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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cotonou To Porto Novo And Porto Novo

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lomé, Togo To Cotonou, Benin

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

First Full Day In Accra, Ghana

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

First Day In Ouagadougou

Last evening after typing up my post and went out and had a beer and wrote into my journal. This place, the Vert Pavillon (or the Pavillon Vert) is sort of like the Via-Vias. There is a large area with tables where the guests can have a beer and eat and they sell various arts and crafts. Another similarity--guides hang out there trying to drum up business with the tourists. So a guide came to me and asked what I was doing tomorrow. I told him I was planning to go to the gare routiere and get a sept-place to Dori. He told me that there are no sept-places to Dori--I'd need to take a bus--he told me the name of the company and that they are at 7am and 2pm. He offered to show up in the morning and take me there, but I declined.

So I woke up thinking I might go to Gorom-Gorom market via Dori. I asked about the bus company, but I couldn't remember the name. Since I had some time, I'd see if I could figure it out. If so, maybe I'd go, if not maybe not. I also did so quick mental calculations and I'm not sure I can make it to Niamey for the election since I'll know an American there and she told me there is an American Center where we can watch the election returns.

So, I walked along the main north-south drag in Ouagadougou. Maybe I'd see a bus and then know the company name. Or maybe I'd find the fast internet cafe. There were restaurants of every type. Ouagadougou looks like a pretty nice place to live. Better than the larger Bamako. I want to eat at these places. Gorom-Gorom is fading.

I did eventually find 2 internet cafes. Both made the false claim of a "salle climatisée". The first charged CFA 300 per hour and they were slow as hell. The second charged CFA 250 and were pretty fast. I'll never quite get how the pricing works here. The second one had fewer computers. Some American was waiting for me while I read up on election at my favorite political websites.

One thing that Ouagadougou does have--guides and persistent merchants. I guess there is no African big city that doesn't. Since the main drag is pretty long, they attach themselves to you and follow you for blocks. The guides especially. I never stop for them but I answer their questions--except for the one question they always ask and that I really hate--what hotel are you staying in. The nice thing about Burkina for Americans is that none of them are any good at English. The tourism here is mostly French. I sort of got a taste of that when one guide wanting to offer his services tried to guess my country. Pas français (he got that from my bad accent), alemanien?, italien?, espangol?, belgien?, canadien?, alemanien? At that point I told him, "vous avez dit aleman". belgien?, canadien?, I was telling him he already guessed those too when he guessed German a third time. Finally he gave up trying to guess and just asked me. I told him. His buddy who joined him pretty soon, then ran across the street and came back with a little photo album that he wanted me to see--tourists at local tourist sights. But I wasn't interested. Finally, we reached an intersection beyond which they must have decided to give up (the persistent people always follow you no further than some large intersection--they almost never break off between streets or at minor intersections).

Another guide started out by telling me he was a guide and wanted to take me around on his motorcycle. I told him I didn't want to break my head and I didn't need a guide. So we switched to telling he was there at a work camp or something and wasn't from Ouagadougou, but was a tourist like me. He tried to get me exchange 1 Romanian Lei for CFA 1000 or CFA 2000 (US$2 or US$4). I remember walking around Romania, my pockets stuffed with millions of Lei, and wasn't about to pay any large amount for a 1 Lei bill. His next plan was to get me to advance him CFA 500 (US$1) and he would pay me CFA 1000 tomorrow after his friend from out of town comes. I told him I wasn't a bank. He eventually started asking me to take him to lunch--he was hungry and had nothing to eat. Again, I am not here to solve the problems of Africans. I am here to see life in Africa. It is not my role to feed people who attach themselves to me. I declined. Finally he broke off.

The last really persistent merchant was a guy who makes and sells little wite bicycles. He had 2 he was selling for about CFA 2000 (US$2) each, but that was his opening price. They were kind of neat--had moving parts and he showed me how they work while explaining it in French. But alas, I have no need for little wire bicycles and no way of transporting them without them getting crushed beyond recognition in my packed backpack. Then he tried to sell me an elephant puzzle. I told him "l'elephant est la symbôle de la partí republicaine." He smiled and said "voilà!" I then told him, "je suis de la partí democratique." At that point he noticed a white couple and said goodbye to me and started talking with them.

I ate lunch the the Restaurant Chine, a Chinese place. It was OK, but not great. The Chinese place in Conakry was much better. But I got stuffed and came back and rested the rest of the day.

Lately, I've been having too much beer and I've been gaining weight. I tried to figure out why that was. I decided that when I went to Mali and they had small and large size beers, it was because I switched from a small beer and a bottle of mineral water, to large beers. So I'm switching back to small beers and bottles of mineral water. Healthier, too. It's good to stay hydrated.

Well, time to go out and enjoy a small beer and a bottle of mineral water. Besides, it's cooler out there than in my room.

Wednesday, October 8, 2008 19:52 Burkina Faso local time

First Day In Bobo-Dioulasso: Birthday Meals

I was awakened by the mosque at some early hour and then by some minute long air raid siren at 6:30. After lingering in bed for a little while, I showered and headed out to explore Bobo-Dioulasso. My hotel is right on the edge of the commercial center so I walked around quite a bit. It's pretty nice. For the most part, the people of Bobo are too busy to do more than greet me. But there are always exceptions. Two kids found me and tried to sell me some jewelry. I didn't need any, but then they told me they had post cards. Now we're talking. They tried to get me to buy some jewelry with the post cards, but it was a no-go. I just wanted post cards. Nothing else. They followed me around a bit after that. I wasn't going to pay them off. They sold 3 post cards for CFA 1000 (US$2) and that was all they were getting.

I found the Sorbetière--an ice cream parlor without ice cream, but with pastries recommended by Lonely Planet. Though I didn't find their pastries particularly good. The croissant was burnt on the edges and the pain au raisin was too bland. And instead of real coffee, it's just hot water and a plastic tube of Nescafe powder. There is another patisserie that I'll try tomorrow.

Then a guide managed to find me. He was a bit persistent, but I shook him after a while only to snag him again a few minutes later in my aimless and apparently circular wanderings. This time he offered his services not just as a guide, but as a pimp--gay or straight--oddly enough, in that order. Is Bobo-Dioulasso the San Francisco of Burkina Faso? I said no to both.

I found an internet cafe and had some trouble connecting so I thought I'd return later. As I wandered around I found where I want to have dinner and lunch. Dinner will be at l'Auberge. Lunch at l'Eau Vive. The internet was working when I returned and the first thing I did was check google news for election news and then intrade (via TPM Election Central) for the latest odds on the election. Obama is back up to 65%. Whew! The Lonely Planet says they have really slow connections and don't know what a USB port is in Bobo. Fortunately, things in Bobo have improved since then. It's not like the MouNa in Conakry, but the one I went to is not at all a bad internet cafe. And at CFA 350 per hour (US$0.70) it's cheap. Still, the computer locked up on me and it wasn't exactly blazing. But it can handle my email client which barfs on about half of all West African computers.

Now I was hungry and thirsty and it was noon--l'Eau Vive would be open. Yay! It's run by nuns. There's a picture of the Pope in the dining room. I wish he didn't look like the guy from the Red Meat comic. I don't really want those dark ringed eyes looking down on me while I eat. Anyway, I was the first customer. At first, the dining room smelled like antiseptic soap, but that went away soon enough. The menu looks delicious. Almost as good as le Café du Fleuve in Bamako. I got a chef salad for CFA 2500 (US$5) that had tomatoes, an egg, a bacon like cured meat of some sort, cheese and lettuce. It was so good. For my plat, I had a filet flambé au poivre vert. A filet of beef with a pepper sauce and light little bread things called dauphins. The meat was cooked perfectly and the sauce was delicious. For desert, a coffee and a Dame Blanche-vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce and whipped cream. With beer and water, the total was CFA 12400 (US$25). With a CFA 2000 tip, that comes to just under $30 for my 40th birthday lunch. I'm allowed to do that when I turn 40. There were other customers eventually. A large party of about 20 Africans came in, a single African guy, a couple--one white one black, and a single white guy. That was the lunch crowd for this day. I was the first one in and the last one out. I journaled and got almost to the end of my Moleskine. In half a page, I flip it over go in reverse.

I went back to the hotel and rested. The ceiling fan doesn't have the vanes bent far enough, to it spins but doesn't move air, so I tried to bend them a bit more. Why would somebody make a ceiling fan that doesn't move air? The vanes were pretty solid, but I got them bent a little and now there is some air movement though not a lot.

In the evening I went to l'Auberge for dinner. They have a 3 course meal for CFA 6000 that is recommended by Lonely Planet. The restaurant runs along the swimming pool and a set of older French people were all swimming in the pool. I had a cabbage with mayonnaise entrée and Provençial frogs legs. The plat menu was pretty exotic. The frogs legs were pretty good. Though, the lunch at l'Eau Vive was definitely the better meal.

At night after I got back, there was a good hard rain. My room was getting stuffy and since it is on a corner and was a door in one wall and a window in another, I was able to create a cool cross breeze and lower the temperature in my room from hot to pleasant. In fact, with a floor fan blowing on me, it was too cold and I needed to sleep under the sheet. I love it when that happens.

There are some somewhat persistent merchants. Not too bad. About as bad as Dakar and I learned early on how to handle them. To my relief, it's not as bad as Mali at all. I was so hoping that Burkina would be more like Guinea-Conakry and less like Mali. So far, so good.

October 4, 2008 8:46 Burkina local time

Second Full Day In Timbuktu--Though Really The First In Most Ways

Boy I didn't sleep well. I expected to sleep well since I usually sleep well after 2 consecutive horrible nights. But it was just too hot--and unbeknownst to me, it was actually cool outside at night. But my room was hot.

I needed to make sure I was awake early since I was meeting Chokoroba at 8am for my CFA 12000 (US$24) tour of Timbuktu. I woke up early and stayed in semi-consciousness until 7:30 when I grabbed a shower and headed out. Chokoroba was there at exactly 8. We headed off. First we went to his house where I waited outside. I didn't know what he was doing, but when he emerged, he was now dressed in full Tuareg indigo. Nice. I love that indigo clothing. It's the nicest shade of blue.

We first visited the main Dyingerey Ber mosque. It's a big mud mosque and the architecture is really interesting. These mud mosques are really a sight. There is nothing like them. Next we went to the Sidi Yahiya mosque which is not so spectacular. Then we hit a few explorer houses. Timbuktu honors some of the first European explorers to make it to Timbuktu. The first one was a guy from West India. He came and lived here for a while but was killed when he tried to return. There was a French guy. I can't remember which, but one of those houses is now owned by a guy who creates and sells Arabic calligraphy which I didn't buy. Finally a German guy whose house is a small museum with descriptions of his work in German, French and English. He wrote about his travels in Africa and I hope to find them when I return to read them myself.
Next came the highlight of the trip. Because Timbuktu was a center of scholarship at one time, there are a lot of manuscripts here. And the dry climactic conditions allowed them to remain more or less intact until today. But they are still deteriorating. So there is a South African sponsored initiative to find these manuscripts, restore them, by modern archival standards, and then scan and digitize them for future scholars. A truly wonderful project. I first saw some manuscripts in a room, but they were under glass and the guide of the place could really only tell me what they were and when they were created. Not much else. Then we went to the workshop where they make all the archiving boxes. Since each manuscript is in its own condition and its own size, each archival box has to be custom made to house each restored manuscript. The archivist (archival technician?--I don't know his job title) showed me how they restore and stabilize each manuscript with a virtually transparent Japanese paper on each side which makes each page strong enough to withstand handling without further deterioration. Then he showed me a box with bound manuscripts and a location for the original cover when it still exists but can longer serve as a cover for the bound pages. Finally he showed me an archival booklet that can be used for 1 or 2 loose pages for exhibition. They make all the archival materials right there in their shop. It was fascinating and I really think the work they do there is important. But alas, there was a conference going on so I couldn't see the final stage of the process where they scan and digitize the manuscripts.

Next, we saw the last mosque which is made of mud and is pretty neat. Just beyond it is a new university being funded by South Africa as well. It's nice that South Africa is taking an interest in the history of the entire continent.

Finally, we went to the ethnological museum. There is a CFA 5000 (US$10) tourist tax which is collected at this museum. I had sort of envisioned a museum with a window where I pay my tax and get some sort of receipt that indicated I have paid my CFA 5000 tax. But no. There are just some guys in chairs hanging out by the door and you just give a CFA 5000 note to the one the guide tells you to. Very informal. And I wonder if all the "tax" makes it to the city coffers. Once inside there is the "well" or the Tim which was controlled by a woman named Buktu. The legend is that she found the well and used it to aid the Tuareg on their journeys and thus Timbuktu was started. The well in the museum is actually just a 3 foot hole in the ground with a sheep-skin bag suspended above it. It is obviously not a well, but a representation of a well. Oh well. ;-) It is a bit offensive, but no more than the Romanian merchant outside Bran castle selling vampire tourist swag since Vlad Tepes could conceivably have spent the night near there at some point.

Finally, I headed back to the hotel. I paid Chokoroba the agreed upon CFA 10000 upon which he said the nice thing about Americans is that they tip, so I gave him another CFA 1000. He was an OK guide, but his English was not quite up to some of the descriptions. He's a nice guy and it's easy to spend time with him. Some of the guides are pretty hard to look at, but Chokoroba is easy to be with.

I went to the bar and wrote and read La route/The Road. While I was sitting there, naturally, every Tuareg between here and Libya wanted to show me their jewelry, knives, pipes, etc. "I already bought a necklace." "But mine are different." "I don't need a bracelet." "That's OK--just look." It was nice stuff and some of the prices were really good. But I just don't need any of the stuff. If I were doing America-Mali-America, I'd snatch the stuff up, but I'm on a long journey and I'm just halfway through. Some of the merchants had told me last night that they were in a caravan that was going to leave bright and early this morning. But they were still here. Somehow I'm not shocked.

But then a guy came in and didn't have anything to sell--he had a service. He wanted to shave me and cut my hair. I can tell the jewelry salesmen that je n'ai pas besoin de bijouterie, but I sure can't say je n'ai pas besoin de être coiffuré. My head was like a mop by now with my last haircut in Essaouira, Morocco. He wanted CFA 5000 for the shave and haircut. He said he learned to cut hair in France. Probably a lie, but at least it meant he can give a white guy a white haircut. OK. We went outside behind the hotel and there in the open air, he gave me a haircut and a shave. Most of the hair was cut with a straight razor. They sort of shave your excess hair rather than scissor it. It was kind of neat. And since he's associated with the hotel, they put my water bottle in the freezer while I got my haircut. When it was done, a kid who sold me either the bracelet or the box yesterday brushed the hair off my pants. He certainly didn't get it all, but he got some of it.

I went back towards the door of the hotel bar and again a guy who has been trying to get me to buy a bracelet tried again. I know he's desperate to sell it because it must weigh at least an ounce and he's selling it for CFA 4000 (US$8). It's silver so the intrinsic value of the metal itself is worth almost what he's asking. But no sale--I don't need another bracelet. There were 4 kids there watching the whole thing. Then the kid who brushed off the hair from my pants said he wanted a cadeau (gift) for brushing off my hair. I must have made some sort of acquiescent face because the other 3 kids to start brushing off the remaining hair. Finally I gave 2 of them a CFA 100 coin and since I was out of them I gave one kid a CFA 200 coin and told his friend to get his CFA 100 from that guy. I'm sure he will.

Once in the place, they sort of figured out that I'm willing to pay for services I need but not for stuff I don't need. The shirt I had on has a rip in the right arm from when it got hooked on the door handle at Le Petit Bateau in Conakry. A kid came in and right away said "I'm Taylor." It took me a while to figure out what he was talking about. But I finally figured out that he meant to fix my shirt. He quoted me CFA 1000 (US$2). OK, I can do that. I took off my shirt and handed it to him. The pretty Spanish girls at the other table didn't gag, at least. ;-) After a while he came back with the shirt done and said it was harder than expected and would cost CFA 2000. I rolled my eyes and said "bon". Then the guy said he wasn't the tailor but a runner and needed something too. I took a deep breath, said "bon" and offered him CFA 500. I gave him a CFA 5000 note and waited for my change. After about 15 minutes, the actual tailor came and said he wanted his CFA1000. I said I gave the kid CFA 5000 and wanted my change, too. He told me that he also was paying the kid CFA 1000 for bringing him the business. Then a few minutes later the kid came back and handed me CFA 2000. I said he still owed me CFA 500 more, but he said he needed something for the running. No, I said, we already agreed on CFA 500 for that. So he gave me the remaining CFA 500. Damn, these guys just nickel and dime you to death here. Anyway, I like the shirt and the shirt with a repaired rip with the Timbuktu tailor story is better than shirt that was never ripped in the first place.

In the mean time I had several beers, a 1.5 liter bottle of water than went from refreshingly cold to downright hot, and some brochettes and fries that were not so great though edible.
At least I can say that for all the annoyance, the Tuareg are fun to deal with. They have a natural charisma so that even when they are annoying as hell, they are at least charismatically annoying.

September 26, 2008 17:11 Mali local time

Mopti To Timbuktu: One Long Hellish Trip

It's Thursday morning. And boy am I tired. More tired than I can imagine. I've had a few grueling trips, but coming to Timbuktu is as hard as you think it should be. Of course, it is possible, with enough money, to do it an easier way, but I chose to do it African style. This will be one long blog post.

I woke up at the Hôtel Y A Pas De Problem. Mamadou Kassogue was there waiting as promised. The first thing he did was to try to convince me to give up on the pinasse I had booked and go with a Spanish group that was taking a private pinasse to Timbuktu. Nope. I'm sticking with my pinasse. They would charge more for a private pinasse and I might get some money back from the pinasse I booked, but certainly I'd eat a bit of it. And why would I want to go with a bunch of Westerners? So far, all my intercity travel has been 100% African besides me. There hasn't been a single white person. Why start with a group of 10?

So Mamadou took me to the boat. I put my stuff there and then he took me to provision myself. First we went to get some fruit. I didn't really want fruit, but I figured he knew that I would want fruit, so I got a couple melons and some limes for CFA 2000 which was probably high. Mamadou didn't seem to want to intervene in the bargaining process. Frankly, if I hire a guide, I want the guide to be an advocate on my behalf. Then we went to get water and other provisions. He said I would need 12 bottles of water. I picked out a canned soup, nutella, and some cookies. The cookies were CFA 1500 and the nutella was CFA 5000 (US$10). I passed on the nutella even after the shopkeeper dropped the price to CFA 4000 (US$8). The soup was priced like other canned products--about CFA 1250 (US$2.50). I felt like Mamadou was not telling me when the prices were high again. The cookies shouldn't be $3. He got a carton of waters that was a bit rough on the bottom. But he didn't look at the bottom and ripped open the top to put the stuff we bought in. Well, if he had made sure the bottom was OK, he would have left the top glued. Instead he totally destroyed the usability of the box. And I'm backpacking. I don't want to jug 18 liters of water with me. What was I thinking? I wasn't thinking.
Next we went to get some bread. I got 3 loaves for CFA 150 each (US$0.30). At that point he told me that the guy tried to over charge me, but he wouldn't have any of it--he said he was looking out for me. Yeah, right!

So we went back to the ship. Mamadou showed me information on his Dogon country tours. He told me the trip he wanted to take me on. I asked how much it would cost. He wouldn't give me any prices. I don't like that. I'm operating in a fog enough and Mamadou seems to want to keep the fog there. He told me that it's easy to get more people added to a trip once somebody signs up and he wanted to make a contract that he could show people. I was unwilling to be the first person to make a contract. If he wanted a multi-person trip, he was going to have to find other people and show me the itinerary and price--then I would make a decision--but no sooner. He tried to convince me to make a contract and pay some of the money up front. I told me that there was no way I was going to anything up front for something that far away where I knew no details of how it would be. Finally, he tried to appeal to my national honor. He said that the British keep their word, and he listed a few others. He said the French don't. I had promised to call when I was heading back from Gao (A baldfaced lie on my part--I have no intention of seeing the Dogon country--I was trying to get rid of him and we wasn't going away.) If a guide who tries to keep me in the fog and is impossible to shake is going to hound me, I certainly don't want to do business with him and I do want him to just leave me alone.

Mr. Good Prices, the CD merchant was there. He let me listen to some CDs and I bought 2. And Ali Farka Touré CD and one from his son Vieux Farka Touré. They have the hologram, so I hope the artists get royalties. They were CFA 5000 (US$10) each. Then a guy there named Umar gave me the phone number of his brother who is a guide in Timbuktu--Chokoroba. They said they'd call him and have him meet me. I told them NOT to call--I would do it myself when I arrived.

So eventually they all left and I settled in to wait. It was about 10am. The boat was scheduled to leave at 2pm. So I had some time to sleep. I was pretty tired from drinking the previous night and not in top form from the heat.

After about an hour, Mamadou came back. He said that the fête was coming up--the end of Ramadan. He needed to buy some stuff to visit his family in his village, and, if I have confiance in him, could I give him some money now and he would pay me back when I returned. It was obvious what he was doing. He was trying to make sure I contacted him on my return. I explained that I don't pay in advance for services not rendered yet and that I am not in the business of loaning money to people. He tried to convince me, but I was in my sleeping position and not leaving my sleeping position. It was obvious that I was not going to give him any money, so he asked for one more promise that I would call him. I assured him I would (a lie), and he left.
Then in my tiredness, the captain of the ship (or was he?) and one of the stevedores came on board and said I'd have to pay CFA 5000 for my luggage. I didn't have change so I gave him CFA 10000 and when he came back, he tried to convince me to pay CFA 10000 for the baggage. I got mad and said we had a deal and it wrong of him to try to change the terms. He gave me my change. I think I way overpaid and this would be something I would think about a lot on this loooooong voyage. My mood was not good.

As time went by, more and more people came on. And more and more cargo. When I first boarded, the edge of the boat was about 18 inches over the water line. Soon it was only about 6 inches over the water line. Two o'clock came and went. More cargo--watermelons, millet, sugar, rice, goods, a motorcycle. Three o'clock came and went. Four o'clock came and went. I was starting to get impatient--there were about 20 men in the front of the boat and I don't know how many women and children in the back. There was no room to stretch out at all. Finally, I decided that I had enough. At 6pm, if we weren't gone yet, I would walk away. I could get a 3rd class bed on the Comanav ship--which has beer as well. I'd like to spend another couple nights in the Y A Pas De Probleme, anyway. It's nice there and they have a nice bar with CFA 1000 large beers.

I calmed down after a half hour. We were scheduled to get in at 6am Thursday morning. It was late afternoon Tuesday. I decided that I could handle this. That if I'm going to call myself an explorer, I can't bail out at the first sign of anticipated discomfort. Maybe the Comanav is just as bad in its own way. I decided to stick it out. At 5pm, though, I did decided that if we don't leave tonight, that I will walk away--leaving the 18 liters of water there.

Then just before 6pm, we pushed off. The journey has started. We stopped at the first village and some women sold some chicken bits and some orange fruit to some of the people. Mamadou had told me that there are no women selling food when I asked. It was a lie. There are. The sun was soon down and people starting eating. I'll be so glad when this Ramadan is over. Then we headed on.

Eventually, people started drifting off to sleep. By the time people we laying down, all that was left for me was a 2' x 4' space over a bag of sugar. And that's what I slept in. I alternated between "sleeping" in the fetal position on one side, then the other, then sitting up for a while. A Nigerian guy took his shirt off, so I though I would too. I was fanning myself. It wasn't too hot, but it was humid. A cool but unrefreshing breeze came in. There was a guy with a watch that beeps on the hour. At each beep, I knew what time it was. And time was going slow. Really slow. 7pm. 8pm. 9pm. 10pm. 11pm. 12am. I was awake for all these. I barely slept at night as well. I heard beeps and when I checked my watch, it was always in hour earlier than I wished. I guess I hadn't drifted off for an extra hour.

At 10510 am, I was tired as hell. We got to a village I know is Niafunké. We offloaded the 2 NIgerian passengers and got two other passengers and headed on. A 10 minute stop.
At about 12:30pm, a guy caught my eye as I was getting into my fetal position to take a nap. He started to ask all the typical questions that I was no mood to answer. He ended by telling that we would arrive in Timbuktu tonight ("ce soir"). That pissed me off. I hate it when people give me predictions that turn out to be optimistic. Now I had hope that we'd arrive tonight as with that hope, a high probability of dashed hopes.

We had a 40 minute stop at 1:20. Some more people got off and I was able to stretch my legs for the first time in hours and hours. It felt good. I hoped I wouldn't have a deep vein thrombosis. We went from 20 men in the front to a little over a dozen.

From 3:20 to 4:30, we were at a village and I have no idea what was going on. There was a lot of waiting. People were moving to and from the boat and the village. It was a 70 minutes stop and I was getting extremely impatient. If this guy said we're going to arrive tonight, does it take time wasting 70 minute stops into account?

We made several more stops. We passed a large pinasse with 2 white guys on the roof filming us as we went by. Finally, at 6, I put my journal away. I was recording the whole thing in my paper journal. Every time I wrote something, everyone watched me wondering why I was writing. A kid kept touching me to try to get his attention. I asked is "parle tu français?" but he said no. Later another kid just stared at me for minutes and minutes.

Even after darkness fell, we were making stops. At each stop, a prearranged canoe would come out and pick up some of the passengers and their cargo. The number of people on board was swindling fast. But each stop meant no breeze. And no breeze meant humid trapped heat. Most were short and uneventful, but some were longer--30 minutes or so. In one stop, the guy loaded his motorcycle onto the canoe and the alarm kept going off. At 7, another guy told me it was just about 2 or 3 hours. So I was thinking maybe we'd be there by ten. But we kept stopping. Ten came and went and we were still stopping. Midnight came and went and we were still stopping. Until finally, there were only 2 passengers left besides the crew. I slept and the other Timbuktu bound guy woke me up and said we were here. I checked my watch. Three am. Now the boat was still and the mosquitos came. I couldn't sleep really. It sucked. Four o'clock came and went. Not getting light. At five, I must have dozed off because I remember looking for signs of light and there weren't any, then I woke up and it was light. It was 6.

The boat wasn't close enough to the shore for one to be able to disembark without getting wet. I had my zip-off North Face pants, though and was able to start to take my stuff off. Then the stevedores got the rest of my stuff for me.

Then I had to negotiate with the taxi people. They wouldn't take less that CFA 5000 to take me the 18km into Timbuktu. I tried to get them down, but all I succeeded in doing was getting the truck to leave immediately rather than wait for a bunch of cargo to be loaded.
Then, something happened I was dreading. I specifically told the people in Mopti to not call Chokoroba, but they did anyway. He rode in the back of the truck and kept chatting even though it should have obvious that I was in no mood to chat. We went to the Hôtel Bouctou where they have a bar--since I need a cold water and a cold beer. Though, it looks like all the keys are the same--not the sort of security I like.

I showered and went down to get my beverages and settle on what Chokoroba would show me. I got him to meet me at 8am the next day and show me around Timbuktu for 4 hours for CFA 12000 (US$24). He seems like a nice enough guy. When we were done, a bunch of Tuareg people had fun selling me stuff. I got a few post cards, a necklace that is nice for CFA 5000 (US$10), a little box for only CFA 1000 (US$2), and a bracelet from a cute little Tuareg kid for CFA 2200 (US$4.40). Then they all left me alone.

So I came back and typed this up.

September 25, 2008 10:30am Mali local time

Still In Bamako

The rain came and went and I'm still at the Hôtel Yamey in Bamako. I got addicted to reading about the election. I'm a C-SPAN junkie without C-SPAN during the campaign. So I needed a nice full day of surfing and getting caught up in the election. I'm a bit relieved and cautiously optimistic. It looks like the Sarah Palin bounce might be over and she will be as bad for the McCain campaign as I originally thought. While she is energizing the base, she is scaring the swing voters (update: and even Ben Stein). Whew!

Tomorrow morning, it's off to Ségou. That'll put me there on Saturday. So I'll be in Mopti on Sunday. That means I'll probably make it to the Djenné Monday market. Then off to Timbuktu by Comanav ferry or possibly pinasse.

September 19, 2008 16:36 Mali local time

Rain

I'm sitting here connected to le Café du Fleuve's internet connection from the Hôtel Yamey. I was about to leave when all of a sudden the hardest rain I've seen since getting to Africa started. Yikes. I hope the power stays on (it's flickering) so I have connection while I wait for the weather to pass. We'll see.

So my trip to Ségou is delayed for a small while. If worst comes to worse, I'll stay at the Yamey another night. I like it here. It's good even when not in comparison to the hell hole that is the Maison des Jeunes. (OK, the Maison des Jeunes isn't that bad--I just have several bad associations from explosive diarrhea in squat style toilets without toilet paper to the clingiest hustlers in Africa.)

September 19, 2008 11:51 Mali local time

Kankan To Bamako: Guinea Gets In A Parting Shot

Sept-places in West Africa take a lot of abuse. A whole lot of abuse. So it's no surprise that, oh maybe once every 5 hours in a sept-place, I see another sept-place on the side of the road, its passengers lying, sitting, or milling about, and the driver and the mechanic hard at work under a wheel well or under the hood. Half of me feels sorry for these poor people. The other half of me does a Nelson "Ha ha".

I woke up bright and early-about 5am. I wanted to get to the gare early for the car to Bamako Mali. I got there and 2 guys were already there. They wanted the front seat which was fine with me. I took the seat next to the door right behind the driver. A lot of people came--it seems the overflow goes either on a minibus or maybe another car comes. After a while it seemed like more than enough people were there, but we still weren't moving. Then the car repositioned to get gas which took a long time. Then at 7:15, we were on the road.

The road is great. The wind was in my hair and we were going fast--really fast. If the needle hadn't broken off the speedometer, I would have known just how fast. This part of Guinea is mostly devoid of cows. There was only one large herd in the road, but not the dozens off little 4 or 5 cow herds like on the way to Kankan.

We were making such good time. No potholes--the only thing in our way in the road was that one herd of cows and some speed bumps in the little towns and before the bridges.
At 9:15, the driver pulled off to the side of the road. Soon he had the back drivers side tire off. I didn't know what was up. They part that has the 4 bolts that the rim is bolted to was wobbling. Hmmm... That doesn't look good. With a lot of effort, a hammer borrowed from a guy in the tiny village about 200m ahead, and chisels and wrenches, they got the brake shoe thing off. Then they took off the bolt thing. Then a few minutes later, out came the axle. Sheared completely. A 3cm diameter solid rod of steel with a fracture. He didn't stress it, as far as I can tell. I have no idea how it happened. Now I was one of those passengers milling about while the driver and the mechanic were hard at work under the wheel well. There were 4 women passengers and 5 men. Two of the men seemed to be friends. They weren't phased at all. They were devout Muslims and fasting for Ramadan, but they were in the best mood I can imagine. They were joking with me and having all sorts of fun. French is like hair--I have good French days and bad French days. This was a bad French day. I had trouble understanding and finding words I should have been able to find. But they enjoyed the whole thing. A bus came by and the driver had a chat with the driver. It ambled off and 15 minutes later, it came back empty and stopped. The driver and the 4 women got in the bus. Then a first for me. Usually, when a car needs a push for a clutch-pop, they tell me I don't need to help--maybe because I'm white or maybe because I don't speak their language well enough to follow directions. But I got recruited to push the mini-bus. It was kinda cool. The bus left again and only the men were left.

I got my journal out and started writing to keep myself occupied. The men were fascinated with this odd behavior I was exhibiting. If they were fascinated, I don't know how to describe the people of the town--Namankoumbala, a village of about 20 round houses with conical thatched roofs. A spet-place breaking down would be front page news in their village. But a white guy being one of the passengers in that sept-place; now that's a humdinger of a story. It started to rain lightly, so I got into the car. A mother came down with her kids to show them a real live white guy. I said bonjour to the kids and they just stared at me. Another group of kids came to stare at me. Then a third group came to shake my hand and stare. They all smiled. Not many white people come through in Namankoumbala.

Normal men with midlife crises buy a sports car. I'm stuck on the side of a road in a lightly populated part of Guinea near the Mali border.

There was no sign of the driver for quite a while. Then at about 12:15, 3 hours after our breakdown, the driver returned. He got out of the bus and kid--probably only 12 or 13 years old--with a new axle in his hand got out behind him. The driver and kid started to get to work on the axle. But they couldn't get some part off the old axle, so they had to go to the village where they had some tools. About an hour later they walked back the 200m to the car. They evidently accomplished what they need to accomplish because they got into the wheel well and started to assemble the axle. It took a long time and when they were almost done, they noticed a rubber ring on the ground and realized they had forgotten to put it on. So they took the whole thing apart again, slipped the rubber ring in place and put it back together. They tightened the nuts to reattach the wheel. And at 1:45--4 and a half hours after we broke down--we were on the road again. We had plenty of room without the women, but the kid still got in the back cargo area. Just past Namankoumbala, I saw a sign that indicated it was 40km to the border. The engine was now running really rough. I'm not sure if it's related to our breakdown or not. The new axle had no grease on it and the old one was covered in grease. Maybe the sound was the ungreased axle?

We made the border fast 2:15. We rejoined the women and the kid got out. I guess the driver came all the way to Kourémalé to get the part and the expert kid who came with it. It would explain his long absence. Guinea customs was first. They sent me over across the street. A man looked at my passport. Then he asked for my yellow fever vaccination certificate. I shouldn't need one to exit, but when people don't have the certificate, the police extract bribes. I pulled out the book with the certificate on the inside. The guy looked at the front cover, then the back cover, but he didn't open it to see the certificate. Then he handed it to his buddy who looked at the front cover and back cover but again didn't open it to inspect the certificate. They handed my passport and yellow book back to me. I walked a ways down the road to the immigration police. The guy took my passport and gave me a stamp. He didn't enter anything into a ledger or ask for money. Then, the border was right there. I walked over to the Mali customs. We had to wait for our car to come. I watched as they tinkered under the hood still on the Guinea side. Then it finally came. Mali actually looks at the stuff coming in. I left my computer in the car, but the guy watched me as I took out the first few items from both my backpack and my attached stuff-sack. Everyone was OK, so the stuff got loaded back up onto the sept-place and we went about 100 meters down the road to the immigration police. They processed me pretty fast. They didn't even ask my yellow book with the vaccination--just my nationality. Then they gave me a stamp. No cost. I went to the car and waited. One of the Guinea women had a problem because she didn't have her vaccination document, so they got CFA 1000 (US$2) out of her--down from the starting price of CFA10000. The whole customs and immigration process took an hour and 20 minutes--mostly on the Mali side. We left at about 3:35pm.

After that, 120km to Bamako. The scenery to the south would make Utah envious. The cliffs are like Utah but with trees. There is even an arch near a formation not unlike the towers of the Notre Dame cathrdral. There was a small stretch where we got detoured to the side of the road on a dirt path because it was under active construction. But that didn't even last 10 minutes. Then back onto the lovely road. The population density started to increase and at about 4:45, we went through one more customs checkpoint where the officer had one guy open one box, then we were at our terminus. I got a cab for the probably high price of CFA 2000 (US$4) but getting ripped off the first time you enter a new city is par for the course.

I checked into the Maison des Jeunes or the Youth Hostel. I got a bed for 4 nights at CFA 2000 per night. That's only US$4! Wow. While checking in, I met a Swiss couple.

I unloaded my luggage onto my bed and decided to head out to check out the neighborhood. I found a place called Appaloosa. It's an American style bar in the back. I ordered a Flag. CFA 1500 (US$3) but there was AC, WiFi, and the waitresses are smokin' hot. I killed the first beer in about a minute. After all, I hadn't drunk anything on the trip from Kankan. Before the evening was up, I had 3 beers there. Upon returning to the hostel, I headed to the restaurant where I had steak and fries with a large bottle of tap water for CFA 1550 (US$3.10). The Swiss couple came in and we chatted. Then the three of us headed over the youth hostel's bar. Before the evening was up, I'd have about 4 more beers and turn in at about 2am.

The Swiss guy is a history student researching one of his ancestor's role in Africa from 1920 to 1922. He went to the archives in Mopti and for all the effort to get there, was only able to find one page that was relevant to his research. There was a French guy too. He is an intern working for a bank that refinances micro-credit loans. We had an interesting discussion about micro-credit.

Unfortunately, there was a local guy who is the kind of guy who clings to white people. He is always too eager to be of assistance. He was smoking marijuana. He offered me some but I refused. Then he told me it was marijuana, like I didn't already figure that out. He tried to show my name in Arabic, but I can read a little Arabic and it wasn't my name. I showed him what my name should be in Arabic. He got a bit defensive and said he never went to school--just learned it all on his own. The Swiss guy kicked my under the table and rolled his eyes to indicate what I already knew--this local was annoying. When I finally went to bed, the Swiss guy told me a little about the local guy. He's apparently persona non grata at the youth hostel, but he goes there anyway. He is said to have sold drugs to one tourist and then sent the police after the tourists. In fact, he tried to invite me to meet some American friends which sounds like a scam described in Lonely Planet where you get invited to something, drugs are there, and then the place is raided and the tourist has to pay a bunch of money to get out of the sticky situation.
I got to my room and got out my sleeping bag liner. I put my valuables in with me and went to sleep.

September 12, 2008 12:00 Mali local time

First Full Day In Freetown

Wow! I really like Freetown! Of the places I have visited so far, this is the first one that I could see moving to. It's amazing. And I've only been in the downtown--not even to Aberdeen and Lumley Beach. Oh why did I plan to spend just a few days here? While it's a fun added layer of challenge to travel in Francophone Africa, the feeling of control of being in an Anglophone country is nice. And while Banjul, The Gambia was Anglophone, it just wasn't a fun place to be. Freetown is! I don't why Lonely Planet called The Gambia "Africa for beginners". I would totally recommend Sierra Leone over The Gambia.

I woke up to rain. There is often rain in the morning in this region of Africa, so I decided to wait it out. It stopped, but I headed out with my rain coat and rain hat anyway. I wouldn't need them, though.

My first order of business to get my cash situation under control. I had about 40000 Leones--US$13--not enough to live on. So I went by a few banks to see if the ATM revolution has hit Sierra Leone. It hasn't. So I headed to the Rokel Bank and entered. I wasn't sure exactly how a cash advance works since I've never done one. Who do you go to? Well, as soon as I entered they had a big sign that indicated the foreign exchange from Visa section. It is a whole big room with a staff of about 10. I sat down and waited for a guy to call me up. He asked if I've ever gotten a cash advance from them before and if I informed my bank that I would be taking money out of my Visa account here. No for the first answer and for the second answer I told him that they were aware I am in West Africa. I gave him my Visa and my passport. He commented that I have lost weight. Indeed I have. My passport picture was taken at my peak weight of 235 lbs and I'm probably about 150 lbs now. He informed me that there was a Le40000 fee and a 2% commission. The fee is like $13. Yikes. Oh well. I asked for $150.

He had me sit down and I waited for about 20 minutes. Then I had to go up and sign 3 pieces of paper and provide my billing address and my current address in Sierra Leone. Then I waited about 5 more minutes. Then I got a few pieces of paper to take to the cashier. That was another 5 minute wait. Then I got my money. My $150 got me Le375000 when all the fees were subtracted.

Cash in hand, I decided to head to the Crown Bakery mentioned in the Lonely Planet. I got an Orange Fanta, chocolate croissant, and a chocolate frosted donut. They were absolutely delicious. When I got my bill I found out why--Le5000 for the Fanta and Le7000 for the pastries. Plus a 10% tax. It came to Le25000 with tip or about US$8. More than I expected. There were a lot of white people at the Crown. Some were UN soldiers, I think. A girl came in with an REI bag and perhaps was American. It was good, but I don't think I'll be back for any more $2.30 donuts.

Then I just wandered around the town amazed. After a while I figured out how I would describe the vibe of downtown Freetown. It's a festival atmosphere. It's like wandering the French Quarter during Mardi Gras. The street names are all British. The British influence is everywhere. It was, after all, established by the British to decide if black people on ships captured on the high seas were slaves from the Americas or free Africans being taken across the Atlantic against their will. Since they had outlawed the international slave trade, but not slavery itself, they took jurisdiction to free any Africans who were illegally taken from Africa to be sold as slaves. In fact the street my hotel is on, Wilburforce Street, is named after one of the leading abolitionists who got the British to outlaw the slave trade and put its considerable naval force behind enforcement.

I decided to head back to the hotel and pay for tonight. On the way there, I passed a store that looked like it might have postcards but they didn't. The guy suggested the post office. I figured he was full of crap. I paid another Le50000 (US$17) for the next night. I showered and did some laundry. Then I headed out again.

I went to the place where the sept-places to Conakry leave from. I can get a car for Le30000 to Pamelap--the border. Or if I show up at 5am, I can pay Le50000 and get a car all the way to Conakry. So that's $10 to the border or $17 to Conakry. I think I have enough money to last until Sunday morning, so I'll give that a try.

I passed the post office and, sure enough, they have a table where they sell envelopes and other packaging materials. Plus post cards. So I got 2 and then got postage to the US. I hope my postcards are reaching my nieces.

My hotel room has a WiFi hotspot, but you need an account with some company. I went to the office of that company. They have a 24 hour plan valid for 48 hours for Le30000 (US$10) and weekly plans. They also have hourly plans for Le5000. Maybe I'll try that. I was asking about this in an office with no lights. Interesting that a tech company wouldn't have electricity.

Soon I found an internet cafe and posted my blogs and checked some blogs. The Explorer was funny, though and the javascripts for blogger didn't work right, so I couldn't put the categories in yet. I decided not to even try my email since its javascript is problematic.

I wandered around again just taking in the vibe and ended up at a nice looking cafe called the Cafe de la Rose. They didn't have the cheaper things on the menu, so I just got a bottled water and a beer. I wrote out the postcards and then ordered another beer. Each item was Le3500--a little over US$1. When I left, there were 4 wounded people at the door. They asked for money and I gave each of them a Le2000 bill. Then I set out to find food. I went to the intersection where I got the chicken the night before, but the chicken people weren't there yet. I walked a completely crowded street with people selling everything under the sun. I made it to the clock tower and then went south to the water. Then I turned around and came back. I went to the place I tried to get a bite to eat across the street from the hotel. I got a shawarma for Le6000 (US$2). It was spicy and delicious. But ultimately, it was just an appetizer. I went to another fast food place--Delightful Fast Food. Their windows are tinted and you can't see in, but a guy opened the door for me and I could see it was a restaurant. I got a hamburger for Le8000 (US$2.60). It was good--they used a panini press on it. Then I came back to the apartment to type up my day. On the way up the stairs, I passed a guy with 5 or 6 small grey nuggets wrapped in a folded piece of paper. Probably uncut diamonds--Sierra Leone has a lot of diamond mines. Cool.

Tomorrow I'll go to Aberdeen and Lumley beach.

September 4, 2008 18:38 Sierra Leone local time

Ugh, Rain

It's raining. Hard. And all day long. I'm not so concerned about getting wet. What I am concerned about is my ability to get to Freetown. The road apparently can get bad after heavy rains and we have heavy rains. We'll see. It's supposed to clear up a bit on Tuesday when I'm traveling.

I'll keep you posted. Oh, why am I travelling during the rainy season and Ramadan?

August 31, 2008 16:18 Guinea local time

Koundara To Labé: Did I Really Subtitle Yesterday's Post "A Test In Patience"?

I got up this morning at about 6:30 and packed by lantern light. I didn't sleep well at all--people were up and talking until about 4am. And the electricity cut out at 12:30am. Koundara is a place to stay overnight on the way to Labé but not a place to linger. I wanted to leave, but there was nobody to pay. Finally, the cleaner came and I had him wake whoever it was who I needed to pay. The guy came down and got his GF25000 (US$5). Then it was off to the gare voiture to get a sept-place to Labé.

The gare voiture was pretty easy to find: leave the Nyfala, turn right. Take a left at the first street, then a right at the first street. Then walk till you're there. I got there and found the Labé car. There were already some people there. The guy charged me GF75000 (US$15) which was more than double the Lonely Planet estimate of GF35000. But the Guinea Franc has eroded in value since then and the cost of fuel has gone way up. Then he charged me 15000 (US$3) for my bag. Bastard!

People were coming fast. It was looking like this sept-place would get its requisite dozen people pretty quickly. There was also a lot of other baggage. A lot of it. At about 8:15, they hauled it all up on the roof, laid two tarps over it, then a net, then they securely tied the netting down. The car repositioned. They came out with a long funnel and a jerrican of gas which they poured through a handkerchief filter into the gas tank. Then we all climbed on board. I got the second seat in on the left of the main bench which held 4. Five people--3 of them kids--got into the back bench. One kid wedged into the space between the front bucket seats, and 2 people shared the bucket seat. One woman got in the hatch where the bovine was yesterday, and the conductor got on the roof. We were ready to go.

I was pretty damn uncomfortable. Lonely Planet estimates this trip at 8 hours. Eight hours of being wedged between two guys, with kids right behind me sleeping with his elbow in my back. Fun fun fun. At 8:30 we headed out. It is 265 km (160 miles) to Labé.

Boy is the road to Labé bad. We were going all over the road looking for the least bumpy path. There was no unbumpy part--just less and more bumpy. At 9am, the kid wedged between the bucket seats had enough and moved to the roof. At 9:30 it started to rain. They stopped the car, got out the pliers, latched onto the eyebolt where the window handles used to be, and rolled the windows up. At 10:30 it stopped raining and they repeated the process to roll the windows down. With the windows down, the people sitting at the window seat got whipped by wet vegetation when we got to close to the side of the road in the rain forest.

I saw what appeared to be a troupe of baboons or something. A tribe of a little over a dozen primates of some sort--the largest two about the size of a small man and most of the rest the size of children. They were beige in color, had tails, and ran on their arms and legs. We never got closer than about 50 meters because they went into the woods as we approached.

I was starting to get hungry. I didn't eat at all the previous day. I was looking forward to pizza at the Hotel Tata. I was thinking I'd be in Labé at 4 or 5pm--plenty of time for a pizza and a beer. I had the half bottle of water I bought in Koundara. I took occasional sips. I was very happy about the cloud cover--the sun is the worst when traveling like this. Cloud cover is ideal.

Guinea has fewer termite mounds. Instead it has these rocks, from the size of foot stools to the size of end tables. They are roughly cylindrical and capped with some sort of mossy thing. They sort of look like mushrooms. I'm not sure exactly what they are. This part of Africa is geologically interesting, there are cliffs, buttes, plateaus, ridges, and waterfalls. It's quite nice.

At about 11:40 we entered a small village and some of the people got some food. I stayed in the car. We were there about 15 minutes and then we headed off again. Did I mention the road was bad? The kid behind got carsick and a few times he reached to the window and puked.

We picked our way through potholes, forced herds of cattle to part, went off road a bit, forded running water, and went through just about every puddle there was. I guess they must know that puddles are smooth because the driver aimed for the puddles on the side of the road. On the side of the road, the car tilted 15° to the left or right making it even worse for us wedged passengers.

The houses in Guinea tend to be cylindrical , about 5 meters in diameter, with a door and no windows and conical thatched roofs. They are clustered in fenced or palisaded compounds. Sometimes there is one about 10 meters in diameter in the compound.

We headed on though. Our progress slow but steady. Every caution was taken to make sure we didn't get too bumpy, but it was still pretty bumpy. Then at 3:15, we arrived at the one and only ferry crossing.

The ferry was on the other side. A car got on and two children started turning a large two sided crank. A chain anchored at both ends of the 50m wide river went through a gear attached to the crank. Each rotation of the crank advanced the ferry about two inches. It took about 10 minutes to get the ferry from one side to the other. We all got on the ferry and the driver drove on. Then the same thing in reverse. About 10 minutes later we were on the other side. Some people bought some boiled roots and pre-peeled oranges. Then we headed forth. It was quarter to 4, so we must be close. The road wasn't any better on this side of the river. We spent half of our time in second gear, splitting the remaining between first and third gears.

Four o'clock rolled around. Not there yet. Well, it will be any minute now. I saw some other monkeys--the kind with the black round face in the white mane, with long tails. There were 3 or 4 of them. Five o'clock. An hour over the 8 hour estimate. Not bad. But we weren't there yet. Our exhaust pipe fell off. They put it in the back with the old woman. I noticed that nothing on the dash board worked. The odometer was stuck at 393354 km. The speedometer was broken. No gas gauge. Only the idiot lights worked, coming on every so often. Six o'clock. We entered a town. A goat in the road refused to move and the towns people wanted us to reverse rather than move the goat. We won. Two hours overdue is still OK, not that bad. We picked up a passenger--I could see our shadow in a rare sunbreak of three people on the roof. My tail bone was starting to hurt. Six forty five, we stopped. It was starting to get dark. I specifically want to avoid being on the road after dark. But what can you do. Labé can't be far. The people went to the bathroom and at 7pm, we hit the road again. In the elapsed fifteen minutes, the day had turned into night. The headlights worked at least. And picking our way through horrible road would require headlights. Actually it requires daylight, but there is no daylight.

Every settlement gave me hope that this would be Labé. Every settlement wasn't Labé. Eight o'clock. We stopped at a pile of firewood. They got out and loaded some onto the roof. That took quite a while as they had to rearrange the luggage. Nine o'clock. The guy on my left was home so he got out and was replaced by a guy from the roof. Then I saw a sign that said Commune of Labé. We're here! Or so I thought. The settlements started to have light. Labé can't be far. We were still on the horrible road.

Ten o'clock. This was getting ridiculous. We seemed close. Everyone was talking on their cell phones, I presume to arrange pick up at the station. Finally I saw the Hotel Tata, the best hotel in Labé according to Lonely Planet--now we're close. Then about a minute later, the driver stopped the car and looked underneath it. He had to make some quicky repair of something with a piece of wire. That took about ten minutes. Finally we were on the road. I recognized the name of another place. Then we pulled into the gare at about 10:20pm--14 hours after we left. I could barely walk. I knew I wanted to go to the Hotel d'Independance. But I didn't know where it was or where I was. I wasn't counting on arriving in the dark. A guy offered to lead me there for GF5000 (US$1). So I took him up on it. I wouldn't have been able to find it in the dark. Maybe in the light, but this was too out of the way even though it was only a 90 second walk. They had rooms. Whew!

There is a superette next door--not exactly well stocked--but stuff. I bought cookies, chocolate, and a 7 Up for GF13000 (US$2.60). Then I came up to my room to document the hell I went through today taking 14 hours to go 160 miles in a car crammed with up to 12 other people on the worst road I've been on so far. Assuming we were stopped for 2 hours of the 14, that's an average speed of 13.3 mph.

August 23, 2008 23:20 Guinea local time