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

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

Douala To Accra Via Lagos

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

Calabar, Nigeria To Ekok, Cameroon

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

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

Lagos To Calabar Via Virgin Nigeria

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

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

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

Lomé, Togo To Cotonou, Benin

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

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

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

Third Full Day In Accra: Three Visas In One Swoop

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

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

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

Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso To Tamale, Ghana

Yesterday, I entered Ghana from Burkina Faso. I got up nice and early to head to the STMB station in plenty of time for my 7:30 am bus. It was a smaller bus, about 10 rows of three seats with a fourth fold down seat for the aisle. The bus was only 2/3 full and I got myself a nice single seat on the right side of the bus, though my window had no glass. We left at 7:30 and headed to south Ouagadougou where the bus filled up almost completely--though there were still a few fold down chairs free.

The road to the border is mostly good. There were a few dirt stretches that were pretty pocked with potholes. We went pretty slow through those, but they weren't long. At about 10:30, we arrived in Pô. I was a bit confused. I thought the bus goes to Pô and everyone was getting off--yet my ticket said Pouga. I got off too and started dealing with money changers.

I wanted to cash in some Euros they wanted dollars. So I asked how much for €40. They said GH¢40. Now I was really confused. First of all, when I checked the exchange rate, US$1 was about 9270 cedis. What's with this €1 being 1 cedi? They told me that the cedi was revalued. Hmmm... How come the internet didn't tell me that? Or did I just miss the decimal point? Anyway, I they were only willing to exchange the euros and dollars at the same rate--I got them 10% higher on the euro but that's not enough, so I was forced to use US$40 instead of €40 which I was not happy about since I have far fewer US dollars. Then I realized that the people on the bus were waiting for me to finished--the bus goes all the way to the border. So I had GH¢40. I checked the dates on the bills--they were all from July 1, 2007. They certainly wouldn't have nice 1 cedi bills for an about worth US 0.1¢ would they? I will not convert Ghana cedis (GH¢) into US$ like I usually do since they are about 1 to 1. Also, for those interested. On the French keyboard setting on my laptop--the one that lets me write Pô instead of Po and déjà instead of deja, the trick to getting the ¢ is shift-ctrl-alt-c.

That's nice. Lonely Planet made it sound like that last 15 km to the border was something you have to arrange from Pô. The bus company smartened up, I guess. So it was off to the border. The bus took us to Burkina customs.

We all unboarded at the start of customs and walked along side the bus through a long parking lot loaded with trucks. Not to dissimilar from the Pacific Xing border in Blaine. Nobody gave us a second look--except more money changers. Finally, we arrived at immigration.

They pointed to the border police office and I went in. The officer at the desk had me take a seat. He asked which direction I was going. I told him Ghana. "You are returning to Ghana?" I told him I came from Mali, through Burkina Faso and now was going to Ghana. He entered my name, passport number, nationality, and maybe some other information, but it was just one on a page. Then he gave me my exit stamp. No payment necessary. I left and saw the bus way down the street. I thought it might be driving away, but I recognized some of my fellow passengers walking along the road and stopped panicking.

When I got to the bus, my backpack and other bag were already unloaded. A guy asked if I was going to Kumasi. I told him Tamale, stressing the "ma" part like the Mexican food. He didn't understand. Then he asked Tamale? stressing the "le" syllable. I said yes. He took me over to the Kumasi bus from the New World Transport company. A ticket to Tamale is CFA 3500 (US$7) and a ticket to Kumasi is CFA12000 (US$24). If I thought we could reach Kumasi before 7, I would have taken it, but it was about 11:30 and I wasn't sure. So I chose Tamale and got on. There were some other passengers from my previous bus on this bus already. Just before noon we were off even though we weren't full. The nice thing about the richer parts of Africa is that they don't wait for every last seat to be full. It didn't take us far and we were at Ghana immigration. I plopped the Lonely Planet into my seat to save it and stepped down from the bus. I handed the police woman my passport as I got off. Then another officer limping with a cane came and got my passport and lead me into an office with a third officer who had the bearing and appearance of an African Jon Haussman (is that his name? The professor in The Paper Chase?) He handed over a slip asking all the typical questions. One was the address I was staying tonight and one was my address in Ghana. Hmm.... I didn't remember the name of the hotel exactly and I used the Lonely Planet to save my space. All I remembered is that it started with "Pi" and ended in "a" and has 3 syllables. I guessed Picota Hotel. I knew the Paper Chase professor would not be happy. And he wasn't. At least I wasn't screwing his daughter. He asked about this Picota Hotel which he didn't recognize. I said I didn't remember the name exactly--it was in my guide book. He asked me to get my guide book and I said it was on the bus. He let me off and copied the Hotel Picota into the Address in Ghana field. He asked where I planned to go after Tamale. I said Kumasi. He asked about after that. I said I would probably go to Cape Coast and Elmina and then to Accra but might go to Accra first. He seemed satisfied enough. Then he gave me my entry stamp. No money for this one either.

I left and walked through the Ghana customs area I kept waiting for someone to wave me into some office or something but nothing. I met the bus. When we were complete again, we left. It was only about 12:15. We stopped in Bandiagara where I feared I might have to spend my first night. Then off to Tamale. In a city called Nasia, we stopped. The bus conductor opened the internal cover of the engine or transmission. Now the whole bus smelled like gas. The driver and conductor were studying something in there. Then the engine turned off. I had the wrong seat--right in the sun. I unloaded after about 5 minutes to escape the heat and fumes. I went and stood in the shadow of the bus and watched as the driver, from outside the bus, was doing something sort of behind his seat. Maybe the fuel line was leaking? I don't know what happened. But I was thinking that my too smooth trip through Burkina Faso was finally starting to turn back into the fiesta of mechanical unreliability that I came to know in the other parts of West Africa. I was strangely made happy again. Things were as they should be--every mechanical system cobbled together with parts at their breaking point and every single driver being able to fix anything anywhere. But alas, 20 minutes later, we were on the road.

As we reached the outskirts of Tamale, we stopped at a police checkpoint. An officer in fatigues was slowly walking right toward me--the only white face in the bus. He asked for my passport. He looked at the picture and I realized I had my new sunglasses on and took them off. He asked where I was going. I said Tamale like the Mexican food, and he didn't understand. "Tama or Tamale?" he asked stressing the "le" part and I said Tamale, correctly this time. He asked where I was coming from. Burkina Faso--Ouagadougou. He asked if I when I was returning to Burkina Faso. I told him I wasn't--that I would leave Ghana at the Togo border. They looked at my entry stamp and my visa and handed me back my passport. There was a time where this would have been an intimidating encounter. But I've been here long enough to no longer be intimidated. I think they are more curious than anything. Just bored sitting there waiting at the police checkpoint and they have nothing better to do than go see what that white guy is doing.

Finally we entered Tamale. I young man offered to take me and my stuff to the Picorna Hotel. (I had looked it up in the mean time--I was close--just replacing the "rn" with a "t".) He had my backpack on and my extra bag--I still had my laptop which I never let anyone else carry outdoors. I asked how much he wanted. He said no money. Yeah I know that one. No, I said, I need to know up front how much. He said to not worry about it. Finally, I told him that if he didn't tell me how much I was going to take my stuff and walk there myself. He said GH¢3. I said I could a taxi for less than that and would pay GH¢1. OK, he said GH¢2. OK, no point in quibbling over a buck. Besides he knew where it was and since we would walk I would know how to get back to this intersection which I needed to do since I saw the Standard Chartered Bank across the street and need to hit their ATM. So we were off. It was a twisty turny path. Hmmm.... Can I remember this? I read all the store names. Remembered the Victory Cinema, other landmarks. Was taking a long way? Finally we arrived. It wasn't close at all. Looks closer on the map. I gave him the GH¢2 and thanked him. The Picorna had rooms. Whew!

Actually a nice room. AC, TV, mini fridge, even a telephone. The toilet had a plastic seat. And there is a bar and a restaurant on the premises. I would get to those later, but now, off to the bank. The room was GH¢23 so that took out most of the GH¢40 I got in Pô. I hope the ATM at the bank works for me.

So I left to get to the bank. It was about 4:30pm now. I got a bit lost but I remember walking right under a radio tower covered with dishes and most of the landmarks. I eventually found my way back to the Standard Chartered bank. There was an ATM outside. I slipped in my debit card and lo and behold, it told me Welcome to Visa and even knew my name. I was able to withdraw a maximum of GH¢200 which it gave me in all GH¢5 notes. So I had basically $200 in $5 bills. A thick stack of cash. But I was happy. My stress levels went down. Now my most driving feeling was thirst. I was in the hot sun all the way down and the heat was blazing right now still. I went back to the hotel which still seems a lot further than on the map. And I headed to the bar. I was the only customer. I asked for a water and what kind of beers they have. The girl had trouble with my English. Finally she figured out what I was saying and listed the beers. I chose a Star. She put the water, a large beer (I wasn't expecting that but wasn't displeased), and a glass into a plastic caddy and came over to my table. I'd never seen a waitress with a plastic caddy instead of a tray. Interesting. She opened the beer with a bottle opener and I poured it into the glass. No head. That didn't seem right. I called her back and asked if this beer is supposed to be like this. She didn't understand me. "There are no bubbles. Is that that right?" She looked confused. I pointed at the beer and said "yellow" and then pointed at the empty space above the beer where the head should be and said "not white". "Is that right?" She said yes and walked away. I tasted it. Flat. This was wrong. But she was gone. Then about 30 seconds later she came back with another guy. I guess she needed a second opinion too. As he walked in I told him "I think the bottle wasn't sealed properly." He looked at it and told the girl to bring another beer. She took my glass and bottle away and filled the plastic caddy with a second glass and a second beer. She came over, took them out of the caddy, and opened the Star. They two of the watched as I poured myself a second glass. This time a nice white head appeared. All three of us smiled and I went to writing in my journal.

The bill came to GH¢3.5. So I got to the 20p and 10p coins. The 'p' means pesawi. One hundred to the cedi. I left her the coins.

I went to the room for a while and then a little after six headed to the Picorna restaurant. I was, again, the only customer. I asked for a table for 1. They guy didn't understand me. I guess English still doesn't work with some people here. But I got a table. They have Chinese, continental, and Ghanian dished here. I have no idea what the words mean on the Ghanian dished so I decided to go Chinese. I ordered egg rolls and beef stirfry. Then I waited a long time. No problem. I knew it would take a while since the kitchen was hardly in high volume mode. The TV was turned to soccer, but Nigeria was crushing Sierra Leone so they changed it around a bit.

Finally, the food came. Even though egg rolls are later in the menu than the stirfry, I made a point of ordering them first--a point which went unnoticed because he first brought out the stirfry and a larger plate of rice than I really wanted, then brought out the eggrolls--with no sauce. I needed to ask for a serving spoon as well. The egg roll sauce was what is probably the base for the stirfry--not really an egg roll sauce. OK, but certainly not the right thing. But the stirfry was OK--though I make it better myself at home. They eventually switched the TV over to news.

Fascinating. It was a show called News Night. There was a woman anchor who didn't have a teleprompter. She kept looking down at her written text and sounded more like she was reading than talking. It was kind of funny. But in the end, she still pulled it off better than Gen. Al Haig does on his truly bizarre TV show World Business Report (or whatever it's called)--and he has a teleprompter.

And the big news in Ghana this day? One of the political parties chose a woman as a VP candidate. Shades of Sarah Palin. In fact, another commentator would refer to Sarah Palin quite often as he interviewed a human rights activist whose sole reason to support this woman VP was that she was female. They showed the presidential candidate saying that he was from the predominantly Muslim north and she was a Catholic Evangelical (I didn't know there was such a thing) and would play well in the Christian south. Hmm... A presidential candidate shoring up his southern positions by choosing a female evangelical. Yep, sounds like Sarah Palin. Then they interviewed this new VP candidate on the phone, but the connection was horrible and you couldn't understand a single word she said. Maybe Sarah Palin should have used that phone to answer Katie Couric's questions. Of course I didn't see the interview--all I know is that Palin doesn't perform well with follow up questions and because of that she attacks the interviewers (and the press in general) at her KKK rallies.

The bill came to GH¢13.23. The guy brought back the change and I took the coins. Then I left. As I was leaving, the waiter came up to me and said I forgot my change. I told him to keep it. I guess change left on the table isn't an implied tip in Ghana? But then, this guy seemed pretty new at the waitering game.

Tuesday, October 14, 2008 9:17 Ghana local time