Today was the day I had decided to go to Banjul, the capital of Gambia. After an OK but not good sleep at the Hotel Provençial I got up to the noises of the street. It was 6:07 am and dark. But I wanted to make Banjul by a reasonable time, so I had decided to wake up around 6-ish. So it was time to get up. I so wanted to sleep, but it's better to start early. So I got up and packed (I hadn't really unpacked) and headed out. The first taxi wanted 2000 CFA so I passed it by. I walked a little further and the next asked 1500 CFA. I offered 1000 CFA. Rejected--I got in. He took me to the Gare Routier Pompiers and almost all the way to the sept-places to Banjul.
Then a guy from outside asked if I was going to Banjul. I said I was and got out and for some reason followed him away from the sept-place Banjul sign. He took me to a minibus--a 20 seater. It was half full and it was about 6:45. So I figured it probably can't be too bad. They charged me 7000 CFA for my luggage and seat. Then the guy took me around the side of the bus and wanted a tip for "helping me". He asked for 2000. I thought 500 CFA was plenty, but I was out of them. The next smallest thing I had was a 1000 CFA bill, so I reached into my pocket and pulled out a wad that was a 1000 and a 2000. The guy grabbed them. I held them. The he ripped the 2000 CFA bill in half. So I just have it to the asshole.
Then I went onto the bus and waited. And waited. And waited. While we were waiting for the bus to fill, 2 men abandoned the bus to go get a sept-place. Seven o'clock rolled around. The evil electronic organ vendor came by along with all the rest. Thankfully, this time nobody bought one so I wasn't driven insane by "My Fair Lady". Eight o'clock rolled around. I was starting to realize that our comfortable 3 across the seat was going to be an uncomfortable 4 across by the time we left. Finally at about nine o'clock, things started rolling. The same 9 year old kid I mentioned in my last wait at Pompiers got into the drivers seat and repositioned our now full bus closer to the exit. Then our real driver got in. He couldn't adjust his seat and seemed to have a great deal of difficulty dealing with the position. He kept shifting when he should have been driving.
Mercifully, traffic was light, it being Sunday. And it was overcast. We were making pretty good time. Then we hit Kaolack. Ugh!!! We entered the city and took a right. The "highway" went right through this market. We had to slow down quite a bit. The road wasn't paved, people were everywhere. I looked forward to getting out of Kaolack so we could get back to highway speeds. It was noon, and we were 80 km away from Karang--the town at the border. But highway speeds were not for the next stretch. The road was extremely potholed. There were so many potholes that we spent most of the time on the softer shoulder where the dips, ruts, and depressions at least don't have the hard edge. It was a slow methodical slalom. There were a few times in the next 30 or so kilometers that we got up into second gear, but not many. We got to some town and the highway got a little better in that they actually filled the potholes with dirt. So we could go a little bit faster. You could still feel them, but they were almost flush with the road.
I saw a couple of monkeys run across the street. Almost too fast to tell they were primates. There are a lot of goats here. The land supports life very well and I saw as many animals, albeit domestic, as I've seen in Senegal. The houses are brick walled, but have grass roofs supported by a single central pole that sticks out the top. A wicker-like fencing encloses most of the villages. There were more police checkpoints than before. Half of them seem to do some random mechanical inspection. The first checkpoint, the driver had to toot his horn and run his wipers. Oh, the horn works--he used it all the time to say "one of us is going to move out of the way, and it's not going to be me".
Finally, at Sokone, we let off a passenger in the row behind us. It also marked the point where the highway went back to normal. Whew! It's mangrove swamp all in here and I figured the highway would be bad to all the way to The Gambia. At another town, the girl next to me (a cute girl in a T-shirt that said "Angel" who kept attracting glances from the driver--eye's on the road, mister!). However, 2 new women got on, so we didn't get to stretch out a bit. But they were only on for about 5 miles and after they got off, the remaining 3 of us in the bench seat got to decompress a bit. But we were almost to the border.
At this point, I'm thirsty, but not too bad. The ride wasn't excessively hot. I hadn't had water since last night, but I wasn't sweating much. Still I wasn't super alert. I got off and immediately, they started asking to exchange money. The woman there was offering D50 for 1000 CFA. She said the visa stamp was D350 and the taxi to the ferry was D50. I argued for a while because the Lonely Planet lists the Gambian dollar at about 50 per US dollar. So a 10000 CFA not is worth about US$20. And she was offering D500 which seemed to be worth US$10. Maybe the exchange rate has changed. (Note to self: look up the damn exchange rate when you are planning to enter a country). What the hell. The other guy was offering essentially the same deal. I traded a 10000 CFA note for D500. The most I can get taken for is US$10. With the guy who ripped my 2000 CFA note in half and this, it comes to a ripoff rate of only about US$14. Not pleasant, but certainly not horrible.
I got my pack and headed for the Senegalese police. There was a room there with a couple men doing the exit procedure. I gave my passport to a guy and he gave me an exit stamp--then he gave me passport to another guy who proceeded to exit stamp me again. So I got 2 Senegalese exit stamps on the same page. Goofy. That whole thing took maybe 3 or 4 minutes.
Then I passed by a bunch of merchants selling stuff--should I buy water? But I didn't.
One thing I should point out at this time, the colonial language of The Gambia is English. While I'm here, French goes on the back burner--English is the language to use.
A girl with a basket of nuts pointed out the Gambian saw the Gambian customs and immigration. I skipped customs. There was a guy outside writing into a ledger. Did I have to go through him first? The nut girl, pointed inside and told me to go in. I did. The people at the front desk directed me to the back. I went around "detention" which had 2 men laying there and I found passport control, but the immigration staff was gathered around a big bowl eating. He said they are eating. So I went back to the main desk. They wondered if I didn't find it, but I told them they were eating. They yelled something back and a guy who on the bus from Mali also came. We both went back. And a guy came out. He looked at my passport first. "You have a visa" he said. I answered that yes I did. He studied it carefully. It was like we was looking for a discrepancy so he could try to wring some money out of me. But after about a 45 second thorough scrutinization, all that was left to do was stamp my passport and enter my information into his ledger.
I took my passport and left. The nut girl told me that taxis are D50. A bunch of men ran up to me and said I could get a taxi for D200. No, I said that was too much. They warned me I would miss the ferry if I didn't act fast and that there was only one ferry running--not two--so twice the wait if I missed it. I told them I didn't want to pay 200 but 50. They said my choices were to pay 200 for a full taxi all to myself. The other choice was the lineup, but there was a bus, not a taxi, at the head of the lineup, so it would take a long time. I decided on the bus anyway. The girl told me it was 20. I bought some nuts from her (I'm eating them as I type) for D50.
On my way to the bus, I was told there was in fact a third option. There was a taxi that needed just one more passenger. I could have that spot for D100--me and my luggage. The assholes! But I paid it.
It's a long way from the border to the ferry. It was probably a 20 minute ride. We were, like, winding through farm fields and stuff. I wondered if this was really the road to the ferry from the border. We stopped at a police checkpoint. They were interesting in me since I'm the white one. They asked what was in my bags and when I arrived in Senegal. They seemed satisfied with my answer. But we arrived. I saw the ferry out in the water. I couldn't tell if it was coming or going. The cab parked and I headed for a big arch that I suspected was the ferry terminal. It was, but there seemed to be no ticket stand. Just a gate for vehicles that was tightly controlled. Then I saw some people heading for an opening just to the right of the vehicle gate. I started to go there. I found myself in a very muddy (it was sprinkling rain) 4 foot wide corridor of corrugated tin to the left separating us from the ferry vehicles and various materials on the right. It seemed to be under construction and this was a temporary thing. The pathway was littered with cinder blocks. But the corridor was packed with people. All were trying to get tickets and the line would move in fits and starts. People needing to get their car on had a worse problem. They had to get a ticket and then return via the same passage way in the other direction. They were doing all sort of wall climbing tricks to go against the flow of the bustling crowd in the 4 foot wide muddy corridor strewn with building materials.
Finally I got to the ticket window. I was one of the last to get a ticket. It was D7. It was almost 4pm. The ferry sails at 4. I went through and I was near the end of the last trickle getting on the ferry. By now I was pretty thirsty and I hadn't taken my Savarin yet, so when I knew I was going to make it, I saw a kid selling Coca-Cola and Fanta. How much? D15. I paid him D20 and got D5 and an Orange Fanta. I was dying of thirst now. I got on the ferry and found a spot where I could stand, though I couldn't take off my backpack. Then I opened the Orange Fanta. It was the best Orange Fanta I ever had in my life. After my initial thirst was quenched and I finished my coughing fit from having drunk it too fast, I took a Savarin.
The Lonely Planet says the trip takes an hour. Actually it takes 40 minutes. A performer/snake oil salesman came by and entertained everybody with wonderful stories of his creme that we was selling. He racked off a whole list of something that I suspect were diseases he claimed it could cure. The people were laughing at his stories and then buying his creme. I saw the other ferry. Both were in operation. The taxi guys lied. Assholes!
Finally the ferry docked. They actually take your tickets when you leave, so I got mine out. The bad part is that everyone has to go through one single bottleneck. But I made it. Immediately, a bunch of people asked if I wanted a taxi. Nope. I knew where I was going. The Ferry Guesthouse. Right across the street. D350 per night according to the Lonely Planet. That's only US$7 if the exchange rate is actually 50:1. But I don't know what the exchange rate is. So I walked toward it. There were people upstairs, but all the entrances seemed barred up. A guy asked me if I needed a hotel. I told him I'm going to the Ferry Guesthouse. He said he knows a better hotel, the Apollo. I said I was fine with this for now. He lead me though the open gate on the right of the Ferry Guesthouse. You basically have to enter on the right, then as if walking through a square nautilus shell find the stairs up to the second floor.
The rates were posted right there. D400 or 8500 CFA for a single. I got room #1. I guess it's the low season, eh? The room is OK. Overlooks the port and it's a little loud. There is a shared bathroom. Not great, but passable. I told the kid who showed me the way that I wouldn't need to see the Apollo hotel. He asked for a tip. I gave him 75 Gambian cents. He wasn't happy, but I pointed out that he didn't really do much.
So, I'm home. I'm still thirsty and I need cash. And then I noticed something else--The Gambia uses what I guess are British style plugs. Crap. I was going to plug in my laptop and type this up. But it had to wait. I found the Standard Chartered bank which has a withdrawal limit of D2000. So I took that out. Seems low. Anyway, next I got a 1.5 liter of cold water for D25. Finally, I got a plug adapter for D40. Since it's Sunday, most of the stuff is closed. I don't know what I'll eat or where. I'll probably just sleep tonight and eat tomorrow. I have my nuts from the nut girl, at least. And nuts go a long way to ease hunger pangs.
August 10, 2008 17:48 Gambian local time
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