St. Louis

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

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

February 3, 2008

Accra Again: Dealing With Lost Luggage

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Last Day In Douala

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Monday And Tuesday In Yaoundé

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yaoundé To Douala

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

More Yaoundé And Thinking About Girls

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

First Full Day In Yaoundé

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anyway, enough about me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Douala To Yaoundé

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tuesday In Douala: Lost Credit Card Panic

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Monday In Douala: A Haircut Disaster

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Douala: Friday Night And Saturday

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

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

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

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

Breathing In Douala

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thanksgiving

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

So here is some of my food thoughts:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kumba To Douala: Stressed Over ATMs

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thursday, November 27, 17:30 Cameroon local time

Second Full Day In Calabar

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

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

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

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

Lagos Airport: Maybe Sort Of A Liveblog?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fourth Tiring But Unpanicky Day In Kano

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Third Semi-panicky Day In Kano

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

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

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

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

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

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

Second Panicky Day In Kano

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

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

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

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

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

Tuesday, November 18, 16:01 Nigerian local time

First Panicky Day In Kano

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Monday, November 17, 21:10 Nigerian local time