the US, we are thinking of a route somethng like: St. Louis, Memphis, New Orleans, Austin, El Paso, Phoenix, Las Vegas, San Fransisco, Portland, Seattle, Vancouver. Sound good? It does to me, too.

Last Day In Africa: Accra To Chicago Via AMS & DTW

2008-12-17T10:03:00.001-06:00

I got up and worked on blog text until about 9am. Then went to Busy Internet. They were in the process of rebooting all their computers. Not good. I asked the girl if this would less than or more than 10 minutes. She said they're working on it. "So that means more than 10 minutes..."

I left and got a cab to Osu. Only GH¢2. I'm getting better at this. I went to the internet cafe in the Osu food court. But I had a GH¢10 bill and nothing smaller. The internet cafe at the food court couldn't give me GH¢9. But no problem--I'm in a food court right? I went to buy a pastry. Nope--they can't break it. I went to another place to buy an Orange Fanta. Nope--they can't break it. Then I realized that I actually had a GH¢1 coin, so I used it. I didn't think I'd have these liquidity problems in Osu.

I went to Frankie's. I figured since all I wanted was a small beer, I'd just go to their lounge. But even though there is only a door separating the lounge from the restaurant, a small Star costs GH¢3.30 in the lounge and GH¢1.80 in the restaurant. And there is no TV with CNN in the lounge. So I went back out to the restaurant. I watched more soccer then went to Ryan's Irish pub at noon. I had a hamburger and a couple of beers. I had a nice chat with a couple of men. One left early after a while and then the other, who has been in Ghana for 14 years, and I compared our levels of travel savviness with stories of our travel experiences.

After that, I took a cab to my hotel where I just picked up my bags and then went to the airport. I ate one last little bit of food at The Landing. I had hummous and a Russian salad. Maybe food with garlic and onions is not the best thing before a flight. Oh well, I smell already. I filled out my Ghana immigration card.

Than back to the airport where I went through immigration and then just waited for my flight. There were a lot of white people carrying stuff sold by the merchants. Wow! People actually do buy that stuff!

Soon we boarded the big plane and it was nice because they had stairs at the front of the plane and at the back so I didn't have to walk all the way through. Not bad.

It was a 6 hour flight and I was between 2 people. Yuck. Then a small time in Amsterdam. They had a McDonalds but no Sausage McMuffin with Egg and that hash brown thing. So I didn't eat. Then a multiple hour trip to Detroit.

Immigration was pretty good. No questions, really. He typed forever, I suppose because he typed in my list of countries visited. Then I got my bags and went through customs. Naturally, I was smelly, unshaven, and jut got back from a trip to Africa--that means a full inspection of my bags. I did it and it was thorough. Lots of questions which were easy enough to answer. I had only one thing that I was worried about--my prescriptionless prescription drug, Savarine--and they totally missed it. Then after the X-ray security scan, they hauled me out for the full body scan which was kind of neat. I had to stand on some foot prints and hold my arms up, then rotate 90 degrees and hold my arms a different way. Cool, where I had a small hamburger at small fries at McDonald's to get my American fast food fix settled for the next several weeks. Then a short flight to O'Hare. I got my bags (whew) and went out to the Hilton lounge to get a beer and call my brother. He was actually really close to O'Hare by coincidence and picked me up. Then, because it started snowing a few hours before, it took us 3.5 hours to go 15 miles.

Wednesday, December 17, 2008 10:03 Chicago local time

Accra Again: Lost Luggage Day II

2008-12-17T08:51:00.000-06:00

I recharged my phone overnight and got out my new SIM card. Then I remembered something. I have to unlock my phone. I need a code I got from AT&T before I left. Dammit. That means I need to go to the internet cafe first. I went to the busy internet cafe and with a little sleuthing found my unlock code in my email. Then I popped my old SIM card and put the new one in, and voilà. It asked for the passcode and I entered it. I stepped outside and tried to place a call. The first time you try to call, it registers the SIM so you have to redial. But when it registered me, it told me I had only GH¢0.50. That's like 3 minutes. Busy Internet sells credit, but not this early in the morning. Fortunately, I'm near Nkrumah Circle and I saw people selling credit. I bought GH¢2 of credit from a guy. His girlfriend was there, and she asked I'd buy her some credit too. Sorry.

I called my airport plus extension and finally got a guy. He said he'd look into it and call me back. It was very loud with all the traffic, so I went back to my hotel room where I called again and explained the urgency of the situation--I'm leaving for the US the next day and need my baggage. I got his name, Moses Glago. He said he would visit the Virgin Nigeria office and get them to help. I asked if I should be there too to answer any questions that might arise. He said he didn't mind but it wasn't necessary. So I walked back to Osu to wait for the call from Moses.

I had a beer at Venus in the Byblos Hotel. Then out on the street met a guy (who says his artist name is a rather uncreative Black Africa) try to sell me paintings. I told him I wouldn't buy anything but could look. He tried to ask GH¢28. I reminded him that I said I wasn't going to buy anything. Then he gave me a painting for free and suggested I give him a donation (the left arm buffs the right arm, the right arm buffs the left arm, he kept saying). I said that asking for a donation for a free item is the same as selling it and I wasn't going to buy anything. Finally after about 5 minutes of this BS, I just gave him his painting back and left.

I got another GH¢1 of Tigo time, a Time magazine at Koala, and got a cab to the airport. I found Moses. Had he been to the Virgin Nigeria office? Not yet. He had me write out a more detailed description. Another guy with lost luggage asked for their phone number and they gave him the bad one so I gave him the good one. I tried to go to the Virgin office, but it was closed and the security people told me to wait or come back later. I went back down and peppered another guy with questions about the whole process. My bags were not even in their system. They didn't even know where they were. They were not being tracked. I said I want phone calls to be made and my bags located. Another woman came in on the same 2 flights the same night. Same story with them.

I went to Aerostar and had a beer while waiting for Moses to call. He didn't so I went back and asked more questions. The guy said they don't call. They just use the email system. I figured all I could do was wait and left. A guy outside, Stephen, reminded me that I should go to the Virgin Nigeria office again.

Up I went. There I met Olivia. I explained the whole thing to her--Moses was supposed to talk with her (he didn't), I was leaving for the US the next day, the whole process in Douala was manual even down to handwritten boarding passes and my bags were not even in their system. Then she did what the Aviance people would not. She got out her phone and address book and started calling. Of course, the first guy she called was Moses and made him come up and they had a brief exchange in their native language. Within 5 minutes, a Virgin Nigerian employee had gone to an underground cage where baggage is kept and found both my bags and neither of them was slated to move anywhere anytime. There was an hour to the next flight from Lagos and they would get my bags on that flight.

If I hadn't talked with Olivia, I would not have been able to return to the United States with my bags. The Aviance people were worthless. Worse that worthless. They lied to me, deceived me, and made me waste my time. If the girl who told me my bags would be on the next flight wouldn't have lied, and would have said that they weren't even in the system, I would have gone to the Virgin Nigeria office a day sooner and gotten my bags on the previous evening's flight. Instead I was wasting my entire day--my last full day in West Africa--there and the frickin' airport because that stupid idiot girl lied to me. I'm eternally grateful to Olivia.

I waited in the internet cafe at the airport and then heard the annoucement that my flight landed. I tried to get in the back door to get my bags while there were on the carousel, but it would have cost a GH¢10 dash. Dammit! I tried with another guy but he couldn't get me in either. In the end, the only thing I could do was wait at Aviance. There was a new woman and I told her I wanted my luggage and that the girl who was there at the desk yesterday had lied to me about the luggage being on the flight. Then I saw the girl who lied was there in another chair.

I sat down to wait. A guy sat next to me--he was the guy who I gave the better phone number to. He thanked me. Then after about a half hour, my luggage came. They have a customs officer right there in the room and I cleared customs. He didn't look at anything of mine--just the other guy. I just had to sign a ledger with information about my luggage.

Then I got a cab for GH¢5 back to the hotel. Since it was late and I didn't much money left, I just ate at a local Chinese place up on Nkrumah Circle so I didn't have to spend GH¢6 on cabs to and from Osu. The power at my hotel went out just as I was leaving and it went out at the CHinese place just as I was finishing up my meal. So I avoided the bulk of the problems with the power outages. Though, Ghana had had pretty reliable power until then.

Wednesday, December 17, 2008 8:51 Chicago local time

Accra Again: Dealing With Lost Luggage

2008-12-15T01:03:00.000-06:00

My luggage was lost and they told me to call them around noon. It was late morning so I decided to start already. There is one difference between Douala and Accra--in Douala, there are plenty of businesses where you can use a phone to call people and pay by the minute. Accra doesn't have many of these. The sun had come out and I was still wearing the same shirt I wore on the plane and all night long. I finally found a box. But the number wasn't working.

I decided to try another box. It took a long time to find one. Again, the number wasn't working. Ugh! This sucks! I went to M&J Travel which is near Osu and asked them if they could help. All they would do is give me the number to Virgin Nigeria. They remembered me. When I was there, they thought McCain was going to win, but I had been monitoring fivethirtyeight.com, so I said the race was still leaning pretty heavily in Obama's favor. She noted that in fact, Obama did win.

I walked back to the hotel. There is a prepaid card pay phone at the hotel. I asked where I can get a prepaid card. "Oh, that phone doesn't work." (Of course not, this is Africa.) There is another one there on the desk. "That one doesn't work either." But the clerk offered to let me use a cell phone, but I'd have to get some MTN credits. OK, that shouldn't be too hard. But it was. Usually, you don't have to walk more than half a block to find someone selling credits. But I walked all over. I found another prepaid card phone outside a hotel. I went in and asked a hotel employee if they sell card. No, he said, check the gas station across the street. I went across the street. Do you sell Ghana Telecom prepaid cards? No, go down the street. I was hot, sweaty and getting frustrated. I found 2 guys out side a business that sells MTN credit, but it was closed (it was Saturday, after all). They directed to another business, but it was also closed. I wandered around some more, then finally found what I was looking for.

There are 2 ways to get time on your phone. You can buy little scratch off cards and enter the number. Or you can find people with credit on the phone and they can transfer some of their credit to another phone number--for a fee of course. So these two women were there sitting under an umbrella with a sign showing how much it costs to transfer how much credit from their phone to mine. I gave them the phone number of the desk clerk's phone and got about GH¢2 worth of time--about 15 minutes.

Then back to the hotel. The phone number I was given is still out of service. I couldn't get a human at the Virgin Nigeria office despite trying a few times. Then the desk clerk called the airport. From that we got the number to the bag reclaim desk. So I now I had that number. I called and explained my situation. Then my time ran out.

An African couple came. The man is a big guy. He asked how I'm doing. Not so well. He and his wife live in Miami, but he is a chief (Nana) in Cape Coast and was here to do chief stuff. He is also a travel agent. He offered to help and gave some advice. The most helpful piece of advice was to get a SIM card for my AT&T cell phone. He said I should do everything through the hotel clerk, so I gave the hotel clerk GH¢5 to get me a SIM card. He said I should go to the airport (I already decided I had no choice but to do that) and get names and if I needed help he knew people there who could help me. But he had to run because he had chief stuff to do.

So I headed to the airport (GH¢5). I went to the Aviance counter where they handle lost bags. The first thing I did was ask for the phone number. She gave it to me but it was the same phone number I already had. "That's your phone number?" "Yes." "I tried it--it doesn't work." "I know." "You know it doesn't work?" "Yes." "But that's your phone number?" "Yes." I stood there aghast. "Why does your office have a phone number that doesn't work?" "It usually works, but there's a problem this weekend." The girl checked her computer. She told me that my bags were going to be in the flight tonight. I asked for her name. She wouldn't tell me. That should have been a red flag--she didn't want to held accountable for the information she gave me. I would find out why later.

I went to Aerostar, a bar/restaurant near the airport. I got a Star beer. It's nice there--outdoor but shaded. And reasonably priced unlike the places inside the airport. Just GH¢2 for a big bottle of beer.

Then I got a cab to Danquah Circle in Osu for GH¢5. I walked down to Ryan's Pub and a beer while watching Everton play Manchester City. Finally I was hungry. Ravi who I met at the airport in Douala recommended Indian Heritage as the best Indian food in Accra and it was pretty close to Ryan's Irish pub, so I went there. But they open at 6:30. So I went to a bar across the street, Honey Road, and ordered a beer. Then this crazy guy who might be the owner or might just be the husband of one employee and the father of another one sat at my table.

He was talking crazy. Asking me all types of weird questions. Like "Kunta Kinte: what color is he?" "Black." Easy enough. "Who was the first man on the moon?" "Neil Armstrong." "Wrong!" he asserted and said some Russian name. "Stevie Wonder: What color is he?" "Black." "Where was Kunta Kinte from?" "The Gambia" "No--from Africa." "Who took him to America: black men or white men?" "White men." It went on like this for about a half hour. He was extremely offended that I didn't know Kofi Annan was from Ghana. He asserted that there are no scientists born in America. Naturally we talked about Obama. Finally, 6:30 rolled around and I was anxious to end this craziness with this meaningless questions.

The Indian Heritage was good. I got a spinach like dish recommended by Ravi and samosas and rice and a garlic naan and a chicken dish. Yummy. I couldn't even finish it all. They did something funny with the bill. They left the chicken dish off and then had me pay for it in cash downstairs. How odd, but I went along. Then they help me get a cab (it's a bit off the main drag so not many cabs come by) and for GH¢4, I got back to my room. I fell asleep until the desk clerk called and told me I should come and pick up my new SIM card. So I did. Then I went back to my room, exhausted since I didn't sleep the previous night, and died on the bed.

Monday, December 15, 2008 8:03 Ghana local time

Douala To Accra Via Lagos

2008-12-15T00:12:00.000-06:00

I got up early on my last day, Thursday the 11th, to go to Delice. They had pain aux raisins but no chausson aux pommes. So I had a lighter breakfast than I expected.

Time was low, so I returned to my hotel and packed. I still had an hour, so I went out in search of a close internet cafe. They were all either closed, or had no connection. Then I found one that was open and while I was reaching for my money to buy some time, several square blocks, including theirs, lost power. I just got a moto-taxi back to the hotel.

The cab to the airport cost me CFA 3000. Not bad. Lonely Planet said CFA 2500 and CFA 3000 at night, so I didn't get reamed too bad. On the way, we passed a bar called the Barak Obama. I'm not sure if they misspelled his name for copyright and legal reason or if they just didn't know to spell it. Interesting, either way. Barack Obama sure has captured the popular imagination in Africa.

The way the airport works in Douala is that the cabs don't take you right to the departure doors like at most airports. Rather, the drop you off by a bunch of men who grab your stuff and charge CFA 300 per bag to take your bags up to the departure area. Whatever. I had fun by having only a CFA 5000 bill to pay the guy and made him run all over looking for change. I was pretty early, and it's fun to make people work for their money when they provide a service I don't really want anyway.

I got there and this guy told me that my plastic weaved bag has to be wrapped. I said I'd get it wrapped if Virgin Nigeria told me to wrap it. He told me would wrap it and he started. I asked him combien ça coûte? 3000 Francs. C'est fou! I said. D'accord, 2500 Francs. Non, c'est fou. But he kept wrapping. Pour quoi vouz continuez à emballer quand nous n'avons pas une marché? Je ne peux pas payer sans une marché. Another employee in a yellow reflective vest was watching this with an interested look. The guy kept wrapping. I kept telling him stuff like "je ne payer une prix folle. Vous douvez negocier une prix avant vous faisez le travaille." But he kept going. When he finished, he asked for CFA 2500. Non! J'ai dit que je ne payer pas 2500. Mais vous avez continué. Je ne comprend pas pour quoi vous prefere à faire le travaille avant negocier une prix. Je pense que c'est fou." I told him I'd give him CFA 500. The yellow vested employee was enjoying watching this. The wrapper wasn't happy at all. He asked for 2500 again. I reached down and touched the tape. "C'est combien? 50 Francs?" and then I touched the plastic sheet thing we put around the bag and asked "Et ça, c'est combien? 50 Francs aussi?" He was looking angry and just looking around. "500 Francs, c'est ne pas bon," he said. I reminded him again the price he stated was crazy and he should have stopped and negotiated a deal with me but he didn't. Finally, I upped it to CFA 1000. He just kept looking around with this disgusted look. He did that for a couple of minutes. I held the CFA 1000 in my hand ready for him to take it. "Est-ce que vous gaspillez votre temps ici?" I asked since he wasn't doing anything--just looking around waited for me to cave in, I suppose. Then after another couple of minutes, he finally wandered off. I'm not sure what he was going to do. He refused my money and walked away. The yellow vested guy eventually left too since the show was over. A guy from India was watching as was a Chinese girl. But their French apparently wasn't up to being able to enjoy the spectacle as fully as the guy in the yellow vest.

After about 5 minutes, the wrapper guy came back. I renewed the offer of CFA 1000. He took it and left. The yellow vested guy came back a few minutes later as well and asked if I paid the guy. I told him I had. Then I asked "normallement, c'est combien?" He said CFA 1000--exactly what I paid. Not bad.

I was the first to get my boarding pass. The system was totally manual. My boarding pass was hand written. My seat assignment was done with stickers. The luggage tags were written out by hand as well. Hmmm... I hope my luggage makes it with this hand written stuff...

I went through security and had to pay a CFA 10000 (US$20) departure tax. Then I needed to fill out a departure form and hand it to immigration. Security was fairly high.

The guy from India, Ravi, and the Chinese girl and I hung out together for the next three hours as we waited for the plane to take off. He knows Africa pretty well since he is here with sales for agricultural equipment. We talked about African economics and development and culture. There was an Africa guy listening to us who was probably interested in our opinions of Africa even if they weren't terribly optimistic. They, after all, have enormous culturally based problems to overcome.

We boarded the plane and it wasn't long before we were in Lagos. Near the end of the flight, they handed out the Nigerian immigration form. They said that even if you transit, you need to fill it out. However, as soon as I landed, I went to the Virgin Nigeria transfer desk and got a boarding pass for the next flight and that flight was right there in the terminal, so there was no need for me to go through Nigerian customs.

I had been worried that we might not make it in time for the next flight, but it turns out that the plane to Accra is the plane I was on, so our delay was its delay. I got on, again through pretty high security. They were smart and gave us our Ghanian immigration forms as we boarded so most people would have them filled out even before we took off. The plane started to back up. Then it started to go forward again. Hmmm.... Wrong way. The pilot announced that there was a problem with something. We waited about 20 minutes and then 2 white men in yellow vests came into the cockpit. Another 20 minutes elapsed and the pilot announced that they were going to deplane.

I asked the check in girl if there was a bar a restaurant in the terminal. She said there was, but it was only going to take 10 minutes--that they were just recycling the air in the cabin. Well, the security to get on the plane was high, so the board process would be at least another 30 minutes. So off I headed. Lagos has a pretty nice bar in that terminal. I asked if I could pay for a beer in Euros and ordered a Star. While I was fishing out a bill, a guy next to me whipped out a N500 note and plopped it down. So he bought it for me. He is a South African white guy (2/3 of the people in the bar were white) who works on an offshore drilling rig. We chatted and he asked if I wanted another beer. I said I better go check the status of my flight. No line up. I asked the girl who told me 10 minutes. This time she said there was a problem getting at the part. So it's safe to have another beer? She recommended a coffee--strong and black. Hmmm.... This sounds like it's going to take a while. Beer #2. More chatting with Basel. Then Basel had his flight so he left. I went back to the same girl. She was there with another guy and they were joking and having fun. I asked for an update. The plane was going to be replaced by a plane still in the air coming from Abuja. It was 10pm. She said we'd take off at 11pm. The man said no way. I agreed with the man. He said we was a mechanical engineer and there was no way we'd be off by 11. I said I was an electrical engineer and I agreed with the mechanical engineer. The girl said she had a degree in engineering technology. Then she and the guy started negotiating a bet. But I laid out a timeline and convinced her we wouldn't make it. I apologized to the mechanical engineer for ruining his sure bet.

Since I now knew we had time, I decided to whip out the laptop over a third beer. The bar there has free WiFi. So I was on the finally on internet for a while.

At about 11:15 I headed back to the plane. Almost everyone was boarded. My timing was perfect. I caught the tail end of the boarding process. The flight was short. Virgin Nigeria has one particular food-this sort of ground beef wrapped in a spiral of pastry that comes in a long white box with a goofy hinge. It's horrible. I wouldn't feed it to a dog. But that was my meal on the second leg.

We landed and I went through immigration. After I got through, the officer called me back and took my passport again. I'm not sure why. But there were no problems. I waited for my luggage. But it didn't come. Crap! And it was past midnight already.

I filled out a form at the lost luggage area. Then headed out to get a cab.

As soon as I left, a guy asked if I wanted a cab. Yep. I told him where I was going--the Date Hotel. GH¢15. GH¢15?! That's ridiculous. He said it's a fixed price and could show me. He reached into a car and grabbed a piece of paper. I told him that having a piece of paper isn't a fixed price list unless it's posted in the vehicle. OK, how much would you pay? GH¢2000. They didn't like that. So I left. A little further out are the real taxi cabs--the yellow ones with numbers. One of them offered to take me for GH¢7. No way--too high. I said I would just spend the night there in the airport and turned around. He called me back. Again I started at GH¢2. We finally got to GH¢5 from me and GH¢6 from them. I stood firm until they gave in. So I went for GH¢5. Later I would ask my hotel desk clerk and a couple from the US I would meet at Ryan's Irish pub and they would tell me that GH¢5 or 6 is about right. Gee, I'm getting better at this negotiating thing.

But, the Date was full. I looked at their calendar and pointed at the circle around the 12 and said that it was me. He apologized. I got out and headed north. Now it was close to 1am. There I was walking in Adabraka at 1am. I passed the Niagara Hotel and they had rooms, but the price was too high. He agreed to come down from US$55 to US$30 since it was already 1am. Still too high. I left to go to the Busy Internet cafe. I had apparently left my book there at the Niagara and the desk guy followed me in a cab to return it to me. Very nice of him. The cab took me to the Busy Internet cafe and then it had to take the desk guy back to the Niagara. They charged me GH¢4 for that. Oh well.

I was on the internet all night. Then at 6am I left. I tried a few other hotels but they were booked up as well. It turns out I did the right thing my just going to the internet cafe. Finally, I went to the President Hotel and just left my laptop there behind the desk while I headed out to Osu. I was hot and sweaty and knew Frankie's would have AC, cold water, and pastries. I walked there and got a bit lost, but not too lost. It was too early for pastries. But the water was refreshing and the coffee wasn't bad. I was feeling better already.

I left and walked through Osu and found a guy who tried to sell me these bracelets with my name on them in African colors. I decided to pick up a couple. He had me write the names. It's an interesting process watching them put the name in. They made a misspelling and had to back track. I went off for a while. When I returned, there was another misspelling, so they had to fix that. Then about a half hour later I returned and picked them up. Only GH¢5 for both of them. Not bad. Other vendors tried to get me to buy stuff. But they weren't successful.

What was I doing while the bracelet guys were misspelling names? That the topic of my next post.

Monday, December 15, 7:12 Ghana local time

Last Day In Douala

2008-12-14T02:24:00.000-06:00

I got up Thursday the 11th, to go to Delice. I had pain aux raisins and chausson aux pommes. After that, I headed to the internet cafe. No connection--come back in an hour, they said.

OK, I looked for a cafe, but there aren't many cafes around Bananjo. I went to Le Paris and they were more or less open. Officially open, but no customers at that hour, apparently ever. I had a nice expresso (as the spell in France) and checked out the menu. Very nice looking menu.

An hour had passed so I headed back to the internet cafe. The connection was sort of up but only blogspot.com (owned by) was working reliably. Frustration!

I had a rest back into my hotel and a few hours later returned to the internet cafe. It was sort of up again, but only for responsive sites. Then it went down again. Gee, this internet cafe is usually pretty good.

It was getting late and I felt like a draft beer so I went to a place called Pression II. I asked if the have bière à pression. She said they didn't. I looked at her aghast. Really? (C'est vrai?). The name of the place is Pression II and they don't have beer on tap? I got a bottle of Castel which turned out to be not as cold as I wanted. I wrote into my journal. While I was there, all the other customers eventually left leaving just me. Then a guy came in. All these empty tables, but he sat at my table across from me. Odd. He ordered a meal. I continued writing. His meal came and he ate it as if he hadn't eaten anything in days. A few minutes later a friend of his came in and ordered some food. I got to the end of my train of thought and told them bon appetite and headed out. After all, it was going to be my dinner time soon. I went back to Le Paris.

What a nice choice for my last dinner in Francophone Africa. My entrée was chèvre on toast baguettes on a bed of lettuce with diced tomato. The chèvre was sprinkled with rosemary. Just delicious. My plat was turkey cordon bleu with mashed potatoes. It was cooked perfectly. I have to learn how to make cordon bleu. The chèvre was CFA 4500 (US$9) and the turkey cordon bleu was CFA 7500 (US$15). So it was pricey, but one of the best meals I had in Africa. Again, these guys could make it in the US. And actually they should because there weren't enough customers. I was the only one.

I took a moto-taxi back and went to sleep.

Sunday, December 14, 2008 9:24 Ghana local time

Monday And Tuesday In Yaoundé

2008-12-11T11:42:00.000-06:00

I spent a pretty relaxing 2 days in Yaoundé. Just exploring and enjoying the last few days in West Africa. I had coffee in the (late) morning at Espresso House. I went downtown to the internet cafe down there. They have internet at Espresso House but it is ridiculously expensive--CFA 1500 (US$3) for an hour. I got pastries at the pâtissirie across the street from the Ideal Hotel. It is a wonderful pâtisserie and it is open really early to really late.

On Monday, I ate a nice salade vert for CFA 1000 and Poulet basquaise for CFA 3000 (green salad: US$2, Basque chicken US$6) at Le Sintra,a nice place downtown where I had a croissant and coffee a few days previous. That was my only meal of the day.

On Tuesday, I ordered a take out pizza from the grocery store close to the Chez Wou Chinese restaurant. I got a bottle of wine and just enjoyed pizza with the French news and Knight Rider dubbed into French.

I went back to Concordia in the evenings. It's very nice and the beer is reasonably priced. Just a pleasant environment to hang out. The owner came over and introduced himself to me and asked about my trip a bit. He thanked me for coming and I told him he ran a very nice place.

On Tuesday, I needed to get a ticket for returning to Douala on Wednesday. I headed south to look for the Guaranti Express. The Lonely Planet says it is 1km off the bottom of the map. It actually says the same thing about Centrale Voyages. I walked pretty far to the south. I passed the large brewery complex and found a Guaranti Express storage yard but not the station. So I walked back. On the way back, I spotted the Centrale Voyages off on a side street. I explored a bit around that area, but nothing. So I decided to head into town and rest with a beer at the Sihusa again. Next I tried a cab, but he wanted CFA 3000 (US$6) round trip. So I decided, why not try Centrale Voyages. I headed back there. They now charge only CFA 6000 (US$12) for their Prestige service. It's pretty much identical to the Guaranti Express VIP service--you can wait in an air conditioned waiting room, you get a cake or sandwich, a soft drink, and they play music videos on the bus.

Well, that was my two days. It was pretty relaxing. A lot of walking and reading Le Zahir.

Thursday, December 11, 2008 7:42 Cameroon local time

Blog Dump

2008-12-11T10:08:00.003-06:00

I saved up a bunch of posts and posted them. Part way through my connection went down. Anyway, some will be somewhat shocking to some readers. Reader discretion is advised. I posted several posts that I wroe while drinking a bottle of wine in my hotel room. I wrote things that normally only go into my journal. But they are the human condition. They are me even they are shocking. They are truth.

Read at your own risk.

Yaoundé To Douala

2008-12-11T00:08:00.000-06:00

I woke up early and thought that maybe Espresso House didn't open until 9 on Sunday because it was Sunday. The other times I went it was already 9:30 or so, and for some reason they don't post their hours. So I went. And they open at 9 even on weekdays. It's like Cameroonians don't wake up with coffee. How odd.

Anyway, I had a bus at noon and needed to pack. I picked up a couple of pastries from the pâtisserie by the Ideal and savored them. Then packed and showered. I was having a bit of a laundry crisis but I managed to find wearable stuff. At about 10, I checked out and just as I got out the street, a cab was dropping off two men. He charged CFA 1500 (US$3) to Centrale Voyages. Traffic was heavy so he took a long cut that supposedly saved time. But I had 2 hours till my bus left. There is a restaurant at the bus station that has large bottles of Castel for CFA 600 (US$1.20). The cheapest beer in Cameroon. I had one and read Le Zahir. It was interesting because the character in that book gets hit by a motorcycle, just like I was. His injuries are much more serious than mine. All involved with my accident emerged in pretty good shape.

Then time came to load the bus. At Guaranti Express, they tag you bags and they don't unload them at the end until they compare the tag numbers. At Centrale Voyages, they just toss them on and trust you when you leave.

It was a 4 hour trip. Again, we weren't stopped by police check points though I did see other vehicles stopped. They must have some sort of arrangement with the police for these special buses. They started out with a Celine Dion music video CD and then switched to a much more interesting local one. I love African music videos. I love the way they dance in them.

Things started looking familiar and soon we were there. Several people asked me if I needed a taxi, but I knew where I was and I knew I was close, so I just walked to the Hotel Hila. They remembered my name even. I'm like a celebrity there. ;-) I got a room for 2 nights and headed back downtown. I decided I wanted pizza at the Mediterranée but then I realized that their pizza oven stops from 3 to 6. Dammit! The Ecobank ATM was down. So I headed to the Bonanjo region with more banks and my usual internet cafe. I got CFA 50000 (US$100) successfully. The internet cafe guy told me the connection isn't good right now. I was hungry. I decided to check out the Café des Arts in this historic old building on the square with the post office. It was very nice. The menu du jour was salade aux carottes, osso bucco with tagliatelle or bar grillé, and fruit. Bar is a fish and I wasn't in the mood for fish. So I ordered the menu with osso bucco. There was a slight misunderstanding--I wanted the menu du jour--all of it, and she thought I just wanted to the osso bucco. But things turned out. The menu was CFA 6000 (US$12) and the beers were a pricey CFA 2000 each. But it was delicious and the atmosphere is nice.

The internet cafe was still having connection problems, so I just headed back to the hotel. I picked up the latest The Economist on the way. I saw an ambulant salesman selling small Christmas trees and an ambulant salesman selling mothballs from a big bucket of mothballs. A man was buying some mothballs from him. IT was the first time I've ever seen a guy selling mothballs. You just never know what you're going to see in West Africa. The surprises never stop.

Back in my room, I did a load of laundry and layed it out on a chair near the air conditioner. I should be good enough to get back to Chicago.

I settled into the hotel bar to read The Economist and wait for the organist who came at 8:30. I read the economist and listened to music until 10:30. They have a small Christmas tree already and they had some French Christmas carols in their repertoire.

Thursday, December 11, 2008 8:08 Cameroon local time

More Yaoundé And Thinking About Girls

2008-12-07T12:52:00.000-06:00

It stands to reason that I continued thinking about girls. Especially given changes that are coming over me. I have noticed that I am finding myself more attracted to more girls than ever before. It's like every girl gets +2 on the 1 to 10 scale. And whereas I would have thought myself unworthy of them a few days ago, I no longer feel that. After all, I dumped a super sexy girl because she wasn't worthy of me. The only thing holding me back right now is language. Right now I have as little fear of women as ever. I hope it lasts and isn't just a short term effect of my recent fling. I have a feeling of control over my life that I deserve because many many men who are less than I am have such a sense of control over their lives--at least in the area of romance. Finally I am starting to internalize what I have known intellectually all along. It's nice. It bodes well for the beginning of my 40's. Maybe it's just an artifact of turning 40--there are those who say that life begins at 40. So far, I'm pretty damn happy with my life since my birthday. I feel like I was given a test for my 40th birthday--assert myself and make it to Bobo Dioulasso, Burkina Faso or get stuck in Bla, Mali. And I passed. I didn't let life trample me and despite the fact that they didn't want to let me onto the bus from Bla to Bobo, I got on that bus.

Well, it was Sunday. That means stuff doesn't open early. I went to the Espresso House Cafe. Gee, if any place should open early, isn't it a place with a name like that? I think so. I guess they aren't in accord with me. I returned after an hour when they were open. They had CNN with a CNN sponsored version of the Daily Show. I wonder what will happen to The Daily Show. We are entering a new politics. Obama promises a common sense politics that simply won't be absurd enough to provide humorous fodder. The Bush White House was a caricature of functional organization. He valued loyalty over all else. And as a result of his screwed up value system, he screwed up America.

Anyway....back to my day in Yaoundé. After my failed attempt to go to the Espresso Cafe, I headed downtown. Along the way, where Churchill Avenue terminates at it's north end, there was a woman laying on her back, buck naked, her legs splayed in a diamond, arms a bit out from her side. Just laying there in the mud. I did a double take. That particular intersection, a little bit along Churchill Avenue seems to be the place to go if you need a really quick hooker fix. There are a few women dressed really slutty who engage you as you go by ("vous etês tout seul?") and further down the road there were many opened condom packets. A bit further down the street there a place with security guards. One engaged me and after a brief conversation in French he told me "je connais une petite" if I was interested. My French was up to no more than "je déjà...". I declined. Probably had in mind a girl just a bit to the north at the end of Churchill Avenue.

I was looking for La Terrace which is written up in the Lonely Planet but it doesn't seem to exist anymore. So I headed into a place called Le Café du Yaoundé. At first I though I would be the first customer, but after getting there, I realized that the place has many many customers already and the majority were white. I got a couple of bière à pressions and read Le Zahir by Paulo Coehlo. He talks about his life as a writer in this book and I spent a lot of time thinking about the possibility of turning my West African voyage into a book. If the economy sucks as bad as it looks like it might suck, I might just have a lot of free time on my hands while I look for a job. Turning my experiences into a book might just be the best way to spend my time. I'm already organizing it in my head.

I had lunch at a place a bit beyond the Cafe Espresso right next to the VSO office that has chicken and fries (VSO is like the Peace Corps for Commonweatlh countries like UK and Canada). Well, it turns out their fries are fried plantains, but tasty. And the place doesn't serve with silverware--just toothpicks. But I can do the right hand eating thing so I was right into it. A couple of girls kept checking me out. They were cute, but I already had all the local girls I need for a while.

On the way back, I stopped by the grocery store for a can of ravioli, another Côtes du Rhône, and a few pats of butter, then to the bakery for a nice warm baguette. There was a really cute European girl at the grocery store, but alas she spoke French. I wanted her and if she spoke English I would have invited her out somewhere.

Then I just spent a nice evening in. Ravioli, a delicious baguette, a Côtes du Rhône, my computer, French news on the TV, and my thoughts.

Sunday, December 7, 2008 18:52 Cameroon local time

First Full Day In Yaoundé

2008-12-06T17:00:00.000-06:00

[[This post contains a word that certain residents of Fischer Avenue will find objectionable. Nevertheless, it is the appropriate word and is unavoidable. Reader discretion is advised.]]

Am I a man who gets what he wants out of life? It's a question that many men ask themselves, I suppose. At least, if they have the courage to actually first articulate and then ask themselves the question. I suppose it's a question avoided by many. But it's the question I was pondering today. I don't know if my answer is "yes", but I do know that I was asking myself this question in Yaoundé, Cameroon and not on my drive home from work in Seattle.

Of course my renewing of this line of questioning is very much related to my recent fling. In the area of romance, I am not a man who gets what he wants. But this time was different. Sure, she was the initiator--asking if I would like her to accompany me to the seaside resort town of Limbe. But I didn't flinch. In the past I would have. That question, coming from a waitress who I was mentally undressing the whole time she was serving her other customers, would have totally freaked me out. Indeed, in the words of George Constanza, "it moved". But instead, we made an arrangement to meet in my hotel room after she got done with work. (It moved some more.) And meet we did. And before long we were...well, in the words of Elaine Benis, "yadda, yadda, yadda".

So, what is different? Is it just the boldness of Mlle. X? Or is there something different in me? I think maybe a bit of both. When she posed the question, I wasn't scared off. That is very different. And that is one of the things I was thinking of. The other is the fact that I dumped her. She didn't dump me, and we didn't let time run out (my preferred option as I wanted to fuck her up until the end). But I found her insufferable and ended it. It was the first time I ever ended it by myself. I have had two major relationships in my life, and both ended as a result of turning into long distance relationships whereupon I was dumped. I've never been the dumper. There is a sort of feeling of control, though, in being the one who dumps. A control I never felt before. And it is frankly liberating to know that I am capable of it. I felt that I do in fact have control over my life, and I am not just a victim of the forces around me. I made a decision to dump her, and I followed through on it because she no longer served my needs. That is a form of control over my life. A form of control I never felt before. And that feeling of control is far more important than the few extra fucks I would have gotten if I had just let her get away with her princessy behavior.

So that's what was on my mind as I explored downtown Yaoundé. Yaoundé is a lively, vibrant city. It's modern and fun. And because it's Francophone, it's not so overtly religious like Nigeria and Ghana. I really enjoyed Yaoundé. I wish I could stay here longer. When I was in Nigeria, I was ready to pull the plug on Cameroon. I was ready to just go to Ghana and spend my last days in West Africa there. Even sitting in the Cameroonian consulate in Calabar I was asking myself if I really want to continue. Nigeria treated me horribly. My first day had a hard fall on a construction site and then I took a direct hit from a motorcycle in a rond-pont--and my ATM card wasn't working and I had almost no money. I was at the low point of my trip. Even lower than my rude introduction to Dakar. I just wanted out. But I stuck it out. I got money Western Unioned to me and made it to Cameroon. I was counting on getting to Douala in one day, but it took three days on roads that were either the worst I rode or the second worst I rode. Then I made it to Douala. Then I had another money scare--this time my parents were on vacation and couldn't send me money. But I finally got an ATM to work. And next, there I was in bed with a super sexy girl whispering into my ear, in French, "as tu un capot?" And because I had stayed in a motel that rents by the hour in Conakry and stole their condoms the way I steal soap, I did indeed have a capot.

Life is like that. My trip is good--very good. But I had no idea how much I needed to find, fuck, and then dump a hot girl to make it truly complete. I know that sounds horrible. But that's the nature of the human condition. If life were simple and followed Biblical rules, the Bible would be sufficient and there would no market for literature. But to be human is to be complex. Far more complex than can be explained in one book. Far more complex than can be explained with one ethical system. Relationships are hard to start for me, so the idea of a rebound relationship is unthinkable because it would require that I go out and actually find yet another woman willing to be with me and that ain't easy. But now I know what the rebound relationship gives you. That sense of control, reasserted.

Anyway, enough about me.

The Lonely Planet map of Yaoundé, especially Nlongkak Rond-Pont is totally screwed up. The icons are weirdly placed. Basically, if you stay at the Ideal Hotel, you'll be well served by a compass because, otherwise the map will just frustrate you.

I followed the compass down a street and found some banks that didn't give me money. The SGBC seems to have 2 kinds of ATM's. One has a TRS-80 looking text based interface and one has pretty high resolution pictures on it's screen. The TRS-80 ones don't give money while the pretty picture ones do.

So I headed to the Express Exchange which is a Cameroonian chain that exchanges money and travellers' cheques. It was interesting. They needed a photocopy of my passport. Not just the passport, but you need to bring in a photocopy that they keep. Fortunately, there was a photocopy place next door and it was only CFA 25 (US$0.05) for a photocopy. I cashed in €100 and got CFA 65590.

I wandered all over Yaoundé. What a vibe! Perhaps the best Francophone city in West Africa. I had a couple of early afternoon Castels at a place overlooking the busy street. That's where I did a lot of my pondering. I explored some more and then returned to the hotel.

I ate at Chez Wou in Yaoundé. I was not happy. What is it about Cameroon and Chinese restaurants? The prices for the main dishes are normal. A tad high, but not ridiculous. But the soup and egg rolls are just outrageous. Chez Wou charges CFA 3000 for egg rolls (US$6) and CFA 3000 for all their cheap soups like Hot & Sour or Wonton or Egg Drop. What the hell? $12 for soup and egg rolls? What the hell are they thinking? It's unbelievable. I wound up ordering nothing more than sweet and sour pork. At least it came creatively served in a half pineapple shell. The food was good. But to eat Chinese without having soup or egg rolls--to eat just one flavour--is just wrong. They actually have a course thing for CFA 14000 (US$28) with hot & sour soup, an appy, a plat, and a desert--worse than à la carte!!! The bastards! I highly recommend to any visitors to Cameroon, Douala or Yaoundé, just not try to fix their Chinese food cravings. It's just not worth it here. Other West African countries aren't so horribly priced. In Conakry I ate at the Chinese place 3 times having nice complete meals each time. But you can't do it in Cameroon. C'est impossible. Unless you have a company paying your bill.
Since they don't open until 6pm, I had a beer at the Condordia Lounge across the street. The Concordia Lounge is very nice. A great place to just chill with a beer.

Saturday, December 6, 2008 23:00 Cameroon local time

Douala To Yaoundé

2008-12-06T16:00:00.000-06:00

My last night in Douala before heading to Yaoundé was grand. I spent it in the bar of the Hotel Hila. The organist was there again. He plays organ for a number of singers who tag team each other. But each night, it seems, he does a sort of 20 minute be-bop set. Absolutely wonderful! Just a great way to spend 20 minutes. Maybe even better than 20 minutes with Mlle. X. I'm not sure--it's a close one. ;-) He starts playing around 8:30. Anyone in Douala would be well entertained with an evening at the bar at the Hotel Hila. Sexy hookers doing that slow enticing "check out my goods" walk, hot music, reasonably priced booze--it's a trip! Again, one waitress in particular, a very cute (but not so hot that she would become an insufferable high maintenance princess) girl, seemed to fall victim to the contagion of my happiness at the music of the organist. A couple of times one of the organist's overstimulated friends came up and rubbed a bill into his forehead and let it fall on the keyboard. The organist's girlfriend would go and move the bill and equalize his forehead. Everyone was grooving to that steaming hot be-bop. This night, it started with a 10 minute be-bop interpretation of Hello Dolly. I've never heard Hello Dolly done so well. Fanstastic! Simply simply wonderful!

But, alas, I needed to go to sleep. I got up the next morning and went to the Guaranti Express station a block to the south. My 9am bus was there and I got my stuff loaded, paying a guy CFA 500 (US$1) for his help. I got a seat and at about 9:20, we were off. Something odd happened on the trip--or rather didn't happen. There were no police check points. I don't know if it because it was raining, or because it was the Guaranti Express VIP bus, or because there just aren't check points between Douala and Yaoundé. But it was nice.

I arrived and asked a few taxi drivers for their prices to the Ideal Hotel. Nobody would go below CFA 2000 (US$4) so I took the first guy who had offered that. It was a bit far and I got to see a bit of the city. We eventually arrived and thankfully, they had a room. Their prices, however, had doubled since Lonely Planet went to press. I didn't question it too much since the prices in Lonely Planet really were in the "too good to be true" range. For CFA 15000 (US$30) I got a huge room with a bedroom, TV room, windowed sitting room (what I would call an engawa, but that's me), and a bathroom with even a bidet. There was no AC, but it seems the altitude of Yaoundé makes that pretty much unneeded.

I went across the street to Le Globus where I had a chicken and fries dish and a couple of beers. I had a nice view of Yaoundé. Yaoundé is built on a really hilly region. That means that the streets cannot be rectilinear. But it also means that the city is gorgeous. And the unique architecture makes it even more interesting. Yaoundé is much prettier than Douala. It's much nicer. And even though it's a smaller city, it has more stuff.

I explored a bit around my area and wound up going to a grocery store where I paid an unreal CFA 1950 (US$4) for a can of Pringles, CFA 1050 (US$2) for canned ravioli, and CFA 1000 (US$2) for a liter box of "wine" porting a picture of a bottle of red and a glass. OK, it's not wine. It's "cellar red". I knew a German in Bluefields, Nicaragua who maintained that, as Velveeta claims to be not cheese but rather a "cheese food product", that Miller Beer is not beer but rather a "beer food product". Well, by that criterion, this Vinoval cellar red is not a wine, but a "wine food product". And, the proof is in the ingredients. Yes, like all food products, this wine food product actually has an ingredient list. And here it is: "eau, alcool, extraits de vin rouge de France, arômes". Yes, that's right: water, alcohol, French wine extracts, and flavors. What in the hell are French wine extracts? At least I got the real Pringles. They also had Cracks for CFA 1800 (US$3.60) and if you have read my Ouagadougou posts you know that I had Cracks before and that while they look just like Pringles, they taste like cardboard because they are a Chinese knock-off made out of melamine and scrap newsprint.

Saturday, December 6, 2008 22:00 Cameroon local time

Limbe To Douala: Breaking Up Is Hard To Do, But More Awkward Than Hard

2008-12-04T14:26:00.000-06:00

[[I'll call my fling girl "Mlle. X" since she has a job at a high profile restaurant in Douala and want to avoid making her identifiable as much as possible.]]

It was already about 8:30 am when I woke up. Mlle. X was still asleep after her late night dancing.

I took a shower and brushed my teeth and then went out to ask the desk clerk how to get to Yaoundé. She said there is one bus each day and it leaves at 9am. Hmmm.... Too late for that one. But there are plenty of bush taxis all day long to Douala and I can get a bus to Yaoundé from there. I went back to the room. I hadn't unpacked too much. So it didn't take much to pack. I was waiting for the inevitable. Mlle. X would wake up and ask me what I was doing. Then it happened.

I sat on the bed and told her I was going to go to Yaoundé today. She didn't seem too surprised. I asked her if she planned on going to work today. She said she understood what I was saying--that I was breaking up with her. "Je comprend. Tu me monque" is what I think she said. I don't know the the term "monquer" but I assume it means "to dump". "Desolé" was all I could say. I didn't explain. She didn't need an explanation. I'm sure she knew she had overplayed her hand was half expecting this. We pretended that it wasn't really a break up but that I was just going on my way and that we'd meet again. She gave me her number for when I return to Douala--my flight which leaves from there. I said I would call. I won't. She said she either works in the afternoon or the evening at her restaurant. They have good food so I'll go back--but not when she's there. I had brought her to Limbe from Douala, so it's only fair that I pay to get her back. I gave her CFA 10000 which is just enough to cover the whole trip for the two of them back to downtown Douala. She wanted more. OK, breakfast is fair game. I tacked on CFA 5000. That was her golden parachute.

She tried to get me to stay longer and we could all go to the Mile 4 station together, but I declined. I wanted this ending to be short. We headed out. She got Michelle and we bisoused goodbye. Then off to the reception where they called a taxi for me. While waiting for the taxi, she got me to buy a cup of coffee for each of us and an omelette for her. The master of the kitchen was there--the guy to whom I confessed last night that I was going to dump her today. He seemed interested in our interaction knowing remembering what I had said. He knew I was exasperated with her and he knew that she lost a second night here in Limbe would would be forced to give up her fantasy as a princess and return to her mundane life as a waitress as day earlier that she had hoped. He seemed happy that this princess was getting her comeupance.
The taxi arrived. We hugged and I left. Whew! It's over. The value of what I was taking from her in our "arrangement" was diminishing while the value of what she was expecting from me was increasing. It was time to cut my losses.

The taxi took me to the station and it wasn't long before we left. We got snagged by a couple of checkpoints. At one, they wanted to unload a woman way at the back of the van so about 6 or 7 people had to pile out to let her out. They questioned her for a few minutes, then let her back on. I had to show my passport to a guy. When all was in order, he asked for my yellow book to see if he could extract a payment from an irregularity in that. But, no. My papers are all in order. A second checkpoint guy flipped through about 10 pages of my passport and gave up before finding the Cameroonian visa and just handed it back to me. these Cameroonian checkpoints are insane.

Finally, we made it to Bonaberi. I couldn't get a mototaxi for CFA 1000 so I had to pay CFA 1500. In fact, the guy sort of deserved the extra since we had to deal with a big parade (why a big parade on a Thursday?). The moto-taxi rides are too much fun. It's definitely for those with a death-wish. He got me to my hotel. I checked into the Hila again. They were happy to see me. They seem to be impressed by my ability to get a super hot chick to my room. And she shows up wearing the uniform of her high profile restaurant, so they know she's not a hooker. Actually it's rather nice to have the men (and women) at the desk so impressed by my conquest.
I got a ticket for Yaoundé for the next morning. I was expecting to pay CFA 7500 (US$15) for the luxury bus, but it was only CFA 6000 (US$12). So tomorrow afternoon, I'll be in Yaoundé. Yaoundé is the capital, but it's cheaper by the prices in Lonely Planet. It also has museums. Douala doesn't have anything really. I got a pizza, a plate of hummous, and a couple of beers at the Mediterranean restaurant while I watched that same parade we passed go by again. Then off to the internet and then back home.

Whew! What a couple of days. I'm so glad it's over.

Thursday, December 4, 20:26 Cameroon local time

Douala To Limbe And The Insufferable High Maintenance African Princess From Hell

2008-12-04T14:14:00.000-06:00

[[I'll call my fling girl "Mlle. X" since she has a job at a high profile restaurant in Douala and want to avoid making her identifiable as much as possible.]]

My watch went off at 6. I was too tired so I turned it off and went back to sleep. Then my Mlle. X's cell phone started to go off. It went off a few times and she finally answered it. Her sister was downstairs. I was a bit surprised that even knowing her sister was downstairs, that she initiated a little romp. Oh well--I guess the sister has to wait. ;-) But it was a good excuse to be quick.

The thing about this fling is that I take what I want from her and she takes what she wants from me. It's selfish me and selfish her. A mutually beneficial arrangement based on nothing you normally want to base a relationship on. It isn't even a "relationship". I won't call it anything more than a "tacit arrangement". We've been at this a few days and already she's brought up the subject of marriage. Like I want to seal our "arrangement" with marriage. Sheesh! Does she think she's that special just because she's hot?

Anyway, we showered and headed out. We took a car to the Bonaberi station. It's tough to take a car there because the traffic jam is continuous due to major road construction. The trip to Bonaberi was CFA 4000 (US$8). But the tickets on a bus to Limbe was only CFA 1300 or CFA 3900 for three. And we were the last ones. So that meant we were on the road almost immediately. It's about a 90 minute ride to Limbe. I had to show my passport through the window at a checkpoint. These Cameroonian checkpoints are more annoying than in any other West African nation.

Finally we arrived. Then, Mlle. X started turning into the simply high maintenance girl I knew her to be into the insufferable high maintenance princess from hell. I suggested the most recommended hotel in the Lonely Planet--the Park Miramar Hotel. But it's in the city and doesn't have a private beach. She wanted a private beach. The taxi driver recommended the Seme Beach hotel. It's way out of the city--a CFA 5000 (US$10) taxi ride. OK, I knew this trip would be pricy, and I had decided to just sort of bite the bullet. We took the long trip out there. It is on the other side of the Cameroonian refinery. There's one stretch that has dozens of tanker trucks lined up to get fuel to take to gas stations. Fascinating. At least I'm getting to see this. We reached the hotel and it was full! I did not expect that--it's a Wednesday in the low season.

Now the guy who recommended this place and charged US$10 to take us there, agreed to charge us only CFA 3000 (US$6) to take us back to the hotel I wanted to stay in. On top of this exorbitant cost, there is police checkpoint between Limbe and this hotel and the police at this particular checkpoint are especially bad at wasting time. I went from being in an OK mood to starting to not be happy at all. I saw this little excursion as a total waste of money. We made it back to the Park Miramar and they had 2 rooms for CFA 15000 (US$30) each--one for Michelle and one for Mlle X and me. We were all hungry and Mlle. X knew just where she wanted to go--for fish at the shore of the city. We piled back into the cab and off we went. The cab driver was, for some reason, staying with us. At least he didn't eat with us. We got three fishes with hot sauce and cassava root strings and some fried plantains. I got a beer that wasn't cold and the girls got Malta non-alcoholic beer beverages. One of the benefits of a high maintenance girl, I suppose, is that she commands the staff around. And she's a waitress herself so I was a bit surprised at her treatment of them. But I got another beer than was quite a bit colder.
The fish was really good. We ate it African style--with our right hands. It was fun. I chatted with Michelle a bit with about the same success as Mlle. X. A photographer came over. He's one of those guys who takes a picture and then prints it out. Each picture costs CFA 1000 (US$2) so it is one of those things that you normally get one and you're done. But what Mlle. X wanted to do was live like a princess. She thinks that because I'm rich relative to her, that I'm OK with just throwing money away. And it seems she is happy to make deals with the driver and the photographer feeding me only bits and pieces of the information. She got 4 pictures--one of which she rejected because she found it too blurry.

Soon, she was off with the driver negotiating something. Her is her plan: we would go back to our hotel, change, and then go back to the Seme Beach hotel where we could gain entry to the beach for CFA 1000 each. He would take us there and back for CFA 3000 (US$6). The then asked if we could stay for another day. I told her that I had to go to the ATM and if I could make a withdrawal successfully, we could stay another day. After all, we weren't going to be there long. The driver came and we headed to the car--with the photographer. She said he was going to come with us and take 3 more pictures (for CFA 3000). My withdrawal worked and she was happy. I changed into the African outfit she bought me (the change from the CFA 20000 I gave her had "fallen from her pocket" in the market--she also got me a towel).

So it was back to the beach--the three of us in the back seat and the photographer in the front seat. Again, we got stopped at that same stupid police checkpoint. It took about 10 minutes to get through--the driver kept getting out to talk to the police officer. Then we got to the Seme Beach hotel. I was prepared to pay for 3 CFA 1000 entrances. Except, it wasn't 1000; it was CFA 1500. And they didn't want to charge us for 3, but for 4--the photographer wouldn't get in free like the driver would. I balked. Nope--no more then CFA 3000. I let Mlle. X do the talking. She is used to getting what she wants and managed again to charm the guard into letting us in for CFA 3000.

It was Mlle. X's 4th time in Limbe and Michelle's first time ever in Limbe. They were living a little fantasy. The beach at Seme Beach is very nice. It's far away from the refinery and there is no smell or anything. The beach is volcanic black sand and the terrain is mountainous with palm trees--very pretty. The photographer started taking pictures. The girls were doing sexy poses in their bathing suits and the photographer was having a good time. I didn't want to go out into the water. I tend to be paranoid about my passport and money belt. Passport is required in Cameroon. The police checkpoints check it constantly. Eventually, Michelle attracted the attention of a guy and the girls and the guy and the photographer were frolicking in the deeper water while I was enjoying the scenery and playing in the shallower water feeling the waves carry away the sand under my feet seeing how long I can stand before there wasn't enough sand to keep my balance. After about an hour, I headed up to the bar to have a beer. The driver came with me. We discussed my favorite topic in Cameroon--police checkpoints. I explained how it works in America--you get through immigration at the airport or the border, then there are no police checkpoints except the occasional drunk driving checkpoint. Other than going through those on a Friday or Saturday night, I've never been through a police checkpoint in the United States. He was amazed. Then he asked me to help him fill out a visa application. What is this? Why is everyone who wants to come to America too fricking lazy to fill out the application themselves? Time was getting late. We went back out to the beach and now Mlle. X had attracted the attention of another guy. Whatever.

The girls were taking a long time to come in and the photographer and the driver were starting to get agitated. Finally, they came in. It was just starting to get dark. We passed an accident scene--a taxi and a truck carrying lumber. We stopped and got out to gawk. The police were there with tape measures making an extraordinarily thorough drawing of the scene. We got back in.

When we arrived, Mlle X told me to pay the driver CFA 3500 (US$7). He then finally left. But the photographer was still there. He plugged in his little photo printer and she selected 5 pictures: 2 with me and three of her and Michelle in sexy poses. I knew exactly what was up. She was asking for pictures of me to try to keep me happy and she was printing off the sexy pictures for a less transient boyfriend. But I wasn't happy. I kept asking how much this was going to cost and she kept shushing me. This was I pretty much decided that the second night in Limbe was not going to happen. I would finish out the day and then give her a little golden parachute in the morning to get home, then I would bugger out.

We went back to the room while the photos printed. I told her I would pay for three--not 5. That she can't just change the terms on me like that. She begged me to just pay it. We went back out. The photographer is in the enviable position of being perfectly bilingual. He found himself taking orders from the French speaking woman and finding that the English speaking man wasn't interested in paying so much. She we all moved to a more discreet location. I told him that she told me that he would take three pictures at Seme Beach and that would be it and that was all I agreed to pay. And I told him that I think he heard her tell me that. He said he did but that she promised him that they would just go to the beach, take some pictures, and then he could return to the beach in town with the grilled fish restaurants where he could make a lot more money. But instead of letting him go back, she frolicked in the water for three hours. I understood his point. She in an insufferable high maintenance princess, after all. She screwed him over just as much as me. There were a lot of people eating there in the hotel terrace and our negotiations were starting to embarrass Mlle. X who didn't understand what the photographer and I were saying. This was coupled witht the fact that one of the customers there knows her from her waitressing job. The 8 pictures were CFA 8000 (US$16). Too expensive. I said I wanted the digital files. We finally agreed on CFA 10000 (US$20) for the photos for her and all the digital ones for me. We plugged his card into my laptop and copied them over. Then Mlle. X said she wanted one more photo. She said she would pay me back if I gave him CFA 1000. Yeah right. Fuck! I gave him CFA 1000 and he went home to print it out. He came back an hour later and gave them the picture. She said it was the wrong picture and that is was another one she wanted. She asked for CFA 200 for him--I presume for the taxi. Well atleast Princess X is asking for smaller amounts. She also wanted to call her mom and asked for CFA 2000 (US$4) for credits on the phone because she was out of credit. She received a call from a guy who I assume is one of her lovers. She tried to hide the fact, but she couldn't.

The hotel restaurant is recommended by Lonely Planet but the photographer recommended a place called Bamboo which was much cheaper. I wasn't hungry yet, but was getting hungry. The Park Miramar is in the middle of a botanical garden so it isn't on the main drag and you con pretty much only get a taxi by calling one. She called our driver who was with us most of the day. He would come in an hour--in the mean time, I had a Castel and the girls had pineapple juice. Then they set to work on my trying to convince me to marry Mlle. X. I explained that we only met like 5 days ago and that wasn't enough time to decide if a partner is right for you (actually it is enough to know if a partner isn't and I knew that pretty early on).

Finally, the taxi man came and for another CFA 1000 (US$2) we headed to Bamboo. It is a place with loud music and a pretty limited menu. Mlle. X wanted spaghetti. But Bamboo didn't have spaghetti. Michelle ordered chicken with plaintain chips. I ordered steak with French fries. Since they didn't have spaghetti, Mlle. decided she would eat back at the hotel. It took a while for out food to come. Mlle. X was getting impatient because the hotel restaurant would close soon. She decided to order--pork with rice. But they were out of rice, so she canceled the order. Our food finally came. I let Mlle. X eat off my plate. Greasy fries, a typical African steak. She ate a bit. Then we paid and left. Limbe is a small town so there isn't much circulation of taxis. We headed down to a bigger intersection. They were a bit afraid but I said it was a small town so it was perfectly safe. I spoke a bit too soon as a drunk guy came up to me and said that if I wasn't planning on having both of the girls tonight that he needed one. This was in English so they didn't understand. I told him that they are free people and I don't own them and if he has something to ask them that he should address them directly. He staggered off. Along the way we stopped in a couple of restaurants but they were all just closing. Then at the big intersection by the King William hotel and a huge tree covered in Christmas lights, we hailed a couple of moto-taxis. They took around to 2 restaurants that they thought might be open but they weren't. Finally someone said the the Park Miramar stays open pretty late. So we went back. The moto-taxis were CFA 500 each. Mlle. X told me to pay and I did and then she came and berated them for charging so much which was totally bizarre.

Anyway, we went in and Mlle. X ordered a nice fish dish in peanut sauce with a salad and rice. It was far nicer than what Michelle or I ate. I ordered a glass of wine for CFA 1000, but it didn't sure didn't taste like a $2 glass of wine. I'm sure it was one of those cheap mylar bag brands. Mlle. X tasted it and ordered one to have with her meal. Her meal finally came and she didn't drink the wine--just gave it to me. So while Michelle and I had mediocre meals, Mlle. X managed to finesse herself a gourmet dish.

Then off to bed. She and Michelle went first. I still had her glass of wine. The two people working there asked me some question. I don't remember what. I went over to their table and explained the insufferability of the high maintenance princess from hell that she was. I told them that she thinks we're staying one more day, but that I was leaving tomorrow and they will have to leave too since I am their funding source.

Mlle. X came to get me. We went to sleep. We were asleep for a while when Michelle called her. They wanted to go back to Seme Beach and go dancing. They didn't need money from me--I guess the men they met at the beach arranged to pay for their evening out. Mlle. X asked for my permission to go. I frankly didn't care anymore and I just wanted her to go so I could type up my blog in peace. I just made her leave the key. She left. I waited a few minutes, then flipped on BBC World on the TV and got out my computer and started typing furiously. Boy there was a lot to remember and type. What an eventful couple of days.

I exhausted myself and put my computer back and went back to sleep. Eventually, Mlle. X returned home and knocked at the door. I let her in and we fell asleep.

Thursday, December 4, 20:14 Cameroon local time

Tuesday In Douala: Lost Credit Card Panic

2008-12-03T19:02:00.000-06:00

Well, I guess my Tuesday started at midnight. My fling girl came around that time. She went out and got some food and came back. I agreed to left her bring her sister since I frankly don't have much to talk about with her anyway. Then we went to sleep.

We woke up and yadda yadda yadda... She wasn't happy with my wardrobe and I gave her some money to buy me some clothes. Then she left and I headed out to see if I get a ticket to Limbe from one of the bus stations a block or so from the Hotel Hila.

Well, the Lonely Planet says there are buses to Limbe, but apparently, there aren't at this time of year. I asked what company goes to Limbe and they said I had to go to the station at Bonaberi to get to Limbe. Damn, that's like 5km away. I hailed a moto-taxi and for CFA 1000 (US$2) I took the long ride to Bonaberi through construction zone traffic that rivals that in Seattle. When I got there, there were no big comfortable buses. Only bus taxi mini-buses. A set of people with one bus company tried to charge me CFA 7500 to get tickets today to get a bus that would leave at 8am. But I didn't quite understand their system by which they would guarantee it would leave at 8am and they were sort of evasive. I left and headed to the exit of the bus station area. There were a bunch of moto-taxis there at the exit. As I walked toward it, a guy asked me where I was going. I said I was going to get a moto-taxi. He followed me. I went up to a moto-taxi and then this guy started negotiating for me. Oh well. I waited for them to finish. CFA 1500 to my hotel. I said I came here from my hotel for CFA 1000 and wouldn't pay more than that. The moto-taxi driver agreed. I hopped on. Then the man who negotiated the CFA 1500 asked for a tip. I looked at him funny and asked "pour quoi?" as we took off? Why should I tip a guy who negotiated a 50% worse price than I negotiated when I was going to negotiate it anyway?

I was tired and hungry and decided to have pizza for lunch at the Mediterranee. I had a couple of beers and bought the lastest Newsweek from their in-store newstand. Then I went to the internet. On the way I stopped by the pharmacy since I needed another box of Savarine (the anti-malarial) and another box of condoms. The woman working there tried to sell me some sort of sexual enhancement drug, but I declined.

Then on the way back, I decided to stop off at the SGBC bank ATM and take out a dose of cash in anticipation of my trip to Limbe. I opened my wallet. My ATM and credit cards weren't there. Panic! Did my fling take my cards while I was sleeping? She must have. I walked quickly toward the hotel. OK, I can do this. I have enough money to survive until I can arrange something. I need to cancel my cards, though and I don't have the phone numbers. How could this happen? I slept light to make sure I woke up if she went through my stuff. When did she do it? When I was in the shower? Or when I was asleep?

Then I realized that my wallet was really light--all my other random cards weren't there. Hmmm.... Wait, I remembered something. When I was preparing for her first night over, I did a lot of rearranging. I remember rearranging my wallet. And I remember taking stuff from my wallet and telling myself that my wallet was totally stealable now and I would just lose a few dollars. Did I take my credit cards out and put them with the other random cards? I don't remember doing that. But maybe. I was cautiously optimistic and hopeful. I made it home. I was sweating. I looked in the first place I remember putting the stack of cards. Not there. Dammit! I looked in some more obvious places. Nothing. Then finally, I found the stack of cards at the bottom of a bag of clothes. I pulled them out. And there they were--my ATM and credit cards. Whew! All is well.

I took a moto-taxi to the bank and got some money out and then moto-taxi'ed back to the hotel.
I needed some relaxation after that stressful situation. I went to the bar of the Hila. At about 8:30, they start to play music. They have an organist and a couple of singers. I was sitting there writing my journal when the organist started this great upbeat music. I got into the groove. He was really happy that I was grooving and kept the upbeat music going. The two waitresses saw I was enjoying the music and it made them happy as well. After a lively 15 minute medley of good music--some which I recognized and some which I didn't he ended. I led the applause. Then he started playing for the singers. They got scattered applause but nothing like the organ solo that everyone enjoyed.

Then I went back to the room and waited for my fling.

Thursday, December 4, 2008 1:02 Cameroon local time

Monday In Douala: A Haircut Disaster

2008-12-01T16:27:00.001-06:00

Well, I woke up early. In fact, I never really even slept. How can I sleep? Twelve hours earlier, I had not even the wisp of a faint idea that I would have an intimate experience with a very attractive woman. Now it has happened. Oh sure, the Hila Hotel is crawling with hookers, but I never even considered one of them. They can wear really short skirts (and they do) but far far more attractive than a short skirt is a real job. And my paramour has a real job. It's not an economic transaction--it's a fling.

Once again, I headed to the Delices for coffee and pastry breakfast in air conditioned comfort. After my nice breakfast, I bought another Paulo Coehlo book, Le Zahir. Then off to see what the Chinese Restaurant has to offer. Their soups and appies are expensive--nothing less that CFA 3000 (US$6). Oh well. I'll just have lunch today. Then I got my favorite--mabo tofu. I think they called it spicy tofu in English and Fromage Chinoise Piquante in French. But I recognized the Chinese characters. However when the mabo tofu came, I didn't recognize it. It was tofu, it was spicy, but it wasn't mabo tofu. It wasn't brown and the tofu wasn't the soft kind. It was tasty, but not quite what I wanted.

Then I headed back to the hotel and spent some time unclogging my failing air conditioner of ice. I had done laundry in the morning and the humidity, I presume, froze it all up. Now it was getting late. And I wanted a haircut. There is a place right next door to the hotel called Ballard Coiffure. I went there. It's almost literally a hole in the wall. The whole shop is about 4 square meters. Not encouraging, but how bad can it be. Then I saw the scissors--sewing scissors and not barber scissors. OK, not encouraging, but Africans can do a lot with a little. I asked how much. CFA 2500 (US$5).

I sort of explained what I wanted and then the guy started cutting my hair. But his technique was all weird. He didn't wet my hair. He fluffed it with a comb and started cutting off the parts of my hair that stick out. OK, not exactly what I call expert. Then he combed my hair on my forehead and before I could stop him made some really weird cut. I was getting exasperated. I asked him if he didn't to get my hair wet? Oh no. That wouldn't do. It wouldn't? Whenever I get a haircut, they always wet my hair. He was cutting in a weird way--he was using only his left hand and having difficulty orienting the scissors.

I told him that whenever I get a hair cut that the barber always grabs a chunk of hair between his fingers and pulls up a certain distance from my head and then cuts it flush with his fingers. Ah ha! He pretended he knew what I was saying. But he wasn't pulling my hair to the same distance and he was just sort of picking random points and not methodically moving along my head. And half the time he was cutting flush with his fingers above the fingers and half the time he was cutting below his fingers.

It was a total disaster! Complete and total. He was trying, but he definitely did not know the first thing about how to cut white hair. My hair looked like a horror movie mop. I reached into my pocket and got out CFA 2500. I gave it to him. He wanted to try to fix it. His buddy who speaks better English tried to explain it would just take some time. No. He doesn't know what he's doing--enough time is NOT the solution. They tried to convince me to sit a bit longer so they could fix it. No. I gotta go. It's past 4:30pm and I need to find someone who can fix this disaster. It was the first time I ever left in the middle of a haircut because it was just turning out disastrous.

I went to the lobby and asked the desk man for a recommendation for someone who could fix it. He didn't know but he felt sorry for me. He suggested that I go to the Akwa Palace hotel which is the top hotel in Douala--hence the top hotel in Cameroon. If anyone can hook up a white guy with a hairdresser who can fix a white hair disaster, it was them. I hailed a mototaxi and CFA 200 later I was at the Akwa Palace. They didn't have an answer for me but suggested I try the Parfait Jardin hotel.

I went there. I explained my situation to the desk man. "I just got a haircut from a guy who doesn't know how to cut straight hair." He looked at my hair, smiled, and said "yes, I can see that." He sent me down the street and I went down. There was Elite Coiffure. I entered. The girl at the counter said they could fix it. There is one hairdresser there. He was with another customer and he was really slow--just shortening the hair of a guy with almost no hair to begin with. My stress levels were getting really high. I planned to meet my fling girl and I needed this fixed.

I explained with the help of the desk girl what I needed--a repair job. I explained that I needed him to deal with the parts that were too short because the previous guy screwed up and just needed him to work with it and make something passable. He started. First thing he did was to wet my hair. That's a good sign. In the end, he did an OK job. He didn't quite know what to do with the back of my head. He tried to get my skin to blend into my hair and had a hard time. He spent a lot of time working details. Maybe if your hair is going to be short and not really move, the details are important, but I just brush and go and I ride around on moto-taxis and stuff like that. Millimeter precision is not what I'm after. It turned out about as well as it could though. An American hairdresser would have done a better job from just simply knowing how white hair works. But it was OK. This one only cost CFA 5000 (US$10). I tipped the guy CFA 500. So it was only double the disastrous haircut.

Then I moto-taxi'd back and unwound in the hotel bar with a beer and glass of red wine while I journaled and pondered my day and the day previous and the day to come.

Monday, December 1, 2008 22:27 Cameroon local time

Sunday In Douala: A Day With No Plans--Do You Really Want To Read The Excruciating Details?

2008-12-01T01:57:00.003-06:00

I got up on Sunday and headed out about 8am. After a nice breakfast with a coffee, orange juice, pain aux raisins, and chausson aux pommes, I decided to see what is on Avenue Charles de Gaulle. I had to get by a traffic circle with some people filming a music video but I think I managed to stay off their shot. Avenue Charles de Gaulle has a lot of stuff. There's a Chinese restaurant, a nice looking French restaurant, and other cafes and things. It was Sunday morning, though, so not much was open.

I returned to the hotel at about 11 am and there was no water or power. Well, I guess I better go out again where there is AC and refreshment. I went to a new place and had an ice cold beer. I was reading Veronika Décide de Mourir, watched some goofy French movie on their big screen TV and watched as a restaurant across the street. One waitress was standing in the door way and even from across the street I could see her body was in the Shakira/Beyoncé league. I finished up my beer and went across the street. The hottie was my waitress. I ordered another beer and an entrée and a plat.

She asked me what I do in Douala. I told her I'm just a tourist. She asked how long I'd be in Douala. I said not too long, that I fly out on the 12th and want to go see Yaoundé (the capital), Limbe (a seaside resort), and maybe some other places. Then she offered to come to Limbe with me. Did I hear right? Did a pretty waitress with the body of Beyoncé just offer to spend the night with me in the Cameroonian sea side resort? Apparently so. We made arrangement to meet at my room when she gets off at 5pm. I went back and prepared my room a bit and waited. Would there be a knock at the door?

There was. I let her in. We talked for a while--mostly in French. Yadda, yadda, yadda. We went out for dinner. She was pretty hungry and we went to an all you can eat buffet. I had already eaten at her restaurant, so she took my portion and we wrapped it up for her to take to her mother. Then we got into a taxi. I went to my hotel and she headed to her home.
I got my journal and pen and went down to the bar to ponder my evening. I'm single--I deserve a sweet little fling now and then. They are very few and very far between for me--especially ones who look like Beyoncé. It didn't even take 2 months since my 40th birthday. An excellent start for my next decade.

Monday, December 1, 2008 7:57 Cameroon local time

Douala: Friday Night And Saturday

2008-11-30T16:33:00.001-06:00

Friday night was pretty uneventful. Basically, watching a poor reception of CNN but enough to watch the unfolding events in Mumbai. I got some cheap (400 CFA (US$0.80)) Cave Royal wine in a mylar bag from a store at the end of the street. Unfortunately, this road closes really early and when I went out the second time just after dark, it was already closed. I returned to the hotel and pulled on the door--it didn't open. I tried to put my key into the lock. It wouldn't fit. I heard some laughter and turned around. A bunch of women told me I have to push to the door, not pull it. I pushed and it opened. I smiled and we all had a good laugh at my expense. :-) It's only fair. After all, when a person travels, the encounters with the locals often end up with one side unwittingly providing some comic relief for the other side. I have received and written about so much comic relief so I certainly need to be a good sport when I am the one whose goofiness makes the locals laugh.

Saturday was a day without many plans. After all, there really isn't much to do or see in Douala. However, that is certainly not to say that Douala is boring. It isn't. Douala is a wonderful city--a sort of more prosperous Conakry. There are only a few people trying to get my attention to sell something and it's typically only money exchange, just like in Conakry. Aside from that, the Akwa district is full of great restaurants, bars, and cafes. I tried to buy The Economist. They had an old one some brand new ones. A new was was CFA 4000 (US$8). I walked away but got called back. OK, CFA 3000. I agreed, but he wouldn't take CFA 2000 for the old one. Oh well. His loss. I read it at a cafe.

I interneted for a while. Then as I passed the SGBC, I entered the ATM. The last 2 times, the SGBC ATM gave me error messages. What would happen this time? I plunked my card in. I asked from CFA 130000 (US$260) and voilà! I got money this time. Whew! Money is available outside Douala. Not that I needed it anymore. After all, now I was flush with cash. I decided to have pizza at The Mediterranée again where I had another pizza and bought Le Point. Then I had a nice nap and in the evening went to the German Foyer du Marin for a sausage dinner.

Sunday, November 30, 2008 22:33 Cameroon local time

Breathing In Douala

2008-11-28T11:00:00.001-06:00

The evening of the day I arrived in Douala, I ate a late dinner of a salty chewy steak with salty fries. At least I had a 1.5 liter of water as well. The lobby of the Hotel Hila has a WiFi label but when I wandered around the hotel with my laptop, I got nothing. Back in my room, I turned on the AC and had a nice refreshing sleep.

I woke up refreshed and headed out. My goal today--to use the SGBC bank's ATM since that is the only bank with ATMs in multiple cities. I tried two SGBC branches, but in both cases I got the "could not contact your bank" error message which at least made sense compared to the SGBC error message from the previous day which was basically nonsense.

I was a bit nervous and tried the Ecobank ATM again. Insufficient funds. Hmmm.... I hope that just means that the day hasn't cycled and reset the amount I can take out. I ate a chausson aux pommes with a good strong coffee at Delice while reading the Lonely Planet and making my game plan. Then I got some post cards and got them stamped, and then I worked a couple of hours on the internet.

Back to the Ecobank ATM. Whew! This time it worked. So I have some breathing room. However, I'm not sure if I can make it out of Douala for long stretches of time. I found the Virgin Nigeria office and I will try to get my flight changed to an earlier date. I know I can use the ATMs in Ghana and even it takes a day or so once I arrive there, I have a stash of Ghana cedis.
Then I went to African Saga, a restaurant on the main drag. A lot of French people were there. And the waitresses are hot. I'll be back. ;-) I had a salad, spaghetti, and a couple of beers to cool off.

After that, just sat in my hotel room with CNN and AC (air conditioner, not Anderson Cooper) on to pass the hot part of the day. Everyone thinks my African trip is dangerous, but when I watch the news and see attacks in India and airport shut down die to demonstrations in Thailand, I wonder if Elena isn't having the riskier trip.

Friday, November 28, 2008 17:00 Cameroon local time

Thanksgiving

2008-11-28T03:54:00.001-06:00

While all of you (Americans) think about Thanksgiving and the food you'll eat, I'm thinking about food, too. When you are away from the food you like, thoughts turn to food. And on stressful journeys, thoughts turn to food. And when you approach the end of your journey, thoughts turn to the food you may soon be eating.

So here is some of my food thoughts:

1) Supreme pizza from Pizza Hut with a Traditional Hand Tossed or Deep Dish crust. Oh, I can't wait.

2) Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. Either just by itself or maybe I'll brown some hamburger and add it to the mix and have a Kraft dinner with meat. Maybe even add some broccoli to it.

3) Sloppy Jacques. Yes, Hunt's Manwich sauce with ground beef on a meter long French baguette. Oh it will be so good. I just wish baguettes didn't cost so damn much in Seattle. They were cheap at the Safeway in Vancouver, BC, but for some reason, Seattle seeks to rip off the consumers of French baguettes. I'll spread the sloppy joe mix all down the baguette and eat the whole thing. Yummy!

4) Casseroles. Mashed potato, cream of mushroom soup, broccoli, Brussels sprouts, ground beef, chicken, noodles. However you mix them and bake them in a toaster oven at 350°, it'll be good. As long as you sprinkle cheese on top.

5) Whoppers. I confess to loving the BK Whopper. It's the reason I used to weigh 235 lbs, after all.

6) Just a nice steak. I get pretty good steaks in the Francophone countries where there are a lot of French restaurants, but I still want a good ole American steak with a baked potato or mashed potatoes and a nice salad, maybe a Caesar salad.

7) Since the holidays are coming up, I feel the need for egg nog. Not the rum laced egg nog, but the pure virgin egg nog of my youth. Perhaps I can get a nutmeg and one of those scraper thingies to draw fresh nutmeg into my eggnog. Mmmmm.... Nothing says Christmas like a cardboard milk container of egg nog.

8) If there is a McDonalds at the Detroit airport on my way back from Accra, I'm totally having a Sausage McMuffin with Egg, that Hashbrown thing, and a coffee. If all of McDonalds were to disappear except for those items, I'd be OK with it.

Of course my worst fear is that once reaching the land I know, that my weight will go back to what it was. I'm probably at 150 lbs now and I sure would like to stay this way. When I look at myself in the mirror, I like what I see. But if I eat like a pig when I return, I won't look this good when I return to Seattle. Hopefully, I have some setpoint where if I eat too much I'll stop being hungry. But who knows. I'll need discipline. Fortunately, along with all these indulgent dishes I crave, I also want to eat healthy foods. I want to eat 4664 tomatoes and bags of lettuce with a light dusting of dressing. Note that I don't eat low-fat or diet dressing. Just the real thing. Low fat and diet foods trick you and beguile you and make you fatter. Better to eat the real thing and control the portions yourself. Sometimes I slice up some green pepper on my salad. Sometimes even some red onion. As long as I put quality ingredients into my body, I don't worry about much else. That's how I got from 235lbs to 170 lbs. Travel took off the last 20 pounds to get me down to the approximately 150 lbs I am now. Now I am where I want to be. I want to stay at this weight. It shouldn't be too hard. I'll return to my yoga in Seattle--which should also keep me out of Smith, 22 Doors, and Liberty where I would just consume calories.

I look forward to my return to Seattle. If I can stay at this weight, I'll be in good shape. I have a sort of perpetual smile on my face from my experiences that should intrigue the people there. I have entered the hardcore travelers' elite. I earned my bonafides in the travel arena. In Vancouver, when you meet a new person, your place in the pecking order is soon established by your travel experiences. Not as much in Seattle, but certainly in Vancouver. This puts me near the top. And I have stories to back it all up. You can't travel in West Africa without getting a lot of good stories. Sadly, most of the best stories require a pretty bad hardship that has to be endured, but I have already endured them. I can talk about my boat trip from Mopti to Timbuktu and my sept-place trip from Koundara to Labé in Guinea-Conakry. I can talk about the hotels and hostels I stayed at with no running water, no electricity, no furniture. I can talk about my experiences trying to speak French and even getting myself understood.

Kumba To Douala: Stressed Over ATMs

2008-11-27T11:30:00.001-06:00

I got up at about 7:30 and headed out to find the SGBC or the Cameroonian branch of the Societe General. I asked the receptionist but she didn't know. I walked down the main drag and didn't see it. A moto-taxi guy asked me where I was going and I told him I was looking for the SGBC bank and he sent me down further. It wasn't there. No banks seemed to have an ATM. I walked back the the moto-taxi driver was still there. He asked if I found it and I said no. He told me to hop and he'd take me someone who would know. We went there and he gave some directions, but when we arrived, it was not the SGBC. He asked another guy and finally this guy said there is no SGBC in Kumba--only in Limbe. They seemed to never have heard of this huge French bank here and maybe this guy thought it was a Limbe bank and not one of the biggest banks in the world. I got off the bike, thanked them, and headed back to the hotel. Along the way I say the Mondiale Express bus station and I stopped in to get a ticket to Douala. CFA 2000 (US$4). I got a ticket and went back to get my luggage.

When I arrived at the bus station, the bus was being loaded. I got my stuff on and found a seat in the back. This is a 5-across bus. That means about 6 rows of people carrying 5 people per row. There was a lot of confusion but after a short prayer and sermon, we took off. The first fifteen minutes of the bus ride was dedicated to getting people change because there wasn't enough change when they bought the tickets. It seems like Kumba sized cities in Cameroon have a bit of liquidity crisis as well.

Then things got fun. The conductor, once he got the change handed out, started telling us he has products for sale and he would use the next two hours talking about his products. But to get us into the mood of listening to him, he hand a buch of candies (he called the bon-bons though he was speaking in English) and he would ask trivia questions. The first one to call out an answer would get a bon-bon. I resolved to get one but no more than one bon-bon. The first question: who is the President of America. Half the bus shouted Bush and half shouted Obama. I'm not sure which he regarded at the correct answer. Then it went into Cameroonian geography and politics so I had no chance. Then to history. I figured I'd count to 4 after each question and if nobody had an answer, I'd shout out my answer. What was the immediate cause of WWI? A kid shouted out "the assassination of Arch-duke Franz Ferdinand". He got a bon-bon. Where? Sarajevo. Bon-bons were flying all over. The crowd was having a rollicking good time. Who ended slavery? Apparently they think the answer is William Wilberforce who was certainly influential in British abolition, but cannot be said to have ended slavery. Next category--arithmetic. What is seven and a half divided by a half? I counted--4...3...2...1... and the shouted out fifteen. Yay! I got a bon-bon. I was happy and done. The next question got no bon-bon--what is the square root of 1? Nobody answered plus or minus one. So no bon-bons. A few simple arithmetic problems and then to biology. I had thought biology would be pretty easy too, but it was all scientific names of Cameroonian cash crops. In chemistry I was pretty impressed that someone knew the formula for hydrogen peroxide. After a few seconds I was about to shout out "H two O two" when a local beat me to it. A few other chemical formulae for Cameroonian exports. Then onto religion. I didn't stand a chance on this. The shortest verse in the Bible? Who knows? Jesus's last words on the cross? Who knows? Now into general knowledge. The first question was pretty interesting. What is the weight of a bag of cement? 50kg? No. Lots of guesses. I guessed his trick. He asked for weight which is force and they were giving mass. He wanted an answer in Newtons, not kilograms. Eventually he said no bon-bons and explained what he was after and I was right. But he used 10 m/s² instead of 9.81 m/s² to say 500N. Next question: name of the only persons to reject the law of gravity? This one had me stumped. Not the astronauts--they didn't reject or violate it. I came up with the answer just as he said it though--Jesus Christ. One man disputed that. He said it wasn't scientifically proven. The conductor said it was the General Knowledge category and not the Science category.

Finally, the bon-bons were gone. Then he whipped out some toothpaste and started talking about it. After that, some soap that causes you to lose weight, then some oil and some tea, and some crystals of something. The woman next to me was buying everything. This guy made a killing selling this overpriced Chinese stuff doing his home-shopping show.

A couple time he got interrupted by police check points. The guy next to me looked Tuareg or something. He showed his ID card to the first police and got hauled off the bus--not an easy feat when the corridor is filled with fold-down seats all filled. After several minutes he came back. The second checkpoint was worse for this guy and some of the other passengers. This time, the police took everyone who papers weren't in order and made them get their bags. The only exception was a mute woman who looked really panicked and could make sounds but couldn't talk. The officer threatened to arrest her because her papers were expired but she tried to explain in sign language and sounds her situation. The officer finally told her to get back on the bus, but they kept a few people back which meant we got finish up the journey in relative comfort.

At about 1:30pm we arrived in the Bonabéri motor park about 5km north of Douala. I hired a moto-taxi to take me to the Hotel Hila for CFA 1000 (US$2). It was along trip. When we arrived, the lobby was packed. Holy crap--I don't need this. But they had a room. Whew! I shelled out 3 of my last 4 CFA 500 notes and deposited my stuff. Then I hailed a moto-taxi for CFA 300 (US$0.60) to the SGBC in the main drag. We got there. I tried my ATM card. My heart was pounding. I was out of money and I don't even know if my parents are reachable. They'll be going to Egypt pretty soon and I don't know when. Already? If I need cash through Western Union, can I get it?

My card didn't work. Dammit! OK, all is not lost. Lonely Planet says SGBC is the most reliable but also mentions Ecobank which never works for me. But it was a block away. I entered my card. Made a selection. My heart was pounding. Then the sound. The beautiful magical sound of a machine counting money. I can breath again.

I had not only money, but source of money. Relieved, I headed another block to the Mediterranean Restaurant where I got 2 draft beers and a pizza. The best meal I've had in days and days. I got a copy of Newsweek and just relaxed. It was nice to relax. I really need some relaxation after the past few days.

Thursday, November 27, 17:30 Cameroon local time

Ekok To Kumba: Yes, It Is As Bad As You Think With Names Like That

2008-11-27T10:45:00.001-06:00

As I wind up my trip, I wonder if I'll have any experiences to match the grueling journey from Koundara to Labé in Guinea-Conakry. This day, I got my answer. If you want hardship, West Africa rarely fails to disappoint.

I got up just before the first light and packed everything up so it would be easy to grab and go. Then I headed from the Boston Complex Resort Inn to the transportation area. No cars to Kumba this morning--just to Mamfe which is closer. I was the first guy and since there was time, we just drove down to the Boston and I got my stuff and we loaded it into the trunk. Then we returned and waited.

And waited. The way it seems to work is that once they get 2 people, they leave because they know that there are people along the way who need rides and they want some empty spots for them as well. But there seemed to be little prospect of a second person. At 7am, the driver said that if I pay for 2 seats, we'll go now. I said I'd wait until 8am. If no one showed up by then I'd bite the bullet and buy 2 CFA 7000 (US$14) tickets so we could start. I wanted to get to Douala this day and we can't wait until 10 or 11 or noon. I was a bit worried about the car. There was a tire with a sort of aneurysm or bubble and the steel threads were showing already. I watched as the Africans all ate their meaty breakfast and I got some cookies in a tube. I haven't eaten properly in a long time and as soon as I get to an ATM that works, I plan to have a good proper meal.

Well, 8am came. So I kept my word. I paid CFA 14000 (US$28) to go to Mamfe. We left at 8. As soon as we left Ekok, there was a checkpoint--one of many many. The man looked at my passport. Again, he could not believe that I was the person in the picture. I explained that the picture in 8 years old and I weighed 107 kg back then. He was a bit pudgy himself and asked what I did to lose all that weight. I changed my diet. Sorry, no magic bullet. He finally convinced himself that it was me and we went on our way.

Wow! The roads in Cameroon are by far the most rutted roads I've been on in West Africa. Some of the ruts are like 10 feet deep. It feels like being in the first car of a rollercoaster going over that first drop in some places. It's pretty hilly too. Just amazing. However, as bad as the road is, it was not at all unpleasant. The road has never been paved so all the ruts are smooth. It's a sort of undulating rutted road. No sharp angles. Just smoothness. At some places the road was so bad that they had side roads through the forest. At one point a guy with a toll stopped us and demanded CFA 500 (US$1). The driver apparently pays him CFA 500 every day. I have no idea what the guy's authority is to collect a toll.

We had to drop off a foam mattress and then we picked up some people. But the road never let up. It was just fantastically undulating for the four solid hours it took to traverse the 61 km (36 miles)--an average speed of 9 mph.

But we made it to Mamfe at noon. As soon as we got there, there was a minibus ready to go to Douala via Kumba. Perfect! It is CFA 8000 (US$16) to Douala. They said it would take about 6 or 7 hours putting me there in early evening--possibly even with some daylight. That's 4 or 5 to Kumba and 2 to Duoala from Kumba. And I was the last one in the minibus--the whose arrival meant we could leave. And at 12:20, we started out. Our first stop was to put some air into the driver side rear tire. A man with an air compressor tried to fill it, but the compressor conked out on him so he had to jack up the mini-bus to fill the tire.

The road was much better than the previous road, but still pretty bad. It is unpaved so there are no hard concrete or blacktop edges, but lots of rocks and grooves created by rain. So it's not a fast trip. About forty minutes into the ride, we stopped. The minibus would not go forward. We were broken down.

Some of us got off and went and sat on the porch of this family that gave us oranges and chairs. I sat with a geography teacher who kept flagging down school kids and asking them if they had work books and the names of their geography teachers to find out if he could sell his geography workbooks here.

Some people were unhappy about the breakdown. One old guy said it is the exact same bus that brought him to Mamfe and it broke down then as well. They called for a mechanic who showed up an hour later around 2pm. He replaced a disc in the clutch and an hour later, at 3pm, we all piled back in.

At the bottom of one hill we all had to pile out again and walk up the hill because it's too steep for a loaded bus. I was first to top even with my heavy laptop. One old woman took really long and even went to the bathroom after and the driver yelled at her for delaying us.

Between 4 and 5 pm we had two 20 minute breakdowns. The first was some problem with the engine. It required that they take out the passenger's side seat to get at the engine. They also filled the radiator with water from a local stream. The second one was to tie or bins something near where the driver's side axle meets the tire. These three breakdowns added 2:40 to our trip. So instead of reaching Kumba at approximately 4:20 or 5:20, I expected to get there between 7:00 and 8:00.

The nice thing about the breakdowns is that my butt doesn't get so sore. I was on a hard fold down bench. There were 4 across but it wasn't super tight. Still I had my laptop case in my lap and that also restricted my movement. We let one guy off. Then at 7pm, we stopped at a village--I suppose for a food and bathroom break. Not Kumba. We picked up a passenger. It was now dark. I don't like being on the road after dark. The geography teacher said we weren't even close to Kumba. Oh man. This isn't good. But, twenty minutes later we got back in.
Eight pm rolled around and we found ourselves no just in dark, but in fog. But it only lasted about 10 minutes and soon we were in clear air again.

Nine pm? Still on the road and boy was my butt hurting. Fortunately, we stopped to unload some bags of green oranges and I got to stand for a while.

Ten pm. Man, will this trip never end? Finally at about 10:30, we pulled into Kumba. A ten hour trip for approximately 200 km or 120 miles of road. The geography teacher told me there was a bank with an ATM in Kumba and he tried to get a moto-taxi for 100 CFA (US$0.20) to the Kanton Hotel. The moto-taxi guy said CFA 200. I'm not about to quibble over a damn quarter at 10:30 at night so I took it. Once we were on the road he pretended like he didn't know where it was exactly and then just realized where it was and asked for CFA 100 more. He said it's a little bit far. I rolled my eyes and said OK. Whitey can take another 20 cent hit to his fraud budget. We got there about 90 seconds after we left the station. "This is a far?" "A little bit far." "Really?!?! Your concept of a little bit far is very different from mine" I told him as I handed over the 60 cents in CFA coins.

I approached the hotel and a man ran out to tell me it was full already. But I could stay across the street at the Tavern Hotel. No problem. I walked across the street. (I should have asked the taxi-moto if he would take me to the Tavern Hotel and how much it would cost--200 francs?) They had AC and fan rooms. I just needed a fan. CFA 7000 (US$14). She filled out the form and asked me how many nights. I said it depends. If there is an SGBC bank in Kumba with an ATM I would stay two nights. I asked if there was one. She said yes. I asked if it had an ATM. She said yes. So I told her two nights. I stashed my stuff and came down and got a beer to take up to my room (it IS the Tavern Hotel, after all). Then I typed for a couple of hours until I died from exhaustion.

Thursday, November 27, 16:45 Cameroon local time

Calabar, Nigeria To Ekok, Cameroon

2008-11-26T17:50:00.001-06:00

Morning came and I hadn't packed. Fortunately, I never really unpacked, so recovery wasn't too hard. Besides, they turned on the generator at 6am. So I was out the door at about 6:20. At 6:30 I reached the motor park and headed to the taxis bound for Ikom. The previous taxi had just left. Dammit! I just missed it. Oh well. It was just a 6 seater and it was still early so it would probably fill up pretty fast and it did. A bunch of drivers were gathered around a man in a tie preaching. It was just Jesus this, Jesus that over and over and over. A little after 7am, we were on the road. This is supposed to be a 3 hours trip. I was in the back seat with three women. It was the first time with three women. It was hard because they all had big butts, so there wasn't much room in the seats. I had to sort of scooch forward. It was uncomfortable, but what else is new?

We stopped for gas when we were all fueled up, the driver began to pray. This was the first time in my entire time in Africa that a driver stopped the car to pray. I looked down while he prayed. He kept going on and on. Every time he ended with "In Jesus' name" and the other passengers said Amen, I thought it was over, but then he's start another prayer. He did this over and over and the whole thing took close to five minutes. I don't know if all drivers in Nigeria pray like this or if he is a preacher in training. Finally, we were on the road. But the preaching didn't stop. Oh no, he kept going while he was driving as if he was rehearsing for a part time preacher spot.

The road is not wide and the people on the road pass when they shouldn't. They are almost suicidal. They may pray to the heavens, but they drive suicidally. Jesus doesn't save passengers from bad judgement of the driver and I would rather have a cautious driver than a pious one. I had more close calls from vehicles passing vehicles on this trip than any other trip in West Africa. It was downright scary.

But we made it to Ikom whole. We parked in the motor park and on the way in, I saw the signs on the cars saying they went to the border. So I knew just where to go.

I guy saw me and I told him I was going to Cameroon. He probably guessed that since not many white people show in Ikom with another destination in mind, unless they are going the other way, of course. He tried to take one of my bags but even when I tried to explain to him that I would rather carry 2 heavy bags for balance than one heavy bag requiring my back to work, he didn't listen. He said he would take me to the border for N500 (US$4). OK. But he led me to a private car near the taxis to the border, but there were other taxis to the border. I figured I would be better off with a taxi that already had people lined up than one with nobody lined up, so I asked them. But they said it would be N1000. Nope, I'll stick with the N500 guy. I put my bags into his car. They asked if I needed CFA and I said I did. They took me to a money changer and he was too busy with the previous client so I left. Then they took me to another money changer. We bargained a bit but he didn't offer a good rate. He said his rate would be better if I had larger bills, but €20 bills didn't bring a good rate. I was ripped off (what else is new?) but I accepted CFA 62000 for €100 in 5 €20 bills. Not a good deal--10% off the spot rate of 68800--but I would at least control my destiny for a while. Besides, I expect to lose 3% and this is only 7% more. Oh well. C'est la vie.

The man who agreed to take me into Cameroon said he would wait for 20 minutes and take me alone if nobody came, but when push came to shove, he just shunted me off to another car. I got into this old decrepit car and we headed to Cameroon. It's a few km to Cameroon. But we had to stop for fuel as is often the case.

We soon reached the first Nigerian checkpoint. I got out and gave my passport to the officers. They inspected the passport thoroughly. They asked for my yellow card. The officer said my vaccinations all expired in February and asked why I didn't renew my vaccinations. I explained that I received the shots in February and showed him that the expiration date was in another location. He bought that, but I'm sure he was just looking for a reason to give me a hard time and knew what was what. The only point of asking for your yellow book on your way out is to find an excuse to extract a bribe. He asked more questions about my visas and my trip and I provided all the answers he needed. He asked about Barack Obama and I told him that I voted for him through the mail. It was taking a long time and the other passengers in the car finally came over and watched. Finally, since all my paperwork was completely in order, he had no choice but to enter all my information into a ledger (which took a long time) and send me, and the other occupants, on out way. The main passenger in the car told me I was causing his schedule to slip, but I said it was Nigerian immigration--no other African country takes so long to process people at the border. No, he said, it was me. I figured he was angling for more money at the end of the trip.

Then a few minutes later, we stopped at another fuel station and backed up to a pump. The man in the passenger seat said he needed to pick up some petrol. OK, no problem. Can't take that long. But it did. The gas station attendant kept fishing empty 10 gallon jerricans out of the trunk and filling them and putting them back. There was like a neverending stream of these jerricans. Hmmm... Am I involved in some sort of gasoline smuggling operation? After about a half hour, we left. It still only about 11am.

We reached the second Nigerian checkpoint and again, I had to get out and show my passport. The first time it was 4 men armed with machine guns, but now it was a just a guy. He inspected my passport pages more with a longing than anything else. He stopped for 30 seconds looking at my Japanese entry sticker from a few years ago and rubbed his fingers across it lost in some dream world where he gets to do what I do. He looked at all my stamps and in the end, smiled and gave me my passport and wished me a good trip. I smiled and thanked him and went back to the car.

We drove some more and eventually got to within view of the gated bridge of the river that forms the border. I was almost out of this country. But we stopped short at some sort of post. The passenger guy got into an argument with what I guess was some plainclothed customs officer or something. They argued for about 10 minutes, then the passenger paid the officer N5 (US$4).

We went on a little further--like 20 meters--and came to the third of four Nigerian official stops. This is the one where I would receive my exit stamp. They asked me a bunch of questions about where I was and where I entered while I filled out a paper form with many of these same questions. One question made no sense to me. I was to provide "Evidence as Tourist". What the hell does that mean? Is it even English? I asked and the man said I should write the phone number of my travel agent and gave me the yellow book I got when I got my vaccinations. He pointed at the phone number of the Vancouver Coastal Travel Clinic and told me to enter that phone number. It was crazy, but I figured the best thing to do was to just comply. Finally after several minutes, the man gave my passport to a woman to enter all my information into a ledger. Then they gave me my passport back and I went across the street to the other side.
There, a man asked more of the same questions that I had been answering all along and entered my passport information into a ledger for the third time today. Then when he was done with that ledger, he got out another ledger and entered the information into that second ledger. Holy cow, the Nigerians make border crossings...interesting. That done, all that was left was to cross the bridge over the river. On the way to the car, the gas smuggler informed me that when we reached Ekok, I would buy him a beer. I could use one myself.

Immediately on the other side was Cameroonian immigration. The Cameroonians were a friendlier and chattier group. We talked about my trip, how Cameroon and Canada are the only countries with English and French both being official languages, and, of course, Barack Obama. One of the men then got a ledger. But instead of having columns for the information, he just writes it out longhand as a prose paragraph. He listed all the places I said I planned to visit and basically wrote out, in prose, a description of my passport information. It took quite a while. The gas smuggler was there watching the whole thing.

Finally, one last step--customs. They had already put all my stuff by the customs office. They interrupted a game of cards and asked me what was in each bag and I explained and they had me open each one and show the first few items. They were pretty satisfied and, frankly, anxious to return to their card game. And I was done.

Ekok is a pretty small place. Everything is pretty close. The ticket office for the cars to Mamfe and Kumba is right across the street. I went over. They wanted CFA 15000 (US$30) to take me to Kumba. Whoa! That seems high. How many people lined up for the car? One guy told me just 2 more and then another one corrected him and said I was the first. The first? This can take all day. It was noon and they said the trip to Kumba was about 6 hours. I don't like it at all. So I called an audible. I asked if there was a hotel. Yep. I left and headed down to the Boston Complex Resort Inn whose name sounds much more impressive than the CFA 3000 (US$6) rooms would suggest. There is a bare mattress with a pillow, no running water and the generator would only run from about 8:30 to 11--Ekok doesn't seem to have electricity. I took the room. I gave the guy CFA 5000 and we walked really slowly to another place where he could break the CFA 5000 note into change. What I could have walked in 60 seconds took about 3 minutes. Once at the place with the change, that guy had to go off and get change. Gee, these small towns are bad with liquidity.

Then off to find the gas smuggler. I entered the local bar whose name seems to be Risk Assurance--or is that the name of the previous business? We went to the back where there is a fan, but they had no juice. The gas smuggler offered a liter of gas to run the generator to turn the fan. The man brought me a beer and the smuggler a fruit juice. The beer was room temperature and I tried to stop him but he already opened the bottle. The smuggler and another guy yelled at the bartender and told him it was his error, but I agreed to drink it. It was warm, but still had some refreshing power. I got the whole lowdown on the smuggling operation which was kind of neat.

Then I headed off to my room to rest. The smuggler said he'd meet me at my hotel and have another beer.

I rested in my room until about 6pm. The smuggler didn't come so I figured I'd go out and arrange my transportation. I had, in the interim, asked random people about the cost to get to Kumba and the CFA 15000 is what it costs. So I headed over and asked what time I should arrive in the morning. They said about 7am--I should just come and leave my bags in the Boston Hotel and we'd get them on the way out. Now I was feeling a little easier. I headed back to the hotel to await the generator.

It got dark and no generator. I went out and asked. They said it would started at about 8 or 8:30. Man, that's a lot of time in the dark. I headed down the street and got a mylar bag with 25cl of red table wine. Then headed back to my room and read Veronika Décide de Mourir by my rechargeable lantern. Finally, after an hour, the generator came on and I tried to plug in my laptop. But no luck--the outlet wasn't powered. They said the outlets aren't connected. So I had to move my laptop to the lobby/bar where I typed up my blogs for 3 solid hours in front of an enraptured audience of three who were reading as I was typing.

Wednesday, November 26, 2008 23:50 Cameroon local time

Third Full Day In Calabar

2008-11-25T15:45:00.001-06:00

My third full day in Calabar. Yes, my money is dwindling and I'm still stuck in Calabar. It seems that I get my timing all wrong in Nigeria. I wind up doing everything on the weekends when things are closed and not on weekdays when stuff is open. Oh well. C'est le vie.

I headed out and when I gave my key to the receptionist, she waxed Jesusy on me. She asked me if I love Jesus. I assured her that I did. She said that day of judgement would come soon and anyone not right with Jesus would be in deep doo-doo--not those words exactly. I assured her that Jesus and I are like two peas in a pod. She said she would have a tract for me when I returned. I thanked her and left. This Jesus stuff is driving me crazy here. But she has my key so I can't exactly tell her that I think Jesus is dead and gone and won't be there when I die--that when I die, I'll simply cease to exist. And there will be no judgement--those who have been wronged and look forward to some cosmic comeuppance should just face reality that bad people get away with bad stuff and there will be no compensation in heaven.

I headed toward the Cameroonian consulate and on the way I passed the Intercontental Bank. In Kano, they had currency exchange and the man at the motor park had told me that the Banks in Nigeria can exchange any currency so I was hoping I would be able to get some CFA for my visa. But they didn't have any CFA. This was bad because the visa costs N17800 (US$140) when paying in Naira but CFA 61000 (US$120) when paying in CFA. So naturally I wanted to get some CFA, but no go. So I headed on. I still needed passport photos. The visa requires three photos. Just south of the consulate, there is a place called Mr. Fan which has ice cream, fast food, and a photographer. I sat there and waited while a woman processed the pictures of a previous customer, a sailor who wanted his picture put on a more romantic background. When she was done with him, she took a few snaps of me and then used a program called Photo Désirée to remove the shadows. Soon I had 8 new passport photos, though I was pretty sweaty and certainly didn't look my best.

Those in hand, I headed to the consulate where I waited for the vice-consul to arrive. He did and we started the application. It was a new experience for me. Until now, all my applications were just forms to fill out. But Cameroon requires a handwritten letter requesting a visa to avoid abuse. So I had to write out a handwritten letter requesting a visa. I wasn't sure what to write and I asked if he had a model for me to copy. He got out a sheet of paper and wrote out a model for me. The English was very different from American English. It went something like this--though I'm not exactly sure since the grammar is not correct in America and I can't necessarily remember what is essentially nonsense. "Dear Sir, I humbly submit my application for a visa to enter your country as a tourist as I request an entry clearance into your country. While waiting my application, please receive my sincerest greetings."

He was surprised my expected date of entry. Wouldn't I rather take a boat? No, I prefer to go by land. He said the boat was much better. I asked if the land crossing was closed due to rain? No, but he predicted I would find it...stressful.

Then I counted out my N17800 and headed out. He told me to return at 3pm. I went to the Molay internet cafe but it was full, so I had a beer at Freddy's and when I returned, there was an empty spot. It was a very slow connection. Enough to do my blog but way underpowered for even talkingpointsmemo.com which is not too bandwidth intensive. Forget about email or facebook. I spent an hour watching the browser gradually load all the pages and accomplished nothing more than uploading my blogs. Quite a feat.

After that, I headed back to the hotel and rested. At 2:45 I planned to head out to the Cameroon consulate and then head to the museum where I figured they might have postcards. Lonely Planet recommends bringing a flashlight when there is no power and there hadn't been any power other than local generators the whole time in Calabar. So I brought my Freeplay Indigo lantern--one of my most precious possesions--to the Cameroonian consulate. I got there just at 3pm, paying N80 for a mototaxi, and waited. There were a number of people there in the waiting area. They naturally noticed my lantern. I showed them all the features--the work light, the lantern, the crank to recharge it. One guy told me to dash him the lantern. I told him I brought it with me because I needed it and couldn't dash it. He left and another guy told me to dash him the lantern and he would buy me a local one, but again I refused. I need my lantern. People in Calabar are used to not having power, but I need my lantern where I know where it is in my backpack and can find it, and if it is out of juice, I can just crank it and get light. It it essential for me. I'm happy that they liked it and I can certainly see a huge market for the Freeplay Indigo in Nigeria. Maybe someday they will be common there.

The vice-consul came and as is often the case, he said I requested less than 30 days so he gave me extra days. I thanked him and told him I looked forward to visiting Cameroon. Then I hailed a moto-taxi to the National Museum for N70.

It is a pretty good museum. I was pretty tired as I was fighting a cold and regret that I blew by some pretty interesting looking exhibits. Of course, take that with a grain of salt as my favorite channel in the US is C-SPAN. There is an extensive history of the area from slavery to the transition to the palm oil exports. The British rule takes quite a role. A very nice museum. However, they didn't have postcards. Dammit! I headed back to the market where almost nobody in the stationary stores even ever heard of this odd concept--the post card. I gave up and headed back to my room and ripped apart some cards I got suckered into buying by a super-persistent merchant in Ouagaodougou to make some makeshift postcards.

I decided to head to the Metropolitan for another air conditioned stay with ice cold Stars. I wrote out my post cards and then read Veronika Décide de Mourir while the British guy finished up his Robert Ludlum novel. After a while the FIFA girls soccer match came on. Japan vs. Germany. Japan is my second home so I rooted for them and after a while they scored. But it was only half time and time for me to leave to I don't know how the match turned out. I went to the reception at the Metropolitan and asked where their outgoing mail was. Thay have no outgoing mail. They acted as if the idea that I (or anybody) would want to send outgoing mail is totally insane. I was shocked. The major business hotel in Calabar does NOT have a way to send outgoing mail from the hotel? Shocking! I headed home.

Tuesday, November 25, 2008 21:45 Cameroon local time

Second Full Day In Calabar

2008-11-25T08:54:00.001-06:00

I didn't have much planned for Sunday--just hopefully find an internet cafe. My parents are probably starting to worry a little bit and a blog update would help them sleep a bit better. So I headed out. There is an internet cafe up by Freddy's and the Paradise City and other hotels on the way to the airport. Also, I wanted to see how much the car to Ikom would cost and the motor park is on the way. So off I went. I had to get through this parade of people going to church. Man, Calabar is religious. Insanely religious. If the Africans spent as much time educating themselves in science and math as in God and Jesus, they'd be G7. Though I must say, all religious talk here centers on the same few themes--God loves you, Jesus loves you--not much else really. Listening to these preachers--and they are everywhere so you can't not listen--is really tedious. It's the same thing over and over and over just with slight differences. Tell a preacher here that he can't talk about how much Jesus and God love you, and he'll be speechless.
I got to the motor park and entered. There were tons of cars all with wooden signs on their roofs saying "Calabar to ...". I found the Ikom one without much effort. It costs N1200 (US$10) for the 3 hour trip. I asked if there was a person there who could change money to Central African CFA. They said the bank could do it. Hmm... Really? OK. Anyway, I knew what it would cost to get to Ikom near the Cameroonian border. I went passed the mosque hoping a Muslim Hausa money changer would ask if I needed change, but nobody did. Then I just headed up toward the internet cafe.

Unfortunately, since I left the hotel, one thing was becoming obvious. Calabar shuts down on Sunday morning so people can drink their Jesus juice. I made it pretty far north and turned around and came back. I was out for a few hours in the hot sun and needed a rest. I rested a good while back in my room and then in the late afternoon headed out to the Chester Bar in the Metropolitan Hotel. IT was so delightfully cool and the beer was so delightfully refreshing. I read my French version of Veronika Décide à Mourir. A British sounding guy was reading a Robert Ludlum novel--not of the Bourne Identity ones but another one. So there were 2 white guys sitting at a bar reading in Nigeria.

After 2 beers it was starting to get late and I headed back toward the Nelbee. I stopped in Mac Bite, the local fast food place. I got in the "line" at the register and watched as an electric wire on one of their pieces of equipment started to spark and smoke. That was cool. Then I ordered an order of fries and 2 egg rolls. After I got that I went outside to their shawarma stand and got a beef shawarma. While I was waiting, the girl cooking the chicken sneezed on the beef laying out there, so I was happy that she already put my beef into the pita and was warming it up now.
I was extremely tired when I got back and it took all my effort to eat as much of the cold fries and the beef shawarma as possible. I didn't finish it all. Then I just layed there like a beached whale until the generator came on a little after 6 and I could feel some AC. Once I had a little energy, I rigged up my rope and mosquito net since the Nelbee has mosquitoes.
Then I drifted off to sleep.

Tuesday, November 25, 2008 14:54 Cameroon local time

First Full Day In Calabar

2008-11-23T02:42:00.001-06:00

I got up and was tired. My sleep wasn't good at all. I was paying N4000 for this room and I was suffering. At least I didn't pay for the whole 4 days. It was already past 9:30am, though, and if I'm going to move today, I'm going to have act fast. I got dresses and headed out. The woman at the desk asked me how we were going to settle the payment. I asked her if she was aware that the air conditioner didn't work. She acted as if she didn't know and said they would look into it when the manager arrives. I told her that I wasn't sure if I would stay or not but I'd be back before noon either way. She didn't seem happy that I was dissatisfied and was planning to leave.

I headed up to toward the Paradise City hotel which has rooms that are more expensive that the original Nelbee prices in Lonely Planet but cheaper than their new gouging prices. I stopped at the Zoo Garden hotel the first of 2 hotels at the statue of Mary Slessor. The price was posted N5500. Too much. I explain to the desk man what I was doing and he started dropping the price. He came down to N3500 which is less than I was paying, but still more than I wanted to pay.

I went next door to the Palladium and asked about their rooms N3000 per night. Now we're talking. I said I might be back and headed up to the Paradise City. The Paradise City looked abandoned but I went in and it is open. But it didn't look like they have any customers. No stuff at the desk, no furniture in the lobby or common areas. And the rooms were N4000, but when I explained what I was doing and said I got a room for N3000 at the Palladium already lined up, He dropped to N3000 and they showed a very nice room.

So now I was set. I had two options at N3000. I headed back and told the woman I'd be checking out. The manager still wasn't there. I packed my stuff and loaded it up on my back and took my key out. Now the manager was there. I told her I was leaving because the air conditioner doesn't work and I need to find a place with AC. She said I could change rooms. Then I told her that I wouldn't mind switching rooms, but since I found 2 places that would give me rooms for N3000, I wouldn't be willing to go over that price. She was impressed by my legwork as I told her all the prices and how they all came down. The room they switched me to was normally N3600 but she gave it to me for N3000.

So I took my stuff and went back into the Nelbee and settled in a new room with a brand new air conditioner.

Then I slept for a while. I hadn't had a good sleep in a while. After a good nap, I was hot and thirsty. There was still no electricity so I decided to head to the Hotel Metropolitan. This hotel is the most expensive hotel in Calabar and I figured it would have and air conditioned bar with a TV and super-cold beers. I was right. They the Discovery Channel on for a while. Apparently in the African version of the Discovery Channel, according to the ads, Mythbusters and Survivorman are new series. The beer was only N400 plus taxes and tips that bring it up to N500. But for a large Star it isn't bad. And they have a happy hour from 6pm to 7pm where it's half price. After a while, all the employees came in and they switched the TV to Manchester City vs. Arsenal. They were a bit unhappy because the Chelsea vs. Newcastle was on at the same time and they would rather watch them both than choose one. A couple guys had N1000 riding on the results.

I headed home and rested a bit. Then I headed back up to a fast food place. They didn't have hamburgers or hot dogs yet, but they had a takeout shawarma place outside on their premises and I got a chicken shawarma for N500 which was OK, but not great. By the time I got back, the generator had started and my room was delightfully cool. I just stayed in and relaxed the rest of the night.

Sunday, November 23, 2008 8:42 Nigerian local time

Lagos To Calabar Via Virgin Nigeria

2008-11-22T13:10:00.001-06:00

I hung out in the downstairs area of the Lagos domestic terminal at a table outside Mr. Biggs. There were about 1 dozen or so sleeping people on the benches there. I took tiny little cat naps, but mostly stayed up. Finally, at about 5am things started to wake up. The stores still weren't opening, but I made it through the long night. I just sort of hung around until 7 when I checked in. Then I went through security and headed to the somewhat disorganized restaurant Things Remembered where three people all asked me what I wanted.

Finally it was time to board and we all got on a bus. Then it was off to Calabar. The plane wasn't full and that was a relief. After about an hour we arrived in Calabar. I had a lock on one of my cheap bags purchased for the purpose of this trip and it was missing from the bag. Oh well. I'm about done with that lock anyway. It was actually there more for ID than to protect anything. I should have put it on the thicker handles rather than the zippers.

I headed out. The airport is 2 or 3 km from Calabar. I asked a guy how much for a cab. N3000 (US$24). Huh! I must have misheard. I asked again. He again said N3000. I asked if Calabar wasn't just 2km away. He said it's a little more than that (he's right--it's closer to 3km.) He asked how much I'd be willing to pay. I said N250. I shook his head. I can't believe these guys actually get away with this. Eventually I paid N300 to get in on a motorcycle.

I went to the Nelbee Executive Guest House which is one of the budget options in Lonely Planet. LP lists it as N2300-N2500. But when I got there, the price had increased considerably. I would up paying N4000 for my first night. They wanted me to pay for my entire stay but I told them I needed to visit the ATM and could only pay for tonight. My real plans were to do a little shopping around, though.

It was a little before noon and I was tired and dirty. I can't even remember the last time I did laundry. I hadn't showered in a few days. I needed some major cleanup. First I did laundry. My pants, 2 shirts, and 2 socks. With just that, the water looked like Hershey's chocolate syrup when I was done. Even the first rinse water looked like chocolate milk. But soon enough, the water was clear enough that I felt my clothes were clean. Clothes done, time to wash me. The Nelbee has hot and cold running water and a shower curtain, but no shower head. You still have to fill a bucket (@N4000 I expect more) and I didn't even want the hot water. Maybe you need it at other times of the year but right now, the cold water is perfect. Actually the power in Calabar is really unreliable and the water won't be hot unless there is power which there wasn't when I arrived. I gave my hair a couple washings. Finally, I dried off and put on all new clothes. Whew! I felt so much better.

I headed off to the Cameroonian consulate. It's about a 40 minute walk but it's easy to find. I noticed a couple of hotels along the way. At the consulate, I signed in and talked with the consul guy. The price is N17000 or 61000 CFA But not the kind of CFA I've been using. There are two regions in Africa that have currencies called the franc CFA. One is West Africa and one is Central Africa. Cameroon uses the Central African franc CFA. Confusing, eh? The value is almost the same, the Central African CFA being a smidgen less than the West African franc CFA. Anyway, it's about a US$20 difference between the prices with the CFA price being better. I also need not one but 3 passport photos. I was worried about that but noticed several passport photo places on my walk. I got the forms but told the guy that I'd need to get more money before I could pay and I'd be back on Monday at 10. Then I headed back. I stopped at a place in LP and had a beer but it wasn't that cold. I guess because there is no power. I walked some more and it started to rain so I stopped in another place and had another warmish beer. Then the rain mostly stopped and I got a motor-taxi for N50. The moto-taxis in Calabar actually make you wear a helmet. I suppose it's optional since I see about 20% of the passengers on taxis without one, but it's nice that they make you do that. I'm not sure if it saves lives. The helmet isn't exactly fitted to your head.

Then I came back to the room and slept. The hotel runs a generator from a little after 6pm to about 2am if there is no electricity. Unfortunately for me, the AC didn't work and the fan only worked well on the low speed. So I never really got cool and then when the power went off, I woke up and was kept awake by mosquitoes the rest of the night.

Saturday, November 22, 2008 19:10 Nigerian local time

Lagos Airport: Maybe Sort Of A Liveblog?

2008-11-20T18:55:00.002-06:00

Well, it's 7:50 PM and here I am in the Lagos domestic terminal. It is the new MMA2 terminal that replaced a terminal that burned down many years ago. It is pretty nice and pretty modern. There are 2 small food courts--one in departures and one in arrivals. There are a few small stores--one selling magazines and stationery (but not The Economist or postcards) and one selling soccer merchandise. There is a restaurant which is rather pricey which I satin frm 4:17 to 7:39 called Double Four. I had hot chicken wings for N1100 (US$9) though having seen another woman get the cheeseburger I regret I didn't get that, 3 Star beers--the big kind (60cl) which were N500 (US$4) each which is better than the place next store which sells 33cl cans for N400 (US$3.20) , and a double shot machiato (I got charged for 2 N600 machiatos instead of 1 machiato and a N400 shot of espresso). So my total bill there was N3800. Since they charged me for 2 machiatos, I only tipped them by paying N4000 (US$32.00) which is high for what I got but probably not too excessive for airport captive audience food.

I chatted with the employees for a while. The tourist American coming through Nigeria is rather uncommon so they were quite interested in my story. Nigeria is not exactly the most welcoming country. And their lack of reliable connection to the Visa network helps that prickliness. But done right, it would be a fun place to visit. I look forward to another opportunity to visit Nigeria. Once I know they have ATMs that reliably dispense money from Visa or perhaps if I can bring enough money or prearrange some Western Union transfers, I'd like to see more. It is an interesting country. I really think they have done a lot to address the sources of their unattractive image. When I entered Nigeria, I certainly had a lot of questions to answer and a lot of forms to fill out, but I paid not one Naira in bribes (to government officials) so far the whole time I was here. Maybe the south is different from the north. I don't know. Also, I googled a bit and found a website dedicated to--believe it or not--how to sleep in airports. The consensus was that Lagos used to be one of the absolute worst places to even think about sleeping, but the new domestic terminal seems really nice and I think it is perfectly safe to spend the night here, though I have no intention of sleeping. I intend to stay up all night. The new MMA2 domestic terminal feels like a small US city airport security-wise. Maybe like Madison, WI. There are still empty storefronts here because it opened so recently. Anyway, anyone needing to spend a night in Lagos would definitely find the security situation in the MMA2 terminal to be quite satisfactory. And given the high cost of taxing into Lagos and taxing back the airport, it's a backer's dream even if the food and drinks are on the high side. Of course it is just a little past 8pm right now, and that may change, but so far, so good.

My day started out pretty good. I woke up at 5:30 am since I know that for some reason the International Hotel turns off the generator about an hour before daylight. Why not just run the damn thing until the sun comes out and we can see in our rooms? Who knows. But they don't so I made sure I was up in time to do all my last minute packing. At first light I left and checked out. In fact, I wish I waited about 20 minutes because I got a taxi which was waiting right outside the hotel (they wait outside hotels when people are likely to leave). It was still a bit dark and the route to the airport took us on potholed bumpy dirt roads and over rickety wooden ditch covers. It's the kind of trip you want 20 minutes more sun. It was a bit chilly too which was sort of nice. We made the airport in 10 minutes and it only cost me N200 (US$1.60) which was less than the highest price I was willing to pay (N300) and only N50 more than the Lonely Planet price. In general, the Lonely Planet prices for transportation are low since it was published before gasoline went way up.

So I got to the airport and waited a while and watch the Virgin Nigeria people set up their rolling counters. Exactly 90 minutes before the departure, they opened the gates and we all went up. I got my boarding pass and went through security which was harrowing because I kept having to enter areas where the signage indicated they were restricted areas open only to authorized persons.

At the screening I didn't have to take off my shoes or remove my laptop. In fact, I only had to show my ID when I got my passport. The security was not exactly encouraging. I could get a boarding pass and then hand it over to Osama bin Laden and he could board the plane after that. But I survived the first flight to Abuja with no problem in the aisle seat. They served a drink and a sandwich which was beef (or tuna) but which colored more like ham. A Virgin trick on the Muslims?

The Abuja to Lagos leg a couple with a baby came. They asked if I could take the window seat. Sure, I prefer the window. :-) The baby cried a bit. At the end, I found out the woman was from Washington DC and her mother was there, too and it was their first time in Nigeria. I asked the mother if she would be in DC for the inauguration and she said she wouldn't be and she already rented out her house for the trip. Nice. I hear there is a big demand. Smart move.

I headed for the various food courts and found my way around the airport. There are a bunch of banks. There is a Skye bank whose ATM still does the cool music but whose error message on my ATM cards is still "No Useful App". But then I tried the Access Bank ATM and voila! It gave me money. Yay! So there is a bank in Nigeria that gives money. The system still has a long way to go and I certainly wouldn't ever expect to use ATMs here until they get a little better connected, but there is at least one machine in Nigeria that works.

After that, it was wait. I tried the meat pies at Mr. Biggs (good) and the meat pies at the bakery on the second floor (not as good). I'll try the meat pies at TP tomorrow.

Other than that, it was wait. Hurry up and wait. Wait, wait wait. After my hellish trip from Mopti to Timbuktu, I can endure any wait less than 4 hours. If I can stand up and walk rather than being confined to the area of a bag of sugar, I can endure it.

So that's where I am. Waiting until morning. I have 1.50 liters of Star beer competing with 2 shots of espresso. They'll team up to get me into the bathroom, but hopefully the espresso with beat the beer in helping me stay awake.

At 10:44, an employee asked me if I intended to stay here all night. I said I did. He asked why and I told him it was because I had a flight in the morning. He asked where and I told him Calabar. He said they don't normally allow passengers to sleep there overnight. I told him I didn't intend to sleep but to stay up. I pointed to my stuff and said I didn't want to sleep and leave it all unattended. He looked a bit askance at me but seemed to acquiesce. He walked off. Then he returned. "The environment is safe enough, but if some funny men approach, you can always talk to a person with a blue shirt and with a badge like this" he said showing me his badge around his neck. So so far so good. He didn't kick me out. Which at quarter to 11 would not be good since I have no idea what I would do in that circumstance.

At 11:54, another employee came by and asked the same questions. He said passengers can't stay here. I told him the other guy said it was OK. He started to walk away and then came back. He said there was a place downstairs with a policeman where passengers needing to stay the night should stay. I told him I would be happy to go anywhere he needed me to go. He told me to stay where I was and right now I'm not sure if he'll come back and move me or if he'll just let me stay. I figure the airport will essentially reopen at in less than 6 hours and I can survive until then. Just so long as I look like the kind of guy they don't want to throw to nocturnal Lagos they should let me stay in the airport and not expect me to take a cab into the city where I'm vulnerable to whatever.

At 12:51, two more employees came by and asked more or less the same things. She asked if I missed my flight and I said I didn't--I was just waiting for a flight in the morning. She asked why I didn't stay in hotel and come in the morning. I told her that I sometimes stay in airports when I have connections between flights and I didn't think it would be a problem. She said that they don't encourage it. She suggested I head to the place downstairs where the people who miss their flights stay. I said I would and it's no problem.

Thursday, November 20, 2008 24:55 Nigerian local time

Fourth Tiring But Unpanicky Day In Kano

2008-11-20T15:22:00.001-06:00

My day was planned to be pretty low key. I wanted to get the second Western Union transfer and see the Museum and send postcards to the nieces. Other than that, no real plans. Just take it easy. The next night I intended to stay overnight in the airport in Lagos. Would it be just hanging out in a food court patrolled by Nigerian security guards and plenty of honest people doing the same as me? Or would it be defending my luggage from an onslaught of thieves eyeing my bags waiting for me to go to sleep or even just show a sign of weakness. Either way, I intend to stay up all night.

I got up nice and late and headed to the internet cafe. I did my usual stuff and lost my connection to my email just when I was going to send my itinerary to my parents. Sorry Mom & Dad. As long as you don't hear of any Virgin Nigeria crashes you shouldn't worry too much.

Then I headed to the post office. I got stamps but no postcards. There was a booth with postcards near the post office but they sucked pretty bad. I should either be able to find them in the Lagos airport or in Calabar.

I headed home to rest. Then I headed out to find the museum. I got lost on the way and I'm not sure how. The crowds in the Old City are thick and it's chaos. I had to cross a stalled convoy of gasoline tanker trucks. Eventually I found the museum described by Lonely Planet as the best in Northern Nigeria. I guess the museums in Northern Nigeria set a low bar. It was only N200 but it wasn't spectacular. It took me only about 10 minutes to blow through it. I passed a white couple who had a guide. The guides are apparently knowledgeable, but frankly from what I heard, he was going into more detail than I was in the mood for. I figured the couple was envious of me when I just read the descriptions by the photographs of the British troops in 1903 and blew past them.

I headed back to the hotel. I was tired and hot and wanted 2 things--a Star beer and to not be noticed by the Abuja woman. I got one of my wishes.

She wanted a Maltina and expected me to pay which I did since it's only a buck. So we chatted again. She was inside and saw me walk through the building. She suggested we go back inside because she was watching a TV show on the TV in there, but I said I preferred the cool outside. She was facing these 2 women at another table and then switched sides. She said they were jealous and saying bad things. They were speaking in their native language so I didn't know what they were saying. I'm not sure what this Abuja woman is. She asked if she wanted me to go get some suya, but I said I planned to eat some Chinese or Indian food later. She didn't know the Chinese had their own food. I guess she's a bit isolated. Also, I thought she knew what country I was from, but for some reason, she thought I was Zambia. I told her that, no, I'm American. We chatted some more about my trip. She asked me which is closer to Nigeria--America or Mali. I found it hard to believe it was a serious question, but it was. I guess as far as she's concerned, they might as well both be Mars. So odd. She got annoyed by the two women again and was a bit disconcerted by what they were saying. I didn't know what was going on. She wanted another Maltina. Dammit, but OK. A few ambulant merchants came by. One was selling cloth. The Abuja woman looked at a couple bolts of cloth. One was really nice and one was not really what I like. She asked me which I preferred. I sensed what she was up to. "I like that better", I said pointing to the nicer one, "but don't let me influence you because you are the one buying it." "You don't want to pay for me?" "Sorry, no." She sent the cloth salesman on his way.

It was starting to get dusky and I wanted to either eat Indian or Chinese food and that's over on the east side of town. She said she would walk with me until we got moto-taxis and she would go back to her town where her sister lives after I left. She led me a couple blocks south of the hotel for some reason rather than just flag one down on the big street by the hotel. One stopped. She talked with the guy after I told him I wanted to go to the Central Hotel. She told me not to take him, but he offered N50 (US$0.40) and I wasn't going to pass that up. A local price rather than a white price. I got on and bid her farewell. She warned me not to answer the door tonight if someone came knocking. Huh? I was a bit disconcerted. Who was she? Was she going to go back and try to convince the hotel staff that she's with me and they she needs the key to my place and then clean me out? I figured the hotel staff wouldn't fall for something like that. My experience is that the hotels are the hardest place to try to rip someone off. The entire staff knows who is staying there and they watch. African hotels have better de facto security than American hotels, in fact, simply because labor is so cheap in Africa that all hotels there have about 4 or 5 times more employees than an equivalently priced American hotel. And they keep an eye out for their guests. So I was a bit uneasy, but not too uneasy to ruin my expected meal.

The moto-taxi ride was great. It was the first one since my crash. I felt dominated by Nigerian since then. But now I was on the back of this moto-taxi and the driver was going up and down curbs and weaving between cars and cutting off other moto-taxis and being pretty aggressive. I had a couple of Stars in me, so I was just enjoying it. I felt like we were now dominating. I was reasserting my presence in Nigeria. I was on top of the world again. It was fun.

I got dropped off at the Central Hotel. It was now dark. I took at look at the Smart Tandoor restaurant and some Chinese place, but they both looked closed. It could just be that it was too early--only about 6:15. So I headed east one roundabout and headed south to where I knew there was another Chinese place and another Indian place. I found the Chinese Palace first and headed in.

As with all Chinese places in Africa, something critical on the menu is rediculously overpriced. It's always the soups and it's usually egg rolls as well. Here the egg rolls are pretty reasonably prices (N80 each) but the rice was overpriced (N280 for a small bowl of steamed rice). I got the mabo tofu (or as they call it, Minced Beef [Kano is heavily Muslim so it's not the usual pork] With Braised Tofu In Spicy Sauce--oh when will the world just learn how to say Mabo tofu?) and 3 egg rolls and an overpriced rice with a small bottle of water. The total came to about N1500 (US$12). It was a nice amount. I left and since this is a high class joint, there were moto-taxis out in front waiting for patrons. It was only N100 going back which is fair since it was night and you generally pay a premium to driver who wait for you rather than just meet on the street in traffic.

I got back and went up to my place. The moment of truth--did the Abuja woman convince the hotel staff that she was with me and get a key to my room? I opened the lock. Nope. Everything intact.

I set my alarm and watched TV. There was Entertainment Tonight which made me want to stay in Africa because I hate their forced insincere positivity and building up of celebrities and David Letterman which was fun to watch after so long--especially since one of his guests was Carla Bruni.

Then I packed a bit so there wouldn't be too much to do in the morning and went to sleep.

Thursday, November 20, 2008 21:22 Nigerian local time

Third Semi-panicky Day In Kano

2008-11-19T14:31:00.000-06:00

My goal on the third day was to visit the last things I need to visit in Kano and then figure out how to get to Calabar. I headed to the internet cafe to try to see what I could figure out. One of the options I looked at was to fly. There was a Virgin Nigeria flight from Kano to Lagos on Thursday and Lagos to Calabar on Friday. It would mean spending a day in Lagos. But it would also mean that I'd never be too far from civilization. And when I have no access to money and can't fend for myself, that's a good thing. The only problem is that the flight is N34000. I booked it and headed to the Virgin Nigeria office which, conveniently, is really close to the internet cafe. The Virgin website they could take a credit card there which would be good since that would leave me enough to survive.

But when I got there, they required cash. I counted out what I had and figured if I flew I would have not quite enough but almost to get to Cameroon--provided nothing went wrong and I could stay at the airport in Lagos. I decided to go for it.

I headed back and stopped at an ATM on the way. This time it said "Serious error" and canceled the transaction. Yikes! So the ATM is still not working. I waited for a reasonable time to call my parents and have them Western Union another $200.

I fell asleep for a while. At some point, there was a knock on my door. The woman from Abuja sent the hotel man up to tell me that she was in the bar. I don't mind if she tries to sit with me in the bar, but I'm not really into the idea of her interrupting me when I'm not there. I told the guy I was sleeping (obvious from the way I was dressed) and he said he would tell her.

I called and had another $200 sent to me. Then, I just watched CNN for the rest of the night. When the power went out and the generator came on, I turned up the volume. When the power came back and the generator turned off, I turned down the volume. Pretty much for the entire night until I went back to Dunkin' Pepper and had a chicken a fried rice.

Wednesday, November 19, 2008 20:31 Nigerian local time

Second Panicky Day In Kano

2008-11-18T10:01:00.000-06:00

Monday morning I woke up. Hopefully, this would be the day I get my Western Union infusion. I went to the internet cafe which is at the other end of the street with all the banks. After some surfing, I headed back and the banks were now open. I went to the GTBank. All the banks in Nigeria have this airlock type system to control access to the bank. You press a button and enter the phone booth sized tube and then a few seconds later, it opens on the other side. I got a form, but their pens sucked and I couldn't write on the forms. So I headed home to get a better pen. Since I was home now, I decided to try a closer bank. I tried the Diamond Bank first but the form for me to fill out didn't say Western Union on it anywhere and it was missing some fields. The guard who helped me get the form tried to tell me to have a seat and he'd get another form, but I decided to try another bank. I went to Intercontental Bank. There I got a form and filled it out, but they told me I was missing the money transfer control number. Great!

Back to the internet cafe to email my parents and ask them to send it. I also had them text it to my phone. It didn't take long. Then back to the Intercontinental. I gave them the form and my passport. Then for the second time in a week, she said that she didn't think that was me in the picture. Flattering, but when my ability to survive depends on her believing it's me, it's disconcerting. I told her I weighed over 200 kg 8 years ago. Then I offered my driver's license. She preferred that. In the end all worked. It took about 15 minutes from when I went in (the second time) to when the teller eventually set down a huge thick stack of N500 notes. Yikes, it's one thick stack. I managed to fit it into my money belt, but it was tight.

OK, I can breathe now. I returned to the hotel and relaxed. I'm ashamed to say, I watched Life With Mikey with Michael J. Fox. At least, they played About a Boy which is much better a bit after that.

In the evening, I headed down to the hotel bar and sat there with a Star thinking about what I'd do. Then this woman came and sat with me. She first wanted to make sure I wasn't married. I'm not sure why. She said she's in town from Abuja for her sister's wedding and was staying at this hotel for a while. We chatted for a while and then she hinted that she's like a Maltina. (In Africa, any beverage whose first 4 letters are "malt" are alcohol free beers). It was only N120 (US$1). Then she showed me how to eat Nigerian food. She ordered some meat from the restaurant for N100 (US$0.80) but it was just cold chunks. She said a rather lengthy prayer over the food. By now it was dark and she started putting food in my mouth. Next she got N200 (US$1.60) and ran across the street to get some suya which is hot, spicy, barbequed meat. She did another lengthy prayer over the food. It was pretty good and there was a fair amount of it. Everytime she told me to eat she did so by saying "chop chop". Finally we shared an African salad which has some sort of sweet vegetable and chunks of what I think was also meat. Again she said a engthy prayer and kept saying chop chop.

Finally, I was pretty tired, so I excused myself to go back to my room. She asked if I wanted an escort. I told her no thanks, but I can find my way. Then I went up and went to sleep.

Tuesday, November 18, 16:01 Nigerian local time

First Panicky Day In Kano

2008-11-17T15:10:00.000-06:00

OK, I woke up after one of the worst sleeps of my trip. I was up all night working through scenarios and options. I counted the number of N500 bills. Ten. To rent a room here another night would be six of those. My ATM card didn't work the day before and I wasn't sure today was going to be any better. I didn't know how to make a international phone call on my cell phone. I brought it for emergencies and it was looking like I might be in an emergency. The only thing is that I didn't how to use it. I had tried to turn it on the previous night but the battery was dead so I recharged it during the night. So how do you call America on an AT&T Wireless phone from Nigeria on the MTN network? Do I need to know some cryptic code for making an international call?

I got up and swallowed one of my dwindling anti-malarial Savarines. Then, I went out. It was about 7:30. On my way out I asked if they had any N2000 (US$18) rooms. Nope, not available. Hmmm... There's a place in Lonely Planet called Tourist Camp where they say rooms are N2000. I can't stay in the N2850 room if I'm running out of money.

But first task--internet. I had given my parents a heads up that I might need backup. And I had some audibles to consider. I limped toward the internet cafe. It took about a half hour to get there. On the way, I stopped at an ATM. I placed the card, entered my PIN, and waited for the telltail sound of machines counting money. Nope. Same cryptic error message as yesterday.
I tried to cross streets but was over-cautious after being hit dead on by a full speed motorbike the previous day. I wasn't exactly at my nimblest either--you can limp walk, but it's hard to limp run when traffic is aimed at you. I still had to do it, though. I was in Nigeria after all.
I had gotten up early enough that when I got to the internet cafe, it wasn't open. Dammit! It's Sunday. Is the damn internet cafe closed like in Bobo-Dioulasso? What's with these internet cafe's closing on Sunday? But alas, they were in the process of opening. They would open around 9am. I took a walk. Not exactly a relaxing walk. There would be no relaxing for a while.
My parents had responded to my email. Whew! I checked some options. No buses. Nothing on getting to Calabar. It was easy to find information on rates for international calls. But the logistics of how to actually make an international call weren't anywhere in the FAQs at AT&T Wireless. And that's what I needed. But a little googling and I finally found it. You press 0 and keep it pressed until the '+' appears. Then you enter the international code and then the number. That's what I needed and I don't have the faintest fricking clue why the logistics of making an international phone call are not in the AT&T FAQs.

I had what I needed though. I updated my facebook status since all my facebook friends were freaking out. Then I limped home. It was about 11. Checkout time at the La Mirage is noon. There is a place across the street called the International Hotel. I thought I'd check it out and see what rates they offered. The cheapest room there: N800 (US$7). The cheap rooms were in Block A. The woman tried to upsell me to a N4000 room, but I said I was happy with the "general toilet". My room turned out to be N1155 (US$10). I could stay here a couple days before having to kill myself due to running out of money. Much safer. I took the room with the general toilet in Block A. Or as I would affectionately come to call in: Cell Block A. My room has a bed, a desk, a ceiling fan, and a TV. The lock was a huge padlock.

I went across the street and up to my room on the third floor. I packed. I tried to throw my backpack on my back but it's a lot harder than you'd thing when you have tender arms from falls and motorcycle crashes. Then I had to go down to the bottom down a narrow staircase with legs that barely work. It wasn't easy, but I made it, checked out, and then went across the street. It was easier going up. But, I was still ready to collapse as I unloaded my baggage on the bed in Cell Block A.

I went down to their bar and has a N200 Star. Then I went back to my room and called my parents. I had to pull the trigger on a Western Union transfer. The ball was in motion. And hopefully that ball would land before I ran out of money.

It took one more phone call to get the details straight and then it was just wait.

I was hungry, so I decided to check out a place called Dunkin' Peppers. The font was the same as Dunkin' Donuts. On the way, I got a meat pie, but Nigerian meat pies are not like Ghanaian meat pies. Nigerian meat pies are gluteny and chewy and not terribly tasty whereas Ghanaian meat pies are flaky and crumbly and buttery. I ate it but it wasn't very good. Then I headed to the Dunkin' Pepper door. Once inside (a man opened the one way-mirrored door from the inside for me) I found a sort of fast food type place. The counter had "Dunkin' Interncontinental" written across it. Maybe it was actually related to Dunkin' Donuts. I ordered a chicken and fried rice. It was pretty spicy and pretty good. N650 which took another one of my rare N500 notes. But it would be only meal of the day (besides that crappy meat pie).

I left and went back to my hotel. I drank Stars until it was too dark to read and then went to bed. It wasn't fun sleeping. I still was sore all over and changing my position in bed took a force of will. I watched bad movies until they became soccer in Arabic and then the power went out. The generator soon started up (it's right outside my window) and the lights and fan came on at least. I turned off the TV and tried to sleep. A mosquito kept me up for a while but I couldn't defend myself from mosquitos all night. I eventually drifted off.

Monday, November 17, 21:10 Nigerian local time

Maradi, Niger To Kano, Nigeria: A Hard Fall And A Collision With A Motorcycle

2008-11-16T13:48:00.001-06:00

Well, the day started out fine enough. But I was headed to Nigeria--a country reputed for being hard. Would I conquer Nigeria? Or would Nigeria conquer me? The short answer: after one day, Nigeria has me in a headlock and choked off my oxygen supply.

I woke up and paid my CFA 6500 (US$13) hotel bill. Then for CFA 200, a moto-taxi to the autogare. I got there about 7am and after some shuffling between different cars that seemed more promising, I got a car for CFA 5000. They took me to a man who was willing to change Euros to Naira. I gave him €100 (five 20's) and got 14400 Naira. The internet rate was 14700 so I was pretty happy with the rate. But I was relying on faith that I could find an ATM in Kano. I knew about the one at the Hotel Central, at least. There must be more.

At 7:30, we were off with 8 people. At about 8:30, we reached the border. I got my exit stamp without any problem. The official copied a bunch of information from my passport into a ledger. There weren't any columns, just comma separated fields over 2 lines. I got my Nigerienne exit stamp. Then back into the car for a while until we reached the Nigerian border. I was looking forward to this. First was immigration. I went in and got a blue sheet to fill out. It asked all the typical questions. The only one that worried me was the address in Nigeria. I forget the name of the hotel and I didn't have my Lonely Planet. The only thing I remembered was that there was a Hotel Central that has an ATM that takes Visa. Then on the back of the blue sheet, the officer wrote out the names of fields like "Date of Issue" and "Place of Issue" with the information on my passport. Not the most efficient operation. He gave me my stamp. I was wondering if I'd have to pay a dash. But no. He didn't ask for money.

So immigration was relatively painless. So far so good. Next we went to the customs building. A guy saw me and called me into the customs area. He sat down and asked for my vaccination form. I produced it. This is a usual trick--if you can't produce it they don't refuse you entry but rather they request a dash. But mine was in order. So I went back out the car. This was painless.

Just as I was getting in, another guy snagged me. He brought me back into the building and led me upstairs to an office labeled the SSS office. He had me fill out another form with much of the same information as the blue form. But we wanted exact dates I'd be in the various cities I'd go to. After some explanation he agreed to let me just list the cities. I was wondering if he was fishing for a dash. When I finished, he took my passport and inspected the visa carefully asking me questions about it that were printed right on the visa in my passport. Then he flipped to the picture and details page. He looked at the picture. He looked at me. He looked at the picture. Then he looked at me again. "I don't think this is you." I explained that 8 years ago I weighed 235 lbs and now I'm about 150 lbs. I tried to push my cheeks forward to look more like the picture. "It doesn't look like you at all." Actually, I'm a bit flattered. I look much better now than I did then. Much better. He didn't say that exactly, but I'm sure he agreed as well. The driver of the car was there too. He asked the driver if he thought it was me. They chatted for a bit in their native language. I was getting nervous. I was actually afraid something like this would happen since I look so different now. People have commented on it before, but nobody has ever thought it wasn't me. And this is a government guy, so he has to thing it's me. Otherwise, who knows what might happen. Finally, he decided that it looked enough like me that he wouldn't treat it as a fake passport. His final question was about my goal. I said it was just tourism. He didn't buy it. But I told him that I had some money saved and just wanted to see West Africa. Finally, he handed me my passport.

We headed back downstairs and when we got to the lobby about to leave the building to go to the car, another guy called me into his section. A currency declaration form. I had to fill it out and then I counted my currency out. I had a bit less than when I went through the customs in Guinea when they stole my money. I counted out my euros (320), dollars (only 23), and CFA (30000). He eventually told me I could approximate. I guess they are only interested in amounts over $5000 since I had to check a box to that effect. That done, we headed out to the car. I got in. Was somebody going to come? Whew! Nobody else came. That whole thing must have taken 20 minutes. I felt sorry for the Nigerians in the car who just had to wait while all this happened. The nice thing is that they never asked for a dash. I did the whole border procedure without paying a cent.

Then it was a 4 hour ride to Kano. My right but cheek was on the thick wire that forms the outline of the seat cushion. It was painful as hell. There was no room to shift because there were 3 other big guys in the back seat. I just had to endure it. No choice.

Finally, we arrived and I found myself is chaotic moto-park that seemed to have no exit. Finally, I saw traffic and headed that way. I had no idea where I was. As I was leaving a man on a moto-taxi asked me if I needed to go somewhere. I asked if he knew La Mirage Motel. He didn't, and he didn't really even speak English. But there was a sort of moto-taxi dispatcher who knew and explained to the young man where it was. The price would be 200 Naira. It was a long way. And anyone who had ever ridden on the back of a motorcycle with a heavy backpack knows how uncomfortable that is. Pretty damn uncomfortable. As we got closer, the young man started asking locals for the hotel, except he had the name all wrong. Even after I corrected him on the pronunciation he continued to get the name wrong. But I was there to say the name and they all knew it. After about a ten minute ride where my waist muscles were literally shaking because of trying to hold my backpack on (prompting one guy to ask me if I was cold, even), we made it. I practically fell of the back of the motorcycle. My muscles were completely fatigued. The driver wanted 300 Naira and I was just happy to be there so I didn't argue. I just paid it. I went in. Lonely Planet put their prices at 1300 Naira (US$11) to 2500 Naira (US$20). It's gone up a bit. The cheapest rooms are 2000 Niara (US$18) but there weren't available. The next cheapest was 2800 Naira (US$23). That's more than I wanted to pay, but oh well. The room is pretty nice if a little unsecure looking. There is fan, AC, TV, and minifridge--though the power comes and goes. There is a private bath and toilet and they even provide a towel and toilet paper. But it's more than I want to pay.

So I'm in a new country with a new currency and task #1 after finding a room is finding an ATM. Fortunately, Murtala Mohammed street is filled with just about every Nigerian bank in existence. I headed down that way.

Along the way, I slipped on a slanted wooden plank covered in sand. I fell and I fell hard. I banged my right knee and got scraped pretty bad all along my right arm. But no time for that now.

I tried a bunch of ATMs. They either didn't work by giving some error message indicating they were unable to connect to something or they just said "No Useful App". I looked for the Central Hotel which is supposed to have a Visa ATM in its lobby, but when I found it after getting a little lost, it was under full renovations.

Semi-defeated I headed home. I figured I'd wait a little while and try later. Meanwhile, I had to clean up my bloody arm and hand. It stung a bit, but I got it all cleaned. It was sore and I needed a little rest.

Then at about 3:30, I headed out again. I hit the same ATMs that sort of worked. But still no luck. I popped into the Friends Internet Cafe and Bakery where I paid 250 Naira for an hour of internet time. I checked email, facebook, and some other stuff. Then, as it was going to get dark soon, I started to head home. At the roundabout at Murtala Mohammad and Bompai, I wanted to get from the north side of the street to the south side and then from the east to the west to get to the GTBank which said it couldn't access the issuer or switch (whatever than means). I got across the west bound lanes and to the median strip. Then there was a lull in the east bound traffic--about 3 lanes wide. I started going across. About half way, a wave of moto-taxis came around circle. I went a little further but they were coming fast. One was headed right for me.
I froze. I watched to my right as it came. It didn't look as if it was going to miss me but rather hit me dead on in my right side. I was frozen just watching it come right at me. I watched for about a second. Then, impact, dead on. For the next, what I think, was 3 seconds, I felt myself carried along by the front of the motorcycle thinking something along the lines of "I can't believe this is happening, I can't believe this is happening, I can't believe this is happening." Then there were I was on the ground, the driver was on the ground, a passenger was on the ground, the bike was on the ground, and various parts were scattered about.

The passenger in a Muslim style outfit got up and come over to me and led me to the side of the road and sat me down. Then he went over and helped the driver over. The people hanging out on the corner came over and gawked. The passenger brought the driver over. I apologized taking all the blame. The driver had a bloody lip and spit blood every ten seconds or so. But nothing else seemed out of line. He never said a word. The Muslim passenger did all the talking. They were about both about 25. After establishing that we all had nothing seriously wrong, he went and retrieved the headlight and a part for starting the motorcycle. I went out and retrieved the headlight casing which was pretty much a loss. I apologized again. I had no idea what was going to happen. But we were all pretty much OK. There was some minor damage to the bike. I asked how much it would cost to repair the bike. The Muslim pointed at the headlight and the casing. He said about 1500 Naira for one and 1600 Naira for the other. And about 500 to reattach the starter lever thing. And 500 Naira for the driver's lip. Finaly he said 2000 Naira for the bike and 500 for the lip so 2500 Naira. I pulled out a €20 bill and said that it was about 2800. The kids around there told him it was 2900. He seemed happy with it. But then I went into my dwindling Naira stash and pulled out 2 500 Naira notes and gave them to him as well. He seemed happy. Everyone tried to shepherd me off after I did that. I guess they realized that I thought I had more leverage than I thought and they wanted to save me from myself. In the end I got off pretty cheap money-wise: €20 and 1000 Naira (US$8). I assume it was my fault for being in the intersection, but what responsibility does a motorcycle have to not hit a pedestrian head on? It was a bit costly and I certainly got bruised and scraped.
I limped home. It was already dark by the time I got back. I wanted a Star beer because I'm collecting the back label of the Star beers from the Anglophone countries. My hotel bar only had Gulder so I went next door. There was no light. I had wanted to write into my journal, but that wasn't going to happen. I got my 60cl Star for 200 Naira (US$1.80). After that, I went to the restaurant of my hotel and got a meal very reminiscent of the meals I had on the Comanav ferry from Timbuktu to Gao for 400 Naira (US$3.60) though I think they overcharged me--it was supposed to be 300 Naira (US$2.70).

After that, I limped back to my room and watched a horrible movie called Camp Rock. Then a horrible movie about trailer trash flight attendants came on and I was watching it when the channel starting changing on its own and eventually turned into a soccer match commentated in Arabic.

Eventually I just turned off the TV. But I kept turning options over in my head. I was in the position where I have to call audibles. It's second down and long, and I got sacked hard.
I was panicked. I turned out the lights but kept turning on the lights to check things in the Lonely Planet. I did that until past 3am. I kept doing it. I couldn't find a comfortable position, either. I was pretty battered and bruised. My two incidents but pretty tender sections on my right arm and left arm respectively. I was pretty sore where the bike parts impacted my right side--especially where my rib cage broke off the headlight and where my right leg hit the frame.
So that was my first day in Nigeria.

Sunday, November 16, 2008 19:48 Nigerian local time

On Liter Two Or Three Of Bière Niger

2008-11-14T17:15:00.001-06:00

[[ I wrote this post while drinking 5 Bière Nigers (I was charged for 6, though). I am redacting parts that I wouldn't post sober, but I'm leaving a lot in given the interesting events of my first day in Nigeria--Mark Monday, November 17, 2008 9:07 am Nigerian local time.]]

So here I am at the Hotel Jangorzo in Maradi, Niger close to the Nigerian border on Friday night. I have not much CFA money and not able to lock my room securely so I can't go out.
Right now my life sucks. Bad! [Redacted] I'm back to square one in Seattle when I return. Hell, I'm probably even behind since it will be harder to find a job in this market than in the market when I last looked and landed a job on the second interview. [Redacted]

My iPod is toast. Maybe I can get it repaired when I return, but for the rest of my trip it is done. No more ABBA. I'm not a happy camper right now. And I'm about to enter the most aggressive African country, Nigeria. I have no idea what to expect--everyone has warnings. As long as I'm not the victim of criminal activity, I'll be OK. Lonely Planet says it's not a place for first-timers. I suppose I'm no longer a first-timer. I've been through quite a bit. I've been battle hardened. I still get ripped off, but I can take care of myself more than ever before. And I am pretty much immune to appeals to my sympathy. Tell me that if I don't give you 20¢, you'll starve to death? Then, I'll let you starve to death. Solving your problem is not my role. I'm a tourist. If you have something to sell that I want to buy and we agree on a price, we have a deal. Otherwise, if you want charity, don't come to me. I'll help the old and infirm but not just a merchant who failed to convince me to buy something. There is no consolation prize.

Today is a low point. Right now, I only want to go home. I have half a mind to get to Lagos and skip Cameroon--just change my Douala to Accra ticket on Dec 12th to just get me on the next Virgin Nigeria flight to Accra. I can get by in Accra with no problem. I can house myself cheaply and just hang out in Osu for a month until my KLM flight to ORD. But I won't. I've had low points before. I didn't give up those times. I won't give up now. It will be challenging. Actually, I think that Nigeria isn't as bad as everyone says. I think I'll be fine. I'll probably be there for 12 days. Then it's all Cameroon. The unknown is scary. But then the unknown becomes the known. My trip wasn't easy, but I know what I'm doing. In some ways I know people will be impressed by what I've done. But, having done it, I know how easy it was. It seems too easy. It seems unimpressive. I'm just taking it one day at a time. I see the problems in front of me but I just go forward without thinking--I can't think or I'd be paralyzed. And it turns out OK because that's just how life works. It's not me doing something incredible--it's just me living life ignoring fear out of necessity. Anyone else would do the same. Things just work out with or without my effort. Yet, I'll get credit for it. Do I deserve it? I don't feel like it. But a part of me also knows that I went through it. Maybe it isn't as easy as it seems. Maybe the ability to suspend thought and just persevere is something creditable, after all. Maybe I can feel proud of what I've done rather than think that anyone could do it but they just haven't tried. I don't know. I want to think so. But I have no choice. I can't but move in the direction I move. There is no other real option. When there is no option, is there merit in moving? When there is only one choice, why should anyone get credit if that choice seems like a hard choice? It's the only real choice.

Anyway, tomorrow I enter Nigeria. I will conquer or be conquered by Nigeria. I am confident that I will hold up to everything Nigeria has to offer. It may be hard, but so were my first two days in Dakar. I got a pretty rude introduction to West Africa and I got through it. It wasn't easy. I was filled with self-doubt and a desire to just get the hell out for a long time. I constantly weighed the cost of failure against the cost of forging ahead. I thought about just going to an airport and buying a ticket back to O'Hare for a long time. It wasn't until I was in Gabu, Guinea-Bissau that I broke through and realized that I could actually finish this. Since then, I haven't really had thoughts of going home early. I have them occasionally but nothing like the sustained thoughts of giving up I had in Senegal and Gambia. Right now, I'm having those thoughts again. I know I can fight them. All I really fear is the unknown. The unknown of how many Euros to change into Naira and whether to do it at the autogare or closer to the border. Do they even want Euros in Nigeria? The fear that there won't be a usable ATM in Kano. The fear that I won't have small enough currency to dash the Nigerian officials in all their various border procedures--apparently there are a bunch. The fear that some unscrupulous person in Nigeria will see that I'm white and stalk me until he can make off with my laptop and journal. There is a lot to fear. There is a lot of uncertainty. But I have learned to live with uncertainty. I know that I can get through anything. Even in French--and Nigeria is English speaking, so I have an advantage there since I actually understand what's going on around me.

Tomorrow I'll go to the autogare and head to Kano, Nigeria. It's a 4 hour trip. I'll get there early and find a place to stay and find an ATM. I'll do this because I have no choice. It is what I have to do. There is no courage in this. There is only the knowledge that there is one road and I have no choice but to travel it.

Sorry for my self-indulgent post. If I even post this. As I write this I have had quite a few beers. If I do post I when I'm sober and have better judgement then you, dear reader, get another glimpse into the reality of long term solo travel. [Redacted] A need to change their way of life from time to time to restore their sanity and humanity. To test their boundaries in ways they can't in their normal life. Or for me, a way to test those boundaries that I can test while avoiding the boundaries I'm still afraid to test. Maybe there are two reasons--to test boundaries otherwise untestable, and to test boundaries to prove you can still test boundaries while still being fearful of boundaries that are more available but more menacing. [Redacted] But I can learn French and travel in Francophone West Africa. As if the second success makes up for the first failure. It doesn't. [Redacted] I can do this trip, though--in French. And maybe if I can prove to myself that I can this, I can do what I couldn't do before. I don't know. What I do know is that I got sick of failure and inability to act. I had to do something. And I chose this rather extreme action as a sort of therapy. I'll find out when I get back. I have a lot less self doubt than before. But I still have a lot. I am way too introspective to ever not have self doubt. [Redacted]

Friday, November 14, 2008 23:15 Niger local time

Niamey To Maradi: With One Tragic Loss :-( And Now I Hate Niger Even More!

2008-11-14T12:48:00.002-06:00

I got up bright and early--both my iPod and watch alarms set to 3:30am. I snoozed a couple of times and got up, brushed my teeth, did the last minute packing and headed out to see the night watchman. He was sleeping in the lobby and woke up as I approached. We went out and turned right and went a block or so to a relatively major intersection. Then we waited. After about 5 minutes a cab came. The driver offered to take me for CFA 1000 (US$2). Oh well, I'm used to getting dinged when I'm white and have beaucoup baggages. I tipped the nightwatchman CFA 500 as well. So the taxi ride that would have been CFA 3000 from the driver the night before who offered to CFA 1500--CFA 500 of which was a tip and with a little more time could have been CFA 500 only. Not bad. I'm learning.

I got to the SNTV station which was already chaos. I had no idea what was going on. After a while, the baggage enregistrement guy came and everyone flocked up to him. He takes the tickets one by one and copies a bunch of information off the ticket onto as many luggage tags as the ticket holder needs. It is not an efficient process. My bus was supposed to leave at 5:30 and it was 5:15. I didn't know what to do. I got two tags eventually. Then a baggage handler took my bags and requested CFA 500. There are three doors--one labeled International Lines and two labeled National Lines. A bunch of Bamako-bound people went through the National Lines door. It was getting close to 5:30 and I kept trying to get out to where the buses where but they kept telling me I couldn't go through this door. The whole thing is chaotic as hell. Finally someone told me our bus leaves at 6 and I should wait at the middle door. I waited and time ticked off. I had no idea what was going on. Finally at 6, they told me that I had to go through the door marked International Lines to get to my bus and that it had boarded long before. So I went through and got a seat in the very back.

At 6:30 we left. The trip is supposed to be about 9 hours. I had my laptop on the seat next to me. Everything was fine until 10am. Then we hit a massive pothole and I went flying. My laptop case flew too and landed on the worst corner it could land on--the corner where I keep my iPod. I gathered up the laptop case and kept it restrained the rest of the trip which wasn't easy. From 10:00 to 11:30 we were offroading at highway speeds in the bus and my butt felt like the hammer of a pile driver. From 11:30 to the end, it wasn't offroading so much but still we hit a big pothole that knocked us all around about once a minute for large stretches of time. Fortunately, there were also large stretches of time where it was pretty smooth and my butt could recover. We kept stopping for stuff, but it wasn't as bad as on the way to Niamey. At 4pm, we stopped at a town before Maradi and the bus had a hard time leaving. It reversed and then went forward and seemed to get out whatever bind it was in. We headed down the road and, after about a minute, started smelling something burning. We stopped. Oh boy, I thought. Another breakdown story for my blog. But alas, they figured out the problem soon enough and we headed away and the burning smell went away. So nothing good like our flat tire on the way to Segou. Oh well.

It was interesting watching the architecture change. The cylindrical buildings that dominate the more western regions turn into sort of bulbous buildings--maybe 4 or 5 meters in diameter at the center. The conical roofs start to become more rounded and instead of ending in a cone point end in a sort of cylinder--like the top of the Capitol building where all the grass is bound together. Also, these bulbous buildings also have smaller grass caps. Sort of like yarmulkes but shaped more like those wide cone straw Vietnamese hats. They are perhaps 2 meters in diameter and cover the bulbous buildings sometimes on top, sometimes cocked to the side. There are plenty of the square flat roofed buildings with the drain spouts as well as there in the Sahel.

At about 5pm, we arrived in Maradi. It looked like they have an ATM that takes Visa. I didn't see one in Niamey. Would they have one in Maradi but not Niamey? Oh well, too late now. The hotel I wanted to stay at is just down the road from the bus station. I got my stuff--happy it was in fact there--and headed down to the hotel. There were a few other French people and I wanted to get to the hotel before them just in case. The place had 3 rooms left--room '4', room 'F' and room 'H'. They showed me the nice room--room '4'--with the private bathroom first. Not bad, but 16500 CFA and I don't to shell out $33 for a room in this town. So I had them show me a room with the shared bath for CFA 6500 (US$13). Room 'F'. Definitely not as nice, but I'll just be here over night and will get the hell to Nigeria tomorrow morning. It looked good and I took it. The guy gave me the key and left. I looked at the key--not what I expected. It was the head of the key. The key part was broken off in the lock. I called him back. He tried to show me that I can lock it from inside and it would be locked. "Peut-on utiliser un tournevis?" "Non!" he assured me. I got out my Swiss Army knife and pulled out the screwdriver part and locked the door like he showed me. Then I opened it with the screwdriver of the Swiss Army knife. He acted like this was a shocking revelation. "C'est ne pas sûr" I said and we switched to the other room with the shared toilets--room 'H'. That room seemed good for a while, but then I noticed that the door knob was attached to a piece of wood that wasn't properly nailed to the door. I locked it and tried to open the door despite it being locked. Easy! Dammit! This place has cheap rooms, but they might as well have neon signs saying "Bienvenue Voleurs".

Oh well, I'll deal with it. I opened my laptop case. OK--this was going to be scary. My laptop took a hard spill and landed on the corner where I keep my iPod. My heart pounded. I took my iPod out. The touch screen was shattered down at the bottom where the button is. Fuck! I hate fucking Niger and its fucking potholes roads and the fucking SNTV that takes the potholes at highway speeds. It turns on but in recovery mode. Next I took out my laptop. Whew! No problems there. The iPod wants to be connected to iTunes and I connected it. iTunes said the iPod was in recovery mode. I clicked the recovery button. But I'm not connected to the damn internet so it can't do anything other than complain that it's not connected to the internet. I have one month left in Africa. I have iTunes, so I can listen to all the songs I downloaded from iTunes because iTunes vouched for them when I moved my iPod management from my desktop which is now in storage to my laptop. But the CDs I loaded into iTunes by myself are gone. That means no ABBA. No ABBA. Let that sink in. No ABBA. For a whole month. No ABBA. I don't know if I can survive. I have a playlist of downloaded songs I listen to and ABBA Gold. I alternate between them. Now, no ABBA Gold. Screw you, SNTV! Screw you Apple!

The hotel has a bar--though nobody is in it. Apparently this region of Niger is pretty strict Muslim territory. Bars are as welcome here as in Salt Lake City. There is one bar described as hedonistic and I wanted to check it out. But I can't lock my door, I'm just going to stay here with my laptop and my journal in their bar. Those are my 2 of my 4 irreplaceables. The third is my iPod--but they can have that now. And I always have my ultimate irreplaceable on me--my passport.

The bar has small Heinekens for CFA 1000 (US$2) and half liter Bière Nigers for CFA 700 (US$1.40). So I went cheap. At least it's cold.

So that was my day. One iPod down. But I'm close to the border with Nigeria and I'll quit this awful Niger. Tomorrow I'll be in Kano. They will have ATMs and I'll get Naira and spend a couple of days there loading up on it. Then I'll head to Lagos to get my Cameroonian visa. After that, I'll go to a few places in Nigerian and get to Cameroon. Then, I just gotta make sure I'm at the airport in time for my flight to Ghana. On a horrible day like today, I really look forward to Ghana and Chicago and home. In Ghana I'll shop for all the stuff I wanted to buy all along. I'll do that in the morning and in the evening I'll go to Ryan's Irish Pub.

Friday, November 14, 2008 18:48 Niger local time

Malanville, Benin To Niamey, Niger: Another Test Of My Patience

2008-11-13T00:51:00.000-06:00

I got up and enjoyed the coolness of Malanville. I even had to turn my fan down. And to think they wanted to charge me an extra CFA 10000 for AC. I stayed in bed for a while waiting for the light to appear and soon it did. I left.

As soon as I left the Rose des Sables, there was a guy with a scooter and a heavy winter coat. It's nice and cool, but not heavy winter coat weather. He turned around when he saw me. He said he could get me to Gaya, Niger for CFA 2000 which is twice the price in Lonely Planet. I told him I could walk it. He offered CFA 1500. I looked at his scooter and said it was too small. I would rather walk. I started on my way in the nice cool air. OK, CFA 1000. I got on. He went pretty slow and when he got to the downtown Malanville, he passed me off to a guy with a bigger motorcycle and got CFA 400 from him. The new guy took me a ways to the exit visa place. They were just starting to operate. I was the first exit visa and they had to unpack their stuff. They had me fill out a sheet with all the usual questions. I had made sure I packed a Bic in my pocket, of course. Always have a Bic for customs. I filled out the sheet and they looked it over carefully filling in my hotel last night and expected hotel this night (I had to look up Chez Tatayi in the Lonely Planet to answer that one). Then I got my stamp. Back onto the motorcycle to cross a big bridge. As soon as we got across, that was Niger. Again, another sheet to fill in. The woman checked it carefully against everything I had and then gave me my entry stamp. Back onto the motorcycle. It's a long way from the bridge to the gare routière. The whole thing is walkable if you have a lot of time, but I'm a guy who considers pretty long distances walkable and I'd basically say this is not walkable.

At the gare routière, they had minibuses but no sept-places. That didn't please me particularly. I want a sept-place. Sept-places always blow by minibuses on the road. And minibuses take longer to fill up. But it was before 8am. The trip would be about 6 hours and I figured even if we leave at 11, that's an hour and a half of daylight to search for a hotel. The only thing I was apprehensive of--Lonely Planet says that hotel rooms are hard to find in Niamey and you had better make your reservations well in advance. Hmmmm....

The men and boys controlling the vehicle told me that I could have the front seat for CFA 500. I had already paid CFA 4100 (US$8.20) for a ticket so I didn't want to pay extra for the front seat. I waited for the women in the back to finish eating because their food was on the fold down seat and went to find a seat. But the floor of the minibus was filled with junk, the spare tire, and all sorts of mechanical stuff. I turned around and gave them CFA 500 and got in the front seat.

I was nervous about getting to Niamey before the sun goes down. At 9am when the car started moving, I felt better. At 9:05 when I realized that they only moved it to a shadier place, I felt worse. Every beggar in Gaya was coming up to me and asking for money. I explained that I didn't have enough coins and turned them all away. At 10am we still have no air of leaving. Nor at 11. Finally, at noon, we left. Gee, that would put us in Niamey at 5 or 6 and that's not much daylight. I hate searching for places in the night. Once the sun goes down, things get a lot harder to find. A block from the gare routière, I saw a bus station that advertised daily buses to Niamey at 8:30am. Damn. That would have gotten me to Niamey in much better time. The big buses are faster because they have big double wheels and glide over potholes whereas the minibuses have to pick through them.

The road sucked. More potholes that you can imagine and we were competing for road space with scores of slow-moving trucks carrying cargo to Niger and coming back empty (I presume). We often got stuck behind trucks that were also trying to avoid all the same potholes. It isn't often that there is enough unpocked straightaway that we could pass them.

And Niger sure has more than its share of police checkpoints. As soon as you pass the Douanes (they spell it in English as Custums), there is a Gendarmerie checkpoint. Or a Syndicat check-point. We even got stopped for a while at a toll gate by a policeman. Then there are the bathroom breaks, prayer breaks (yes, Niger is very Muslim), and some breaks that I didn't understand at all. It sucks. I had to show my passport twice.

A guy in the seat behind me ascertained that I was American and then started asking me to help him get to America. I am starting to get annoyed by this request so I told him he needed to apply for a visa. He wanted me to go to the embassy with him. I told him that I can get into the section for American citizens but not to the foreign citizens' section. Every time we stopped he came and pressed me to take him to America. "America good" he kept repeating. Over and over--"America good". And he puts his face really close to mine which annoyed the hell out of me. He was pretty serious until I got exasperated and told him that it is hard to find a good job in America and if he didn't want to apply for a visa by himself I didn't know how he could find a job. Then he just started telling me to try to fit him into my laptop case.

Soon the road got a lot better, but it was already mid-afternoon and the sun wasn't high. Every stupid stop at the Gendarmerie or the Douanes or the Syndicat or whatever took time off the available sunlight. I was getting stressed. We passed a speed controlled giraffe crossing and I looked for giraffes, but didn't see any.

Finally, at a little after 6pm, we rolled into a gare routière in Niamey. The sun was low.

We were at the Wadata Autogare. That means were we just a block from the Chez Tatayi. A taxi driver asked where I wanted to go. I told him the Chez Tatayi. He said it was about 2km away. Ha! I know that one. I still remember the taxi driver at the station in Sevaré trying to charge me CFA 1000 to take me next door. I showed the map. Other people also said the Tatayi was just a small ways away. The "America good" guy called them to ask if they had a room and said he'd meet me there at 7. What the hell, OK. He probably wants to try to convince me to go to the embassy with him. So with the last bit if daylight, I headed out. After about 2 minutes I saw an internet café and realized that I was probably on the wrong street. A compass check proved it. It only took 2 minutes, but already it was only half as light. I turned around and walked 2 minutes down the correct street. It had to be there somewhere, but I didn't see it. Now it was dark. Dammit! Four wasted hours waiting for that damned minibus to leave. I asked some men outside a bookstore. They pointed at a building and said it used to be that building, but now it has moved. It is now next to the Grand Hôtel. I'd have to take a taxi. Niamey has a shared taxi system and I had baggage. So I would need a deplacement--French for a taxi for just yourself. I went closer to the Wadata station since it should have taxis. It was dark and I couldn't see into the cabs to see if they were empty--for a deplacement you need an empty one. Finally, one came by. CFA1500 for a deplacement. OK. It is a long way to the Grand Hôtel rond-pont. But we made it. And they had a room for me. It was a bit more than I want to pay, but I won't spend much time in Niamey.

I went across the street and got a refreshing bottled water (CFA 500) and then the tourist information center which is right across the street from Chez Tatayi has an inexpensive little bar. I told the hotel people waiting out in front to send the guy over to the bar if he came. I had 2 Flags which were so cold they even had ice on the bottle. Then a guide came up and started trying to sell me batiks and tours to see giraffes and hippos. He had large batiks and wanted CFA 10000. I got him down to CFA 3000 on one I liked and eventually bought it. The "America Good" man never showed up.

Thursday, November 13, 2008 6:51 Niger local time

Parakou To Malanville: It's Like Guinea-Conakry Again!

2008-11-11T14:42:00.000-06:00

I got up and headed down to the gare routière near the traffic circle of the prefecture. I was quickly shepherded to the car to Malanville, the city right on the border with Niger. CFA 4500 (US$9) would get me to Malanville in a sept-place that would carry 9 people. I got there perhaps a bit late since there were still quite a few places to fill. If I had been an hour earlier, I probably could have gotten a previous sept-place. Oh well. It was about 8:30 and even when I'm early, we often wait until nine. I chatted with a woman named Martine who works for PAM which is the World Food Program. PAM is probably Programme d'Alimentation Mondiale, but that's just a guess. We were there a long time and Martine was as anxious to get on the road as I was. We finally left at 11:20am. I got a supremely uncomfortable back seat but it's better than the even worse front seats. The two people in the front seat were a big woman and a big man. But the driver objected and swapped the big man with a skinny man so he would better access to the stick. Then we were off. We didn't get very far when we stopped for gas as is usually the case.

The gas stations in Benin tend not to be the Western style gas stations but people on the side of the street with old bottles of Pastis and whatever other alcoholic beverages filled with gas sitting on a rickety table. Also, they usually have one or two large ~3 gallon spherical jugs. When we stopped, the gas man put a funnel in the gas tank and laid a cloth across the funnel. Then, he glugged 2 of the big jugs into the funnel. I'm not sure what this system is. Maybe it is tax free illegal smuggled gas from Nigeria, Benin's next door oil rich neighbor? It can't be too illegal because these gas stations abound and they are pretty damn unregulated--being nothing more than a wooden table and a dozen old liquor bottles and a couple of big jugs. They don't even have caps on the bottles usually. When you walk by one of these it always smells like gas.

The road between Parakou and Malanville has roughly two halves. The first is pocked with potholes. We were swerving and trying to pass trucks that were also swerving to avoid potholes that they could see but we couldn't. It was pretty bad in the back seat which is right over the rear axle. On top of that, the driver usually erred on the side of hitting a pothole on the passenger side to reduce his own level of discomfort. The air coming in wasn't refreshing at all, but hot. It was just like being back in Guinea-Conakry. Overcrowded, hot, uncomfortable, and miserable for 5 interminable hours. But that's the Africa I like. That's why I came.

We passed many many trucks overturned on the side of the road. I see trucks overturned from time to time, but there must have been half a dozen on this 300km stretch. Unbelievable.

Finally, we passed a police checkpoint and that marked the change in the road from potholed as hell to paved as heaven. We only had to slow down when passing stalled trucks with oncoming traffic. But after that it was smooth. The breeze from the window was still hot. The few times we stopped for a bathroom break or to let someone out, it was actually somewhat pleasant outside. But the wind was just hot.

The architecture started changing to the familiar architecture of Mali. I'm back in the Sahel. I'll try to blow through Niger pretty fast since the Sahel doesn't agree with me. Besides, I have one month till I board a plane to Accra. That's only 30 days to get through Niger, Nigeria, and Cameroon. And I need to get a visa in Lagos and avoid the Niger river delta area so I'll enter Cameroon from the north. I have to play it safe and pad some margin into my schedule and blowing through the Sahel seems like the most agreeable way to do that.

A little after 5pm we arrived. I got out and took a moto-taxi to the Rose des Sables hotel. It took a few tries to get a room in my price range. The first room he showed me was an air-conditioned bungalow. The second a fan cooled bungalow. Finally the third, a death-row inmate cell. I took the prison cell for CFA 7000 (US$14). Sadly they didn't have beer there so I had to walk to the other, more expensive hotel, to have a beer and a big bottle of water. I also had Sauté de Lapin à Provencial. Then I headed back to my hotel just up the street and got ready to wake up and head to Niger.

It will be good to be in Niamey because I need to get to the internet. My parents are probably starting to freak out since I haven't been online or made a withdrawal since the election.

Tuesday, November 11, 2008 20:42 Benin local time

Abomey To Parakou Via Bohica

2008-11-11T01:42:00.000-06:00

I left the Bar Vulcain at about 9am completely cured of my mild cold. The owner said I should go to Bohica and get the Confort lines bus. I would rather take a bus taxi, but he insisted that I couldn't get a bush taxi to Parakou at the gare routière in downtown Abomey. I didn't think I believed him but I also didn't scope it out the day before. I also didn't want to take a mototaxi 9 km away on a street with a bunch of speed bumps that they have between Abomey and Bohica. But I did anyway. The mototaxi was CFA 800 (US$1.60) and since I had my backpack on, I was a tad off balance and by the time we got their, my back muscles were pretty tired and sore. But we made it.

I had thought that Confort Lines was the only bus line there and that there was a chance it would be full because it from Cotonou. But, there are actually about 5 or 6 different bus companies. The prices seem to range from CFA 4000 to CFA 5500. I got the MJB bus which was CFA 4000. I waited and after about a half hour, it came. I got the last seat by the rear exit door which never quite closed properly. We left a little after 10am. There are a lot of speed bumps and some towns that can't afford real speed bumps set logs out to make the traffic slalom through the town. But other than that, the road is pretty good.

They gave away a free sachet of water, but it tasted pretty bad. About half way through at a stop I got a small bag of frozen chocolate milk from a guy with a bicycle with Fan brand frozen milk products in a cooler.

As we passed through Parakou, I saw the hotel I wanted to stay in--the Hotel les Canaris. After a few blocks we were at the station. It is nice that MJB Bus Lines has its station close to the hotel. There were moto-taxi guys there, but I was close enough to walk. I should have gotten a quote just to see how much they would have tried to charge me.

The Canaris had rooms. Nice rooms with a toilet with a seat a and shower with running water. Even a TV with 3 channels. Only CFA 6000 (US$12). I checked in and asked if their beer was cold. The man at the counter said yes, so I ordered a Castel. But when it came it wasn't that cold. Their drink menu has something I've never seen on a menu before--CFA 500 for a "verre cassé." They actually charge you a dollar if you break a glass. After finishing the warm beer, I headed out in quest for the 2 internet cafés shown on the Lonely Planet map. It was a long walk and I couldn't find either one. Also, of the three places that serve pizza, I couldn't find 2 and there was only one left--Le New Cigale. So I went up there. As I passed the last traffic circle to get there, there was an internet café but it was packed. So I just went to Le New Cigale and ordered a Quattre Fromages pizza (CFA 4500==US$9), a Salade Mexicaine (CFA 1800==US$3.60), and couple of small Castels. This time the beer was ice cold. The waitress tried to convince me to get a room there--only CFA 5000. But, I'm leaving the next day. Otherwise, if you want to stay in a place that has about 5 different pizzas ranging from $7 to $9 and beer that's almost frozen, and has an internet café close by, Le New Cigale seems like a pretty good place.

Tuesday, November 11, 2008 7:42 Benin local time

Abomey: There Are Days You Get And Days You Wish For

2008-11-10T02:25:00.000-06:00

I woke up. Sniffles. Dammit! I don't want sniffles again. I'm sick of this cold! I waited in my room until about 10am. Then I figured I better go out an tell them that I planned to spend one more day in Abomey since I had a cold and didn't want to travel to Parakou with a cold. I looked a few times and there wasn't a man working the grounds when I looked. Finally, after an hour of looking from 9am, I headed out and asked a woman "ou se trouve the gerant?" She didn't quite understand me. But she pointed to the man at the gate. I went to him. I told him that I wouldn't leave today because of my cold and gave him CFA 10000 for the room. He took the money but I didn't recognize the guy. Anyway, I headed out to see some of the other temples and palaces. They were all pretty much on the same model--big square buildings with walled courtyards and reliefs of animals and symbols of power.

I went back to make sure I gave the CFA 10000 to the right guy. I guess I did. I asked for the change so I could have some small money, but he said he didn't have change and just gave me the CFA 10000 back.

Then, I headed to Chez Monique. This is a hotel on the north side of town. It has a nice outdoor seating area and cold beer. At about 2:30 in the afternoon, about 20 white people all came out and sat at a table and ate. Some had T-shirts that said STAFF on the back. Some French humanitarian mission--IFVSVP or something like that. After they ate, one woman who was holding a sleeping African child sat near me. I asked "est-ce que il est malade?" but she said he wasn't--just fatigué. She explained why he tired, but my French wasn't good enough to understand. Then a really cute 35-ish staff woman came and brought tea to the woman with the tired child. She sat down and I was happy about that. But, in the end, they all went back until dinner when the all came out en masse again. After a while I met another American woman working for UNICEF. We talked about the election, mostly. She got roped into watching a voodoo ceremony so she went off to see that. The guy who took her tried to convince me to come as well, but it sounded too expensive. Like many hotels that cater to tourists, they have artists who sell stuff there. I bought a little cloth map of Africa. It was kind of fun because there were a bunch of maps and there were some errors. I helped them. One had Nigeria listed as Cameroun and Cameroun as Cameroune. One had Guinea-Bissau and Gambie swapped.

Finally, it was late and I started to my hotel. A few steps outside, I met a guy who sells stuff at the Motel d'Abomey. He asked how much I paid for my map (I'm not sure how he knew I bought the map) and told me he would have sold it to me for half the price. He kept asking how much I paid and I kept saying "je oblie." Finally he told me to hop on his motor-bike and he'd take me to the Bar Vulcain. When we got to the fork where he should have gone right, he went left though. I told him he took a wrong turn, but he said he didn't. I was starting to get worried. I steeled myself to possibly defend myself if this was a crime in progress. Finally he stopped in front of some place downtown. I told him that it was not the Bar Vulcain. Then he took me to the Bar Vulcain. He drove right into the courtyard where the owner was with his wife. Then he got off and sat down. He said the owner was his little brother. I asked him why he took me to the wrong place if he knows the Bar Vulcain so well. I didn't get a satisfactory answer.

Anyway, I decided to sit down with the owner and this guy and the wife. We started drinking palm wine in which pieces of wood were soaked. Pretty strong stuff. They asked me what all African men ask me. If I'm married and have kids. No and no. The motorcycle guy said he has 5 women. The owner said he has 2, "elle" he said pointing to the one next to him, "et elle" he said pointing to another woman. She eventually joined us. They asked me how many women I wanted. I said one. At that the woman who was the first wife of the owner started on this rant against the guy with 5 women. I don't know what it was about, but I can guess. I had a little bit of this crushed paste stuff in a fish sauce. And we all had more palm wine. The owner asked me how much a small computer would cost. I tried to tell him that big ones cost less than small ones but he didn't understand that. I started to explain that "la probleme est avec le chaleur. Une ordinateur petite est dificile à controller le chaleur...." But I figured that he wasn't going to understand me even if I could find the French to explain the thermal problems of computers and how smallness is harder to manage because you have to get the heat out.

His wife situation was interesting. The first wife was more well put together--her hair obviously done professionally. The second wife was more educated and when he wanted to make sure I understood something, he had her write it out on a tablet in French. I got the idea that of the three, only she could write French.

By the time I went to sleep, my sniffles were gone.

Monday November 10, 2008 8:25 Benin local time

Full Day In Abomey

2008-11-09T02:24:00.000-06:00

I got up a bit late since I still have a mild cold. I finally left at about 10 and walked downtown and then headed north to the Musée Historique d'Abomey. But when I got there, I had a problem. I did have a CFA 1000 and a CFA 2000 bill, but I wasn't willing to use them because after those, I had nothing but CFA 10000 bills left. Already one place didn't want the CFA 10000 because he couldn't make change. So I went in and when the ticket woman came, I handed her the CFA 10000 bill. She said she didn't have small bills. I told her I didn't have any either. Finally I said I might came back later. I left. I wandered around the downtown looking for places where I change the CFA 10000 into something smaller. The gas station guy wouldn't do it. The banks were closed because it was Saturday. Finally, I went back to the Motel d'Abomey and ordered a beer. As the expensive hotel in town, it would have larger amounts of all denominations. I ordered a small Castel beer for CFA 850. That gave me a CFA 5000 and 2 CFA 2000 notes.

I headed back to the museum having lost an hour. I still wasn't going to pay the CFA 2500 entrance fee with with of my CFA 2000 notes. I was back an hour later and I gave her a CFA 5000 bill. She wasn't happy. But she took it and wrote that they owed me CFA 2500 on the back of the ticket. I went in and a tour had just started. It was in French and I didn't get much but I got some. It's an interesting museum. It was the palace of some of the Dahomey kings. They were a blood thirsty lot. There are several buildings with these high relief depictions of various things. One king has decapitations, killings, torturing, and other such bloody scenes. The last one we saw was of a horse with a necklace with the head of the enemy hanging in front. The tour guide and a couple of the women in the large tour group sang a song that is probably about that event. There would be another depiction of a horse with the enemy head necklace in another place as well. We saw all sorts of things. There is a throne on top of 4 skulls of vanquished enemies. The tour guide kept telling jokes but I didn't get them. But the people on the tour were having a good time. We went to the mausoleum of one king. We had to take off our shoes and socks and went in. There was a bed and just to the right of the bed, a cloth on the floor. Another smaller cloth was a meter of two away from the larger cloth in the ground. I assume the cloth covers the grave. I'm not sure what the smaller cloth is for. The tour was quite long. Over an hour. But it was interesting.

At the end, I went to the front desk and presented the IOU. The tour guide was there and she had to come up with the CFA 2500 from her personal cash. This museum really needs to be able to make change for tickets. It is a UNESCO World Heritage site and gets lots of visitors.

I was pretty wiped out since I still am fighting a cold so I went to have a water and a beer at the local place I went to the previous night. I sat there and after a while a 20-25 year old cute Asian girl came in. She looked for the owner who was sleeping. I tried to get her attention to point him out, but she got on her phone and started talking with someone. I heard her say "moshi-moshi" as she walked over to a table on the other side of the place. She made some more phone calls and then started writing stuff into an organizer.

I decided that I would try to talk to her. But I'm not good at approaching random women and just starting to talk. I suck at it. I was trying to figure out what to say. I was trying to remember the word for "to reside" but I couldn't. Then, as if it wasn't me, I observed myself get up out of my chair and start to walk over. It was like a part of me was acting while the other part was still trying to figure out what was happening. There is a small wall between her and the area I was in. I leaned on the wall and said "sumimasen, Nihon no kata desu-ka." She turned to me, a mixture of shock and delight on her face. That put me at ease. Certainly the last thing she expected was some random white guy coming up to her and speaking to her in Japanese in Abomey, Benin. She is a JICA volunteer. It's like the Japanese Peace Corps. I got the lowdown in it from some Peace Corps people. JICA is better funded and the qualifications necessary to get into the JICA program are much stricter for the volunteers, so they are the cream of the crop. We chatted for a while. There are 3 JICA volunteers in Abomey. She works with handicapped children and is 2 months into a 2 year stay. I told her about where I lived. She is from Nagoya, so we lived in the same area. I have been to Nagoya many many many times. After a while she had to meet other people so we parted. It was nice to have another chance to speak Japanese.

I returned to my room and rested for a while. Then for dinner I decided to got to The Source--a place with cous-cous an chicken. It was a long walk to get there. I didn't think it would be so long. It came with a big helping of cous-cous and chicken in onion and tomato. It was pretty good and with two small Castels, only CFA 3300 (US$6.60). I walked back and fell asleep in front of the oscillating fan.

Sunday, November 9, 2008 Benin local time

Porto Novo To Abomey

2008-11-08T04:12:00.000-06:00

I got up late in Porto Novo and headed to the gare routière which is close to the Hotel Détente. I asked about the car to Abomey and they told me I have to show up 5am or 6am to get a car to Abomey. If I want to get to Abomey, I would have to go to Cotonou and get a car to Abomey there. OK. So I returned to the hotel, packed up, and headed out.

The car to Cotonou was a 6 person car, but since I was the first, I had the option of buying both front seat tickets for CFA 1400 instead of one for CFA 700. It would be more comfortable, we'd have one less person to wait for, and it's only US$1.40 more. Besides, these guys weren't charging me for my luggage. So I agreed. The wait wasn't that long except that the beggars all came up to me asking for money. I gave some to a few of them and then more came and I stopped. The beggars didn't stop. Finally, we drove away. About an hour later we were at the Marché Dantokpa in Cotonou. My fear was that I'd have to find another gare (Gare Misébo) for the cars to Abomey, but they had cars to Abomey right there. A guy led to me them and was delighted with the CFA 500 coin I gave him. Now I just had wait for one more person. And it was a long wait. About an hour.

I chatted with a guy named Benjamin for most of that hour. He is Beninois but lives in Port Harcourt Nigeria in the canteen for GE. It was fun to talk to him. He's a nice guy. He doesn't understand why white people do trips like this. He also doesn't my no sex in Africa policy. He thinks I should partake of the local ladies.

He was waiting for a friend coming from Abomey and his friend arrived so we said goodbye and then soon my car was ready to go. The road to Abomey is half bad and half under construction. It took about 3 hours to get there. Once there, I got a moto-taxi to go the hotel I chose--Vulcain. It's pretty basic. CFA 5500 (US$11) per night gets you a room with a concrete floor, shower with a bucket, a fan, mosquito net, and a desk. The toilet is a small room in another building with a 20cm x 20cm square hole in the floor. As it is a bar, I asked for a water and a beer, but it took a long time for them to come and when they did, they weren't very cold. So I went out to find another place. There is a place just to the north. I asked if he had cold beer. My suspicion was that the Vulcain people came here to get the beer and water so maybe it wouldn't be cold here either. I asked if I could touch the bottle. It was cold. So I stayed. I had a couple while an old man came and sat with me. He had these huge red glasses that didn't fit his face at all. I suspect they are a pair of old glasses donated by a woman to poor countries--probably not long after Sally Jesse Raphael went off the air. I didn't understand much of what he said, but we managed to communicate a little bit. He had a Coca-Cola. Three school girls--maybe late teens--were at a table behind me listening to our conversation. I suspect that not many white people wind up at this particular establishment. I noticed that there were a lot of school girls. They all wear these beige uniforms. Education seems to a priority in Abomey. Finally it was getting dark, so I headed to the restaurant of the Motel d'Abomey where I had chicken curry. I was the only customer for a while, but at the end, people started coming in. When I left, it was dark, so I kept a lookout for holes in the ground as I had seen a couple on the way over. I avoided them and made it back safely.

Saturday, November 8, 2008 10:12 Benin local time

Cotonou To Porto Novo And Porto Novo

2008-11-08T03:06:00.001-06:00

On Thursday morning, I went out and headed down to the Marché Dantokpa. The taxis for Porto Novo are supposed to leave from there. I found the chaos that is their gare routiére and asked people where the cars are to Porto Novo. They are on a small street just at the intersection with the big street. I looked for a landmark so I'd see it again. It's just across the street from a 2 storey building with Heineken painted on the side. That'll be easy to find again.

So I headed back to my hotel and got a book and went to have one last pastry and coffee at Gerbe d'Or. The news was on and still the big news is Barack Obama. After an hour or so, I headed to a bookstore and got another Paulo Coehlo book, Veronika Décide de Mourir. Then back to the hotel. I packed and headed out.

It is a long hot walk from the Hotel de Crillon to the Marché Dantokpa. I stopped and got a sachet of water for CFA 25 (US$0.05). The salesgirl warned me that "c'est ne pas bien gelée" but it was good enough. I got to the cars. The cost to Porto Novo is CFA 700 (US$1.40) but they charged me CFA 1000 because of all my luggage. Fair enough. These cars are 5 person cars--2 in the front seat and 3 in the back. That means not a long wait. Whew! Only one more person. I got another sachet of water and it was colder. Now I was sitting in the car sucking down the water from a hole bit into the corner and by the time I finished we were ready to go.

The road to Porto Novo is slow and polluted with exhaust fumes. My eyes were stinging. It took about an hour and I arrived in Porto Novo at about noon. I wasn't sure where we were, but I got a moto-taxi and had it take me to the Hotel Détente. The driver had to ask someone and even with those direction, once I could see the sign obviously in front of us, the driver seemed to not see it. I wonder if he can't read. So I had to get the driver to turn around and go down the street with the Détente and even when we reached the building with the sign Détente, the driver passed it. But we made it and I gave him CFA 300 (US$0.60). The Détente had a room me. Whew!

The rooms there are OK. There is a private shower and a shared toilet. The shower dripped, but the faucet was broken so I had to fill a bucket from the sink. The light bulb for the room was red.

As the Détente is also a bar and I was hot, I got a small beer. Then I headed out to the Ethnographic Museum--the one thing I wanted to see in Porto Novo. Entrance is CFA 1000 (US$2) and I got a guide who is studying English. I had a bit of the sniffles--I caught a slight cold the day after the election as my defenses were weakened by my all nighter. So I was a bit tired--a bit too tired for a long tour. And a long tour it was. We started with the door to the place. He described several of the symbols found on the door. In more detail than I needed. Next we went to a wooden map of Benin that showed the cities and language groups. He went into detail on each language group and each city leaving no city or language group out. These were done in the hot sun. Finally, we got to go inside the building--but not before a detailed history of the building which was an orphanage, administrative building, and finally the museum. And not before he described two statues made of metal machine parts welded together showing a king and one of his wives who carries a spittoon because if someone gets a hold of the king's spit, it can be used to lay a voodoo curse on him. Inside, finally.

The museum is organized along the phases of life. There are 3 rooms and 2 halls. The first room is about pregnancy and birth. There was a mock up of a pregnant woman going to the Fa priest. The priest uses 8 pieces of these parts with a flat and a round side strung together. Essentially he generates a random byte by grabbing the middle and laying down the flat/round sided parts to generate 2 random nibbles. Each nibble has a name. There is a wall that shows the name of each nibble. He went through about 6 of them. He also enumerated several other reasons why one might consult a Fa priest trying to make sure he left nothing out. The pregnant woman has a lot of duties during the pregnancy including drinking a certain tea from a certain pot which she must at least do in the morning, though she make it at other times as well. She also has to wear a belt below the baby which prevents bad spirits from getting in. Each month she adds a link to the belt. Then there are things for the baby to wear when it comes out. Then there are some ceremonies--the naming ceremony 6 days later for a girl and days later for a boy, or something like that. Then 1 month after (though it used to 3 months in the past) the introduction to the sun and the moon to harmonize the baby with the vibrations. Apparently, kids who a re troublemakers are said to not be properly harmonize with the vibrations of the moon. Finally, a description of the early life of the child if he happens to be born to a blacksmith. There is a bellows and the kids would operate the bellows while the mother works on pottery because while the husband works on metal, the wife must work on earth. Done. Whew!

Now we went out into the hall where the discussion turned to initiation into a secret society. They had a bunch of masks. There are day masks for happy occasions an night masks for when times are tough. He described each mask. Some of the masks have whole outfits hanging off them like on for twins. He said that in south Benin, twins are considered as gods and explained all the things you have to do if you have twins and all the things you have to do if one twin dies. If a woman give birth to three sets of twins, she is regarded as a queen and has to respected.

Next we went into the marriage room. It has example gifts for the dowry, the tube men on their penises to protect them after their circumcision, a hunter's outfit. One of the dowry items is a white cloth used for the virginity check. If the virginity check turns out OK, the girl's family is sent a full jug of the local tipple. If not, they are sent a half full jug. At least, they are not sent their daughter. The virginity check is not used very often anymore. But the guide seems to think it is good because when it was used, there were fewer STDs. Or so he thinks. Then back into the hallway and to the death room that had a funeral shroud, a stretcher that they use to carry the dead around the village to let everyone know what happened. There were some items used to determine magincally the cause of death in young people (magic items--not CSI items). Back out into the hall where we saw a funeral drum. People whose parents died beat it, with their right hand if they lost a mother, left hand if they lost a father, and both hands if they have lost both. They have to beat it until the drum breaks.

Finally, there were some musical instruments. More masks. And then to the basement. How long with this go on? The basement had more masks. Finally it ended at a craftsman's shop where he had a loom and was making cloth for sale. I watched him a bit, but didn't buy anything. Then, as usual, this is the point where the guide tells me that he doesn't actually get paid--in this case because he is a trainee. So I tipped him and headed out. I went to the Java Promo. It was 3pm and I expected it to be virtually empty. Instead it was packed. In fact, I thought I stumbled into an event. The National Assembly is right across the street and some of the people had the air of being politicians. So I suspect the Java Promo is a place that politicians take visitors. It took them a while to notice me but finally I got a large Flag and a large bottle of water. And I just sat there thinking about stuff. Eventually I ordered a steak and mashed potato dish. After that, I went back to my hotel and took it easy for the rest of the night--trying to get rid of my sniffles.

Saturday, November 8, 2008 9:06 Benin local time

Post-Election Day

2008-11-06T02:19:00.001-06:00

I stayed up the entire night watching the election returns and reading about the results on the internet. I rested on their couch for a while after things sort of slowed down. But not that long.

At about 10am, the cleaning crew and wanted to clean, but I was still watching TV and refreshing web sites. They eventually decided to leave since I was still going to be there for a little while longer.

At around 11, I was tired as hell and decided to return to the cheap Hotel le Crillon a block away. I checked in and got my same room. It was clean again. I quicy washed some underwear and shirts and then slept until 4pm. Then I headed out again. A quick check on the internet showed bad new for Al Franken and Prop 8. Al Franken would have been good. He's a Harvard man just like Barack Obama. And sharp as a tack. At least he has a job fighting for the progressive cause, though. Prop 8 is pure bigotry. I understand it was sponsored mostly by people from Utah. I can see how they might want revenge for having been forced to change their own definition of marriage to being between one man and one woman. Still, I can't believe the people of California actually went for that. I guess the smart people who moved to VA and NC must have come from CA leaving just few enough behind to allow this despicable proposition to pass. At least it can be undone pretty easily. Gay rights is not a left vs. right issue. It's a young vs. old issue. It doesn't even take much work to change society's views on it. Just wait for the old people to die.

I went to O' Grille on last time for cold draft beer. The big news story of the day, which got everyone's attention when it was on, was, of course, the victory of Barack Obama.

I ate dinner at Le Verdure which is supposed to be a French seafood restaurant, but only had 2 entrées and 2 plats. I got a curry cucumber salad and a steak hâché. For dessert, I had crème caramel.

Then, as I was tired, I came home and slept like a log.

Thursday, November 6, 2008 Benin local time

Live Blogging The Election From Cotonou, Benin

2008-11-04T12:38:00.079-06:00

19:39 A little over to 4 hours to the first polls closing. And a little over an hour until the supermarché with the coldest beer closes. I got a bottle of wine to hold me over until the election is called unless McCain starts winning stuff he shouldn't. CNN is on. Firefox tabs have fivethirtyeight.com talkingpointsmemo.com, huffingtonpost.com, slate.com, salon.com, and google reader. I'm watching for the end of Dole, end of Coleman, end of Prop 8, repudiation of the politics of accusation of anti-Americanism, and the continuation of Gregoire. When Sarah Palin says that my region of Capitol Hill is not the real America because we have gays, wine shops, and college degrees, it pisses me off and makes me hate the GOP even more. Fuck Sarah Palin!

19:53 I'm happy that fun Richard Quest is still on CNN. It's the first I've seen/heard of him since his night at the park. ;-)

19:59 I actually get the Hotel du Lac WiFi signal at the Hotel Riviera. They are pretty far apart. Amazing!

20:07 Actually, while I'm excited about Jeanne Shaheen probably winning the Senate, I'll be sad to see John Sununu lose. He is one of the GOP'ers I actually like. He asks good questions in Senate hearings and doesn't take BS. In fact, I saw John McCain smack Sununu down one day when Sununu asked a question and the witness started BSing and Sununu tried to cut him off to get the witness to stop BSing.

20:23 Rama Yade is on CNN. Cool.

20:42 OK, I just got 2 more Heinekens. The nice thing about getting them at 8 is that you don't have 2 way super heavy traffic with 4 moto-taxis for every car zipping in and out between every car. But instead you have a ton of moto-taxis with just headlights so you can't really gauge their speed. It sucks that Steinmetz is under construction and this little street one block off had to take all the traffic. I got back and found McCain on CNN. He just said Drill, Baby, Drill. Fuck the future generations, baby, fuck the future generations--so we can drive our SUVs.

21:09 I shudder to think what would be happening tonight if McCain had picked Mitt Romney.

21:34 I finished my third beer and first can of Pringles. And it's still 2.5 hours till the first polls close.

21:48 CNN is showing their behind the scenes operation. Who cares? I wish I had MSNBC, C-SPAN, ABC, NBS, and CBS.

21:57 Damn! Talkingpointsmemo reports that CNN is doing a live phone interview with Joe the Plumber. And I get European weather. Shit!!! I want to hear this moron!

22:04 What's Lieberman doing behind McCain? He wants to sit behind a loser again?

10:27 TPM headines McCain saying "I feel momentum". It didn't occur to me, seeing J oe Lieberman was behind him, that Joe's coined term was Joementum.

22:34 I can't figure out how to get this air conditioner to make me comfortable as opposed to too hot or too cold.

22:36 John King thinks the filibuster is the Mr. Smith Goes To Washington model.

22:41 Last Heineken is done. I'll wait till the first polls close before trying to open the wine with that horrible Swiss Army knife wine opener.

23:57 OK, polls will start to close soon...

0:00 Polls closing, Baron de Tillac Spanish table wine opening.

0:05 Worst cork ever. It took about 10 attempts to pull it out before I got the whole cork out instead of just chunks.

0:19 Still no results. :-/

0:34 Still not many results. KY? I'd love to see Mitch McConnell go down. Indiana? Long shot for Obama but if it goes Obama, it's over. I live in Indiana so I know that it's like a bit of the south in the north. I don't know why. I guess so Wisconsin and Illinois could get soldiers to the South in the early 1860's.

0:37 Do I need to refresh my C-SPAN AP results thingy or does it update in the background?

0:50 Virginia polls close soon. TPM has the Obama VA scenario and the McCain VA scenario. Poor GOP. Virginia used to be a GOP stronghold, but then smart people started moving there. Poor GOP.

1:03 C-SPAN AP thingy updates in the background. :-) I love C-SPAN. Three of my heroes are journalists: Josh Marshall, Brian Lamb, and H. L. Mencken.

1:05 Gratz to Mark Warner, the Senator elect of VA.

1:15 OMFG! CNN turns its journalists into MMORPG avatars! It's like a Anarchy Online avatar running a shield nano-program.

1:19 Power just went out, generator turned on. Damn you and your power grid, Benin! :-/

1:20 But that got through. Whew! Power is back at least. Life en Afrique....

1:36 Dems are happy about Vigo county in IN. I lived in Vigo county for a while. My first day there, I saw KKK members in full KKK garb collecting donations on the corners of downtown Terre Haute!

1:39 Why doesn't the C-SPAN AP thingy color Vermont blue?

1:40 Goddamn, I love election night!

1:53 I'm happy the internet sites are relatively responsive. :-)

1:56 Why does CNN's thing have Florida blue in their map when they haven't called it?

2:01 CNN projects a shotload of safe states. McCain gets the Okies and the Volunteers. No surprises anywhere there.

2:03 CNN says 71% of white voters voted for McCain in SC. Fort Sumpter, batten down the hatches. ;-)

2:05 CNN, damn you! If you don't call a state, don't color it in on the John King map!!!!

2:08 HuffPo projects PA for Obama. CNN is playing trends. Dammit! CNN, do you have news? If so, cut John King off and report it!

2:12 fivethirtyeight and TPM haven't updated in a long time! Come on! I need you!!

2:27 Sounds like Libby Dole is out. Good riddance!!!! How dare she try to smear her opponent with my religion. ;-)

2:30 NH for Obama by CNN. NH was part of McCain's tightrope. :-)

2:32 McConnell looks like he'll survive. Shit! He's a fucking asshole!

2:39 CNN calls PA for Obama. McCain's got all that Joementum.

2:41 Wow! Still OH, FL, and VA. Not time to celebrate yet....

2:45 Just checke the Senate map. Linsdey Graham who I like survived and Susan Collins, a RINO, did too. Shaheen/Sununu still not called. Sununu is down. I wish him well in his next career, though--one of the likeable GOP'ers.

2:53 CNN officially calls Libby Dole, atheist hater, out.

2:55 Getting glose to 3 am and I'm still excited as hell!!!

3:00 Another slew of Obama victories and McCain gets the lightly populated states of WY and ND.

3:01 It looks like the United States of Canada will get bigger and Jesusland will get smaller.

3:04 New CNN calls. The Udall dynasty continues. Jeanne Shaheen defeats Sununu. Sorry Sununu, but Shaheen will vote the right way.

3:06 Dammit! Microsoft updated my computer and now that damn "we will restart your computer in five minutes" stupid dialog box will incessantly appear.

3:19 Fuck! McConnell survives. He's such a prick.

3:25 HuffPo, TPM say Fox calls OH for Obama and CNN said a big projection before going to commercial. If it's OH, it's over for Pres. Just Franken, Prop 8, Gregoire to go.

3:33 CNN developed this hologram technology. Why aren't they using it? I want to see more-------
CNN calls OH for Obama. I can exhale!

3:48 Obama gets NM. LA goes to McCain. They eat agouti there, though.

3:50 Two tubes of Pringles wreaks havoc on your tongue. Or is it the Spanish table wine?

3:54 Do I start celebrating when Obama actually reaches 270? Or when all McCain's victory routes are cut off?

4:00 IA goes to Obama and UT and KS naturally go to McCain as they always will.

4:08 fivethirtyeight.com say Shays loses. Another RINO. Good luck in your future career. Chris Shays. You were one of the good GOP' ers.

4:12 AR returns to its racist roots. After electing the first black president, it wouldn't support the second.

4:17 If I go to CNN.com can I get that Bill Scheinder exit poll breakdown thingy?

4:21 CNN predicts TX for McCain. Duh!

4:28 CNN called MS for McCain a while ago. At least all they did was vote against him rather than murder his supporters and bury them in a dam.

4:50 Fox calls VA according to TPM.

4:57 C-SPAN AP thingy colors VA blue and the CNN table is chatting amongst themselves. Dammit CNN. Declare VA!

4:58 OK, VA is called finally. Whew! That's what happens when rednecks invite educated people to come and try to generate wealth. The state flips blue.

5:00 CNN PROJECTS OBAMA!!!!!

5:01 The long national nightmare is over! It won't end until January 20, 2009, but it is over. No more Rovian politics of fucking the liberals. No more settling for Southern Democrats in the White House. We have a Northern Democratic President in the White House for the FIRST TIME IN MY ENTIRE 40 YEAR LIFETIME!!!!!!

5:16 Still crying. I think I saw Landrieu with a check by her name on CNN. What a day for America. What a day for humanity. This shows even when we appear to be going backwards, we are still going forward. We are still a beacon for the world. We are an example and now we have a reason to hold our heads high as we travel outside the United States. When I came to Africa, many people told me to put a Canadian flag on my backpack. I refused. I will go as an American! And now that piece of advice is no longer necessary. We can travel the world and hold our heads high knowing that we transcended our past. That we transcended a value system that is no longer relevant. That we have taken a step closer to that ideal that is America.

5:28 John McCain just gave a gracious concession speech. But we still have Prop 8 and Al Franken to go.

5:30 Wof Blitzer just predicted that people will remember where they were when Barack Obama won the election. I was in room 505 of the Riviera Hotel in Cotonou, Benin.

5:45 To think I used to fear Karl Rove and his "Permanent Republican Majority©". Thank God the American people are smart enough to see through his Satanic designs.

5:55 People getting ready to listen to Obama's speech. I'm excited too. It's almost day here, but I still have a lot of news to watch.

5:56 Here comes President Elect Barak Hussein Obama with Michelle, Malia, and Sasha.

6:16 Obama just finished his speech. I cried again. We are entering a new period. The Rove experiment is done--ending in failure. The Obama experiment is beginning. We'll see how it ends. It's a better design. It's an inclusive design. It's a design that attempts to create a majority by earning it, not with a K Street project, not with Saudi money, not with duping the most gullible. But by lifting the American spirit. I can't wait to see how it turns out.

6:39 It's light out.

Safely Ensconced In The Hotel Riviera

2008-11-04T04:51:00.000-06:00

It's almost noon, November 4. I am in room 505 of the Hotel Riviera. CNN is on TV and I have WiFi. I have a whole 12 hours to browse the internet and then...election returns will start coming in. I'll get coffee at 10pm or so but I'm pretty sure that I won't have a problem staying awake.

My connection is pretty good, but not quite goo enough to handle my email client so I won't be doing any email until there is less traffic on the Benin link and I'm not sure that the traffic will be decreasing.

November 4, 2008 11:51 Benin local time

Third And Fourth Days In Cotonou

2008-11-03T14:00:00.000-06:00

My third day was a Sunday. OK, Sunday is bad. Everything is closed. It drives me crazy when things are closed on Sunday. That is a good reason to make sure Sarah Palin never gets anywhere near the White House where she'll try to impose her Biblical theocracy on us and impose that idiotic "keep the sabbath holy" commandment that most people are smart enough to ignore (except the French and Orthodox Jews).

I found I was running low on CFA so I went to three different banks and all of them had out of service ATMs. Hmmm.... Not good. I need ATMs that dispense cash, not make excuses. So I wound up not doing much on Sunday. I ate at the Roi de Chawarma where I paid CFA 1500 (US$3) for a chawarma. Other than that, just sort of laid low and rested.

My fourth day, Monday, started out much the same as Sunday. Le Gerbe d'Or is apparently closed Mondays so no pastry and coffee for me. The book store I wanted to visit isn't open until Monday afternoon. But I went downtown and tried the various ATMs multiple times until finally the middle ATM of the three at the Bank of Africa gave me money. Whew! That was a relief! I headed to another bookstore where I got the October 23e Le Point. There were a few interesting articles on the election and an article about Montpellier--the police there are trying out Segways.

So, Monday means that all the weekend hotel people have checked out. Time for CNN/internet search part II. First up, the Hotel Riviera a block from my current cheap hotel with bucket water and fan. The woman at the desk seems unhappy about me wanting a room for Tuesday night. It's like she suspects I'm going to do something odd there. But she takes my name down to reserve a room. I headed down to the Tramway an told them to cancel my tentative reservation there.

I also made it to the Fondation Zinsou, a very nice little art museum in Cotonou. They have an exhibit called Benin 2059 which is a set of installations of various artists on what Benin will look like 100 years after independence. The exhibits on the first floor are pretty grim and pessimistic. The ones on the second floor are more optimistic though one artist expects Cotonou to be transformed into an African Venice by global warming. After visiting the museum I went to their nice little cafe and had a Beninoise beer.

So I decided to wait at the Restaurant Romantica (eating there alone despite the name). The plat du jour--agouti with rice in a tasty tomato sauce. In Louisiana they called it nutria, I think. It was CFA 5000 (US$10) which is more than I thought it would be but it was enough to my only meal of the day. Again, I load low for most of the night since Lonely Planet makes Cotonou soun dangerous from late afternoon. So it was iPod and Le Démon et Mademoiselle Prym until I fell asleep.

Monday, November 3, 2008 21:00 Benin local time

Second Full Day In Cotonou: Visiting Midrange Hotels Saying "J'ai besoin de une chambre pour mardi soir avec un televiseur avec CNN et l'internet"

2008-11-01T15:44:00.000-05:00

Saturday morning. I slept in a bit. I felt like I was sleeping longer than usual, but my window was open and I wasn't hearing the usual noises outside. Africans wake up early. After a while of seeming daylight I checked my watch. 8:30. I guess Cotonou sleeps in on Saturday. I left around 9.

I have one goal today: find a place where I can stay up all night Tuesday night watching election returns on CNN. But first I needed a coffee and a pastry. After all, I am in Francophone Africa. I went to the Gerbe d'Or but I didn't realize there was un upstairs. So I got a chausson aux pommes to go which I ate. Then I remembered there was a place a block south of my hotel called Caramel that was a pâtissierie and it had a pretty middle eastern looking woman who appeared to be an employee talking on a cellphone a day before. I went there. I got a croissant and a pretty good coffee. While I was there, every single Lebanese person living in Cotonou must have come to buy something. It was a constant stream of Lebanese (I think--the Lebanese are all over Africa) people coming and buying something to go and leaving.

Then, it was time to start my quest for a place to watch the election. I decided to try the Hôtel du Lac first. It is right across the Ancien Pont. I crossed the north side of the bridge. A mistake. It's a long way if you cross on the north side. Going to the south side on the west side is the much better way to get to the south. I got the Hôtel du Lac and entered the lobby. Heavenly air-conditioning and crisp satellite TV showing! I went to the desk and told them what I wanted. They seemed to have everything I needed except one thing: a vacancy. Yikes! The place was crawling with white French people. I don't know what they are doing here, but they are there at the Hôtel du Lac. And they are using up all the rooms.

That wasn't quite what I wanted to hear. My second choice--Hôtel du Port in the middle of the container port. A bit of a hike, but I've walked further. I arrived dripping with sweat. But again, the lobby had wonderful AC and a TV with satellite. I asked about the room with a TV with CNN and internet. The woman said they have a room, but the CNN had problems and sometimes they can't get CNN. Hmmm.... Not the answer I want--I can't get a room and then not have CNN. I decided to head back downtown.

There is a very small hotel complex called the Tramway Hotel. Their sign said they have internet and satellite TV. I popped in. The desk girl was very helpful. We soon figured out that her English is better than my French. She said that they have CNN but not internet but that we might be able to arrange internet because her boss has it in his office. I tentatively reserved the room and said I'd come back and cancel if I found one with CNN and internet.

Next I decided to look at a new hotel called the Prince Hotel. But within half a block I decided it didn't have much promise. Next, my neighboring hotel which gets high marks from Lonely Planet for professionalism--the Vickinfel Hotel. The guy there said they have CNN, but the internet comes and goes.

Next I went down to the Riviera Hotel, a big modern hotel with a nice cool modern lobby. Again, I repeated my request. Again, they have everything I need except a vacancy, but she told me to ask again on Monday.

So I visited 5 midrange hotels and each either had spotty CNN or internet or no vacancies. Who knew that Cotonou could have so much business for midrange hotels? Actually the midrange hotels are all crawling with white people. By now I was hot and pretty wet though I can't imagine I was still sweating. I headed back to O' Grille where I knew I could get huge beers or CFA 1200. And I chugged half the first beer in one gulp. Then a few glasses of the water. With over half a liter of water and a quarter of a liter of beer consumed in less than a minute, I was finally starting to feel right. I got the quarter chicken again and after a couple more beers and a couple more chapters of Le Démon et Mademoiselle Prym, I asked for my check. The check was for CFA 3400 and included just one beer. I told the guy "J'ai bu trois bieres" and he said something in French I didn't understand. I gave him CFA 5000 and told him to keep the change.

There is something I noticed in Seattle. When a bartender sees me a few times, he or she will often hand me a bill short a beer. I suspect it is to see if I am counting and if so, will the money from the free beer be shared. And I do count and I do share. This leads to more missed beers and more sharing and then to free beers on the bartender. It's a sort of way of stickin' it to "da man" (or da woman in one case) with plausible deniability, I guess. And I'm all too happy to play. It benefits everyone in the end--even da man.

So I figured it was just that. Then as I walking out, the guy called me back. He realized his error. He needed CFA 900 more. I gave him CFA 1000. To bad. His nice tip turned into twenty cents.

It was starting to get late so I stayed in the rest of the night.

Saturday, November 1, 2008 20:44 Benin local time

First Full Day In Cotonou

2008-11-01T12:41:00.001-05:00

Having the fan, I slept very well. No mosquitos. Not much noise. It was a pretty pleasant sleep. I got up and dallied a while. It was hot out and I wasn't anxious to go out into the sun. But eventually, I knew I had to brave the day. I left my room and locked the door. A man asked me "bien dormi?" I said "oui, bien dormi." He asked if my room was OK. I told him the light didn't work. I didn't know who he was, but he said he worked at the hotel so I let him in to look. He tried and said he'd fix it later. I left hoping he really was an employee. This hotel's front desk is caged and glassed as hotels are in dangerous sections of town and there are signs all over my room warning me to keep all valuables with the front desk.

First destination--the American Cultural Center. If anyone could tell me where to watch the election, they would know. They are way out near the airport along the road along the port. But how to get there. When I went to Steinmetz street the previous day, a construction worker told me I had to go around. So I headed south on the street parallel to Steinmetz but a long block to the east. I passed the Ancien Pont where the street perpendicular to Steinmetz was also under construction, and kept going. Finally I reached a rond-pont and headed what I figured was north. I eventually found what appeared to be civilization passing what looked like a museum that isn't in the Lonely Planet. I'll have to check it out. I found a big street and walked along it to what seemed like west.

I sort of figured out where I was when I saw the post-office. Also, it was Friday and if I want to send post cards to the nieces, now would be a good time to get stamps. I walked toward the post office and noticed that there was a woman with a stand selling pens, paper, envelopes, etc. I asked if she had post cards. She got a out a box and gave them to me to look through. There were about 20 different types of postcards. One of the container port, one of a nondescript palm tree on a nondescript beach, and about eighteen of topless Beninese women. Since these were destined for my young nieces, I opted for the port and the palm tree. (I hope they understand that you don't get the range of stunningly gorgeous postcards that you get in the Western world--which is not to say that some of the topless Beninese women weren't stunningly gorgeous.)

The post office is pretty chaotic. There is a display of motorcycles right by the window where you get stamps so you can't really line up but just sort of work your way in. And each customer in front of me seemed to taking a long time. Eventually, a postal worker pointed at me and that gave me license to work my way to the window. I got 2 sets of postcard stamps. One of them was interesting. There is a line through the Dahomey and Benin written above it and the price is changed form 200F to 300F in the same color ink. Benin hasn't been called Dahomey since like 1972. Are these stamps from then?

Anyway, that was done. Time to go to the American Cultural Center. I walked west. I knew it was about 2 km west so I wouldn't have to start looking for abut on hour. I walked one street up from the port and eventually found the German embassy. I looked at the Lonely Planet in the shade of a building and realized I was about halfway there based on the location of the German embassy icon. As I was leaving the shade, a security guard of the building came up to me and asked if everything was OK. I said it was with a friendly smile knowing that he wasn't happy that I was too close to his building which is apparently the HQ of the local oil company. I walked along the port toward the American Cultural Center. I passed some sort of huge government complex on the north and a cool convention center on the south with a sign welcoming the African delegates to the first extraordinary conference on the peer review system. Then I passed something that looked like it could be the American Cultural Center but it was called the Conseil de l'Entente or something like that. Then I saw the Novotel Hotel on the south. Hmmm.... If I reach the Novotel, I know I've gone too far. So I concluded that the Conseil de l'Entente is now occupying what used to be the American Cultural Center. The American Cultural Center in Togo also ceased to exist. Maybe just a product of Condi saying "Fuck You" to the third world. Maybe not.

So I headed back. By now I was pretty damn thirsty. The Beninese sun isn't forgiving. I headed back into town. I tried to take a shortcut through the huge government complex on what looked like a straight road to the next street over, but some security guards redirected me. I passed the Chinese Cultural Center, quite nice looking. There are a lot of Chinese people in Togo and Benin. China is the new imperial power exploiting the resources of poor countries.

Soon I was close to downtown. I guy selling big lamps and blenders called out to me. I went back knowing there was no way he could sell me a lamp or a blender and interesting in what this interaction would bring. He reached out an shook my hand. And as often happens in West Africa, once they have your hand, they squeeze and don't let go. He spoke English. A lot of people here do, probably because they neighbor Nigeria. He said he wanted me to take him to my country. He promised to work for me and earn his own salary, so I didn't have to worry about that. Then he said that he already did all the paperwork necessary for the visa. Then he asked me what country I was from. I was a bit annoyed, as I always am when a person shakes my hand and then squeezes to hold me there, and I told him that since he told me that he had already done the paperwork to get to my country, then he must certainly already know what country I was from--the one he did the paperwork for. He guessed Germany first then a few other European countries. I said no. He asked again. I said it is the country that you did the paperwork for. He smiled and said America. I told him I had to go. He said he's talk to me next time I walked by.

Soon I came upon a place in downtown called O' Grille. It had a Castel beer sign in front so I went in. I looked into their fridge and saw no big beer bottles. The waitress came by and I asked knowing that sometimes they keep bottles in bigger freezers. She said that the big beer was à pression. "Est ce que froid?" "Oui." I ordered that--she assumed I wanted the grande without asking--they have both petite and grande. When she came with it I also ordered a 1.5L water. By the time the water came I quenched my thirst with half of the large draft beer. CFA 1200 (US$2.40) for a big draft is actually a good price. I had one more and a 1/4 chicken with a green salad.

I read a little of the new book, Le Démon et Mademoiselle Prym. I was close to halfway through already. I love the fact that I can read a Paulo Coehlo book in French without a dictionary. O' Grille is a place with a lot of African art sold by somebody on site who speaks English. He came up and introduced himself. Very low pressure. He also tried to guess my nationality. Germany? England? Sweden? Norway? Germany? Sweden? Then he gave up. I'm always shocked when African merchants try to guess my nationality. They always start repeating countries and then give up before even guessing the United States of America. I think we Americans need to travel in Africa a bit more. Finally, I settled my bill and left.

After a rest in the hotel, I decided to go out. Lonely Planet makes it sound like Cotonou gets dangerous from late afternoon, so I decided I'd finish up anything outside before 6ish and not stray too far from the hotel. I went to the Repaire de Bacchus which is a jazz club. I knew there would be no live music so early, but there wasn't even a jazz CD playing. Then I saw a place across the street called Le Laurier. It looked pretty good so I went in. I ordered a beer while I perused the menu. I decided on a green salad an an order of my favorite Senegalese dishes, Yassa Poulet. They brought me my salad which was pretty simple--lettuce, a few small slices of tomato, and a vinaigrette. Not bad, but definitely not spectacular. A waiter brought me a small plate with a napkin and cutlery but after he set it down, he noticed it was crawling with little ants no longer than 2 millimeters. He took it back, as if I hadn't noticed, and came back a minute later, most, but not all, of the ants gone. Then they brought me 2 warm buns. I asked for butter. "Mayonnaise ou beurre?" the waitress asked. I said beurre about 4 times each with a slightly different vowel since I can't really say the 'eu' sound all that well. There should have been no question that I meant butter because despite the different vowel sounds I tried to make, it couldn't have sounded anything like "mayonnaise". Yet a minute later, mayonnaise is what she brought me.

So I decided to eat the buns unadorned with a fat. I grabbed one and ripped it open. Little dark spots in a bit of a cluster. I thought they might be wheat husks. Then I saw that they were all tripartite, each no longer than 2 millimeters. I looked closer. I called the waitress over. "Est-ce que c'est fourmis?" She took the bun and went back to the kitchen. It caused a bit of stir.

I ripped open the other one. No ant carcasses cooked into this one. As ants aren't a disgusting insect, it didn't bother me and I ate the un-anted roll which was actually pretty good even without butter (which I didn't have) or mayonnaise (which I did have but didn't use).

I got my Yassa Poulet. Quite a bit different from the Senegalese Yassa Poulet. Not bad, but not what I was expecting. The onion wasn't cooked quite enough and it very mustardy. Also it came with peppers which are good but I never had them in Senegal.

Eventually, I asked for my bill. It had my beer, my salad, something called B/B for CFA 500 which was crossed out, and the yassa poulet. I was surprised that they added B/B which I assumed to be Bread & Butter to my bill since I hadn't ordered it. Also, it came with no butter, but mayonnaise only after asking for butter. And one of the buns had a little nest of ants.

So I must say, I don't recommend Le Laurier in Cotonou. If they had given me some sort of discount instead of just crossing off the bread they tried to charge me for without me ordering it, then I could at least give them marks for trying. But all they did after trying to feed me insects was not charge me for something I didn't order anyway. Shame on them. I hope this blog post causes them some lost business because they deserve to lose some business for not making that right.

After that I went to the Mayfair Supermarket. It is a bit bigger than the one a block to the north. I found toilet paper which I need but it was pricey and they only had 4 roll packs. Then I went to the beer fridge. The beer wasn't that cold. I put the toilet paper back and headed a block north to the smaller store. They only had 10 roll toilet paper packs. But it is that cheap toilet paper with almost no substance so I knew I would crush the cardboard rolls and compact it pretty easily. I got some Sour Cream and Onion Pringles (so nice that they don't stock the counterfeit cardboard Cracks) and 2 freezing Heinekens. The bag clerk bagged my beer and chips in a translucent bag. Then I tried to crush the toilet paper into a quarter of its original size to get it to fit into the bag as well. The clerk thought he knew what I was up to. A smile appeared on his face, and he went to get something while I poked a hole in the toilet paper bag to let the air out so I could crush it faster. He came back with a non-translucent black bag for the toilet paper. He thought I didn't want to be seen walking with a 5x2 bag of toilet paper down the street--advertising to the world such things that I do.

It reminded me of one of my favorite Barney Miller jokes. Dietrich took a call from one of Harris's many lady friends. Harris was in the bathroom so Dietrich told her that. When Harris came out, Dietrich told him his lady friend had called and he had told her that he was in the bathroom. The always proper Harris was miffed. "I don't want her to know I do that." Dietrich shrugged and said "Sorry, I thought she knew". It's an interesting phenomenon. If I'm buying toilet paper at the Broadway QFC, I'm unlikely to go to a cute checkout clerk. I guess even in Africa, they worry about that.

Saturday, November 1, 2008 17:41 Benin local time

Email Problems

2008-10-31T09:09:00.001-05:00

I've been to a coupe of internet cafes in Cotonou, but so far, I haven't one with computers with enogh power to run my email client (webmail.mailtrust.com). So I may be incommicado for a few days. Hopefully I'll find something somewhere. In Lome I was able to read but not respond. Here in Cotonou, I can't even read. So if you nare sending me email and not getting a response, that's why.

Flight Itinerary

2008-10-31T04:00:00.001-05:00

Here is my flight itinerary for my trips to get back to America, via Accra. I'm flying Virgin Nigeria on the intra-African legs on the 12th and KLM on the 15th/16th.

Douala, Cameroon (DLA) to Lagos, Nigeria (LOS) VK822 on December 12

Lagos, Nigeria (LOS) to Accra, Ghana (ACC) VK 805 on December 12

Accra, Ghana (ACC) to Amsterdam (AMS) KL590 on December 15

Amsterdam (AMS) to Detroit (DTW) KL6039 on December 16

Detroit (DTW) to Chicago O'Hare (ORD) KL6539 arriving at 2:04 PM December 16

The KL is probably changed to NW as the flights are operated by Northwest Airlines.

Time Zone Change

2008-10-31T03:59:00.000-05:00

Going from Togo to Benin, one doesn't change languages or currency, but one does change their time.

On my computer it was easy. I just chose the West Central Africa timezone.

On my watch it was easy--just bump the hour up one.

My iPod is a different story. I have tried to change the timezone on it, but haven't been able to do so since Rabat. I looked for Cotonou, in the iPod list, but it wasn't there so I used Lagos. Of course, it didn't take. I can't get it off Rabat. I don't know why. I'm just pissed off that Apple put out a product with so many bugs that get so much good press.

Lomé, Togo To Cotonou, Benin

2008-10-30T17:30:00.000-05:00

Thursday I woke up early. It rained all night--hard, so I never really slept well anyway. I went to the internet café and checked my email. Elena said she would renew her insurance. Whew! I was so worried.

Nothing changed on fivethirtyeight.com. McCain is optimistic and I think it's good because an optimistic McCain will scare the Obama youth vote to actually go to the polls rather than think he's got it in the bag and stay home. The news cycle seemed to be dominated by the Obama infomercial and calls on Ted Stevens to resign. He's up for reelection anyway, so he should just lose rather than resign. Larry Craig served despite calls for him to resign.

Being close to the Festival des Glaces, I went and had a chausson aux pommes and a coffee in air-conditioned bliss.

Well, that done, I headed back to the Hôtel du Boulevard and checked out. Hopefully for good this time. I wanted a car taxi to take me to the Emperor Tours office but I let a moto-taxi talk me into taking me for CFA 150 (US$0.30). We were making good time. I wanted to slow down especially when we found ourselves right behind a sexy white woman on a moto-taxi in shorts and a haltertop with really nice hair, shoulders and legs. But my idiot driver passed her and left her and her driver in our dust. Asshole!

We got there and I went in and waited. The bus was supposed to come at 10am. It came at 1pm. Once it arrived, it took a while to restart because there was an extremely unhappy customer who was arguing with everyone. I didn't know what she was saying except it was something about CFA 5000 and children. She actually had really sexy glasses so I was inclined to take her side on whatever the issue was. Eventually we got underway, the van 100% full. I sat next to a woman who was waiting since 10am as well. She had a really sexy haircut.

The road in Togo is like the Oregon coast. Tacky resorts occupying every inch of beach. And the road wasn't all that great and the traffic was pretty heavy. After about an hour, we reached Togolese immigration. I got out and went to get my exit stamp. Nothing recorded. Just a stamp. Then I wasn't sure what to do. I waited with the sexy haircut girl for a while until our van went through the gate. She went to the van and I went through a gate where I saw a guy in front of me give coins to a policeman. I just showed him my American passport and said nothing that might make him think he could ask for money in French, and he let me through. I walked down to Beninese immigration and got there at the same time as the sexy haircut girl. I gave him my US passport and she gave him her Democratic Republic of Congo passport. The policeman said to sit down and we both sat down together next to each other. He asked if we were together. We both said no, but I wanted to say "dans mes rêves" and high five the officer. But I refrained. He sent her to another officer while he took care of me. In Benin, the officers fill out the forms and there are 2 identical forms with a sheet of blue carbon paper between them all pinned together with four sewing pins. He grabbed a set of 2 forms with the carbon paper pinned with four sewing pins and started filling in all the information. He asked me which hotel I planned to stay in in Cotonou (I had to get out my Lonely Planet and showed him the Hôtel le Crillon), where I came from (Lomé), my occupation (engineer), and he had me write my US address on a scrap paper whereupon he copied it onto the duplicate forms. These were 3 policemen at a sort of outdoor table on a porch and they were all joking with each other and having a good time while they filled out their forms. I was starting to think my "dans mes rêves" joke would have gone over pretty well with these guys.

The guy looked through my passport and asked if I had a visa. I showed my Visa Touristique Entente to him. Then he looked at some more pages and said my visa was expired. Expired? I just got it last week. He looked again. Oh wait--nope it's not expired.

Finally, I got my entry stamp. Then back to the bus. The road in Benin is a stark contrast to Togo. Gone are the tacky seaside resorts. Just locals living on the ocean in grass huts. That'll probably change someday. The road seemed a bit better, too. At about 4ish we arrived at the Stade de l'Amitie. I didn't know where it was on my map. I went out to the main road to try to find a taxi, but didn't see any. So I went back to the Emperor Tours office and asked them where I could pick up a taxi. They pretty much said that I was stuck taking a moto-taxi about 3km into the downtown. They helped me flag down a moto-taxi. They tried to get the guy down to CFA 500 (US$1) but he insisted on CFA 700 (US$1.40). The Empire Tours people weren't happy, but I wasn't going to quibble over 40 cents. We got my luggage on the moto-taxi and I got on the back and we left. It was the scariest moto-taxi ride yet. This guy accelerates fast and he's aggressive. Nice in a car, but scary as hell on the back of a motorcycle. About halfway there, he stopped and asked a bunch of other moto-taxi drivers where the Hôtel le Crillon was. About 5 men, all in the characteristic yellow shirt with a number on the back, started explaining where it was to him. Then he knew we took off again weaving through moving traffic, cutting people off, hitting speed bumps, and scaring me to death. But we made it. The directions he got were good.

I hopped off and gave him CFA 1000 (US$2) and told him to keep the change. Then he got greedy. He said that since he took me straight to the hotel instead of the cathedral, that I had to pay another CFA 500. I argued for a while, but it was easier to give it to him. Asshole. I went in and the Crillon has rooms. Yay! The moto-taxi guy followed me in. He said something to the desk clerk in their native language and just waited there. The desk clerk led me up a couple of floors and showed me the room. A nice room. And only CFA 8000 (US$16).

Then I started getting a hint what the moto-taxi driver said. The clerk asked me 3 things. Had I paid him yet, how much, and how did I know about the Hôtel le Crillon. I said I had paid him, that we had originally negotiated 700 to the cathedral but since he took me straight here, he upped it to 1500. Then I showed him the Lonely Planet. The guy went down while I checked out the room a bit more and then I went down. The guy was behind the desk filling in the police fiche and the moto-taxi driver was still there.

The clerk asked me my occuption and took my money for the day. Then after a while he gave me my passport back and I bought a Coke from him. Then the driver and the clerk got into a brief argument in their native language. I calmly watched while sipping my Coke. It was clear to me that the moto-taxi guy had told the clerk that he brought me to the Hôtel le Crillon and wanted a small commission. The clerk was having none of it and after the argument went back to his work. The moto-taxi driver lingered a ten or fifteen more seconds and then finally slinked out.

I went out to look for le Petit Four which is supposed to be close. But that's when I discovered a bit a snag in my Cotonou plans. The main boulevard downtown, Steinmetz, is now a big construction site. They are totally redoing the road and it's all blocked off. So I wandered around on the west side of Steinmetz. There are a lot of supermarkets here. And by supermarket, I mean convenience store. I went to a neighboring hotel restaurant and had a steak with fries. They only had these little mini Eku beers that cost a whopping CFA 1200 (US$2.40). But they turned CNN on for me as I was the only customer. After that I went to a supermarket where I got a can of Pringles (not Cracks) and 2 500ml Heinekens for CFA 850 each (US$1.70 each).

I tried to turn on the TV, but it wasn't plugged in. And there is no outlet anywhere near the TV. So, no TV for me. It was only antenna TV anyway. So I just typed up my blogs and went to sleep.

Thursday, October 30, 2008 22:30 Benin local time

Lomé To Cotonou: NOT!

2008-10-30T16:37:00.000-05:00

I had reservations with Emperor Tours for a CFA 6000 (US$12) bus to Cotonou, Benin for the 10am minibus on Wednesday. It wasn't exactly what I wanted, but close enough. I wanted a bush taxi that leaves in the morning because the Lonely Planet says Cotonou starts getting dangerous in the late afternoon--at least that's when you shouldn't be walking around. It's supposed to be about a 3 hour trip, so that would put me in about 1pm. Plenty of time to make it safely to a hotel and do a little exploring before the 5pm knives comes out.

But this day was not to be one of those days that goes according to plan.

I loaded myself up with all my gear and started the long walk to the Emperor Tours office close to where the Circular Boulevard hits the beach. About halfway there there is my usual internet cafe which is the best one I found in Lomé but whose computers aren't able to let me use my fly-by-night email client (webmail.mailtrust.com). About half the internet cafés let me use it fully, one quarter let me receive but not send, and one quarter puke even on the receiving part. My intention was to just check fivethirtyeight.com for my latest reality check. But I decided to check my email as well. I only had a few minutes but maybe there would something interesting.

Oh boy! A problem. Elena had asked me about a week ago if I could renew her insurance on my secure laptop so she wouldn't have to enter information into a cybercafé computer. I still had a few days in Accra and the Busy Internet cafe has a Laptop Alley where you can connect your laptop and be as secure as you want to be. I agreed. But that was with 3 days left in Accra. Now I was already 3 days in Lomé and Lomé ain't Accra. It's like comparing Kelowna with Victoria. I had no way of sending email. I had to write on Elena's facebook wall, but I wouldn't know if she would look at her facebook so I had to ask people to send her an email to look at her facebook. Yikes. The problem is that her insurance would expire in 2 days and the email warning her of the impending expiration said she had to renew before it expires.

I was all flustered. I left my sunglasses there by accident and headed to the bus station. I got there and put down my stuff. I asked if they knew when the bus would come. Actually not until about 10:30. Whew! I was sweating like a pig and about 3 blocks away is a place called Festival de Glaces which is AC'ed to the max inside. I had time to get a pastry and a coffee and let their AC suck all that heat out of me. And I had extra sweat because I was worried about Elena's insurance. I know that she isn't in internet connectivity heaven either and I hoped she wasn't counting on me to be able to be able to help her. I cooled off a bit and went back to the Emperor tours office. There the woman told me that there are 2 buses--a big bus and a little bus. While the little bus is CFA 6000 (US$12), the big bus is CFA 16000 (US$32) and only the big bus was coming today. Oh my. CFA 16000 normally gets you all the way across an African country. But the trip to Cotonou is like a 3 hour trip. I took it in and sat down. Did I misunderstand? Maybe she meant CFA 1600 (US$3.20). I asked. Nope. She added that you get food. Food? For CFA 16000 I better get a Pastis as an apertif, a shrimp cocktail as an entrée, a steak as a plat--with a glass of French red wine, and a dessert like Crème Brulée with espresso. I asked if the CFA 6000 bus would leave the next day. She said it would. I said that the CFA 16000 was way to cher and I'd be back tomorrow.

So I walked back to the Hôtel du Boulevard. I got back and had a little trouble explaining that I had actually checked out already, but that I wanted to cancel the checkout and extend my stay one more day. I was by now sweating like Niagara Falls. I got out a handkerchief and wiped off the drops of sweat that were falling on their desk. I got my key back and went back up. They hadn't cleaned it yet so it looked like before. I put my soaking shirt on the underpowered fan and tried to dry it. Not to much avail. Then I went down. The girl who works there teased me a little bit because my passport picture (235 lbs.) looks so different from the current me (150 lbs.). That's a kind of teasing I can take. :-) An sustained 85 lb. weight loss is something to be proud of. I went out.

My goal: find a better internet cafe with better computers to see if I could help Elena. I tried one. It was actually one of the worst cafe clients ever. You can't even minimize windows without lots of rigmarole to get them back--which wouldn't be so bad with Firefox tabbed browsing but sucks monkey balls with Internet Explorer's one page per Window. The next cafe was similar to the one I usually go to but worse. It was obvious that Elena was going to have to renew her insurance on her own.

Finally I gave up. I stopped at a place right by my hotel called Nopegali Boulevard or Nopegali V.I.P. I'm not sure if they are the same. I sat a long time before a firl came to take my order. Then I sat a long time before deciding to give up and left without ever receiving my water and beer. And I wanted a beer to calm my nerves because I didn't know if Elena would get to a computer in time to renew her insurance. I was pretty sure I told her I could help if I was still in Accra, but that was a week ago.

I went back down the street to Brochettes sur la Capital and got 4 brochettes and a beer which I knew to be ice cold--and it was. I had another.

I walked by a book store and got an old l'Express and Paulo Coelho's Le Démon et Mademoiselle Prym. The Nigerian guy from the day before was there. We chatted briefly.

Then I headed to the Bena Grille which is a German restaurant attached to the Marox supermarket (actually a bit less than a Seven-Eleven except with a butcher). The menu of the Beni was in German first, then French, then English. The waitress spoke some English and asked if I was American or German. I wonder if my accent doesn't identify me as American. When I hear a German speak English, I know he or she is German. Same with French. But people in Africa often don't recognize my accent as American or they pretend not to. I got a veal in sauce. When it came it looked like the meal I had at the Come Inn in Gambia. But this meat didn't have the consistency of shredded tires. It was tender. But it made me think back to that night of projectile vomiting after the Come Inn beef stroganoff.

I had plans for that night in The Gambia. I wasn't just disappointed that I lost a night to projectile vomiting. I was disappointed that I lost a golden opportunity. I had AC for the first time in a long time, and more than that, I had a pillow similar to an American pillow. American pillows differ from African pillows. The main difference is that an American pillow is basically the size and shape of a human torso. You can cuddle with an American pillow. You can hold the pillow as you would hold a girl who you like. You can close your eyes and turn the pillow into her. You can squeeze her and feel her. And lose yourself in her. The Carlton Hotel in Banjul is one of the only places in Africa that has pillows that fit that use. And my 3 bouts of projectile vomiting cost me that opportunity--an opportunity not had since then.

That ended the night. I walked home rather uneventfully except for seeing a woman carrying a 4' diameter tray on her head loaded with stuff. Two feet in diameter is nothing. Three feet in diameter is a little adventurous. But a four foot diameter tray balanced on a woman's head is just spectacular.

Thursday, October 30, 2008 21:37 Benin local time

Going to Benin: Critical Message For Elena

2008-10-29T03:56:00.002-05:00

I'm about to head to Benin. Anyone seeing this before October 31 who knows Elena, please contact her and warn her hat she has to renew her insurance before October 31. She tried to send me coded number, but my bus leave in less than an hour and I can't do it. I also can't send emails from this cafe because my email client pukes on their machine. She needs to renew before it expires qnd she needs to use the internet cafe and throw caution to the wind with regard to her credit card number.

Please help!

Two More Days In Lomé

2008-10-29T02:14:00.000-05:00

On Monday evening, I went out to the Case du Café, Route des Vins. I had 2 glasses of wine--a Bordeaux and a Brouilly--and a wedge of Roquefort cheese with little pieces of bread. I just sat there writing and eventually reading. When I arrived I was the only one there, but then a few other people but they all seem to know each other. So I guess Monday night is when regulars come in. There were about 4 women working there though. I bit overkill for the number of customers. I got good service though.

After that, I went down to a hotel at the west end of the semi-circular Boulevard. They serve pizza. I had a nice pizza. There were a few other large tables of white people--all speaking French. I left at about 11. I don't like being out this late, but I figured it was pretty safe. There was a stretch near the railroad tracks that was pretty dark. I kept alert and was prepared to run if I had to. A few people just sitting around asked me "ça va?" as I was walking, but I answered them without slowing down. I don't want to stop. There are muggings in Lomé and I don't know what the muggers' tricks are. I made it home safely feeling relieved.

The next day, Tuesday, I first went to the internet café. I spent about 2 hours browsing, making sure McCain wasn't getting good news cycles. Let's see: Ted Stevens guilty on all counts and 2 white supremacists planning to shoot 88 black kids and behead another 14 and then go for Obama--just like McCain's hero John Lewis was afraid of. So it looks like another news cycle that isn't going to be good for McCain. The poor guy just can't catch a break.

I went all along the Boulevard back to where Al Donalds is. They have a single Golden Arch on their logo. I got a hamburger and fries. I'm surprised it still exists. So many places in the Lonely Planet in Lomé are gone. But the one place that rips off a company with teams of lawyers protecting its name still exists. The burger was interesting. Two patties with cole slaw on the burger as a topping. The fries weren't quite done as well as they could be.

After that I wanted to try again to find the Gare Cotonou where bus taxis to Cotonou leave from. No luck. I looked for the American Cultural Center which was supposed to be around there and eventually found what used to the American Cultural Center but is now just a school for teaching English. I looked for the tourists information office, but it was noon so there were only a couple people there and they didn't know where to get bush taxis to Cotonou. Finally I just wandered around. I'd see taxis and look to see if they were bush taxis. I asked a guy at a bus station that has buses to Abidjan and he directed me to a girl who called over another guy. This guy took me to a bus station that goes to Cotonou. I didn't really want a bus, but it was becoming apparent that there weren't bush taxis of the type I know where the bush taxi fills up and leaves and another empty one takes its place. So I got a reservation for a bus that leaves at 10.

Since I was near the Nopegali Plage bar and it was very hot and I remembered them having very cold beer, I headed over there. I got a bottle water and a Flag. As soon as I sat down, a guy sat at my table at the other corner. But he was just waiting for friends and by the time they arrived there were some empty tables and they all went to one of those. Then a Nigerian guy came and sat across from me. He told me he was going to the United States in January. I asked what city. He didn't know. Then, he said he wants my help getting a visa to come to the United States. He asked for a letter of invitation. Maybe from my company, maybe from a friend's company. I told him that it would have to come with a job offer and the process of getting an H-1B visa is very complicated and expensive and it was the worst way to try to get to the United States unless he actually had a job offer. I explained the Green Card lottery which is going on right now. Just about every internet cafe in Africa has a banner saying you can apply at that café. Eventually we exchanged email addresses and he went off with his friends.

After resting for a while at the hotel, I got up to go the Relais de la Poste, a seafood restaurant near the post office. I was the only customer the whole night. I had a shrimp cocktail which is shrimp in a sort of cocktail sauce on a bed of lettuce. It was OK, but I can't wait to have shrimp cocktail in America. Then I got Poisson à la Creme with Pommes de Terre Purées. Fish in cream sauce with mashed potatoes. The fish was an ocean white fish. No fishy taste at all. In fact, if I were blindfolded and fed this meal, I would be pretty sure that I was eating Original Recipe Kentucky Fried Chicken with their mashed potatoes and gravy. It tasted exactly like that. I'm not sure if its a rousing endorsement of Relais de la Poste, but I do like KFC. And anyone traveling in Lomé who hasn't had a Colonel Sanders fix in a while would be well served by ordering this meal.

Wednesday, October 29, 2008 7:14 Togo local time

Lomé Is Really Nice

2008-10-27T12:43:00.000-05:00

I woke up early and headed out. Since my plan was that would be only full day in Lomé and Togo, goal #1 is to get postcards to the nieces so they have a complete set. The post office is pretty easy to find and it didn't take long to get there. I peeked inside. Some post offices sell postcards inside; some don't. This one didn't. There was a postcard vendor right across the street. So I got a couple of postcards. Now, to fill them out. I had seen the previous night a cool looking place on the Boulevard close to the intersection where I turned to get the post office. It is called Case du Café, Route des Vins or something like that. I figured I'd go there and have a coffee and a croissant and fill in the post cards.

I entered. It was not quite what I expected. It was very swanky. I was greeted by a woman wearing the shortest shirt I've seen since arriving in Africa. The place is not big at all and they had no pastries. I sat down. They have coffees. In fact, you can choose the country whose beans you want. I got Colombian beans for an espresso. There were a couple of Frenchmen who I suspect were the owners. They have various wines and apertifs and Belgian beers. All priced for the swanky set. A place for people who know their liquids and care. My espresso was good. They have a big screen TV and turned on the French news. The other girl (the one not in the microskirt) asked me "Êtes-vous français?" "Non, je suis Americain." "So you speak English?" "Yes." "I thought you weren't French from your accent"--and, I'm sure, by the fact that I can barely speak it especially after 2 weeks in Ghana. She said it was good that I make an effort. We chatted a bit. I decided I'd go back later in the evening for a nice relaxing glass of wine. While they don't have food, they do have cheese plates. Nice. I also decided that I like Lomé and considered the logistics of getting myself to Niamey by the election. I decided I can stay one more day and make a 13-15 hour trip from Cotonou directly to Niamey rather than break it into 2 trips. My postcards done, I paid CFA 900 for the CFA 800 (US$1.60) cup of coffee and went back to the post office.

The post office in Lomé is a bit chaotic. I didn't get the window system. I stood in one line, but it seemed to be for banking services. Then I saw a description of window #8, the other window. It had "Bienvenue à Guichet No 8" on a sheet of paper taped to the inside of the glass and among the services listed was "Vente: timbres". That's the window I want. I stood in the chaotic crowd in front of the window. Finally the guy pointed at me and I worked my way through the crowd and showed him my postcards. He asked if I wanted stamps. "Oui." He pointed to another window in the Western Union money transfer section of the office and told me to go there. I pointed at the "Vente: timbres" thing on the paper with a confused look, but the other people in the crowd understanding my confusion told me too that I had to go to the other window. So I went to that window and got stamps. Gee. I got them sent, though.

Next I walked down the rest of the radius to the center of Lomé and the beach. I turned east and went back to the semi-circle that is the Boulevard. I was getting hot and went into an ice-cream parlor, La Festival des Glaces or something like that. It was refreshingly air-conditioned. I got a large coffee, orange juice, and chausson aux pommes. It was good. The place has a security guard. The guard actually frisked one guy on the way out. When I left he didn't frisk me, though. I walked the semi-circle stopping into 3 internet cafés until I found one that had seats. Then I surfed the web for 2 hours. Status quo in the election. Good news. Sarah Palin making off-message and unauthorized comments on her wardrobe keeping it in the news for another precious news-cycle. I guess she doesn't understand how the news system works. It's not intuitive at all. I didn't understand it until I read the fascinating collaboration of James Carville and Mary Matalin, Alls Fair, one of the most interesting books on political campaigning. Anyone who doesn't understand the importance of message discipline needs to read that book. Sarah Palin hasn't read it, I guess. Either she doesn't care about message discipline or she has given up on the election and is trying to salvage her own image at the expense of McCain's campaign. Either way, I'm happy to see it.

Next, I was a bit hungry so I went to a place called Brochettes sur la Capital. I ordered a Star which turned out to be ice cold (much appreciated) and after some effort, since they don't have menus, a brochette sandwich. Brochettes are pieces of meat on sticks cooked over fire. Like yakitori but without the sauce. Brochettes sur la Capital is an outdoor place and it one of those places that doesn't mind if the ambulant merchants come in and sell to customers. I wasn't interested in much, but then a guy showed me Shrek 3. Interested. I took a look at it. It was a French edition. I looked at the back. They listed French as the language and French subtitles. But no English. I told him I couldn't buy it if it didn't actually say English. He argued that the movie was in English and French was on option. But I wasn't willing to buy unless it explicitly said English. We opened it to see if it was written on the DVD. Nope. Then I looked at the back. Actually, the language wasn't French, rather the lanugage was French. And it wasn't subtitled in French but rather subitled in French. Hmmm.... This smacks of pirated copy. I don't think the actual makers of the real Shrek DVD have misspellings on their packages. I'll never understand why spammers and pirates don't run the grammar and spelling by a native speaker. But they don't and I'm happy. The poor guy had to go away without making a sale. He sent in another DVD vendor most likely telling him I required that the existence of an English soundtrack be written on the box. I looked through his stuff. Half of his stuff was hardcore porn which he tried to promote a bit--probably suspecting I wouldn't care what language that was in. But I didn't want it. In the end he had nothing I wanted either. I paid my bill and headed off to the Musée National.

The Musée National has an entrance fee of CFA 1000 (US$2). I gave them a CFA 5000 note and they said they'd give me change later. I had them write the credit on the ticket--something I started doing since my stay at the Date Hotel in Accra. I did it too at the Busy Internet cafe in Accra and the Hôtel du Boulevard in Lomé. When you ask for that, they take it seriously. The Hôtel du Boulevard and the Musée National both got me change quickly and canceled out the written credit on the paper I they had given me.

The woman asked if I needed a guide and I told her I didn't-I could speak a little French but I read it pretty well. The exhibit descriptions are all in French. It starts with a description of Togolese iron age metallurgy. Nice! It might the Museum of Natural History, but I think it is the New York Metropolitan Museum of Art that has a nice exhibit on African Iron Age metallurgy. The Met exhibit is a bit more extensive and gives more of an overview while the Togolese exhibit goes more into the regional differences in the bellows which is the most important part of the forge. The Met exhibit focused more on iron wire as an end product while the Togolese exhibit focused more on hammered metal objects. So the two exhibits complement each other beautifully. Of course I'm biased. My first summer job obtained by sending out fifty resumes after my sophomore year got me one offer--from a steel mill writing lockout-tagout procedures for mechanical systems. So I got an intimate look at the fascinating steel industry. So my interest in metal is a bit more intense than that of most people. The rest of the exhibit was about pottery, musical instruments, and items used for rituals. Then downstairs was a smaller exhibit room with a little section on slavery and a little section with the leaders of Togo from teh first Germans before WWI to the British between WWI and WWII and the French after WWII until 1960 when the locals took over. A very nice and interesting museum. Worth every CFA--as long as you can read French.

Monday, October 27, 2008 17:43 Togo local time

Impressions Of Ghana

2008-10-27T06:42:00.000-05:00

Ghana is a different place from everywhere else in West Africa I've been. It doesn't feel like a Third World country as much as a First World country in 1910. From the third floor of the Queen's Gate Restaurant above a busy Kumasi intersection, watching the city below, I had a flashback to a similar scene with a similar camera angle in The Sting, I believe. The descriptions in Theodore Dreiser's An American Tragedy also seem to fit Kumasi as well. Accra is even more advanced--like American in 1970. And the district of Osu where all the white people and rich Africans hang out is like few acres of modern G7.

There are a lot of white people in Ghana. I guess I expected that since white girls with no qualifications other than a desire to go to Africa seem to always wind up in Ghana. But there are a lot. Too many.

Ghana is very religious. It seems that more than half the businesses are some Christian phrase followed by the word Enterprises or Ventures or Fashions. Praise Jesus Enterprises, The Lord Is Thy Shepherd Ventures, Kingdom Come Fashions. OK, I made those up, but they could very well exist. You could easily create a Ghana business name generator that generates random business names on this principle.

I felt bad that my French didn't fare so well in Conakry. Well, my English doesn't seem to fare well in northern Ghana. Their English is little different from ours.

My first 2 meals with a salad/starter and a main dish had the main dish come out first. Coincidence? Or do the Ghanaians not do the starter before the main dish?

There is much more Western style dress here and far fewer of the matching African print top/bottoms that women wear and the matching solids men wear. In Kumasi, there is almost nobody wearing traditional Muslim dress. The cloth in Kumasi is more geometric and less organic--like Navajo style patterns.

There are bookstores and evidence of education everywhere. Ghana takes education seriously. Even Burkina Faso did pretty well there. Senegal, too.

Women in Ghana carry glass display cases filled with baked goods on their heads. I've seen them in other countries too, but there are more here.

The ditches on the side of the road seem to designed to inflict maximum damage on anyone unlucky enough to fall into them.

The makers of Latex Foam have a huge ad budget.

Meat pies are plentiful in most parts of Ghana. Like women, they come in all shapes and sizes. Like women, they came in various flavors. Like women, some are better than others. Like women, they are addictive. Like women, they are very satisfying. Unlike women, they are inexpensive. Unlike women, you can have more than one at a time.

Accra, Ghana To Lomé, Togo: It's Fun Again!

2008-10-27T03:04:00.001-05:00

I got up and went to check out of the Date Hotel at about 8am. The guy from 2 days ago was at the desk. Two days ago, I told him I'd like to reserve a room from the December 12th through the 15th. He said he'd make a note of it. When I checked out, he asked me if I still needed a reservation. "Yes, from December 12th to December 15th". There is a calendar on the wall. He flipped to the December page and drew a circle around the 12th of December. I thanked him. But somehow, I don't really trust their reservation system. I hope they have vacancies when I return to Accra.

Then I headed out. I didn't have to walk more than a block when a taxi came by. GH¢3 to Tudu station. We made it to Tudu and people started shouting city names through the window. The Lomé guy pointed us to the Lomé section. I was expecting a minibus, but actually it a car holding 4 people. Better than a sept-place since you only need to wait for 3 other people. And I was already the third. The tickets are GH¢9. Not too bad. The station people grabbed my luggage from the taxi and hauled it across the street and placed it into the trunk of the car. I got in and waited. The 2 guys who hauled my luggage came and asked for something. I gave one guy GH¢1 and told them it was for both of them. But the guy took off as soon as he had the bill leaving his compatriot. This guy then asked for something. I told him he should get his half from the other guy. "But he's already gone." "I told you guys it was for the both of you." "Can't just just give me a little something? It's Sunday." Oh yeah, appeal to the religious sense of an atheist. Ha! "Sorry, but I'm not going to pay GH¢2 to have my luggage carried across the street." He kept trying, but no luck. In the end, he wouldn't get anything. Sorry guy.

It was only about another 5 minutes when a fourth guy came and we were off. Probably not even 8:30. It's about 185 km to Aflao which is the border town a couple of kilometers from Lomé which is practically where the Togo-Ghana border meets the Atlantic Ocean. I had moved to the middle seat since the last guy looked kind of big and probably would suffer there more than I would. It was pretty uncomfortable. The road was pretty good for the first half. Then we started encountering potholes and construction. There were even some places where the locals fill in the potholes with dirt and then shout at the passing cars to give them some money for the effort. Our driver didn't. The police checkpoints weren't a problem. We were just waived through half of them and we didn't even stop at the other half. Finally about about 11, we got to the border.

The car was surrounded by people. Two women moved my luggage into a basket. I went to grab a piece and the woman grabbed it and moved it to her other side. "Why can't I have my luggage?" I guy asked if I needed a taxi to Lomé. "Yes. How much does it cost?" It became apparent this was a team. Two men--one in a white robe--and two women. The guy in the white robe was doing the talking. "We'll decide on that later." Ah ha!

If West Africa is dinosaurs, then Ghana is Barney and Francophone Africa is Jurassic Park. I was among velociraptors again. Yay! No more big purple dinosaurs! It felt good. Yes, it's frustrating and expensive, but it's a lot more fun going mano à mano with T. rex. Travel in West Africa out side of Ghana is a contact sport. It's the black team vs. the white team. The black team knows the rules (and changes them as it goes along) and the white team is still figuring them out. The object of the game: the black team tries to get as much money as possible from the white team using any means necessary short of theft.

We were close to the border. I could see the two border posts. "I won't pay more than GH¢1 for all the luggage" I said causing one women to dump her load on the other woman. I guess she thought I wouldn't be good pickings. They asked if I need CFA. I told them I had enough. We walked toward the Ghana police. I went up and filled out a card. A woman looked it over and then sent me into an office with the card and my passport where I got my exit stamp.

Then we went over to Ghana immigration. I handed the guard my passport. "Are you going to Bamako?" he asked. Bamako? "No, I said, I'm going to Lomé." "Will you be returning to Bamako?" "No." "Will you be returning to Accra?" "Yes, by plane from Douala, Cameroon." "Accra is great, isn't it?" he asked proudly. I smiled. "Yes it is." Then he let me through. Then I realized that I didn't have sunglasses. I went back to look for them, but couldn't find them. Oh well.

Now it was off to Togo. The guy in the white robe said that we had to go through Togo customs. And that would take 1 CFA. I said I didn't understand. He said I would 1 CFA to clear customs. I told him one CFA is worth practically nothing and he needed to tell me what he meant. He asked me "do you know CFA?" "Yes, I've been to Senegal, Guinea-Bissau, Mali, and Burkino Faso. I know CFA. I don't know what you mean by 1 CFA." "Ten CFA." "Ten CFA? I still don't know what you mean." "Ten thousand CFA. We need ten thoudand CFA to get through customs." He was doing Cedi math. In Ghana, there are two money systems, the Cedi and the Ghana Cedi. A Ghana Cedi is equal to exactly 10000 Cedi. He was saying 1 CFA when he meant 10000 CFA.

Of course, CFA 10000 is like US$20 and there's no way that I would need to pay that to get through customs. We went up to the Togo police. I filled out a paper form with parents names' being the oddest question though I've had to answer that one several times so far. But mostly straightforward stuff. Then they gave me my stamp.

I went out and they directed me to a taxi just before Togo customs. The people carrying my baggage put it into the trunk. OK, now how much for the cab ride? "3000 CFA" he said. "No that's too high. I'll pay no more than CFA 2000." "They wouldn't budge." "Fine," I said. I tried to pay the baggage woman GH¢1 and she wouldn't take it. "That's no good," she sneered. The guy in the white robe said I needed to pay more. "I told you way back there that I wouldn't pay more than GH¢1 for all the baggage." "We had to wait for you a long time at the border stops." It didn't take any longer than it would take anyone else. "No!" I said, "If you needed more than GH¢1 for the luggage then the time to tell me was back when I said I wasn't willing to pay more than GH¢1 for all the luggage." "Just a little more." "The time to negotiate this was over way back there! It's finished!" I got into the back seat where they had opened the door. "Just a little bit more," he asked. I reached into my pocket and got out another GH¢1. I held one in each hand. I made him beg for it about 2 more times telling him that the same stuff over again. In the end I suppose he thought he won since he just had to beg for GH¢1 for about 2 minutes while I told him that he wasn't doing business properly. I felt pretty good because I got his hackles up. And they were up as I would soon find out.

We were just a few feet before the customs station. Then the guy in the white robe got in the front seat. "Wait a minute! What are you doing in here!?" He said he was going to help me through customs. I opened the door and got out. He got out. "No! I've been through customs in Senegal, Gambia, Guinea-Bissau, Guinea-Conakry,"--I ran out of breath and got lost--"and a few other places! I've done this before! And I've certainly never paid CFA10000 to any customs official! Ever!" I didn't tell me about the Faramoya customs guys who extorted €30 out of me, of course. I turned to the taxi driver. "Give me my stuff! I'm going to do this by myself!" The white robe guy realized he wasn't going to sucker me out of much more money. "OK" he said, "just get back into the cab and we'll call the customs guy over." The customs guy had been sitting there the whole time just watching this whole scene. The cab driver popped the trunk and he came over and looked at the contents for about 10 seconds. Then the trunk closed, the driver got in, and we started to take off.

I wasn't sure what was happening, but the cab driver and the guy in the white robe got into a shouting match. It lasted about a minute. I wasn't sure what this was about. But I was happy to see that the guy in the white robe wasn't having fun. Finally after a minute, the taxi driver passed him a few coins and started to drive away. Then guy in the white robe followed shouting some more with the driver. The drivers stopped again and handed over a few more coins. Then we were finally on our way.

"He wanted CFA1000 for bringing you to me. But I refused--I only gave him 400." So the guy in the white robe, the young man, and the woman made a total haul of GH¢2 and CFA400. Not much over US$2.50--and they had to scrap hard for that, even. The taxi driver got the best of it getting CFA 2600 to take me into Lomé. But, I was pretty happy. Back among the velociraptors. We were off to the Hôtel du Boulevard. We went along the beach. There are a lot of people on the beach--not sunbathing or swimming. Just sort of loitering. We went all along the beach until we got the far end of the boulevard and turned up to my hotel. Lomé has an interesting setup. The Boulevard is a semicircular street that takes about 30 minutes to walk from one end to the other. Pretty big. Then the beach road goes along the diameter. My hotel is on the Boulevard at the other end of Lomé.

We arrived. "Avez-vous une chambre pour deux nuits?" Yep, they have a room. Only CFA 6000 (US$12) per night. They took my passport to fill out the fîche for the police while I freshened up a bit and looked at the map in Lonely Planet to figure out what I would eat for lunch. It was getting close to noon. I went back down and paid and they commented that I was much much fatter in my passport picture.

Then I headed out and went along the Boulevard to the west. I got almost to the end and decided to stop in a place with a lot of people called Nopagali Plage or something like that. I got a Star. The woman asked if I wanted food. I said I would. She asked what I wanted. I asked if there was a menu. She shook her head. "Poulet, poisson, riz?" "Avez vous frites?" "Non." "OK, je voudrais poulet et riz." She asked something else but I didn't understand. Finally I guess she figured I'd just eat and pay for whatever she put in front of me. And that was my plan.

I had my journal and started writing into it and thinking about things. I noticed something interesting. I've been in West Africa for a bout 3 months now and for the first time, I'm beginning to find larger and larger numbers of women to be sexually attractive. I was never into the black girl look before. Of course, there the ones that are super-hot like Halle Barry. But she's part white so maybe she doesn't count. I don't know if it is just the time I've spent here or maybe because I came through Ghana where the women just look healthier than in the rest of Africa and basically lead a middle class lifestyle with middle class looks. Maybe since I'm now out of the Muslim area, the women act and dress more to American tastes. They certainly do a lot with their hair down here whereas in the Muslim countries they tend to cover their heads. One woman came in and went over to a table of men and one other woman she was meeting. She was gorgeous and had recently coiffed hair. Nice jewelry, perfect makeup. All the men in the place watched her come in and take her seat. She was hot. Later I saw a woman with a really neat hat. She was hot too. I ordered more beer. A group of three young women--maybe early 20's came in and sat at the table in front of me. They glanced over a few times and caught me checking them out. We all smiled.

There were ambulant merchants walking by. I was keeping my eyes out for one with sunglasses. Finally a guy with dozens of pairs of sunglasses came by. I jogged up to him. "J'ai besoin des lunettes de soliel." I found a pair I liked and he cleaned them for me. I tried them on. Not as dark as the other ones but when I stepped out of the shqde and into the sun, they seemed pretty good. He asked CFA 3500. I offered CFA 2500. We settled on CFA 3000 (US$6). While I was buying, another guy came up and bought a pair of sunglasses, too. A good stop for the vendor.

Finally, I paid my bill and headed out. There was a slight misunderstanding. I thought the bill was CFA 8000, but it was CFA 5000. So I didn't understand why I got so much change back. A happy misunderstanding.

I came back to my room to rest and then decided in the evening to go the other way. I went all the way to the other end where I stopped in a Chinese restaurant. I refused the eggrolls (nem in French) because they were CFA 2000 (US$4) and I'm sick of getting ripped off by overpriced a la carte things that should be cheap. I did get a CFA 1500 egg white soup, though. I also got sweet and sour pork and some spicy vegetables. It was pretty good, but not spectacular. The bill came to CFA 12000 or so (US$24). Now it was dark, but the Boulevard is lively and there is enough light to avoid falling into a hole. I passed one guy sleeping on the street. Lomé has muggings and pickpockets, but this won't be a target of them. He was buck naked. Not a stitch. No wallet, no shoes, nothing. I don't know what he does when he's not sleeping, but he sure doesn't seem like a guy with a lot of options. I made it back and tried to sleep with my underpowered fan whispering air onto me.

Monday, October 27, 2008 8:04 Togo local time

Fifth And Last Day In Accra

2008-10-26T02:19:00.000-05:00

So yesterday was my last day in Accra. Well, actually, I'll fly back from from Douala, Cameroon and spend a couple days here. But it's my last day on this leg. I had nothing to accomplish--except smoke the other half of my Cohiba cigar.

In the morning I worked on the internet. Then I went to Champs sports bar. For some reason the Lonely Planet puts the icon in the wrong place on the map. It's right on the main road and not off on a parallel side street. There is a refundable cover of GH¢8. I went in. At 10:30 there are no customers. But at 11am, there was a crowd to watch Manchester United get tied by Everton. It was fun watching the match with all these true soccer fans. Champs claims to be a Mexican restaurant, so I ordered Chicken Chimighangas. When they came they were warm but not hot. The cheese was not melted. But I had already applied the guacamole which seemed to lack enough salt or something. The tortilla was not a tortilla but a sort of extra flat flat-bread. Oh why do I eat at every Mexican restaurant in Africa? They just don't do it right in West Africa.

Well, after that I decided to have pizza. There is a place called Mama Mia's that is supposed to have the best pizza in Accra. I took a tro-tro from my neighborhood to Osu and found it a ways down in the southern part of Osu. The pizza was good, but a bit pricey. I paid GH¢12 and it wasn't one of the more expensive ones. I had a pizza on the way home a few days ago at the Osu food court and it was only GH¢8.50 and about as good. So I'd say the food court pizza is better value. A group came in after a while. Two white people and about 15 Africans. The white woman said that they could order 1 pizza per two people so sit next to someone who wants your toppings. Then she was trying to figure out what everyone wanted to drink so she could tell the waiter. "Who wants Schweppes? Who wants Sprite? Who wants Fanta? Who wants Coca-Cola?" People were raising their hands at the mention of the drinks. Finally she asked the obvious questions "does anybody want beer?" in a manner that made me think the answer would be no. There were a couple brave souls. So, my guess was that they were missionaries. After a while I saw one guy had a little blue book. I couldn't read the title but it was a short word followed by a long word. So I'm sure it said "New Testament".

There was one women who placed a takeout order. She had a really sexy body and walked that walk that really sexy African women walk--slow and sexy with that "you can look but you can't touch (unless I let you)" attitude. She walked in, all male eyes tracking her movements, and placed her order. Then she walked out. A few minutes later, she came back in and attracted all the eyes once more as she checked on her order. Again a few minutes later, she came back in, got her box, and walked out. I'm sure all the men were disappointed because that was the last we'd see of her, but a few minutes later, she sauntered back in and did something and sauntered back out.

After that I went back to Monsoon--the upscale complex with a cocktail bar, restaurant, and sushi bar. I sat at the bar by the wall reading La route. I got a Bloody Mary. Then, an hour later a Jack Daniels to go with my cigar. Then an hour after that, a final beer. The place went from empty to crowded while I was there. It was Saturday, after all. Everyone in pairs or threes or fours. Then there's me with Cormac McCarthy.

It wasn't too late when I left. I went down and there was a guy standing by his cab. I asked how much to Adabraka and he said GH¢4. I said I'd do it for GH¢3 but not four. He acquiesced. We headed to Adabraka. We had to pass a police checkpoint but the policeman wasn't interested in us. I told the guy how to get to my hotel, but he wanted to stop and ask another taxi driver. The other driver told him what I had already told him. Then he took me there and asked for GH¢4. I told him we had agreed on GH¢3. "Please, I beg you", he said. He looked so sad and pathetic. And it worked. I totally felt sorry for him as I paid him GH¢3.

Sunday, October 26, 2008 7:19 Ghana local time

Fourth Day in Accra: Tickets Home

2008-10-25T02:57:00.000-05:00

Day 4. I had 2 goals. First, get postcards mailed. The main post office is downtown, due south of my hotel. I haven't been there yet. So I walked down. Wow! This part of town is just one huge market. Tro-Tros running everywhere, trucks, people loading and unloading goods and setting up their shops. A crush of people. I kept going south while walking east to west and west to east through this pulsing scene. I got a meat pie and a GH¢0.05 bag of water. These nickel bags of cold water are great. Finally I got to the post office and mailed the post cards. Then I headed back up buying another meat pie on the way that turned out to be a curry meat pie.
Now, to find the travel agency near me that's in Lonely Planet. Nope, no longer there. That's 2 travel agencies I couldn't find in 2 days. I was pretty sure I saw the M & J Travel agency over by Osu, though. So I walked there.

And there it was right on Ring Road not far from Osu. I went in and sat down by the unbusiest looking woman (who was also quite pretty) and asked her if she could help me get some tickets. She started looking for flights from Douala, but since they all go through Paris--Charles de Gaulle, the cheapest was about US$3200. Hmmm... She said that what I could do was to get a flight from either Lagos or Accra since they go through cheaper cities and then get a less expensive flight from Douala to that city. Since I have a multiple entry visa for Ghana but not for Nigeria, I decided on Accra. I wouldn't mind staying here a few days either, so I figured I could get a flight a few days before my flight to Chicago.

So we decided on a Virgin Nigeria flight connecting in Douala to Accra on the December 12. Then on December 15, a KLM flight from Accra to O'Hare connecting in Amsterdam and Detroit. Home just in time for Christmas. :-)

But first, there I gotta pay. Here's the hitch--M & J Tours doesn't have credit cards machines. The KLM flight has to be paid for at the KLM office since they have a credit card machine there. And the Virgin Nigeria flight has to paid for in cash. Yikes! It's GH¢561. That's a lot of cash. More than my ATM daily limit. So I decided to take it out in 2 chunks--GH¢300 from my debit card and GH¢300 from my credit card. I did it at the Barclays in Osu and it worked--my only fear was that the fraud department at the bank would reject the KLM part. I headed back with bulging pockets and paid. Whew! But now, we had to go to KLM. The man at the travel agency would accompany me to the KLM office. It's a ways down on Ring Road. We went in to pay for the ticket. Credit card declined. Yikes! The mn at KLM said it required a preauthorization. I didn't have a phone. So the travel guy offered to lend he his if we I would buy a phone card. I got a GH¢4 phone card and he charged his phone and then we called the bank. I explained my situation and answered all the security questions. They turned my card back on. We went back into KLM and I got my tickets. Then the guy had to go by himself to Virgin Nigeria to get the tickets from them. I didn't have to go since they already had the money. I just had to return to M & J at 2pm to get the final ticket.

So I walked back to Osu and hung out at the Venus bar having a cold beer and 1.5 liter bottle of cold water. It was pretty hot and it was good to cool off. At 2, I went and got my Virgin tickets. Actually they are all eTickets. Nice. That means I don't have to carry them in my money belt. Yay!

Then I went to check the internet sites. It was late afternoon and the 2 meat pies from the morning were starting to wear off, so I thought I'd try Papaye's--a Ghanaian fast food place. I had 2 pieces of fried chicken with fries and cole slaw. Actually, Papaye's does fries quite well. It's so hard to find properly cooked fries in Africa. Then back to the Venus bar for a couple more beers and some spicy chicken wings that were very good as well. By now it was just gotten dark and I decided to walk home. I didn't get very far and decided that the road had too many uneven spots and walking would be too dangerous even though it not long after sunset. There was a tro-tro across the street. The conductor was shouting "Se se se se se" or something like that. I have no idea where that is, so I asked himif it goes to Nkrumah Circle which I'm pretty sure it did since it probably just plies the East, Central, and West Ring Road. I got on. It took me to Nkrumah Circle after a few minutes and I got out. Only GH¢0.25. Like a quarter. I just had to walk down Nkrumah road to the hotel which is only about a 5 minute walk. Funkies' Fast Food was already closed so meat pie snacks.

The night was still young, but I just stayed in the rest of the night. I don't normally go out at night. It's just so much easier in an Anglophone country than a Francophone country.

Saturday, October 25, 2008 7:57 Ghana local time

Third Full Day In Accra: Three Visas In One Swoop

2008-10-24T02:22:00.001-05:00

Day 3. My mission is to get the Visa Touristique Entente. I headed out to find a place where I could have a coffee and a pastry and fill out my forms. Le Petit Paris was my destination, but I couldn't find it. So back to Osu which is close to the Togolese embassy. I ate at Frankie's. Frankie's is a local place popular with the foreigners and richer Ghanaians. I had a couple of donuts, a coffee, and an orange juice. They had CNN and AC, too. But it is definitely on the pricey side. I keep buying expensive food and translating the cost into meat pies. You can get 2 meat pies for GH¢1.

The guy at the Togolese embassy had told me to come at about 9:30 so I headed up to get there at 9:30. The guard guy let me in but I still wasn't being required to sign in. Just to walk right in though the guard guy accompanied me to the window. I, of course, knew why--later he'd most likely hit me up for a little money. I handed my passport, forms, 2 pictures (I panicked because they were wedged in my Lonely Planet instead of my money belt where my passport goes) to the officer at the Reception window. The officer glued the pictures to the forms. Then he got a numbered plastic tag and wrapped it around my passport while giving me a matching number. At that he took the CFA 30000 (US$60). Interesting. Ghana's Bamako embassy gave me a receipt. So far only Ghana and Togo had embassies that give me something to prove that they have my passport. The man told me to come at 2pm.

So now I had some time. I went to an internet cafe in Osu and surfed for 2 hours. Then time to check out Frankie's at lunch. They had Sky News instead of CNN this time. Yuck. For a while they had a Sky News/Fox Business News segment but I was severely distracted by the extremely annoying logos of Sky News and Fox Business News spinning around and wobbling and what-not. I had a GH¢5.80 hot dog. You'd think for that rice it would be a big sausage, but it wasn't. I stayed until about 1:20. Then I went to another expat place--the Koala market. It's a grocery store with imported goods. I got some peanut butter after determining that groundnut paste is, in fact, the same thing as peanut butter. Also a pack of Starburst.

Then it was about time to head back to the Togolese embassy. I went in at 2 and got my passport. Yay! The guard guy met me on the way out and rubbed his fingers together. Just as I suspected. I slipped him a Cedi.

Mission accomplished, I headed to Ryan's Irish Pub. For the first time I didn't get lost trying to find it. When I walked in there was a baseball game on. Near the beginning. I asked if it was live. A guy at a table said it was last night. I told him not to tell me how it turns out. He asked if I wanted to make a bet on the result. ;-)

Here is how much I follow baseball. Not only did I not know that the Phillies were in the World Series, but I didn't even know that there exists a team called the Tampa Bay Rays. It was the first I ever heard of them. I didn't really have a dog in the fight so I applied rule #1 when I don't care--when a Union state team plays a Confederate state team, root for the Union state team. I don't know who does the counter for number of outs and ball/strike count, but whoever it was must have been chatting with his girlfriend or something. It was just annoyingly inaccurate. It isn't the one Fox does in the United States--but a non-network generic "World Series" score and count for overseas broadcasts.

The game pretty much took me to happy hour which mercifully lasts from 5 to 9 on Thursdays. I paid GH¢7 for 2 beers and a water during the game and GH¢6.50 for 4 beers during happy hour. Much cheaper. I met a nice British woman who drive from London to Accra with her husband 5 years ago and now works in the British High Commission. I asked her about taxi prices. She said that the drivers pretty much all add an obruni premium and you have no choice to absorb it. I also met an Irish guy who is here on a UN project. We talked about Ireland and other places he has lived and worked. Pretty interesting. Finally at about 9:30 I hailed a cab and went to the 24 hour Busy Internet cafe. He charged me GH¢3 after a threat to walk away. I surfed until after midnight there. Not many people there after midnight. There were more in Conakry's cafe late at night. Of course, the MouNa is right in downtown Conakry and this is on Central Ring Road. Then I got a taxi home for only GH¢2.50.

Friday, October 24, 2008 7:22 Ghana local time

Second Full Day In Accra

2008-10-22T15:46:00.001-05:00

My major goal for the day was to get my passport back from the Nigerian embassy. I was supposed to show up at the embassy between 2 and 3pm. So I had some time in the morning. First thing--get some more money after my expensive day yesterday. That was easy. Next, do some websurfing. I checked talkingpointsmemo.com, fiverthirtyeight.com, and my blogs. Obama is back on course. McCain is running out of time and cutting back on advertising in critical states. Meanwhile, the money keeps rolling in for Obama. The Republican citizens at the campaign events seem to think it's unfair that McCain is bound by different rules than Obama. Well, if they would have been willing to pony up the money needed to run a successful campaign, McCain wouldn't be in this mess. But it seems that the Reps don't want to back him financially. Is that Obama's fault? I don't think so. It was a good day internet wise.

After getting my Obama reassurance, I headed to Osu and then north to find the Togo embassy. They don't have a plaque, just a flag. Hint to Lonely Planet--put a picture of the flags of each West African country into the guide book on one of the color pages. It would make finding the embassies a little easier. It was still only about 11am, so I decided to find a place where I could get a Coca-Cola. I found this nice place signposted from the circle with the Togolese embassy called the ZanziBar. I went in and got a Coke. It wasn't too cold. They turned off the loud TV and put on some nice jazz and the breeze was occasional but refreshing. Since I still had quite a bit of time and it was nice there, I decided to get a small Star beer. It was, in contrast to the Coke, ice cold. The coldest beer I had in Africa, perhaps. It was so good. On the way out, I asked to see the dinner menu. It looked good. I decided I'd come one of these nights.

Then, since I was not far from the Togolese embassy, I went to gather some information. The guy at the guard station was really friendly. He answered what questions he could and then sent me in to get the forms for the Visa Touristique Entente and ask the rest of the questions. So I got 2 forms with really simple questions. Nothing like "have you ever been convicted of a crime." Just the basics. I need 2 photos (my last 2--I'll need to make some for the Cameroonian visa) and CFA 30000 (US$60) which I have already. I have a lot of CFA.

So I still had a lot of time to kill so I went down to Osu and stopped in the Niagara Hotel Bar where I got an Orange Fanta. While I was drinking it, a local woman came in and asked if she could sit with me. I didn't know what she was but I said yes. She introduced herself. Osu is the rich part of town. There are tons of white people and the Ghanaians who consume have high incomes. Was she trying to get me to buy her stuff? I didn't bite. I was polite but not encouraging. She wasn't really my type. There are women who would have gotten a Fanta from me but not her. Finally, 1:30 came around and I told her I had a 2:00 appointment and paid my bill (GH¢1) and left.

I walked to the north of the circle that borders the north end of Osu and then got a cab. He wanted to charge me GH¢5 to the Nigerian embassy but I got him to GH¢4. Actually he didn't know where it was so I had to tell him how to get there. Once we got close, he realized where it was. He told me that next time I should tell the taxi driver to take me to Roman Ridge since they all know where that is. I was a bit early so I just walked around the neighborhood a bit. Then I entered at 2. The woman I dashed yesterday was there again. I signed in and went to the waiting room. The waiting room was full. The visa guy came out and consulted with a couple of people. Then he went back to his office. Next he came out and gave me my passport and the receipt for the US$100 I paid. I looked at the visa. Looked good. Yay!!!! I had to jump through some hoops, but it all worked out in the end. I have my Nigerian visa! Only the guard woman asked for a dash. The embassy guy didn't.

In a mood to celebrate, I got a taxi to take me to Ryan's Irish Pub where I had GH¢3 credit. I got a couple of beers and a water. The World's Best Fishing Show was on and I watched it wondering how fishing shows can stay on the air. Then there was another fishing show. Then a hunting show whereupon I asked Janet, the bartendress to change the channel to the news. It's SkyNews so it's bad, but at least it's news. Janet suggested next time I get some food (I wasn't hungry because I had a couple of meat pies for breakfast). I looked at the menu. Ryan's is way overpriced. Even Bill Gates would find it overpriced. I was shocked the day before when I saw a whole table of people eating tiramisu and then I saw the price of tiramisu on the specials board--GH¢9. That was like 5 tiramisu's or about US$50 of tiramisu. No way! I'll pay for good food, but I won't pay French food prices for pub food. Which reminded me of ZanziBar.

It isn't far from Ryan's Irish Pub to ZanziBar (by Pacific Northwest hiker standards) so I walked up. I was especially intrigued by an item on their menu: Chateaubriand with Roquefort. It was GH¢13.50--just GH¢1.50 more than the 8 ounce burger at Ryan's Irish Pub. I got an ice cold Star and a nice salad to start. Then I got a small bottle of a Chilean Cab-Sauvignon (25cl and not 375 ml like the small bottles everywhere else) and the Chateaubriand with Roquefort. It was so good. It came with garlic mashed potatoes. If I had to quibble, the mashed potatoes had a flavor I'm not used to--nutmeg. It was interesting, but the nutmeg was a bit too powerful for me. The bread wasn't served with butter, but it was fresh and baked there on site, I think. It was soft, warm, and yummy. The Chateaubriand was delicious. The Roquefort flavor was forward but not overpowering. Just the perfect blend. L'Eau Vive in Bobo-Dioulasso and le Café du Fleuve in Bamako were better, but this was very good for a non-Francophone country. Almost in their category.

I finished off with a warm apple pie topped with vanilla ice cream and an espresso. Then I topped that with a shot of Baileys on ice. The total bill with tip was GH¢50. Pricey but still cheaper than yesterday and better than yesterday.

They have a mirror there at ZanziBar. I looked at myself in the mirror and liked what I saw. I look like an adventurer. I have the outfit of an voyageur. I am thinner than I've ever been and have the sunburn, sweat matted hair, and rugged look of a seasoned explorer. I saw a guy who can show up in a French speaking town at 2am and find a room. I saw a guy with courage and stamina. There looking back at me was a guy who made a decision to crash through a set of boundaries and followed through. That is a guy who knows he can overcome his own limitations--because he did. My 40's are going to be good.

Then I hailed a cab which I got down from GH¢5 to GH¢4. I think taxis in Accra are just expensive. I don't know if I'm getting obruni prices because they are all in the same ballpark.

Tuesday, October 22, 2008 20:46 Ghana local time

First Full Day In Accra, Ghana

2008-10-22T02:53:00.000-05:00

I woke up and headed out. When I paid for my hotel yesterday, I paid GH¢12 for a GH¢11.50 room. The woman said she would give me the 50 pesewas when she saw me next. I went to pay for today's lodging and since I hadn't yet received my GH¢0.50, I had GH¢11 ready. So you can imagine my surprise when they told me I owed GH¢1.50 from the previous day! I told them that in fact they owed me GH¢0.50. It was a different person and all he had to go on was a sheet of paper that said the guy in room 14 owed GH¢1.50 and the guy in room 16 owed GH¢0.60. I asked if the woman who worked there would be there later and he said they would. I paid the money but I will make that woman declare before God that she remembers me paying only GH¢10 for the GH¢11.50 room. Because I have an absolute positive memory of giving her GH¢12 and an absolute positive memory of her telling me that she would give me GH¢0.50 when I next saw her. I was angry. I told the guy, while I paid the GH¢1.50 that it was absolutely incorrect. If she refuses to refund me GH¢2, then I can say with certainty that they are ripping me off.
Anyway, I thought I'd eat at a breakfast place called Orangery. But it was closed. Oh well. It was still early and I thought I'd find the Nigerian embassy and then head over to Osu where I could grab a bite to eat while I waited for it to open. I passed by the Nigerien embassy which is different from the Nigerian embassy but on the way. After a while I made it to the street with the Australian HIgh Commission, Japanese embassy and Nigerian embassy. I walked quite a way down the street, but I didn't see anything so I asked some people. One guy said I had to keep going in the same direction and another guy said I had to go back and turn right. Hmmm.... I went back and then turned around again and went further. There was the Australian flag waving. The Nigerian embassy should be really close. But not there. Hmmm... Since my hat often is confused for an Australian hat, I figured I'd try asking there.

The guard there knew where it was. He couldn't find it my map, so he drew a map that was sort of accurate and sort of not. But for the most part, I could relate his map to the map in the Lonely Planet. The guy was so excited to be giving me directions that he basically repeated the directions 3 times explaining each step. "Then you'll come to an interchange. You don't go right--that goes to the airport. You don't go left. You go straight through." At each intersection he told me the same thing--telling me which directions to not go in before telling me which direction to go in. It was sort of funny.

It as 9am and the sun was starting to beat down hard. The walk to the Nigerian embassy is about an hour walk. I got to within a few blocks when I essentially didn't know where to go. I didn't know I was just a few blocks away. So I hailed a cab and he said he could take me there for GH¢2. A minute later in from of the embassy, I handed him GH¢2 and told him "that's the easy two cedis you'll make all day." He had no response.

Basically, the Nigerian embassy is off Atchimota road. There is an interchange that goes to something called "Pig Farm" which seems to be a motor park or something. There is a Total gas station right on the corner of the interchange. If you head a little northwest from the gas station on the north side of the road, the first street to the north-east is Continental Road though the sign is really faded. Go right on Continental and go one block. There is a large nursery school called Little Angels or something like that. Turn left and go 2 blocks. Then turn right and go one block. That's the Nigerian embassy.

I went up to the window and a woman gave me a small sheet of paper with the stuff I need and 2 sheets of paper. The list of stuff I need included a letter of invitation from host, a letter of introduction from company, 2 photocopies of my passport detail page and page that carries a valid resident permit, 2 passport sized photo, and 2 fully filled out application forms. Three of those things I don't have. I asked if that would be a problem. She sort of shook her head like a metronome to indicate yes and no. I asked her the fee. For US citizens, it's US$100.
So, I had some work to do. There is a forex office right by the Total station called Orchid Forex. I headed there. Their rates are pretty good bid/ask of GH¢1.16 and GH¢1.19 for a dollar. Pretty tight. So I got a US$100 bill. I asked if there was a photocopy place anywhere near there. They suggested the Total station. At the Total station, they pointed across the street to a booth that does photocopies. Yay! All this stuff is close to the embassy. So I got photocopies of my passport, Ghana visa, entry stamp--only GH¢0.10 per page. Then I went back to the little fast food joint inside the Total and got a Sprite while I filled out the forms. Hmm... The 2 sheets of paper are not two applications, but one application.

They ask a lot of weird questions. Like every country I have lived in for more than a year in the last 5 years. And every country I have visited in the last 12 months with cities and dates. Yikes! That would take forever. In the end, I put Canada and France on their own lines and then I put all the African countries on another set of lines and just gave the date range for all those countries together. I had to say whether I've ever been convicted of a crime (no), if I've even been diagnosed with a serious mental illness (no), if I've ever tested positive for HIV, (no). Then I went back across the street and got copies of the filled out application. The guy even made one of the copies double sided and only charged me GH¢0.25 since I used one less piece of paper.

So, back to the embassy. The woman at the window let me in and I signed in and went to the lobby. I waited for a few minutes and a guy came out and sat next to me there in the waiting room. He looked over my application and asked questions about it. He asked if I had a reservation at the place I listed as my address in Nigeria. I told him no, that I planned to just show up. He asked what I would do if they were booked. I said I had a list of a lot of hotels and I would go to the various hotels until I found one. He asked if the money I said I had available--basically my bank account balance--would be carried in cash. No, I said, it's just available through ATMs. Then he said that for tourist visas he needed a photocopy of my vaccinations and a copy of my proof of insurance.

Oh boy. New requirements. I told him I'd have to get the insurance information off the internet. It was about 11:30 by now. I would have to return before 2pm or else wait until Thursday since they only accept applications before 2pm on Tuesdays and Thursdays. So I thanked him and headed out to find an internet cafe. I decided to give up on Tuesday and just started heading into town by taking the road that goes to Pig Farm from the Total station. Then there was a little hole in the wall internet cafe about a 1km from the Total station. So I popped in. I printed out my insurance information and browsed the web a little bit. Then back to the photocopy place. I got more copies of my vaccinations, and the insurance (it's good to have it on me anyway). Then back to the embassy. It was about 12:30 now. The woman at the window let me in and suggested I should dash her something on the way out. "Dash" is the Nigerian word for "tip". I went in and the same guy came out. I showed him all the new stuff I brought. I gave him my passport, pictures, all the photocopies, US$100, and he told me to come between 2 and 3 the next day. Whew! By far the most difficult visa application so far. Just 2 more to go--the 5 country Entente Touristique for Togo, Benin, and Niger, and the Cameroonian visa.
That done, I walked to Ryans Irish Pub in Osu. This took about an hour. It took a little finding since it's not on the main street in Osu. I had to shake off a few merchants but they were easy to shake off. One guy tried to sell me an Obama '08 bracelet. But I wasn't prepared to buy anything.

Once at Ryan's, I installed myself into a chair and got a draft Star and a big bottle of water. It was a nice refreshment after a few hours of walking in the hot African sun. When I left they didn't have one cedi notes, so they owe me GH¢3. I'll go back.

I was close to an upscale place called Monsoon that has sushi and cigars. Why the hell not? They weren't open yet but there was an internet cafe next door. I think the girl next to me was the one who was at the Cape Coast Castle Restaurant who avoided eye-contact with me. Then I went to the lounge and had a 3 hour conversation with a German guy who does microfinance promotion. We mostly talked about Obama. I had a bloody mary and switched to beer. That was fun. Then he headed off and I went into the sushi section. The chefs weren't Japanese. Oh well. And they had no tuna! Sushi without maguro? Hmm... I got a deluxe set which was pretty good. But I still wanted more so I got a shrimp nigiri and a salmon roll. Then the sushi bar section closes so I went back into the cocktail lounge. I asked to see the humidor. I got myself a nice Cuban Cohiba and smoked half of it. I'll save the other half for later. Now it was late and raining, so I got dinged on the cab ride home--GH¢5. But I made it home safe and sound. It was an expensive day--the visa, the drinks, the sushi, the cigar. But I need a day like that every once in a while.

Wednesday, October 22, 2008 7:53 Ghana local time

Get Well Stacey Waterman

2008-10-21T12:11:00.002-05:00

My favorite travel blogger of all time, Stacey Waterman, had a run-in with an Egyptian pot of coffee. Pot of coffee 1, Stacey 0. She was hospitalized and had skin grafts surgically placed.

Stacey, we've never met, but I have been following your travel blog for a while. I love your style and your spirit. And I hope that you beat the battle with that coffee pot.

Next time you're in Vancouver, please give me a shout and we'll meet for a beer (not a coffee) with my traveling companion, Elena. We were in Essaouira around the same time as you were and probably have a lot to talk about.

Please take care of yourself. I look forward to reading more of your blogs.

BTW--I'm counting on the internet to get this to Stacey. I'm not sending it to her except in this general internet post. If you know her, please send her the link. :-)

Cape Coast, Ghana To Accra, Ghana

2008-10-20T14:01:00.001-05:00

It was still dark when I woke up. I've been getting up early lately. I left soon after the first light. I headed towards the downtown where the buses and tro-tros to Accra were. But as soon as I hit the main road that goes along the coast south of my hotel, a guy saw me and shouted Accra? There is a little mini-station that services the west part of Cape Coast for cars to Accra. Cool. Only four more people to go, too. The ticket was GH¢5.50. The wait was about an hour and we departed at about 7:15. I was expecting a 3 hour trip, but we were there in about 2.5 hours. I tracked where we were on the map and when we were close to a traffic circle near the hotel I wanted to stay at, I got out. A cab took me the rest of the way to the Date Hotel.

The Date Hotel is about the only cheap hotel in Accra in Lonely Planet. A single is GH¢11.50 and that gets you a room with a fan and a single shared bathroom with a padlock. The keys are for the room and the padlock. So, the accommodation isn't luxury. Tomorrow I'll apply for my Nigerian visa. I'm not sure how that works. Usually Lonely Planet gives details like number of pictures needed and how long it takes. But not for Nigeria. I'll just have to see what's up when I get there.

I rested briefly and headed out to go to the ATM and internet cafe. I stopped at Funky's and got a beef meat pie and a chicken meat pie. They were so good! The Busy Internet cafe is on Central Ring road. It's pretty nice--a lot like the MouNa in Conakry. The only problems are that it's expensive--one hour for GH¢1.80, no Firefox, and you can't call up the Internet Options dialog to clear your browser history and cookies and stuff. It was good to check up on the election. Colin Powell endorsed Obama. Obama also had a record fundraising haul. A nice pickup that should blunt McCains recent 2 point pickup. I'm not too worried though. As long as the voters don't get complacent, the result should be positive. The real nail biters for me are the Minnesota Senate race and the Washington governor's race. I'd love to see Al Franken on the Senate floor in Paul Wellstone's place.

Well, after that I was thirsty and decided to check out the Vienna Entertainment Complex. I went into their bar. I was the only customer. It was warm and smelled like stale smoke. They only had small Stars but I'm glad because it wasn't that cold. And it was GH¢2. What a rip off. I'll never go there again. I was anxious to get out and I went to Wok Inn, a Chinese place. They had GH¢1.20 large Stars that were very nice and cold. Whew. Their food is salty so I had 2. I just sat there then thinking about stuff.

Monday, October 20, 2008 19:01 Ghana local time

Elmina Castle, The Fort, And The Cape Coast Castle Restaurant

2008-10-19T15:30:00.000-05:00

I woke up early enough to go to the Ocean View internet cafe. They had a hard time getting their system up and running. Finally the guy just had to unlock a computer for me to use unclocked. I didn't abuse it. Sadly, their computers don't work with my email client so I can read but not respond to email. Elena, I got your email and I'm delighted you are having a good time in Nepal. :-)

It took me a long time to find the shared taxis to Elmina. My search was compounded by a huge NPP rally right about where I was looking (their elections are soon, too). But after some searching and asking around, I finally found the taxis. I arrived at 9:15. They wait until there are 4 people and then head to Elmina. We left at about 9:25. The cost is GH¢0.65. Cheap.

The guy in the front seat was going to the fort. I wasn't sure why. I arrived in Elmina in the shared cab. I wanted to stay in the cab until the end so that I could see where the cab back to Cape Coast took off from. The driver showed me the front of the church and said it leaves from there. I got out and he started shouting "Cape Cape Cape" from his window as he slowly made his way down the street.

There is a fort and a castle. It isn't obvious which is the fort and which is the castle. I assumed the one on the hill was the castle and the one on the water with all the cannons was the fort. Wrong. Oh well. I got 2 egg rolls on the way to the castle. They weren't that good. The meat pies are much better but there aren't as many meat pie vendors in these parts.

As I approached the castle, a guy came up and introduced himself. A guide, I presume. He asked my name. I told him. M-A-R-K? he asked. Yes, that's right. I often ask people with unusual names to spell them so it didn't strike me as odd. Actually, it strikes me as odd whenever I ask someone to spell their name. I think I'm the only one who ever asks people to do that. I don't know why. Maybe a holdover from Japan where people always want to know the Kanji that makes up a person's name. They then either write in on their hand or say a common word that has it. Anyway, it is usually important to me to know how to spell a name. Though, yesterday, I didn't ask Sara if it's Sarah or Sara. Sara is one name I usually let slide without asking. Ann/Anne too. Anyway, I told him I didn't need a guide. He said OK and told me to remember his name (I had already forgotten) and went back to where he came from. That was easy. Guides aren't usually so easy to shake.

So I went in and paid my GH¢7 and got rushed off to a tour that had just started. Mostly whites--several cute girls. The tour was interesting. It was calculated for maximum provoking of white guilt. We started out in the women's slave dungeon where women were kept awaiting the ships that would take them to the Americas. There was a staircase. The guide said that was the staircase the governor used to take up the women he raped. Then we went to the male slave holding area. Again, pretty bleak. Then we went to the "room of no return" which had the "door of no return"--the last doorway the slaves would ever traverse in Africa before being loaded onto ships. The guide did a little prayer for those who didn't make it.

So far, is wasn't too bad, but the next part of the tour, the guide sort of laid it on with a trowel. We went by the grave of a Dutch governor whose epitaph talks about how good a man he was (signed by a Dutch Protestant minister) even though there were slaves being shipped from there. We went to the prisoners' cells. First we went to the white cells for whites who needed to be punished. Well ventilated and relatively well lit. After that we went to the African "condemnation cell" next door over which there was a relief skull that didn't look particularly original to me. We went in and they closed the door so we could see how dark it was. The guide told us that they would place up to 30 men, who didn't understand why they were in the castle and fought to escape. They would let them starve to death and wouldn't open the door until every last one of them was dead.

We visited the Portuguese Catholic church (the guide said that the Portuguese "claim" they are Catholic) which was used as a junior officers' mess by the later Dutch and British holders of the castle. Of course, the guide pointed out the location of the slave dungeons in relation to the church. Next we went to the officer's mess which is right above the women's dungeon. So the guide reinforced how the officers ate and were jolly there while just under them the slaves were being kept. Then it was off to the board room. According the the guide, the main question to be asked in the board room: "How can we get more slaves?" Then off to the Dutch Reform Church room where there is a Psalm embedded into the wall that apparently says that God lives ONLY in this room. No where else in this castle--just in this room. Next we went to the governor's quarters. First we saw the governor's balcony across from the Dutch Reform Church. And what was this balcony used for? Why, for the governor to choose which female slaves he wanted to rape, of course. The guide pointed out that the church windows across the way had to be closed so that God couldn't see what the governor was doing. Next, we went into the first room of the governor's rooms. The first room had a trap door. This is above the female slave holding cell and the wooden staircase we saw in the first few minutes of the tour leads to this trapdoor. This is where the soldiers brought the women to be raped by the governor (and occasionally partook themselves). Next we went to the rooms where the governor lived, and raped the women. And with that the tour was over.

First, I want to stress that I don't deny the horror that was the African Atlantic slave trade. It was dehumanizing and among the worst crimes perpetuated by one set of races on another set of races. The chattel form of slavery where the people who become slaves have no human rights is the worst form of slavery. But that said, I just find it hard to believe that the abuses described by the guide was a normal part of life in this castle. I will definitely reread Hugh Thomas's The Slave Trade. He draws on pretty much every fragmentary piece of primary source material there is and describes the trade in detail. And Elmina is a huge portion of his book. Maybe the type of atrocities described by the guide actually happened and if they did, I'm sure I'll find it. But otherwise, I can't help but think it is speculation. I doubt if the Ghana tourism board found the trap door and stair case or if they did, it was after the castle was remodeled long after the slave trade ended and didn't serve that purpose at all. I hate to doubt their scholarship, but until I see letters or diary entries that substantiate these claims, they are just too much for me to believe. Frankly, the tour cheapened the experience. The reality is horrible already. They don't have to stretch the truth to make it sound worse.

Anyway, after the tour, I checked out the museum and then the restaurant attached to the castle where I had nice beer. Two girls came and sat at a neighboring table. I think they were German.

I left the castle grounds. The guy who I easily shook off as a guide after he asked the spelling of my name shouted to me. I waved and carried on. He ran up to me. "I have a present for you" he said presenting me with a clam shell with "To: Mark" written on it in blue magic marker. The marker was still in his hand. Ah, so that's why he confirmed the spelling of my name on my way in. But I know the "give present--leverage reciprocal obligation" trick. I started encountering that one at the beginning of my trip in Dakar. I refused to take it. He tried to get me to take it again, but I was having none of this trick. Then he whipped out a piece of paper for his school soliciting donations. I didn't take the time to read it so I didn't see if they had a "help the local destitute" clause. I refused to make a donation to his school. Boy oh boy. If guilty white people are easy pickings at Cape Coast where African middle men shared the blame for the slave trade, imagine the easy pickings in Elmina after hearing about the governor's rape-orgy.

Next I headed up to the Fort St. Jago. I am out of shape so I was tired when I reached the top. The guy from the taxi was the door man. He charged me GH¢4 which I'm not convinced is the correct price but could be. The fort is really just an empty fort with nothing worth seeing inside. There are no descriptions, no anything. You just look at the views through the holes in the wall. Then you're done. So, I went back down and went to the church. A tro-tro was there. The guy shouted "Cape Cape Cape". I got on. We were a third full and I thought we'd have a long wait, but they pick up people along the way, so they don't wait until they are full. We left right after I boarded. I got back right around noon. So I did Elmina as a morning trip from Cape Coast.

I went to the Castle Restaurant and ordered a beer and a cheese burger. During my first beer, a family came in. Not sure what country. They fit the profile of many families here--old parents accompanied by smokin' hot daughters. They were blonde and maybe 19 or 20. The one with the long hair kept looking at me. I had my Cormac McCarthy La Route out where they could read the title. I don't suppose Cormac McCarthy impresses women. I guess it shouldn't. Women have no more business reading Cormac McCarthy than people under 30 have reading Joseph Conrad. The parents each had a beer and the daughters had Coca-Colas. They all ate. Then they left. I ordered another beer.

A pretty white woman came in. She sat at the table across from mine. We were facing each other. She specifically avoided any eye contact with me at all. Why? Why would he sit across from me facing me and then totally avoid eye contact. She looked out at the ocean. She looked at everything except me. She was a bit older--maybe her 30's but she was also drinking a Coca-Cola. I was trying to work the courage to talk to her. After all, I avoid eye contact with women I like when I'm out. Then some food came. Ah ha! She knows this place--she didn't get a menu, read it, and place an order--she ordered immediately upon entering. She's a local expat. She ate moving her eyes from the food to the ocean making sure they never got anywhere near me. Talk to her or not?

I decided to read a couple of paragraphs in La route. Her Coke was half full and she was only half done eating. It was the paragraphs where he lays out the contents of his wallet, including the picture of his wife, and leaves them in the road. Then later, he wishes that he could have kept part of her with him.

I looked up after reading those 3 paragraphs. The table was empty. No half drunk Coke, no plate, no pretty white woman in her 30's. I looked behind me to the road leading from the restaurant. Not there. I looked at the register area--there she was settling her bill. She then left. I was disappointed. I ordered another beer.

Soon after she left, the two smokin' hot blonde girls who were with their parents before came in and sat at her 2 seat table. The one I could see--with the short hair--had beautiful shoulders, black bras straps, and a white Lululemon style shirt that said GinaTricot where the Lululemon logo would be if it were Lululemon. They were there for about 20 minutes when their mom came in. I felt sorry for them. It's not like the place was crawling with hot men they wanted to impress, still their mother isn't exactly the type of mom a 20 year old girl points to and says, "that's what I'll look like in 20 years." I'm sure they wanted to enjoy their time sans parents. Then their dad came and they settled the bill and left.

That's when I noticed a girl--about 25 sitting alone facing the ocean just watching the surf beat against the rocks. She was there for a while. I read a bit and sipped my beer and tried to figure out what to say if I worked up the courage to talk to her. I settled on this: "The amazing thing about the surf is that as soon as one wave disappears, another one is there to take its place. And each one is a little bit different so it never gets boring." I was rehearsing that in my head. I didn't know what to say after that, but the few times in my life I actually got the courage to talk to a woman in a bar, she has always worked with me to make it as unawkward as possible--which is a nice feature of women in bars that I never take advantage of. I am no good at it. After all, what do I know about this woman other than I'd like to sleep with her? Nothing. I know exactly that one thing about her. Anyway, as I was trying to figure out how to get the whole line out under with the nerves of trying to deliver such a line, she got up and went to settle her bill.

Fuck, I'm such a loser. Sometimes I think I deserve to die alone.

Sunday, October 19, 2008 20:30 Ghana local time

Takoradi To Cape Coast And Cape Coast Castle

2008-10-18T17:33:00.000-05:00

After a night watching CSI: New York, but with Detective Cain from CSI: Miami followed by The Punisher, I had a nice night in a cool room. It was nice to have AC.

In the morning I packed up and started toward the Cape Coast tro-tro yard. Fortunately, I was about a third there when a tro-tro driver shouted at me "Cape Coast?" Yep! I boarded. An hour and GH¢2.30 later, we were in Cape Coast. They let me off and I hopped into a taxi to go to the Oasis Guest House. The driver wouldn't come down from GH¢2 but I tried. The driver tried to convince me to see Kakum National Park. Finally we arrived.

So I entered. Then, the unexpected. They didn't have any cheap rooms left. Yikes! Is it tourist season? I'm used to being able to get the room I want. They had the bungalows for 32GH¢ (20GH¢ in Lonely Planet). Too high. I left and found a cab. Again, he charged me GH¢2 to take me to my second choice Sammo Guest House. I guess GH¢2 must be the white price. Or maybe the baggage loaded white price. Anyway, I got there and they have a nice room with private bathroom and shower for GH¢12 per night. Whew! I even got some laundry done for a somewhat high GH¢5. But it resets my laundry count back to zero.

I headed to the Cape Coast Castle. Entrance is GH¢7. They have a nice museum which I toured. The museum is definitely geared to Americans--especially black Americans interested in their lost history. There were a few people in the museum when I was there, but they all left early while I finished up looking at all the exhibits. I realized why later on when I went back to do the tour. They were already on the tour. So I just waited for the next one. It was actually a good plan because the first tour was a crowd of 20 people, and there was nobody left for another tour. So I got a private tour from a woman named Matilda. It is nicer to get a one-on-one tour.

She showed me the rooms where the slaves were kept between when they were brought to the fort by local middlemen and when they were loaded onto the Atlantic slavers. I read a bit about how it worked in Hugh Thomas's The Slave Trade. I want to try to reread in with a little more context this time.

When I left the castle, a bunch of men tried to show me their wares. Not interested. An artist showed me his paintings but gave up pretty easily. Another guy showed me an official looking paper soliciting donations for a local soccer team. It had the mission statement and spaces for the name, email, donated amount, etc. One slot already had a name. They need money to 1) buy equipment 2) buy first aid kits and 3) aid the local destitute. I figured the donations would all go to cause #3 and that the "local destitute" was themselves. So I didn't donate anything. As merchants and con-men, these guys are amateurs. I suppose white people coming from a slave entrepôt are easy pickings for black shysters so they just don't have to try that hard. A lot of the whites in Cape Coast appear to be tourists in Africa for the first time. I paid a lot of "tuition" learning the merchant/hustler ropes and I'm still paying it more than I'd like to.

I went to the Castle Restaurant next door and got myself a late breakfast beer. Two young white people sat at the table next to me. The guy asked how the beer was. I replied not as cold as I'd like but colder than I've had. A couple of Peace Corps volunteers--Matt from AK and Sara from AL. We chatted for a while. They are computer and math teachers.

They left after a while and I left too to try to find the two forts up on the hills. I had to get by the soccer guy whose donation sheet went from 1 sucker to 2 suckers. I saw the forts, but couldn't find the path to get up. In the end, they aren't big and you can't enter them, so I just gave up. I needed a bit of a nap anyway.

When I woke up, I went to the rooftop of the Sammo Guest House which is supposed to be a bar restaurant, but there was nobody working there. Eventually, I gave up and went back to the Oasis Guest House bar which promised to be a bit more lively.

And it was. Of course, I just sat there reading La route. A local girl was sitting across from me at the circular bar. Another artist came in but I wasn't interested and he gave up. I like this non-persistence. The soccer donation guy came in and recognized me. He showed me his donation list, now up to about 10 suckers, and asked one last time. I told him he already asked and I already answered. Then he leaned in and made another offer--a nice sweet local Cape Coast girl for the night. Interesting offer. But, no, not interested. I chatted briefly with a medical worker from OH. The light eventually started to give way, and soon it was too dark to read. The girl at the other side of the bar came across. She had most likely seen my rejection of the soccer guy's pimping services. We chatted for a while. She is a systems engineering student named Jennifer. She eventually was met by a guy friend of hers and I took the opportunity to come back to my hotel. I got a bit lost, but the locals helped me out by showing me the shortest way from where I was.

Friday, October 18, 2008 20:33 Ghana local time

Kumasi To Takoradi: I'll Try To Not Have Leftist Drivel, But I Write This Watching John Hagee On Ghana TV With His "The Oil Crisis & Armegeddon" Show

2008-10-17T15:57:00.000-05:00

I woke up and did some interneting. Ken lamented that a perfectly good blog post was ruined by a left rant. Ken, I'll back off on November 5, provided the election turns out right. Then it'll be back to just travel in Africa--well maybe some celebration, but no more attacking will be necessary. Sorry you are getting the Fox News treatment of contempt for one's political adversaries. Perhaps you should consider joining the forces of good. ;-)

So after tinkering on the internet, I headed back to the Guestline and there was enough water pressure to take a shower. Whew! I scarfed down a meat pie I bought on the way home and showered. Then went back to the KPS coffee shop where I got a pretty bad hamburger--the meat was OK, but the bun was hard and chewy.

Then I headed out to get my noon bus. I had to get some luggage tags for my baggage and the woman of Intercity STC asked for my ticket. I held it in my hand and put my hand through the window. The woman was annoyed that I was trying to hand it to her. She shouted at me to put it down. I did. Then she shook her head and blasphemed "Jesus Christ" which is something I didn't expect in Ghana (issuing officer on the ticket is 109, BTW). I got my 2 tickets for GH¢0.80. Then the guy there carried my bags to the bus. There he asked my country I was from. I told him the United States. Then he demanded--not even requested--a tip. Man, these Kumasi Intercity STC workers are rude. The rudest people I met in Africa so far. I guess I'm not too surprised though since there are a lot of white people here and they are probably sick of us. Still--no cause to be rude.

So, I got on the bus and we left at about 12:20. The bus trip, these STC buses being new, was sadly uneventful. At least there were some more Nigerian movies. There was a horrible movie called, I think, Every Coconut Contains A Stranded Lake. It was a long drawn out boring movie about a guy who lost a bunch of money and then had to go to debtors prison unless his wife lived with the debtee for a week. Just plain boring. The second movie--or rather set of movies were Too Late To Claim and Too Late To Claim 2. They stared my new favorite Nigerian actress Ini Edo. It was pretty long and drawn out. But it featured the themes found in all the Nigerian movies so far: the men are total assholes who verbally abuse women and can't deal with their pasts.

The woman who sold me the ticket told me that there was no bus to Cape Coast but to Takoradi. Or so I thought. Well, we passed through Cape Coast on the way to Takoradi. I figured I'd stay on the bus to at least see Takoradi and see the end of Too Late To Claim 2.

I arrived in Takoradi just after dark and it was clear where I was on the map. What wasn't clear was the distance to the hotel. On the map it looks like 2 blocks, but it is actually much further--especially with heavy baggage. I entered the You 84 Restaurant to see if they were also the reception to the You 84 Hotel. They weren't and the waitresses took my bags and brought them next door. I gave them what they were probably fishing for--a GH¢1 to split between themselves. The You 84 Hotel, according the Lonely Planet, is budget. But since then, they've added AC to all their rooms so there are no cheap fan rooms anymore. Just GH¢25 rooms with TV and AC. Oh well. The AC is nice.

I went out to the You 84 Restaurant. I ordered a Star beer and spaghetti Bolognaise. The worst they can do it over-cook the pasta. This was the second place in Ghana that uses a plastic caddy to transport the beer. When the spaghetti came, it was indeed overcooked. Oh how I miss the Francophone countries. At least the French taught them how to cook.

Oh, and I can't do a leftist rant because of the John Hagee show. It's too comedic to generate anger. It's like a Colbert-ish caraca....mocking of a religious man. He even has his own commercials interrupting his own show. This is literally how one of the commercials starts out (this is not made up): "If you're not an Islamic fascist, then you need to see 'Obsession'". How can this stuff make you do anything but laugh? I suppose Palin should make me laugh too. And if you've been paying attention you might have seen me make fun of Palin in this paragraph. ;-)

Thursday, October 17, 2008 20:57 Ghana local time