Accra Again: Lost Luggage Day II

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Accra Again: Dealing With Lost Luggage

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Douala To Accra Via Lagos

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Monday, December 15, 7:12 Ghana local time

Last Day In Douala

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thursday, December 4, 20:14 Cameroon local time

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

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

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

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

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

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

Douala: Friday Night And Saturday

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thursday, November 27, 16:45 Cameroon local time

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

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

First Full Day In Calabar

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lagos To Calabar Via Virgin Nigeria

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