Having successfully gotten out of the Atlantide Hôtel without the English speaking guy around I was free to explore Gao. Gao is a small city on the Niger River and is basically in the desert. The streets are sand and only a few are paved. My first destination was to the tourism office, but there didn't seem to be one where the icon was. Too bad because Lonely Planet said it's the best one in Mali. So I wasn't able to check the price of my hotel.
Next I went to find the Museum of the Sahel. I found it but it was closed. The door said it is open everyday from 8 to 12 and 15 to 18 except Monday and Saturday. It was 8:30 but maybe it'll open later. It didn't look like much from outside.
I then headed over to the Tomb of the Askia. It's a mosque so given that it's an Islamic holiday (last day of Ramadan) it was pretty easy to spot--just follow the crowd. I had to shake one guy who wanted to be my guide. The tomb is kind of a neat structure. It's made of mud and logs. There are stairs going around it like a ziggurat. It's not very big and is surrounded by a think mud wall. I'm not sure it's worth coming to Gao to see this attraction, but it was neat. I gave a coin to an old lady in a wheelchair and then some kid wanted a coin too. I told him I only give to old people.
I headed back to the museum. Stil closed. I looked into a keyhole. There was a guy in there. But I wasn't sure I really in the mood to go there so I decided to just skip it.
Next I went to the Bani bus station. I asked what time the bus to Sevaré leaves. They said it won't leave for 3 days. Yikes! What if the end of Ramadan shuts down the busses? I certainly don't want to spend my birthday in Gao. The Gana bus company is right around the corner. They have one tomorrow at 9:30 am. Whew! CFA 8000. I got my ticket. Tomorrow I get the hell out of Gao and after an anticipated nice night in the Via Via in Sevaré, adios Mali! I can't think of a better place to turn 40 than Bobo Dioulasso, Burkina Faso.
I came back to the hotel where I got my clean shirt back. I asked how much. He said CFA 1000 (US$2). Not what I wanted to hear. I mumbled under my breath that I should have set the price up front. I didn't look happy and I just looked at the guy shaking my head. OK, he said, 500. OK. That was the first time I got a price down on a service already delivered. It was easier than I thought. I guess I should have been doing that all along.
Then I went out to find the Restaurant Bon Sejour. It was pretty far. It was actually one of my first choice hotels, but I opted for the one I'm in since it's so centrally located. (Actually the Atlantide is pretty crappy. The plumbing is shot, the rooms are dirty and disgusting by even my low standards. And it is infested with locusts. I killed about 20 in my room so far. Next time, it's Bon Sejour.) I had some chicken, a bottle of water, and 4 beers at the Bon Sejour. A nice lunch/mid afternoon diversion.
Tonight I'll go out and see what the end of Ramadan looks like in the streets. But other than that, I'm ready to just rest and recover and prepare for my trip to Sevaré.
September 30, 2008 17:01 Mali local time
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Monday, September 29, 2008
Kabara To Gao: My Faith In Malians Is Restored
I was in my room--room 26. And in a very bad mood. There are actually 11 beds, but 3 are way too close to the ceiling. The ones with the nice mattresses were taken. My mattress had bread crumbs on it, but it had the most headroom. Some of the mattresses were bar pieces of foam. I got my bed and I started to calm down and write into my journal.
There were a bunch of young men in my room--students at a teacher college in their last year. One was a guy named Ousmane Diouf. He was a really nice guy. He probably doesn't have an opportunity to meet too many French speaking Americans. And my French is better than his English. He showed me his lesson plans for teaching young students and his notes and stuff like that. Then he got out his photo album and showed me his girlfriend and his family and his friends. There were some pictures of him in a sketch where he played a marabout (spiritual leader) and talked about AIDS. We talked about prices of computers and I showed him my La route and The Road. He found my Hôtel du Golfe receipt from Guinea-Conakry and said it was very expensive. If was a little pricy--$34, but not ridiculous. Later, I realized he probably thought the price was in Francs CFA which are worth 10 times more than Francs Guinea, so he probably thought it was about $340. He was very intrigued by my fountain pen. He asked if I had another one like it--he might like one. I said I didn't. I didn't have the heart to tell him how much it costs. A Malian can eat for a very long time off the price of that pen.
The room, it turns out, has a room monitor who works for Comanav--though it too me a little while to figure out that he wasn't just a passenger. My room monitor also doesn't speak English--just French. He was the nicest guy. When I was alone in the room, he would give me the key and tell me to lock the door if I went out. I mostly stayed in my room fanning myself. He brought me food.
Since I had such a fuss about the food I should mention what the food was. There were 4 meals and 2 breakfasts. The meals all followed the same basic pattern--a starch and a 3cm x 3cm x 3cm cube of braised beef--usually a chunk of it being bone. The starches were 1) badly overcooked short spaghetti with a hint of tomato sauce, 2) millet with a hint of tomato sauce, 3) chunks of some sort of tuber with a hint of tomato sauce, and 4) rice with a hint of onion. The first breakfast was a cup of instant Nescafé with 4 inches of a baguette. The second breakfast was a cup of instant Nescafé with 4 deep fried donut holes. And that was the food. Easily the total food bill would be less than CFA 2000 for the whole thing--easily within the ticket price.
The Comanav ferry makes only the scheduled stops. It's not like the cargo pinasse which stops on demand. Each stop was about an hour or two, perhaps except the last one which was short. When the boat gets ready to leave, it toots the horn 3 times, then a few minutes later it does 2 toots. The scenes at the stops are a sight to behold. People loading and unloading cargo. Naked children--they take off their clothes and hide their parts for a while, then they give up on that just run around buck naked. There are women doing laundry, cleaning fish, sorting vegetables, and whatever else.
As we passed villages on the Niger, the children came out to shout and wave at the ferry. I guess the Comanav ferry going by is the highlight of their week. These people live in pretty remote places. There are a lot of individual and collective settlements along the river. A lot of the sand dunes have a grid--about 10 feet x 10 feet of grass. I suppose it stabilizes the sand dune.
We had 2 storms. The first was the first night right after the students want to sleep. They mostly slept outside, but when the storm came they had to come in to sleep. There was no rain, but very very strong winds bearing sand and dust. The second was the next afternoon. We actually beached for a little while since the visibility was so low. The wind was very strong, again no rain. But there was thunder and lightning.
I mostly sat there fanning myself. I'd write a few lines in my journal and in that time enough sweat accumulated that I'd need to fan myself again.
It was the most educated crowd I'd seen in Mali. People in my room were reading dictionaries and books. Something I haven't seen much of in Mali, or Africa.
There were a few other white people on board, but I didn't see them except when they got off to wander around the stops to take pictures. I suspect they were in the more expensive cabins. Too bad for them. The 3rd class cabin is the way to go. You meet the locals that way. It was so refreshing to meet people who don't speak good English. I'm so sick of English speakers in Mali.
So after leaving at about 6pm on Saturday, we arrived at about 5pm on Monday. I tipped my room monitor CFA 2000 for all he did for me. Then I got off. There were neat little 4 inch long salamanders with yellow and brown stripes down their backs and irridescent aquamarine tails. Unfortunately, I was immediately met by an English speaking man who wanted to take me to the Hôtel Atlantide where I was going anyway. It was a short walk and when I got there, he said something first and they charged me CFA 12500 (US$25). The Lonely Planet price is CFA 10000. I want to know if this guy gets a part of the difference or if it is genuine inflation. They don't have post prices. I'll ask again tomorrow without giving away what information I'm after and I'll see if I can find out at the tourist information center. If it should be CFA10000, I'll raise a stink--I'm good at that now. The guide sat there and watched me fill out my fiche with my information. "Where are you from?" "Seattle, Washington." "Oh, I have a good friend in Washington--a university professor." "Oh, which university?" I asked, though I wasn't interested. He was a bit flustered and finally came up with "a university in San Fransisco." I needed my passport for the date I entered Mali (Spet. 11-how could I forget?). He told me that after this we would go get a stamp. "What?" I asked. He made a stamping motion and said "la cachet." "Huh?" I asked. "For your passport." I didn't know what he was talking about and I was annoyed. "I didn't cross any borders from Timbuktu," I said with some contempt.
I needed a beer and the English speaking guy showed me the place I already knew from the Lonely Planet. But they only had "Guiness" and I don't want that. So he took me to another place. I sat down at a table at the closest chair--specifically not creating a space for him. Then he went around and sat next to me. I got out my journal and starting writing. He kept disturbing me. I had a few beers and came back. I was drunk so I tipped the guy CFA 1000. Tomorrow he gets nothing--he will not be coming with me. I want to organize my life my way. Besides I don't want him there when I ask about prices at the tourist information center.
September 30, 2008 3:00 Mali local time
There were a bunch of young men in my room--students at a teacher college in their last year. One was a guy named Ousmane Diouf. He was a really nice guy. He probably doesn't have an opportunity to meet too many French speaking Americans. And my French is better than his English. He showed me his lesson plans for teaching young students and his notes and stuff like that. Then he got out his photo album and showed me his girlfriend and his family and his friends. There were some pictures of him in a sketch where he played a marabout (spiritual leader) and talked about AIDS. We talked about prices of computers and I showed him my La route and The Road. He found my Hôtel du Golfe receipt from Guinea-Conakry and said it was very expensive. If was a little pricy--$34, but not ridiculous. Later, I realized he probably thought the price was in Francs CFA which are worth 10 times more than Francs Guinea, so he probably thought it was about $340. He was very intrigued by my fountain pen. He asked if I had another one like it--he might like one. I said I didn't. I didn't have the heart to tell him how much it costs. A Malian can eat for a very long time off the price of that pen.
The room, it turns out, has a room monitor who works for Comanav--though it too me a little while to figure out that he wasn't just a passenger. My room monitor also doesn't speak English--just French. He was the nicest guy. When I was alone in the room, he would give me the key and tell me to lock the door if I went out. I mostly stayed in my room fanning myself. He brought me food.
Since I had such a fuss about the food I should mention what the food was. There were 4 meals and 2 breakfasts. The meals all followed the same basic pattern--a starch and a 3cm x 3cm x 3cm cube of braised beef--usually a chunk of it being bone. The starches were 1) badly overcooked short spaghetti with a hint of tomato sauce, 2) millet with a hint of tomato sauce, 3) chunks of some sort of tuber with a hint of tomato sauce, and 4) rice with a hint of onion. The first breakfast was a cup of instant Nescafé with 4 inches of a baguette. The second breakfast was a cup of instant Nescafé with 4 deep fried donut holes. And that was the food. Easily the total food bill would be less than CFA 2000 for the whole thing--easily within the ticket price.
The Comanav ferry makes only the scheduled stops. It's not like the cargo pinasse which stops on demand. Each stop was about an hour or two, perhaps except the last one which was short. When the boat gets ready to leave, it toots the horn 3 times, then a few minutes later it does 2 toots. The scenes at the stops are a sight to behold. People loading and unloading cargo. Naked children--they take off their clothes and hide their parts for a while, then they give up on that just run around buck naked. There are women doing laundry, cleaning fish, sorting vegetables, and whatever else.
As we passed villages on the Niger, the children came out to shout and wave at the ferry. I guess the Comanav ferry going by is the highlight of their week. These people live in pretty remote places. There are a lot of individual and collective settlements along the river. A lot of the sand dunes have a grid--about 10 feet x 10 feet of grass. I suppose it stabilizes the sand dune.
We had 2 storms. The first was the first night right after the students want to sleep. They mostly slept outside, but when the storm came they had to come in to sleep. There was no rain, but very very strong winds bearing sand and dust. The second was the next afternoon. We actually beached for a little while since the visibility was so low. The wind was very strong, again no rain. But there was thunder and lightning.
I mostly sat there fanning myself. I'd write a few lines in my journal and in that time enough sweat accumulated that I'd need to fan myself again.
It was the most educated crowd I'd seen in Mali. People in my room were reading dictionaries and books. Something I haven't seen much of in Mali, or Africa.
There were a few other white people on board, but I didn't see them except when they got off to wander around the stops to take pictures. I suspect they were in the more expensive cabins. Too bad for them. The 3rd class cabin is the way to go. You meet the locals that way. It was so refreshing to meet people who don't speak good English. I'm so sick of English speakers in Mali.
So after leaving at about 6pm on Saturday, we arrived at about 5pm on Monday. I tipped my room monitor CFA 2000 for all he did for me. Then I got off. There were neat little 4 inch long salamanders with yellow and brown stripes down their backs and irridescent aquamarine tails. Unfortunately, I was immediately met by an English speaking man who wanted to take me to the Hôtel Atlantide where I was going anyway. It was a short walk and when I got there, he said something first and they charged me CFA 12500 (US$25). The Lonely Planet price is CFA 10000. I want to know if this guy gets a part of the difference or if it is genuine inflation. They don't have post prices. I'll ask again tomorrow without giving away what information I'm after and I'll see if I can find out at the tourist information center. If it should be CFA10000, I'll raise a stink--I'm good at that now. The guide sat there and watched me fill out my fiche with my information. "Where are you from?" "Seattle, Washington." "Oh, I have a good friend in Washington--a university professor." "Oh, which university?" I asked, though I wasn't interested. He was a bit flustered and finally came up with "a university in San Fransisco." I needed my passport for the date I entered Mali (Spet. 11-how could I forget?). He told me that after this we would go get a stamp. "What?" I asked. He made a stamping motion and said "la cachet." "Huh?" I asked. "For your passport." I didn't know what he was talking about and I was annoyed. "I didn't cross any borders from Timbuktu," I said with some contempt.
I needed a beer and the English speaking guy showed me the place I already knew from the Lonely Planet. But they only had "Guiness" and I don't want that. So he took me to another place. I sat down at a table at the closest chair--specifically not creating a space for him. Then he went around and sat next to me. I got out my journal and starting writing. He kept disturbing me. I had a few beers and came back. I was drunk so I tipped the guy CFA 1000. Tomorrow he gets nothing--he will not be coming with me. I want to organize my life my way. Besides I don't want him there when I ask about prices at the tourist information center.
September 30, 2008 3:00 Mali local time
In The Comanav Office I Shout At Ali Baba, "You Are A Voleur And A Menteur!!!"
(Continued from the previous post)
Just to recap if you don't know. Ali Baba had originally passed himself off as a Hôtel Bouctou employee by telling me that they needed to know how many nights I was staying. I had told him it depends on the Comanav schedule whereupon he told me he could get tickets if I needed them. OK. The desk guy at the Bouctou refused to lend Ali Baba a pen to write my name--a sign I took to mean, "you can rip my clients off by yourself, but I won't help you". I needed a 3rd class ticket to Gao. The ticket cost is CFA 22000 (US$44) and he would get me one for CFA 25000 (US$50). OK, a $6 commission seems a tad high but certainly not super-unreasonable. A half hour later he came to me in the internet cafe where I was and gave me a receipt for which he wanted me to pay. But the receipt was for CFA 33000 (US$66). I told him we had a deal that it would be CFA 25000. He said that the big boss told him that they needed to include food and that the food brought the price up to CFA 33000. I had my Lonely Planet with me that clearly implies without explicitly stating that food is included with all tickets other than 4th class. Ali Baba told me that sometimes the guide books are wrong--a fact I knew well having traveled with Lonely Planet for the past 2 months. I told him that I don't want food and told him to go back and fix the price back to the CFA 25000 we originally agreed upon. Then a few minutes the big boss came and told me food was obligatory. I had no choice but to pay CFA 33000 for the ticket. Further, they would provide transportation to the port for CFA 2000 and that would be included in the price so I owed an even CFA 35000. I said I wanted a second opinion--that Lonely Planet said that an outfit called Azalaï Voyages would get me tickets for a fee and I wanted to get a quote from them. They said they were Azalaï Voyages. Upon checking the location of the icon, I saw it was true. Though nowhere on their building does it actually say Azalaï Voyages. He insisted their reputation was very important and they would never rip me off. This was smelling fishy, but I paid. Over the next couple days I asked Ali Baba every time I saw him to explain the CFA 8000 for food. He said he'd explain to me at the port.
OK, the background is done. Now for the meat.
As you should know from the previous post, Ali Baba and I were heading back to the Comanav office to clear up once and for all how he added CFA 8000 for food. He was making BS excuses saying the CFA 22000 was for passage and I shouldn't expect the food to be included in the price. Finally, I had enough. We were in the anteroom to the ticket clerks office. I was livid and I shouted in a English French hybrid "You are a menteur and a voleur!" I said "liar" and "thief" in French for maximum impact since the ticket clerk and any other person would understand them and there would be maximum impact. He got mad, naturally. I got madder. He told me to calm down and not use language like that. We went into the ticket office still arguing. "If you don't calm down I'm going to call the police." "Good!" I said calling his bluff, "I want to explain to them how you ripped me off!" Then I saw that there was a new person on the room. A guy in a green uniform at the other desk. He seemed to be the boss of the ticket clerk.
I took my ticket which showed "plein tarif CFA 22000" on both the ticket and meal coupon attached to the ticket. I laid it down in front of the green boss and tried to ask in French "Si je moi-meme achete cette billet, combien ça coûte? Combien c'est la prix?" Ali Baba was talking and trying to confuse the issue. I had a simple question and wanted a simple answer. I held up my hand and demanded Ali Baba to let me ask my question. Finally he had to. The answer to my simple question: "Vingt deux mil franc." Just as I suspected. I told them I paid CFA 35000 for this ticket from Ali Baba. Ali Baba tried to tell me that there has to be a commission. I stopped him. Ï understand you need a commission. When we settled on 25000 for a 22000 ticket, I was perfectly willing to pay the 3000 as a commission. I need you to tell me where the other 8000 comes from!" We went in more circles.
I went over to where some papers were taped to the wall. I said I wanted to see something that showed the price of food above and beyond the ticket price. There was nothing there to help him. We went back out into the anteroom where there were more papers taped to the wall. Ali Baba was complaining that I was causing him to lose customers. I told all he has to is explain how they arrive at CFA 8000 for food. He tried a new tack. He said that all his customers aske for first or second class tickets where they always add the food. He said he realized I was traveling on a budget and since I was traveling third class he was trying to help me out by not charging for food. I didn't believe him, but it was an interesting dodge. I asked him how long he was working this job. He said nine years. "In nine years I'm the first person who ever asked for a third class ticket? I don't believe it. You're claiming you don't know how third class tickets work?"
Finally, I calmed down a bit. I said that I would apologize (I didn't tell him, but I would have given him CFA 10000 as well) if he could just show me an official looking paper or schedule or price list somewhere that shows how much food costs over the CFA 22000 full fare. "That's all you have to do and I'll apologize and I'll be a happy customer." He walked over to the price list of tickets from Kabara. He pointed at the 22000 in the third class column Gao row. "This is for the passage," he said. Then he slid his finger one column to the right to a figure of about CFA 5000 and some change. "And this is for food." I looked at the column. It was the 4th class ticket price column. "No!" I shouted. "You do not get the third class ticket price by adding the third class ticket price to the fourth class ticket price!" I can't believe he even tried that trick. Any doubts I had that it might be my own error were weakened. This bogus attempt just made me angrier.
We went back into the anteroom and he said something to the ticket clerk. The ticket clerk lifted up the front edge of his laptop and looked underneath and read off some number in the CFA 30000's to Ali Baba. I didn't know what was going on and I certainly wasn't convinced. They weren't exactly coming to Ali Baba's defense. This was the only attempt to minimally help him but they really didn't want to get involved and didn't want to do anything dishonest.
In the end Ali Baba didn't convince me. He said he had to go out and deal with his tourists. Since the boat was not yet loading--still unloading, I waited in the office. After about 10 minutes Ali Baba came back. He said he wanted me to be a happy customer and would like to take me to someone who would explain the ticket pricing. I figured he had too much time to recruit someone to give me the razzle-dazzle so I said no. "He told me the food is gratuit, and he told me that if I bought the ticket myself it would cost 22000 francs," I said motioning to the two men in the other room. "That's all I need to know. There is nothing else you can do at this point."
And he left.
I was still hot a half hour later when I asked if I could board the boat. The man in green took me up to the boat and told the guy there to assign me a room. He assigned me to room 26. I searched all over that damn boat for room 26. I couldn't find it. I had all those damn water bottles and all my luggage. Finally I got mad and went back. I accused them of giving me a non-existent room. They led me to the room and boy was I embarrassed. Accusing them of assigning me to a non-existent room was the only truly shameful thing I've in Africa. I tipped the guys who led me there. I got a bed and fanned myself and started writing about my sucky day in my journal.
Just as a final note, I am willing to concede that it is possible I was wrong and Ali Baba was right. He knows, the man in green knows, and the ticket clerk knows, but I'm not 100% sure. The evidence points my way, but if anyone can point me to an authoritative source showing I am wrong. I will send a CFA 10000 note to Ali Baba in care of the Hôtel Bouctou.
September 30, 2008 2:57 Mali local time
Just to recap if you don't know. Ali Baba had originally passed himself off as a Hôtel Bouctou employee by telling me that they needed to know how many nights I was staying. I had told him it depends on the Comanav schedule whereupon he told me he could get tickets if I needed them. OK. The desk guy at the Bouctou refused to lend Ali Baba a pen to write my name--a sign I took to mean, "you can rip my clients off by yourself, but I won't help you". I needed a 3rd class ticket to Gao. The ticket cost is CFA 22000 (US$44) and he would get me one for CFA 25000 (US$50). OK, a $6 commission seems a tad high but certainly not super-unreasonable. A half hour later he came to me in the internet cafe where I was and gave me a receipt for which he wanted me to pay. But the receipt was for CFA 33000 (US$66). I told him we had a deal that it would be CFA 25000. He said that the big boss told him that they needed to include food and that the food brought the price up to CFA 33000. I had my Lonely Planet with me that clearly implies without explicitly stating that food is included with all tickets other than 4th class. Ali Baba told me that sometimes the guide books are wrong--a fact I knew well having traveled with Lonely Planet for the past 2 months. I told him that I don't want food and told him to go back and fix the price back to the CFA 25000 we originally agreed upon. Then a few minutes the big boss came and told me food was obligatory. I had no choice but to pay CFA 33000 for the ticket. Further, they would provide transportation to the port for CFA 2000 and that would be included in the price so I owed an even CFA 35000. I said I wanted a second opinion--that Lonely Planet said that an outfit called Azalaï Voyages would get me tickets for a fee and I wanted to get a quote from them. They said they were Azalaï Voyages. Upon checking the location of the icon, I saw it was true. Though nowhere on their building does it actually say Azalaï Voyages. He insisted their reputation was very important and they would never rip me off. This was smelling fishy, but I paid. Over the next couple days I asked Ali Baba every time I saw him to explain the CFA 8000 for food. He said he'd explain to me at the port.
OK, the background is done. Now for the meat.
As you should know from the previous post, Ali Baba and I were heading back to the Comanav office to clear up once and for all how he added CFA 8000 for food. He was making BS excuses saying the CFA 22000 was for passage and I shouldn't expect the food to be included in the price. Finally, I had enough. We were in the anteroom to the ticket clerks office. I was livid and I shouted in a English French hybrid "You are a menteur and a voleur!" I said "liar" and "thief" in French for maximum impact since the ticket clerk and any other person would understand them and there would be maximum impact. He got mad, naturally. I got madder. He told me to calm down and not use language like that. We went into the ticket office still arguing. "If you don't calm down I'm going to call the police." "Good!" I said calling his bluff, "I want to explain to them how you ripped me off!" Then I saw that there was a new person on the room. A guy in a green uniform at the other desk. He seemed to be the boss of the ticket clerk.
I took my ticket which showed "plein tarif CFA 22000" on both the ticket and meal coupon attached to the ticket. I laid it down in front of the green boss and tried to ask in French "Si je moi-meme achete cette billet, combien ça coûte? Combien c'est la prix?" Ali Baba was talking and trying to confuse the issue. I had a simple question and wanted a simple answer. I held up my hand and demanded Ali Baba to let me ask my question. Finally he had to. The answer to my simple question: "Vingt deux mil franc." Just as I suspected. I told them I paid CFA 35000 for this ticket from Ali Baba. Ali Baba tried to tell me that there has to be a commission. I stopped him. Ï understand you need a commission. When we settled on 25000 for a 22000 ticket, I was perfectly willing to pay the 3000 as a commission. I need you to tell me where the other 8000 comes from!" We went in more circles.
I went over to where some papers were taped to the wall. I said I wanted to see something that showed the price of food above and beyond the ticket price. There was nothing there to help him. We went back out into the anteroom where there were more papers taped to the wall. Ali Baba was complaining that I was causing him to lose customers. I told all he has to is explain how they arrive at CFA 8000 for food. He tried a new tack. He said that all his customers aske for first or second class tickets where they always add the food. He said he realized I was traveling on a budget and since I was traveling third class he was trying to help me out by not charging for food. I didn't believe him, but it was an interesting dodge. I asked him how long he was working this job. He said nine years. "In nine years I'm the first person who ever asked for a third class ticket? I don't believe it. You're claiming you don't know how third class tickets work?"
Finally, I calmed down a bit. I said that I would apologize (I didn't tell him, but I would have given him CFA 10000 as well) if he could just show me an official looking paper or schedule or price list somewhere that shows how much food costs over the CFA 22000 full fare. "That's all you have to do and I'll apologize and I'll be a happy customer." He walked over to the price list of tickets from Kabara. He pointed at the 22000 in the third class column Gao row. "This is for the passage," he said. Then he slid his finger one column to the right to a figure of about CFA 5000 and some change. "And this is for food." I looked at the column. It was the 4th class ticket price column. "No!" I shouted. "You do not get the third class ticket price by adding the third class ticket price to the fourth class ticket price!" I can't believe he even tried that trick. Any doubts I had that it might be my own error were weakened. This bogus attempt just made me angrier.
We went back into the anteroom and he said something to the ticket clerk. The ticket clerk lifted up the front edge of his laptop and looked underneath and read off some number in the CFA 30000's to Ali Baba. I didn't know what was going on and I certainly wasn't convinced. They weren't exactly coming to Ali Baba's defense. This was the only attempt to minimally help him but they really didn't want to get involved and didn't want to do anything dishonest.
In the end Ali Baba didn't convince me. He said he had to go out and deal with his tourists. Since the boat was not yet loading--still unloading, I waited in the office. After about 10 minutes Ali Baba came back. He said he wanted me to be a happy customer and would like to take me to someone who would explain the ticket pricing. I figured he had too much time to recruit someone to give me the razzle-dazzle so I said no. "He told me the food is gratuit, and he told me that if I bought the ticket myself it would cost 22000 francs," I said motioning to the two men in the other room. "That's all I need to know. There is nothing else you can do at this point."
And he left.
I was still hot a half hour later when I asked if I could board the boat. The man in green took me up to the boat and told the guy there to assign me a room. He assigned me to room 26. I searched all over that damn boat for room 26. I couldn't find it. I had all those damn water bottles and all my luggage. Finally I got mad and went back. I accused them of giving me a non-existent room. They led me to the room and boy was I embarrassed. Accusing them of assigning me to a non-existent room was the only truly shameful thing I've in Africa. I tipped the guys who led me there. I got a bed and fanned myself and started writing about my sucky day in my journal.
Just as a final note, I am willing to concede that it is possible I was wrong and Ali Baba was right. He knows, the man in green knows, and the ticket clerk knows, but I'm not 100% sure. The evidence points my way, but if anyone can point me to an authoritative source showing I am wrong. I will send a CFA 10000 note to Ali Baba in care of the Hôtel Bouctou.
September 30, 2008 2:57 Mali local time
Timbuktu To Kabara: Anger Builds
I woke up nice and early and somewhat refreshed, but certainly not completely refreshed. I needed a second infusion of cash and to do some interneting, so I headed to the ATM south of town. On the way there, a dog started following me. I was tempted to ask if it had any jewelry to sell me, but I refrained since the only one who would get the joke was me and I had already formulated the joke and gotten all the amusement from it. There is no third person to observe and laugh. I got my money and headed to the library with the internet.
On the way there, a guy asked me "comment s'appel le chien?" "Je ne sais pas. Il juste me suivi," I replied. I went into the internet cafe and got an hour of connection. I had a CFA 2000 note and the guy promised to give me my change later. Yeah, right. I know that one. I'll remember, you asshole--you won't get the CFA 1000 from me! I spent an hour on the internet and when I left, I got my CFA 1000. They told me I forgot my dog. I told them it wasn't my dog.
I went to the Hôtel Bouctou and Ali Baba told me that the boat would arrive today. That we would go at 1 or 2pm to get a good bed for me. OK, no problem. It was close to 11am which meant I could hang out in the bar of the Bouctou and have a couple waters and a couple beers even. And that's what I had: 2 1.5 liter bottles of water and 2 beers for CFA 3500. It was about 1pm and I wanted to pay. I gave the waiter CFA 5000 and he said he needed to go get change. Holy crimeny! Can't any business in Timbuktu handle a damned CFA 5000 note?! It's annoying as hell. I waited and waited. I was expecting Ali Baba to come and get me anytime and I was expecting my CFA1500 in change. At 1:15, neither were here. I was impatient and pacing the place. A guy came in and entered the "Direction" office and came out. He noticed I looked agitated. "Ça va?" he asked. I gave him a sharp "non!" "J'ai payée CFA 5000 pour le facture de CFA3500 il y a longtemps et je n'ai pas deja ma monnaie!" He went out to where the group of hangers-on hangs out and demanded that they give me give me CFA 1500. And they promptly did. He went to the back room and brought out a cod orange juice and said something I didn't understand. It looked like he was trying to placate me with a cold 1.5 liters of flavored drink. I said I had too much luggage.
I noticed that some of the people there were afraid of me. I spent of lot of time writing into my Moleskine with a fountain pen. They kept asking if I was a journalist or a writer or an author. I kept telling them I wasn't but they didn't seem to believe me. They seemed apprehensive that I was going to write about them. One guy told me he was sure that I was writing a book for my home country. I assured him I wasn't. The staff started shoeing the more annoying people away from me.
Around 11 I went and got my stuff from my room and checked out. A kid who had asked me if I needed water for the trip (I didn't) came a half hour later and asked if I needed biscuits for the trip. I assumed the people who threw out my garbage told him I had an empty box of biscuits and told him. All these guys are totally in cahoots. In fact their networks are trans-city. He had earlier claimed that he too was going to Gao. He wasn't on the boat and I suspect he only had plans to go to Gao if I had hired him right there to be my guide and he could get a good price. That didn't happen. Instead I was in dread fear that this guy would be unshakeable on the damned boat and I'd go totally nuts. I choose my traveling companions! They don't choose me!
When Ali Baba wasn't showing up, I started asking about him. Soon a guy (probably his "brother" since they claim to be the brother of the other people there) got on his motorcycle to get Ali Baba. A few minutes later Ali Baba was there. He seemed to think there might not be much time. Well, if you think there isn't much time, why the frickin' hell didn't you can when there was enough time? He said he would take my big bags to the Grande Marché where the shared car to the port waits. I didn't really want to separated from my luggage, but there was nothing irreplaceable in what he took. So I let him. He said he would come back to get me and then I could take the shared car. I'm fine with the shared car. In fact, I prefer to travel the typical African way than the rich white way. I waited 15 minutes. A car came up and the guy motioned for me to get in. I got in. He said he would take me to the port. Now, by this time, I have had several offers to take me to the port from several people. So I didn't know if this was an Ali Baba offer or a random guy wanting to take me to the port. I told him about my bag. I said I wanted to go not to the port but to where my bag was and if he didn't know where my bag was, that I didn't want to go with him. I got out. Now I was pissed off immensely. I stewed and after a few minutes of the car driver telling the hangers-on something in French about tourists, I lost it. I started swearing and I kicked the door of the Bouctou bar. Everyone came to watch. I slammed my hat around and swore some more. The driver came up to apologize but I told him it wasn't him--it was Ali Baba. People started SMSing Ali Baba. Soon a motorcycle came up and he said Ali Baba told him to come and get me.
We headed toward the Grande Marché and saw the shared car leaving. The motocycle guy asked about Ali Baba. The shared car guy didn't know. They called Ali Baba. He was already at the port. So I had to go by motorcycle 12 miles to the port on a potholed sandy road. I was not happy. But we made it. I started to look for Ali Baba.
He grabbed my shoulder and led me to the Comanav office. He seems to have heard that I was angry. He tried to calm me down. Once in the office, there was a ticket clerk. Ah ha! I tried to ask the ticket clerk if food was included in the price of the ticket, but Ali Baba kept talking and trying to run interference. Finally, Ali Baba said he wanted to go meet some passengers and he invited me out. He said maybe he could bring me the passengers and I could recommend the Hôtel Bouctou to them. I was non-committal. Then he left me alone to go find white suckers.
I took the opportunity to go back to the Comanav office. Now without Ali Baba I was able to ask the ticket clerk how much extra the food costs above the price of the ticket. "Gratuit" was his answer. I thanked him and went out to see if Ali Baba was there. After about 10 minutes he came up to me. I had been stewing and seething with anger in the hot sun. When I saw him I pointed and said "You and I are going to go into the Comanav office and you are going to explain the CFA 8000 you charged me for food!" He tried to as we walked briskly to the office.
(Continued in the next post)
September 30, 2008 2:54 Mali local time
On the way there, a guy asked me "comment s'appel le chien?" "Je ne sais pas. Il juste me suivi," I replied. I went into the internet cafe and got an hour of connection. I had a CFA 2000 note and the guy promised to give me my change later. Yeah, right. I know that one. I'll remember, you asshole--you won't get the CFA 1000 from me! I spent an hour on the internet and when I left, I got my CFA 1000. They told me I forgot my dog. I told them it wasn't my dog.
I went to the Hôtel Bouctou and Ali Baba told me that the boat would arrive today. That we would go at 1 or 2pm to get a good bed for me. OK, no problem. It was close to 11am which meant I could hang out in the bar of the Bouctou and have a couple waters and a couple beers even. And that's what I had: 2 1.5 liter bottles of water and 2 beers for CFA 3500. It was about 1pm and I wanted to pay. I gave the waiter CFA 5000 and he said he needed to go get change. Holy crimeny! Can't any business in Timbuktu handle a damned CFA 5000 note?! It's annoying as hell. I waited and waited. I was expecting Ali Baba to come and get me anytime and I was expecting my CFA1500 in change. At 1:15, neither were here. I was impatient and pacing the place. A guy came in and entered the "Direction" office and came out. He noticed I looked agitated. "Ça va?" he asked. I gave him a sharp "non!" "J'ai payée CFA 5000 pour le facture de CFA3500 il y a longtemps et je n'ai pas deja ma monnaie!" He went out to where the group of hangers-on hangs out and demanded that they give me give me CFA 1500. And they promptly did. He went to the back room and brought out a cod orange juice and said something I didn't understand. It looked like he was trying to placate me with a cold 1.5 liters of flavored drink. I said I had too much luggage.
I noticed that some of the people there were afraid of me. I spent of lot of time writing into my Moleskine with a fountain pen. They kept asking if I was a journalist or a writer or an author. I kept telling them I wasn't but they didn't seem to believe me. They seemed apprehensive that I was going to write about them. One guy told me he was sure that I was writing a book for my home country. I assured him I wasn't. The staff started shoeing the more annoying people away from me.
Around 11 I went and got my stuff from my room and checked out. A kid who had asked me if I needed water for the trip (I didn't) came a half hour later and asked if I needed biscuits for the trip. I assumed the people who threw out my garbage told him I had an empty box of biscuits and told him. All these guys are totally in cahoots. In fact their networks are trans-city. He had earlier claimed that he too was going to Gao. He wasn't on the boat and I suspect he only had plans to go to Gao if I had hired him right there to be my guide and he could get a good price. That didn't happen. Instead I was in dread fear that this guy would be unshakeable on the damned boat and I'd go totally nuts. I choose my traveling companions! They don't choose me!
When Ali Baba wasn't showing up, I started asking about him. Soon a guy (probably his "brother" since they claim to be the brother of the other people there) got on his motorcycle to get Ali Baba. A few minutes later Ali Baba was there. He seemed to think there might not be much time. Well, if you think there isn't much time, why the frickin' hell didn't you can when there was enough time? He said he would take my big bags to the Grande Marché where the shared car to the port waits. I didn't really want to separated from my luggage, but there was nothing irreplaceable in what he took. So I let him. He said he would come back to get me and then I could take the shared car. I'm fine with the shared car. In fact, I prefer to travel the typical African way than the rich white way. I waited 15 minutes. A car came up and the guy motioned for me to get in. I got in. He said he would take me to the port. Now, by this time, I have had several offers to take me to the port from several people. So I didn't know if this was an Ali Baba offer or a random guy wanting to take me to the port. I told him about my bag. I said I wanted to go not to the port but to where my bag was and if he didn't know where my bag was, that I didn't want to go with him. I got out. Now I was pissed off immensely. I stewed and after a few minutes of the car driver telling the hangers-on something in French about tourists, I lost it. I started swearing and I kicked the door of the Bouctou bar. Everyone came to watch. I slammed my hat around and swore some more. The driver came up to apologize but I told him it wasn't him--it was Ali Baba. People started SMSing Ali Baba. Soon a motorcycle came up and he said Ali Baba told him to come and get me.
We headed toward the Grande Marché and saw the shared car leaving. The motocycle guy asked about Ali Baba. The shared car guy didn't know. They called Ali Baba. He was already at the port. So I had to go by motorcycle 12 miles to the port on a potholed sandy road. I was not happy. But we made it. I started to look for Ali Baba.
He grabbed my shoulder and led me to the Comanav office. He seems to have heard that I was angry. He tried to calm me down. Once in the office, there was a ticket clerk. Ah ha! I tried to ask the ticket clerk if food was included in the price of the ticket, but Ali Baba kept talking and trying to run interference. Finally, Ali Baba said he wanted to go meet some passengers and he invited me out. He said maybe he could bring me the passengers and I could recommend the Hôtel Bouctou to them. I was non-committal. Then he left me alone to go find white suckers.
I took the opportunity to go back to the Comanav office. Now without Ali Baba I was able to ask the ticket clerk how much extra the food costs above the price of the ticket. "Gratuit" was his answer. I thanked him and went out to see if Ali Baba was there. After about 10 minutes he came up to me. I had been stewing and seething with anger in the hot sun. When I saw him I pointed and said "You and I are going to go into the Comanav office and you are going to explain the CFA 8000 you charged me for food!" He tried to as we walked briskly to the office.
(Continued in the next post)
September 30, 2008 2:54 Mali local time
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Comanav Boat Leave Saturday
It's Saturday and apparently the boqt to Gao leaves today and not Sunday. Just as well, since Timbuktu is a tourist trap where they try to wring every sinlge last CFA out of you. Hopefully Gao will be more laid back.
So, next post from...??? Gao? Mopti? Ouagadougou?
September 27, 2008 8:58 Mali local time
So, next post from...??? Gao? Mopti? Ouagadougou?
September 27, 2008 8:58 Mali local time
Friday, September 26, 2008
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
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
Thursday, September 25, 2008
An Evening At The Bar Of The Hôtel Bouctou
I needed liquid refreshment so I headed to the bar. The Spanish group that was at the Y A Pas De Probleme was there. I could have come with them on their boat, but decided to opt for the real African (hellish beyond belief) experience. And I got it! They started out there and then went out with the Tuareg and probably hung with them for a while. Most likely an exasperating situation as they will have undoubtedly tried to pry as much money from the comparatively rich Spaniards as possible.
I got invited for tea when I headed to the bar, but I stayed long enough that it was pitch black when I returned to my room in the annexe. Even while I was reading and writing in the bar, about 5 Tuareg people came up to try to sell me stuff. Actually, it was nice stuff for some pretty good (desperate) prices. But I can only absorb so much stuff even if it is priced well. Sorry Tuareg merchants.
The thing about the bar I least expected, though, was the number of locusts and beetles. It was swarming with them. I moved away from the door and then a half hour later, the remaining Spaniards (half went to another restaurant) moved to my table away from the fluorescent lights.
Chokoroba came by and recommended some stuff I can't afford on this trip. The guides are geared up for people doing a once in a lifetime Mali trip. I'm doing a West African survey trip. I'm after breadth and not willing to pay much for depth. I have my own objectives and don't countenance people trying to tell me how I ought to travel. They are used to people wanting to experience depth. And that's not me. I'm perfectly happy observing the Tuareg without having tea with them. Besides I'm pretty damn sure that "tea with the Tuareg" is not a real Tuareg experience but an attempt to leverage their hospitality to pry money out of the tourists. Who needs that? Maybe I'm being too cynical, but I never went wrong over-estimating the desire of Africans to fleece white tourists as much as possible. The Tuareg are merchants through and through and see everything as an opportunity to sell using whatever tactics they think will work. The one thing they have really have in their advantage is that the Tuareg are really attractive people. They are good looking and their unique attire look damn good on them. The indigo blue of their clothing is a gorgeous shade of blue.
It's warm in my room. I'm looking forward to tonight though. After two horrible nights, I always have a good sleep. So I'm anticipating a pretty good sleep tonight since the last two nights were among the worst of my trip.
September 25, 2008 22:23 Mali local time
I got invited for tea when I headed to the bar, but I stayed long enough that it was pitch black when I returned to my room in the annexe. Even while I was reading and writing in the bar, about 5 Tuareg people came up to try to sell me stuff. Actually, it was nice stuff for some pretty good (desperate) prices. But I can only absorb so much stuff even if it is priced well. Sorry Tuareg merchants.
The thing about the bar I least expected, though, was the number of locusts and beetles. It was swarming with them. I moved away from the door and then a half hour later, the remaining Spaniards (half went to another restaurant) moved to my table away from the fluorescent lights.
Chokoroba came by and recommended some stuff I can't afford on this trip. The guides are geared up for people doing a once in a lifetime Mali trip. I'm doing a West African survey trip. I'm after breadth and not willing to pay much for depth. I have my own objectives and don't countenance people trying to tell me how I ought to travel. They are used to people wanting to experience depth. And that's not me. I'm perfectly happy observing the Tuareg without having tea with them. Besides I'm pretty damn sure that "tea with the Tuareg" is not a real Tuareg experience but an attempt to leverage their hospitality to pry money out of the tourists. Who needs that? Maybe I'm being too cynical, but I never went wrong over-estimating the desire of Africans to fleece white tourists as much as possible. The Tuareg are merchants through and through and see everything as an opportunity to sell using whatever tactics they think will work. The one thing they have really have in their advantage is that the Tuareg are really attractive people. They are good looking and their unique attire look damn good on them. The indigo blue of their clothing is a gorgeous shade of blue.
It's warm in my room. I'm looking forward to tonight though. After two horrible nights, I always have a good sleep. So I'm anticipating a pretty good sleep tonight since the last two nights were among the worst of my trip.
September 25, 2008 22:23 Mali local time
Timbuktu--There's A Good Reason Few People Come Here
I've been in Timbuktu for only half a day and already I'm exasperated by this place. Since it is a destination for idiot tourists like me who come here only for the name, it is a den of people who prey on the tourists.
I let the guide who wasn't supposed to meet me (actually I told the guides in Mopti not to call him), but I let him switch me to the Hôtel Bouctou from the cheaper Hotel Camping Timbouctou since it has a bar and I was thirsty and like the idea that I can get cold beer close by. So I'm happy with that. The problem with the place is hidden in the Lonely Planet description. It's one of those places that the vultures feed on the tourist wallets. I had fun with the Tuaregs this morning since I had cold water and a cold beer. But that was just buying some inexpensive stuff that is actually kind of neat anyway.
So, I typed up my long blog about the hellish trip--even Charon's trip across the River Styx is probably a more pleasant journey. So, I went out to post the blog. On the way out, a guy (Ali Baba) told me they need to know how many nights I'll stay. I told him it depends on the Comanav boat schedule. He asked which direction. My first choice is Gao, but if that's too far out and Mopti is closer, I'd prefer to do Mopti. Gao leaves Sunday night. So Gao it is. Lonely Planet put the cost at CFA 21000 (US$42) for a third class ticket. He offered to handle everything for CFA 25000. A $8 commission for him. A bit high, but I'm getting ripped off everywhere. Oh well. At least I won't have to worry about it. He just needed my name for the reservation. The hotel desk clerk refused to lend him a pen for my name though. Hmmm.... I thought this guy was working for the hotel--he said we need to know how many nights I'll stay. He took me into his office which is right next to the Bouctou. He told me there was an internet cafe by the big mosque in the library, but he wasn't clear enough on where it was.
Then as I was leaving a Tuareg guy started following me. He was just talking and emphasizing that he is not a guide--that the Tuareg are not guides. Nope, not a guide, him. I passed by what I thought was the library the guy was talking about, but I didn't really see an entrance and there was nothing indicating it was an internet cafe. The Tuareg guy told me there is another one down the street. I said I wanted to go to the one in the library since Ali Baba told me it has a better connection. But the Tuareg guy took me to the other one saying it was cheap. I told him I didn't want cheap, I want fast. He said it was. But he lives in the frickin' desert. He wouldn't know a fast connection. I got on one computer--I couldn't even Explorer to start. The Tuareg guy sat down in a chair. Is this guy going to wait for me? I don't need pressure like that! I got an another one--my email wouldn't work on it because it's too old. So I left. They didn't charge me anything since I wasn't able to use it. Then Ali Baba came back. He gave me a receipt that said CFA 33000 and he needed the money to go buy the tickets. CFA 33000? We had agreed on 25000. He said the big boss said that the 25000 doesn't include food--and the 25000 didn't even include transportation. I told him I didn't need food--I'd take care of myself. That we had agreed on a price and I was sick of this sort of treatment and that I wanted the ticket at the price he quoted he originally. He left and went to talk to his boss. A few minutes later, his boss came with him and explained that for 1st through 3rd class the additional cost is obligatory. How long has Ali Baba been working this job that he wouldn't know this? I don't like this treatment. I said I wanted a second opinion and got out the Lonely Planet to show them that there was a recommended agency in town, Azalaï Voyages, that arranges Comanav transportation and I wanted a quote from them before I would commit to anything with them. Well, it turns out, they are Azalaï Voyages. Oops. Finally, they decided to make it all inclusive and include transportation and make it CFA 35000.
I was testy as hell. I explained that it was because I came on the cargo pinasse and didn't sleep at all the last 2 nights. I hope they understand. Still, I don't like an agent for a agency quoting one price and then ratcheting it up.
OK, that was done at least. I uploaded my blogs and saw a little news and checked some email. This is the faster connection, but still pretty damn slow. Finally it froze on the Facebook Cities I've Visited Application which is definitely one of the more CPU/bandwidth greedy applications on Facebook. It just puked on me and I don't know what my Timbuktu status is. Oh well. I'll eventually get it fixed.
Then I left. Guess who was there. The Tuareg guy. Mali has been like this since Bamako. It's really getting annoying as hell. He followed me back and finally he wanted to show me his jewelry. I explained to him that I already bought jewelry and didn't need any more. He and his friend tried to sell me necklaces. Finally they realized that I actually meant I wasn't going to buy anything and he asked for a gift. A gift? He led me in the hot sun to a slow internet cafe, followed me yammering the whole way from the hotel when I'm tired as frickin' hell because I didn't sleep the last two nights, and he wants me to reward him for his failed attempt to sell me jewelry I don't need? I said I didn't have anything. Finally he left and I went back to my room. I was hot and thirsty. I counted my money. Not enough CFA to last to Mopti. So I figured I better go to the bank now while it's open. They have shorter hours during Ramadan and Friday afternoons are dodgy as well with afternoon prayers. With my boat leaving Sunday, I better do it now. So I walked in the hot sun. I found the BDM. Mercifully, it had an ATM. Again, it is the ATM that gives small amounts and asks you to manually enter an amount if you want more, but doesn't show the digits as you press them. So I carefully punched in CFA 150000 (US$300) and out they came. Also, the ATM room in air conditioned. Whew!
Time to head back. I went by the post. I figured I better get my stamps now since the post also closes for Friday afternoon prayers and doesn't reopen until Monday. So I went in to buy 14 stamps to the US and one to Europe. Each US address requires a 385 and a 20 and the Europe address requires a 385 and a 10. The guy charged me 7 thousand something. I trusted him at first and handed over a CFA 10000 bill. Then I started think that it seemed a little too high, I did the math myself and came up with CFA 6065. We got into a argument over the price. He had my CFA 10000 note and had 2 CFA 2000's in his hand. He wanted a CFA 1000 note so he could give me the CFA 4000. I agreed to give him a CFA 100 coin--effectively paying CFA 6100. He can have the extra 7 cents. But I'm not going to let him rip me off my $2. Finally, he gave in. A postal employee! Even with fixed prices, they try to take advantage and rip me off.
I got my stamps home and decided I wanted a beer in a place other than the hotel. So I went to the Bar Restaurant Le Souvenir. It was hard to find because the sign says they are on the "1ere étage" but they on what we in America would call the 3rd floor. They call themselves a bar, but there was no beer on the menu and the decor was simply unpleasant. Oh well. I got a water bottle and a plate of spaghetti. The water was cool, but not cold and the spaghetti was OK but not great. I started writing out postcards. The total came to CFA 2500 (US$5) which is not a bad price. The whole time, this Tuareg guy was staring at me. Then his friend came in and when I asked for the check, he wanted to show me his jewelry. I told him I already had jewelry and didn't need any more. I went back to the hotel.
A bunch of Tuareg people were there and wanted to sell me more jewelry. I bumped into the postcard kid and asked for more postcards. He had to go home to get them, and soon came back. I bought 10 more for CFA 300 (US$6). The kid was happy. He sold 15 post cards to me today. They wanted to show me their jewelry. I told them I didn't need any jewelry, so any price over CFA 0 was not going to work--but if they wanted to pay me to take the jewelry, we could talk. They started wanting to trade for jewelry--my watch, my pants, my shoes. I explained I needed all these. I'm not some tourist about to return to America in a week where I can replace anything. I'm on a hardcore trip and I need everything I have. In the end, they got nothing, but they saw that I bought the postcards, so I am doing commerce with people who have what I need.
I went back to the room. A few minutes later a knock--there's a kid who kept asking me for laundry so I gave him 5 dirty shirts and my dirty North Face zip-offs and now he was returning my clean laundry. For only CFA 2000 (US$4) I got it all done. Nice!
My room is hotter than hell. I need water and beer. Time for me to go to the bar and start the evening. I'll bring my books and stuff so they'll know I want to be alone with my thoughts--though I'm sure it won't work and I'll have to fend off the hangers-on.
September 25, 2008 17:10 Mali local time
I let the guide who wasn't supposed to meet me (actually I told the guides in Mopti not to call him), but I let him switch me to the Hôtel Bouctou from the cheaper Hotel Camping Timbouctou since it has a bar and I was thirsty and like the idea that I can get cold beer close by. So I'm happy with that. The problem with the place is hidden in the Lonely Planet description. It's one of those places that the vultures feed on the tourist wallets. I had fun with the Tuaregs this morning since I had cold water and a cold beer. But that was just buying some inexpensive stuff that is actually kind of neat anyway.
So, I typed up my long blog about the hellish trip--even Charon's trip across the River Styx is probably a more pleasant journey. So, I went out to post the blog. On the way out, a guy (Ali Baba) told me they need to know how many nights I'll stay. I told him it depends on the Comanav boat schedule. He asked which direction. My first choice is Gao, but if that's too far out and Mopti is closer, I'd prefer to do Mopti. Gao leaves Sunday night. So Gao it is. Lonely Planet put the cost at CFA 21000 (US$42) for a third class ticket. He offered to handle everything for CFA 25000. A $8 commission for him. A bit high, but I'm getting ripped off everywhere. Oh well. At least I won't have to worry about it. He just needed my name for the reservation. The hotel desk clerk refused to lend him a pen for my name though. Hmmm.... I thought this guy was working for the hotel--he said we need to know how many nights I'll stay. He took me into his office which is right next to the Bouctou. He told me there was an internet cafe by the big mosque in the library, but he wasn't clear enough on where it was.
Then as I was leaving a Tuareg guy started following me. He was just talking and emphasizing that he is not a guide--that the Tuareg are not guides. Nope, not a guide, him. I passed by what I thought was the library the guy was talking about, but I didn't really see an entrance and there was nothing indicating it was an internet cafe. The Tuareg guy told me there is another one down the street. I said I wanted to go to the one in the library since Ali Baba told me it has a better connection. But the Tuareg guy took me to the other one saying it was cheap. I told him I didn't want cheap, I want fast. He said it was. But he lives in the frickin' desert. He wouldn't know a fast connection. I got on one computer--I couldn't even Explorer to start. The Tuareg guy sat down in a chair. Is this guy going to wait for me? I don't need pressure like that! I got an another one--my email wouldn't work on it because it's too old. So I left. They didn't charge me anything since I wasn't able to use it. Then Ali Baba came back. He gave me a receipt that said CFA 33000 and he needed the money to go buy the tickets. CFA 33000? We had agreed on 25000. He said the big boss said that the 25000 doesn't include food--and the 25000 didn't even include transportation. I told him I didn't need food--I'd take care of myself. That we had agreed on a price and I was sick of this sort of treatment and that I wanted the ticket at the price he quoted he originally. He left and went to talk to his boss. A few minutes later, his boss came with him and explained that for 1st through 3rd class the additional cost is obligatory. How long has Ali Baba been working this job that he wouldn't know this? I don't like this treatment. I said I wanted a second opinion and got out the Lonely Planet to show them that there was a recommended agency in town, Azalaï Voyages, that arranges Comanav transportation and I wanted a quote from them before I would commit to anything with them. Well, it turns out, they are Azalaï Voyages. Oops. Finally, they decided to make it all inclusive and include transportation and make it CFA 35000.
I was testy as hell. I explained that it was because I came on the cargo pinasse and didn't sleep at all the last 2 nights. I hope they understand. Still, I don't like an agent for a agency quoting one price and then ratcheting it up.
OK, that was done at least. I uploaded my blogs and saw a little news and checked some email. This is the faster connection, but still pretty damn slow. Finally it froze on the Facebook Cities I've Visited Application which is definitely one of the more CPU/bandwidth greedy applications on Facebook. It just puked on me and I don't know what my Timbuktu status is. Oh well. I'll eventually get it fixed.
Then I left. Guess who was there. The Tuareg guy. Mali has been like this since Bamako. It's really getting annoying as hell. He followed me back and finally he wanted to show me his jewelry. I explained to him that I already bought jewelry and didn't need any more. He and his friend tried to sell me necklaces. Finally they realized that I actually meant I wasn't going to buy anything and he asked for a gift. A gift? He led me in the hot sun to a slow internet cafe, followed me yammering the whole way from the hotel when I'm tired as frickin' hell because I didn't sleep the last two nights, and he wants me to reward him for his failed attempt to sell me jewelry I don't need? I said I didn't have anything. Finally he left and I went back to my room. I was hot and thirsty. I counted my money. Not enough CFA to last to Mopti. So I figured I better go to the bank now while it's open. They have shorter hours during Ramadan and Friday afternoons are dodgy as well with afternoon prayers. With my boat leaving Sunday, I better do it now. So I walked in the hot sun. I found the BDM. Mercifully, it had an ATM. Again, it is the ATM that gives small amounts and asks you to manually enter an amount if you want more, but doesn't show the digits as you press them. So I carefully punched in CFA 150000 (US$300) and out they came. Also, the ATM room in air conditioned. Whew!
Time to head back. I went by the post. I figured I better get my stamps now since the post also closes for Friday afternoon prayers and doesn't reopen until Monday. So I went in to buy 14 stamps to the US and one to Europe. Each US address requires a 385 and a 20 and the Europe address requires a 385 and a 10. The guy charged me 7 thousand something. I trusted him at first and handed over a CFA 10000 bill. Then I started think that it seemed a little too high, I did the math myself and came up with CFA 6065. We got into a argument over the price. He had my CFA 10000 note and had 2 CFA 2000's in his hand. He wanted a CFA 1000 note so he could give me the CFA 4000. I agreed to give him a CFA 100 coin--effectively paying CFA 6100. He can have the extra 7 cents. But I'm not going to let him rip me off my $2. Finally, he gave in. A postal employee! Even with fixed prices, they try to take advantage and rip me off.
I got my stamps home and decided I wanted a beer in a place other than the hotel. So I went to the Bar Restaurant Le Souvenir. It was hard to find because the sign says they are on the "1ere étage" but they on what we in America would call the 3rd floor. They call themselves a bar, but there was no beer on the menu and the decor was simply unpleasant. Oh well. I got a water bottle and a plate of spaghetti. The water was cool, but not cold and the spaghetti was OK but not great. I started writing out postcards. The total came to CFA 2500 (US$5) which is not a bad price. The whole time, this Tuareg guy was staring at me. Then his friend came in and when I asked for the check, he wanted to show me his jewelry. I told him I already had jewelry and didn't need any more. I went back to the hotel.
A bunch of Tuareg people were there and wanted to sell me more jewelry. I bumped into the postcard kid and asked for more postcards. He had to go home to get them, and soon came back. I bought 10 more for CFA 300 (US$6). The kid was happy. He sold 15 post cards to me today. They wanted to show me their jewelry. I told them I didn't need any jewelry, so any price over CFA 0 was not going to work--but if they wanted to pay me to take the jewelry, we could talk. They started wanting to trade for jewelry--my watch, my pants, my shoes. I explained I needed all these. I'm not some tourist about to return to America in a week where I can replace anything. I'm on a hardcore trip and I need everything I have. In the end, they got nothing, but they saw that I bought the postcards, so I am doing commerce with people who have what I need.
I went back to the room. A few minutes later a knock--there's a kid who kept asking me for laundry so I gave him 5 dirty shirts and my dirty North Face zip-offs and now he was returning my clean laundry. For only CFA 2000 (US$4) I got it all done. Nice!
My room is hotter than hell. I need water and beer. Time for me to go to the bar and start the evening. I'll bring my books and stuff so they'll know I want to be alone with my thoughts--though I'm sure it won't work and I'll have to fend off the hangers-on.
September 25, 2008 17:10 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
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
Monday, September 22, 2008
An Evening In Y Pas De Problem
I got online at the hotel and had to wait for a Japanese guy to move from the one of two computers that can use a USB key. Once he left I got to upload my blogs. Whew! My parents can breathe easy. I also updated my facebook Cities I've Visited application. When the Japanese guy was about to leave I asked him "nihon no kata desu ka" and he said he was. We chatted briefly.
I went to the bar after that. In a little while, the Japanese guy (Koji) came up. He sat with a seat between us and we spoke quite a bit in Japanese while various guides came to sit between us and interrupt our conversation. One of the Africa guides could do basic Japanese greetings, even. Two young women came and sat behind us and I could tell by their accent that they were American or Canadian. But I just kept speaking in Japanese and English with Koji and French and English with the locals. I was firing on all cylinders linguistically. I was the language machine. This day will stand out as my best language day ever as I navigated between English, French, and Japanese almost effortlessly. I was on cloud nine! The bartenders were totally amazed.
After an hour or so, the topic finally turned to Barack Obama. Koji said that every American he meets likes Barack Obama. I said "well, Americans who travel." At that, the young women behind us laughed. I turned around. "You mean people who know the world," one of them said sort of cynically. They were Peace Corps volunteers from Niger--one from Michigan and one from Hawaii. We had a good time talking about the Peace Corps and stuff. I got their email addresses and it looks like I may be able to meet them in Niger which would be very cool.
I had so much fun talking in Japanese with Koji. He doesn't speak French so he has to deal with the English speaking guides who are basically out to rip you off. I used Japanese to talk about these people behind their backs. It was fun. Only 2 people could understand us--him and me. I loved it. My Japanese was still there. It came back pretty well. I did spend 4 years there, after all. Still, with all my French study, my Japanese seemed to paying the price. I was so happy that I could still get by excellently. My Japanese was definitely better than my French. Still, there were times when I had to push away the French which tried to come up.
The bar at Y Pas De Problem closes at 11 since it is in the hotel itself. So it was an early night. But it was a blast. I met a 23 year old Japanese world traveler, two young Peace Corps volunteers, and had a fun time. I have to be up and out by 8am to meet Mamadou anyway. So I'll set my alarm and turn in for a restful night since I'm sure my next 2 nights will be hell on earth.
September 22, 2008 23:15 Mali local time
I went to the bar after that. In a little while, the Japanese guy (Koji) came up. He sat with a seat between us and we spoke quite a bit in Japanese while various guides came to sit between us and interrupt our conversation. One of the Africa guides could do basic Japanese greetings, even. Two young women came and sat behind us and I could tell by their accent that they were American or Canadian. But I just kept speaking in Japanese and English with Koji and French and English with the locals. I was firing on all cylinders linguistically. I was the language machine. This day will stand out as my best language day ever as I navigated between English, French, and Japanese almost effortlessly. I was on cloud nine! The bartenders were totally amazed.
After an hour or so, the topic finally turned to Barack Obama. Koji said that every American he meets likes Barack Obama. I said "well, Americans who travel." At that, the young women behind us laughed. I turned around. "You mean people who know the world," one of them said sort of cynically. They were Peace Corps volunteers from Niger--one from Michigan and one from Hawaii. We had a good time talking about the Peace Corps and stuff. I got their email addresses and it looks like I may be able to meet them in Niger which would be very cool.
I had so much fun talking in Japanese with Koji. He doesn't speak French so he has to deal with the English speaking guides who are basically out to rip you off. I used Japanese to talk about these people behind their backs. It was fun. Only 2 people could understand us--him and me. I loved it. My Japanese was still there. It came back pretty well. I did spend 4 years there, after all. Still, with all my French study, my Japanese seemed to paying the price. I was so happy that I could still get by excellently. My Japanese was definitely better than my French. Still, there were times when I had to push away the French which tried to come up.
The bar at Y Pas De Problem closes at 11 since it is in the hotel itself. So it was an early night. But it was a blast. I met a 23 year old Japanese world traveler, two young Peace Corps volunteers, and had a fun time. I have to be up and out by 8am to meet Mamadou anyway. So I'll set my alarm and turn in for a restful night since I'm sure my next 2 nights will be hell on earth.
September 22, 2008 23:15 Mali local time
Sévaré To Mopti And Booking A Boat
I slept well at the Via-Via. I went to bed early and woke up early ready to listen to some music. At about 10am, I got breakfast--included at the Via-Via Hotels. just like in Senegal, a baguette with butter and jam. They give you hot water and a tea bag and a tube of Nescafe instant. I ate breakfast and watched the lizards or geckos doing their thing. There are a lot in the restaurant. They move fast, then stop still. After a while they do some pushups, then stay still for a while. I saw one bigger lizard--maybe a little over six inches in length go after a grasshopper about 1.5 inches long. The grasshopper escaped.
When it was all done, I decided to take a tour of Sévaré and find the post office where the bâches to Mopti leave from. From the Via Via, it's a bit of a hike. But I finally made it to the crossroads. People kept asking me if I wanted a taxi. Nope, just exploring Sévaré. I saw the post office with all the vans and pickups waiting to take people to Mopti. I went further. As I approached a military installation, the armed guard pointed at me and then swept his arm across to the other side of the street. I crossed the street and went a ways on. Finally, it was obvious I was at the end of the town and I came back.
I showered and went to the cafe of the Via Via. I got a small beer and a 1.5 liter bottle of water. I drank the beer and the water. Having had the 1.5 liters of water, I was ready to lug my baggage to the post office to get a bâche to Mopti. I was cool despite the heat. I got out a bit and a couple guys stopped me. They didn't want to give me a taxi ride, but a moto-taxi ride just to the post office. I got them down to CFA 500. A dollar. Probably high, but worth it. So I moto-taxied to the post office and arrived fresh. I was one of the last ones in the van. For CFA 225 (US$0.45), I got a seat in the front and was in Mopti after the 12km journey. The guy who sold me the ticket tried to convince me to be hire him as a guide, but I declined.
When I got to Mopti, a guy started following me to my hotel. I told him I knew where I was going. I did nothing that would make him think he deserved any money. I didn't want a repeat of the Paco situation on my first day in Dakar. Finally I got to the Hôtel Y Pas De Problem (The No Problem Hotel). I got a fan room for CFA 10000 (US$20). The guy waited for me. I was going to try to buy him off for CFA 300. All he did was follow me. But he had a different plan.
He wanted to organize an entire tour of Timbuktu, the Dogon country, everything. I told him the only thing I was interested in was a ticket on a boat to Timbuktu. Finally I got him agree to only that and we settled on CFA 5000 if he would help me get a boat ticket for the next day. His name is Mamadou Sikasso? (it was a name of a city, but I can't remember exactly.) We headed down to the big boats. He found one headed to Timbuktu the next day. I was actually kind of glad that he found me, because I would have no idea how to go about doing this. For me, the Comanav would have been the only option. So we found this boat and boarded.
OK, this boat is definitely NOT the type of boat I want to spend 3 days on. But, this IS the kind of boat that plies the River Niger. So I ain't got no choice if I want to leave tomorrow. The entire boat--about 30 meters long, was filled with bags of rice. The "kitchen" was in the middle--a short area about 2 meters wide with some charcoal grills. They pointed in the direction of the "bathroom". I didn't see anything resembling a bathroom, but I'll find out soon enough (and it won't be pretty). The passenger area is up on the end of the boat on the roof. We negotiated hard and he came down to no lower than CFA 22500 (US$45). Well, I would be on it for 2 nights--so it is cheap hotel pricing. But not as low as I wanted. It leaves Tuesday at 2pm and arrives Thursday at 6am--supposedly. It's basically a cargo vessel taking a few tons of rice to Timbuktu, so I'm sure the schedule is pretty much on.
As we left, Mamadou and I arranged to meet the next day to provision me. So we'll do that tomorrow at 8am. Then, I'll be ready to head to Timbuktu and hopefully arrive bright and early Thursday morning. A few days there, and then it's to Gao by boat if I can take another 3 day river journey. We'll see.
Anyway, now I'm in the Y Pas De Problem. I had a beer and chatted with the locals at the bar. I'm having a good French day. A very good French day. It's wonderful. This morning, listening to the TV at the Via-Via, I almost (but not quite) could keep up with the French news. I just got out of the swimming pool, too. The water is warm and not refreshing at all. Oh well. There are a lot of white people here, but so far no Americans. I guess white people everywhere want to go to Timbuktu.
September 22, 2008 17:45 Mali local time
When it was all done, I decided to take a tour of Sévaré and find the post office where the bâches to Mopti leave from. From the Via Via, it's a bit of a hike. But I finally made it to the crossroads. People kept asking me if I wanted a taxi. Nope, just exploring Sévaré. I saw the post office with all the vans and pickups waiting to take people to Mopti. I went further. As I approached a military installation, the armed guard pointed at me and then swept his arm across to the other side of the street. I crossed the street and went a ways on. Finally, it was obvious I was at the end of the town and I came back.
I showered and went to the cafe of the Via Via. I got a small beer and a 1.5 liter bottle of water. I drank the beer and the water. Having had the 1.5 liters of water, I was ready to lug my baggage to the post office to get a bâche to Mopti. I was cool despite the heat. I got out a bit and a couple guys stopped me. They didn't want to give me a taxi ride, but a moto-taxi ride just to the post office. I got them down to CFA 500. A dollar. Probably high, but worth it. So I moto-taxied to the post office and arrived fresh. I was one of the last ones in the van. For CFA 225 (US$0.45), I got a seat in the front and was in Mopti after the 12km journey. The guy who sold me the ticket tried to convince me to be hire him as a guide, but I declined.
When I got to Mopti, a guy started following me to my hotel. I told him I knew where I was going. I did nothing that would make him think he deserved any money. I didn't want a repeat of the Paco situation on my first day in Dakar. Finally I got to the Hôtel Y Pas De Problem (The No Problem Hotel). I got a fan room for CFA 10000 (US$20). The guy waited for me. I was going to try to buy him off for CFA 300. All he did was follow me. But he had a different plan.
He wanted to organize an entire tour of Timbuktu, the Dogon country, everything. I told him the only thing I was interested in was a ticket on a boat to Timbuktu. Finally I got him agree to only that and we settled on CFA 5000 if he would help me get a boat ticket for the next day. His name is Mamadou Sikasso? (it was a name of a city, but I can't remember exactly.) We headed down to the big boats. He found one headed to Timbuktu the next day. I was actually kind of glad that he found me, because I would have no idea how to go about doing this. For me, the Comanav would have been the only option. So we found this boat and boarded.
OK, this boat is definitely NOT the type of boat I want to spend 3 days on. But, this IS the kind of boat that plies the River Niger. So I ain't got no choice if I want to leave tomorrow. The entire boat--about 30 meters long, was filled with bags of rice. The "kitchen" was in the middle--a short area about 2 meters wide with some charcoal grills. They pointed in the direction of the "bathroom". I didn't see anything resembling a bathroom, but I'll find out soon enough (and it won't be pretty). The passenger area is up on the end of the boat on the roof. We negotiated hard and he came down to no lower than CFA 22500 (US$45). Well, I would be on it for 2 nights--so it is cheap hotel pricing. But not as low as I wanted. It leaves Tuesday at 2pm and arrives Thursday at 6am--supposedly. It's basically a cargo vessel taking a few tons of rice to Timbuktu, so I'm sure the schedule is pretty much on.
As we left, Mamadou and I arranged to meet the next day to provision me. So we'll do that tomorrow at 8am. Then, I'll be ready to head to Timbuktu and hopefully arrive bright and early Thursday morning. A few days there, and then it's to Gao by boat if I can take another 3 day river journey. We'll see.
Anyway, now I'm in the Y Pas De Problem. I had a beer and chatted with the locals at the bar. I'm having a good French day. A very good French day. It's wonderful. This morning, listening to the TV at the Via-Via, I almost (but not quite) could keep up with the French news. I just got out of the swimming pool, too. The water is warm and not refreshing at all. Oh well. There are a lot of white people here, but so far no Americans. I guess white people everywhere want to go to Timbuktu.
September 22, 2008 17:45 Mali local time
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Ségou To Mopti (Actually Sévaré)
I decided to go to Ségou because I thought the overhead of breaking up my trip was worth breaking one long trip into two shorter ones. Of course, now I'm not so sure.
I woke up at 9ish after my OK sleep. At least there was AC. I showered, changed, and headed out to see what I could see of Ségou. Ségou has a fiar number of merchants. Most are kids. I didn't have much in the way of small money, but the kid with Bako found me pretty quick and wanted to sell me some keychains and a necklace. I agreed to take 2 necklaces for CFA 3000 (US$6). But he didn't have change. So I headed into l'Auberge for a coffee and to get some change. They gave me a CFA200 coin and 2 CFA2000 notes. They didn't have any CFA1000 notes. So I bought 3 keychains for CFA 4000 (US$8). Another guy wanted to sell me handpainted postcards. I guess I was in a generous mood since I agreed to take 2 for CFA 800. But I was out of change again, so I went back in and got a beer this time. Again, I got CFA 2000's as change. The kid had only € as change and he didn't know how much they were worth, so I gave him CFA 2000 and took 2 0.50€'s and 3 0.20€ coins. A fair deal.
The first time I went into l'Auberge, the owners noticed I had the latest Lonely Planet. They were quite interested and asked if they could see it. They were reading it while I was buying the keychains. When I came back in, they had gotten out the English to French dictionary. I helped them with "the only drawback of the decent (but unspectacular) rooms are that they a short block away". They didn't know the meaning of "drawback" and "decent". I told them it was "faute" and "assez bon". They were satisfied that the Lonely Planet said the distance between the bar/pool and the rooms was the only fault. They checked the publication date and photocopied the page with the information about their place.
The guy behind the bar told me that there is an 11am bus to Mopti and it was the only one. It was 10am. That meant I had to go pretty soon. (Dammit! I wanted to stay because l'Auberge is a WiFi space.) I downed my beer, looked at the shop of a Tuareg guy who wanted me to see his stuff, and headed off. I ran into Bako again and he showed me the way to the Bittar station. Again, I paid him CFA 2000. He is a nice guy. I guess sometimes when you travel alone, you find certain people who for some reason or another you don't mind helping a bit. Bako was one of those guys. I got a ticket to Mopti and Baki stayed with me for a while. He explained that I should buy some kola nuts because people in the desert love kola nuts. He talked all about kola nuts. A kilogram, he said, was about CFA 6000 (US$12). I didn't get any kola nuts, but I did get a bottle of water. I paid CFA 5000 and trusted the kid to return me CFA 4000. I figured in Ségou, it was a safe bet and about 10 minutes later, the kid came with my CFA 4000.
At 12:30, the bus left. They take your name in case there are too many people--they call out names and the leftovers don't get on, but there weren't too many and I got a seat near the rear. The bus was stopping fairly often. About half the stops were gendarmerie checkpoints where the merchants come on and sell stuff. They were selling something I thought might be some sort of cheese, but I realized it was melon. At one point, the bus took off with 2 merchants on board and didn't stop for about 1 km. So the merchants had to walk back. Hardly worth it for a root and a melon bag. But I guess to them a walk in the hot sun is worth selling a 2 foot long root of some sort. It was pretty funny and everyone in the bus was laughing that 2 merchants turned into accidental stowaways.
It was hot and the sun was not always on the same side of the bus. But about halfway through, from San, the AC was on. It wasn't a refreshing AC, but it was better than no AC. Also from San, the bus sort of turns into a local bus with lot's of stops and people getting on and off.
At about 6pm, we arrived at Sévaré. I was under the impression that it would go to Mopti, but it doesn't actually go to Mopti--just the neighboring hub of Sévaré. Well, it was late, so I checked my Lonely Planet and saw the the Via-Via was next door to the gre routier in Sévaré. I got my stuff and a guy asked if I wanted a cab. I said I was just going to the Via-Via. He said he knows the Via Via and would take me there for CFA 2000 (US$4). ?! It's right next door. Another guy said he'd show me the way for CFA 500. US$1. What the hell? I let him show me even though I knew I could find it myself. Along the way, he said it was crazy to charge CFA 2000 to take me here. I told the guy it was crazy to charge CFA 500 as well. ;-) I only had a CFA 2000 note so I asked for change. The "guide" tried to arrange it with the Via Via guy to give me CFA 1000 (which I got) and him CFA 1000 (which he didn't get). But he underestimated my French. I told the Via Via guy that I only owe the guy CFA 500 and I should get the other CFA 500. So he'll get his CFA 500 later when they have change. Mine will come off my bill since the Via Via system is that you pay at the end.
I got 1 large Flag (CFA 1000), 2 small Flags (CFA 500 x 2), a beef curry (without anything resembling Indian spices) for CFA 2000 and rice for CFA 500. So a nice meal for CFA 4500 or US$9. The room is probably CFA 12000 for the fan room--I didn't take the AC room.
Tomorrow I'll go to Mopti and find the Comanav schedule. Then I'll decide what I'll do. I can take the Comanav big boat or a variety of pinasse options.
It was nice to have a relatively event free trip after the flat tire/recalcitrant nut debacle last night. My next journey will be a 2 or 3 day boat ride on the Niger River, so I needed a stress-free leg.
It was interesting seeing the change in architecture on the trip. Between the Guinea border and Bamako, the round houses with conical thatched roofs were giving way to square houses with thatched roofs. On this side of Bamako, the round houses are almost gone. There was one village that had them, but it probably has some people of Guinean origin. The houses turned into square with flat roofs and pipes draining the roofs. The building material is mud brick with mud coating. Some houses were longer, but all the rooms were about 4 or 5 meters by 4 or 5 meters. The compounds were walls of mud brick--not the rattan weaved wooden palisades common in Guinea. It is hot and dry. With Ramadan, it's torture. I saw a few mud mosquées. There were also smaller mud auxiliary buildings. Perhaps kilns or ovens. Perhaps outhouses. These buildings are usually not quite cubical but shaped more like a taller version of a panatone cake box.
September 21, 2008 21:17 Mali local time
I woke up at 9ish after my OK sleep. At least there was AC. I showered, changed, and headed out to see what I could see of Ségou. Ségou has a fiar number of merchants. Most are kids. I didn't have much in the way of small money, but the kid with Bako found me pretty quick and wanted to sell me some keychains and a necklace. I agreed to take 2 necklaces for CFA 3000 (US$6). But he didn't have change. So I headed into l'Auberge for a coffee and to get some change. They gave me a CFA200 coin and 2 CFA2000 notes. They didn't have any CFA1000 notes. So I bought 3 keychains for CFA 4000 (US$8). Another guy wanted to sell me handpainted postcards. I guess I was in a generous mood since I agreed to take 2 for CFA 800. But I was out of change again, so I went back in and got a beer this time. Again, I got CFA 2000's as change. The kid had only € as change and he didn't know how much they were worth, so I gave him CFA 2000 and took 2 0.50€'s and 3 0.20€ coins. A fair deal.
The first time I went into l'Auberge, the owners noticed I had the latest Lonely Planet. They were quite interested and asked if they could see it. They were reading it while I was buying the keychains. When I came back in, they had gotten out the English to French dictionary. I helped them with "the only drawback of the decent (but unspectacular) rooms are that they a short block away". They didn't know the meaning of "drawback" and "decent". I told them it was "faute" and "assez bon". They were satisfied that the Lonely Planet said the distance between the bar/pool and the rooms was the only fault. They checked the publication date and photocopied the page with the information about their place.
The guy behind the bar told me that there is an 11am bus to Mopti and it was the only one. It was 10am. That meant I had to go pretty soon. (Dammit! I wanted to stay because l'Auberge is a WiFi space.) I downed my beer, looked at the shop of a Tuareg guy who wanted me to see his stuff, and headed off. I ran into Bako again and he showed me the way to the Bittar station. Again, I paid him CFA 2000. He is a nice guy. I guess sometimes when you travel alone, you find certain people who for some reason or another you don't mind helping a bit. Bako was one of those guys. I got a ticket to Mopti and Baki stayed with me for a while. He explained that I should buy some kola nuts because people in the desert love kola nuts. He talked all about kola nuts. A kilogram, he said, was about CFA 6000 (US$12). I didn't get any kola nuts, but I did get a bottle of water. I paid CFA 5000 and trusted the kid to return me CFA 4000. I figured in Ségou, it was a safe bet and about 10 minutes later, the kid came with my CFA 4000.
At 12:30, the bus left. They take your name in case there are too many people--they call out names and the leftovers don't get on, but there weren't too many and I got a seat near the rear. The bus was stopping fairly often. About half the stops were gendarmerie checkpoints where the merchants come on and sell stuff. They were selling something I thought might be some sort of cheese, but I realized it was melon. At one point, the bus took off with 2 merchants on board and didn't stop for about 1 km. So the merchants had to walk back. Hardly worth it for a root and a melon bag. But I guess to them a walk in the hot sun is worth selling a 2 foot long root of some sort. It was pretty funny and everyone in the bus was laughing that 2 merchants turned into accidental stowaways.
It was hot and the sun was not always on the same side of the bus. But about halfway through, from San, the AC was on. It wasn't a refreshing AC, but it was better than no AC. Also from San, the bus sort of turns into a local bus with lot's of stops and people getting on and off.
At about 6pm, we arrived at Sévaré. I was under the impression that it would go to Mopti, but it doesn't actually go to Mopti--just the neighboring hub of Sévaré. Well, it was late, so I checked my Lonely Planet and saw the the Via-Via was next door to the gre routier in Sévaré. I got my stuff and a guy asked if I wanted a cab. I said I was just going to the Via-Via. He said he knows the Via Via and would take me there for CFA 2000 (US$4). ?! It's right next door. Another guy said he'd show me the way for CFA 500. US$1. What the hell? I let him show me even though I knew I could find it myself. Along the way, he said it was crazy to charge CFA 2000 to take me here. I told the guy it was crazy to charge CFA 500 as well. ;-) I only had a CFA 2000 note so I asked for change. The "guide" tried to arrange it with the Via Via guy to give me CFA 1000 (which I got) and him CFA 1000 (which he didn't get). But he underestimated my French. I told the Via Via guy that I only owe the guy CFA 500 and I should get the other CFA 500. So he'll get his CFA 500 later when they have change. Mine will come off my bill since the Via Via system is that you pay at the end.
I got 1 large Flag (CFA 1000), 2 small Flags (CFA 500 x 2), a beef curry (without anything resembling Indian spices) for CFA 2000 and rice for CFA 500. So a nice meal for CFA 4500 or US$9. The room is probably CFA 12000 for the fan room--I didn't take the AC room.
Tomorrow I'll go to Mopti and find the Comanav schedule. Then I'll decide what I'll do. I can take the Comanav big boat or a variety of pinasse options.
It was nice to have a relatively event free trip after the flat tire/recalcitrant nut debacle last night. My next journey will be a 2 or 3 day boat ride on the Niger River, so I needed a stress-free leg.
It was interesting seeing the change in architecture on the trip. Between the Guinea border and Bamako, the round houses with conical thatched roofs were giving way to square houses with thatched roofs. On this side of Bamako, the round houses are almost gone. There was one village that had them, but it probably has some people of Guinean origin. The houses turned into square with flat roofs and pipes draining the roofs. The building material is mud brick with mud coating. Some houses were longer, but all the rooms were about 4 or 5 meters by 4 or 5 meters. The compounds were walls of mud brick--not the rattan weaved wooden palisades common in Guinea. It is hot and dry. With Ramadan, it's torture. I saw a few mud mosquées. There were also smaller mud auxiliary buildings. Perhaps kilns or ovens. Perhaps outhouses. These buildings are usually not quite cubical but shaped more like a taller version of a panatone cake box.
September 21, 2008 21:17 Mali local time
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Bamako To Ségou: I'm Too Tired To Think Of A Subtitle
This morning I woke up nice and refreshed after an excellent sleep in the Yamey. I did some last minute interneting over coffee and a croissant and then headed out. I had known there was a taxi guy outside the Yamey since every time I go by, he asks if I need a taxi. Today, I finally did. He quoted CFA 2500 (US$5). Lonely Planet says it costs CFA 2000, but fuel costs have risen since then and this guy's only job seems to be to give lifts to people at the Yamey, Appaloosa, Café du Fleuve, and Soukhothai. So I'll let him charge me the extra buck.
It is quite a long way to the gare routier. Six kilometers in moderate traffic. I got there at about 11, dropped off in front of the Bittar bus station. Tickets are CFA 3000 (US$6) for the 3 hour trip. I figured I be there early afternoon--enough time to check out Ségou, which isn't very big. But, the ticket man told me quinze heures. Yikes! That's 3pm. Oh well. So I'll be there by 6pm--still enough time to walk along the Niger and the main drag--like I said, it isn't a big city.
I had noticed a pâtisserie--the Al Barka, so there was no better way to while away a few hours than with a pastry and a coffee. The employees were all huddled around the air conditioner watching TV. I ordered a pain au raisin and a coffee. They were pretty good. About an hour later, I ordered a hamburger and fries. They weren't quite as good, but OK. It took me a while to order them since all the employees were transfixed by an episode of 24. I had time and since there were no commercials, it actually ended pretty quickly.
Then I headed across the street again to await the bus. A bus arrived and they loaded my bag as well as the bags of others. We took our seats at about 2:40 pm. At 3:15pm, I asked a guy making sure the driver's papers were in order for the police checkpoints when the bus would leave. He said seize heures. Dammit! That's 4pm. I'll get there at 7pm. It'll be just getting dark. Oh well. At 4:20, another bus came and we all had to move to that bus. At 4:50 pm, we finally hit the road. Ugh! I prefer the sept-place system. Nine people in the sept-place and the windows are open. It's much better than a big slow bus and the invariably undelivered promise of "climatisée". We stopped to get gas--CFA 46760 for 85.022 liters. It's 2:30 am--you do the math if you're interested.
When the bus was moving, there was a breeze and when stopped, it was stifling hot. Until we got on the highway--there, they close the door, so it's stifling hot even when we're moving. Oh sept-place, I miss you so!
It was hot inside the bus and cool outside. We passed a police checkpoint--the clamour of people trying to sell stuff started. We seemed to be making all sorts of stops for no apparent reason. It was driving me crazy. Then, at 5:50--an hour after we left, I reason to go outside into the cool air. There was a thud followed by a slew of whacks. Our rear right inside tire was flat. Ah, so that's why I ultimately ended up on this bus--so I could write a blog post on changing a bus tire. Well, OK, I can handle that.
They spend the next half hour--till 6:20, taking nuts off. There are 10 nuts to remove. Most of them were relatively easy--about a minute to get them off using a 2 meter long steel bar for leverage. But one was not so easy. It took 15 minutes to get that one nut off. They couldn't use muscle to pop it. They put the 2 meter bar in and stood out at 2 meters and pumped their body. Each time, it would get them a little less than a sixth of a turn of the hexagonal nut. At one point, they had the angle way too close to perpendicular. A guy climbed up onto the end of the rod which was about chest height and his companions tried to pin him to the side of the bus so that he could concentrate on moving the bar. But after a minute or so of setting up, it became pretty clear that this maneuver wasn't going to yield results. Finally, after about 5 or 6 short turns, the nut got to the point where two people brute force it by hand. Then one person.
But, there was a nut still on. I'm not entirely sure what the problem was with this nut. But after a half hour spent taking 9 nuts off, they spent the next 20 minutes putting nuts back on. It was getting dark. Not necessarily good for trying to change a tire, but good for the people fasting for Ramadan who were checking their watches waiting for 6:34. The food and water came out and people were eating. At 6:40, we all got back on the bus and went along in limp mode. We passed Korokoro after a few minutes. We went about half speed for a half hour until about 7:20 when we came to one of those towns that exists to service buses passing through.
It was dark. There was a mosquée right there and lot's of people praying. A sermon was being loudly broadcast. The 9 easy nuts were removed. Then the people fixing the bus all disappeared. I looked at the stars in the moonless sky. I've never seen so many stars. It was wonderful. And I didn't see a single constellation I knew. No Big Dipper anywhere to be found. A local guy from the town came at 8pm. At 8:04, he took a 3 cm thick drop forged chisel thing and a big metal mallet and started to try to shear the bolt off. He hit the chisel about once every 3 or 4 seconds with all his strength. After about 2 minutes, he'd stop and they would all look at the bolt with a flashlight. At 8:14, he was still going strong. At 8:24, he was dripping with sweat. At 8:34, still about 3 or 4 seconds per hammer. At 8:44, he filed the end of his chisel a bit, I suppose to reduce the surface area touching the nut? At 8:54, he was slowing down--maybe 5 seconds between hammers. At 9:04, I was wondering if this was going to work. At 9:14, a woman in a beautiful blue dress was trying to give the guy advice. Then finally at 9:20, off came the bolt. An hour and sixteen minutes this guy hammered to shear off that bolt. I wonder what Bittar paid him. He deserves something. His arm is sore right now.
It took them 10 minutes to get the wheels off. They are like those horseshoes with the ring--you need to get the angle right and twist at the right time to get the wheels out. They finally got it. But, it turns out that was the easy part. The tread of the flat tire was wedged into the axle assembly pretty good. They tried to chisel it, but I guess chiseling doesn't work so well on rubber. They eventually found some tool but I'm not sure what. It made a funny noise that I don't remember anymore. It took them 50 minutes to get the tread out. It was 10:10. The next 30 minutes was devoted to putting the wheels back on and taking one nut from each front tire since they found they were unable to use some of the nuts they'd removed. Finally, with 11pm approaching, we all got back on the bus and took off.
My eyelids were getting heavy. Then after 10 minutes, I was jolted awake by a short yelp followed by snapping and crunching sounds. Bus: 1 Dog: 0. There are quite a few stray dogs in this part of Mali. Not so much in the rest of West Africa. The mechanical crew conducted a cursory inspection of the bus to see if the dog got in a lick while expiring. Nope. No fractured bone punctured the tires. We were running pretty quickly.
I was nodding off. The woman in the seat next to me was nodding off. It was a long way. People are up all along the road--even at 1am. Finally, at 1:30am, we arrived at the Bittar station in Ségou. I was worried there would be no taxis and the hotel would be closed. There were three taxis, though. I took a cab with 4 other people to a hotel in the Lonely Planet--the Hôtel Djolibe--easy to remember since it's the first 3 syllables of "Joe Lieberman". I paid CFA 500 (US$1) but the hotel was closed. But a guide named Bako took me down the road to another hotel called the Cnar. It's OK. AC and fan, but shared bathroom for CFA 15000 (US$30). I paid Bako CFA 2000. He was very happy. Ségou seems like a nice place. We passed a night club on the way. Not too many people out at 2am, but enough that I felt completely safe walking with Bako and his brother. I signed in in a graph paper book--just name, nationality, and number of nights. No passport number, visa number, or any of the other stuff they usually (but not always) ask. At the Rama Hotel in Mamou, they didn't even need my name--just my cash.
So here I am about to finish up my post. Whew! I'm tired.
September 21, 2008 3:23 Mali local time
It is quite a long way to the gare routier. Six kilometers in moderate traffic. I got there at about 11, dropped off in front of the Bittar bus station. Tickets are CFA 3000 (US$6) for the 3 hour trip. I figured I be there early afternoon--enough time to check out Ségou, which isn't very big. But, the ticket man told me quinze heures. Yikes! That's 3pm. Oh well. So I'll be there by 6pm--still enough time to walk along the Niger and the main drag--like I said, it isn't a big city.
I had noticed a pâtisserie--the Al Barka, so there was no better way to while away a few hours than with a pastry and a coffee. The employees were all huddled around the air conditioner watching TV. I ordered a pain au raisin and a coffee. They were pretty good. About an hour later, I ordered a hamburger and fries. They weren't quite as good, but OK. It took me a while to order them since all the employees were transfixed by an episode of 24. I had time and since there were no commercials, it actually ended pretty quickly.
Then I headed across the street again to await the bus. A bus arrived and they loaded my bag as well as the bags of others. We took our seats at about 2:40 pm. At 3:15pm, I asked a guy making sure the driver's papers were in order for the police checkpoints when the bus would leave. He said seize heures. Dammit! That's 4pm. I'll get there at 7pm. It'll be just getting dark. Oh well. At 4:20, another bus came and we all had to move to that bus. At 4:50 pm, we finally hit the road. Ugh! I prefer the sept-place system. Nine people in the sept-place and the windows are open. It's much better than a big slow bus and the invariably undelivered promise of "climatisée". We stopped to get gas--CFA 46760 for 85.022 liters. It's 2:30 am--you do the math if you're interested.
When the bus was moving, there was a breeze and when stopped, it was stifling hot. Until we got on the highway--there, they close the door, so it's stifling hot even when we're moving. Oh sept-place, I miss you so!
It was hot inside the bus and cool outside. We passed a police checkpoint--the clamour of people trying to sell stuff started. We seemed to be making all sorts of stops for no apparent reason. It was driving me crazy. Then, at 5:50--an hour after we left, I reason to go outside into the cool air. There was a thud followed by a slew of whacks. Our rear right inside tire was flat. Ah, so that's why I ultimately ended up on this bus--so I could write a blog post on changing a bus tire. Well, OK, I can handle that.
They spend the next half hour--till 6:20, taking nuts off. There are 10 nuts to remove. Most of them were relatively easy--about a minute to get them off using a 2 meter long steel bar for leverage. But one was not so easy. It took 15 minutes to get that one nut off. They couldn't use muscle to pop it. They put the 2 meter bar in and stood out at 2 meters and pumped their body. Each time, it would get them a little less than a sixth of a turn of the hexagonal nut. At one point, they had the angle way too close to perpendicular. A guy climbed up onto the end of the rod which was about chest height and his companions tried to pin him to the side of the bus so that he could concentrate on moving the bar. But after a minute or so of setting up, it became pretty clear that this maneuver wasn't going to yield results. Finally, after about 5 or 6 short turns, the nut got to the point where two people brute force it by hand. Then one person.
But, there was a nut still on. I'm not entirely sure what the problem was with this nut. But after a half hour spent taking 9 nuts off, they spent the next 20 minutes putting nuts back on. It was getting dark. Not necessarily good for trying to change a tire, but good for the people fasting for Ramadan who were checking their watches waiting for 6:34. The food and water came out and people were eating. At 6:40, we all got back on the bus and went along in limp mode. We passed Korokoro after a few minutes. We went about half speed for a half hour until about 7:20 when we came to one of those towns that exists to service buses passing through.
It was dark. There was a mosquée right there and lot's of people praying. A sermon was being loudly broadcast. The 9 easy nuts were removed. Then the people fixing the bus all disappeared. I looked at the stars in the moonless sky. I've never seen so many stars. It was wonderful. And I didn't see a single constellation I knew. No Big Dipper anywhere to be found. A local guy from the town came at 8pm. At 8:04, he took a 3 cm thick drop forged chisel thing and a big metal mallet and started to try to shear the bolt off. He hit the chisel about once every 3 or 4 seconds with all his strength. After about 2 minutes, he'd stop and they would all look at the bolt with a flashlight. At 8:14, he was still going strong. At 8:24, he was dripping with sweat. At 8:34, still about 3 or 4 seconds per hammer. At 8:44, he filed the end of his chisel a bit, I suppose to reduce the surface area touching the nut? At 8:54, he was slowing down--maybe 5 seconds between hammers. At 9:04, I was wondering if this was going to work. At 9:14, a woman in a beautiful blue dress was trying to give the guy advice. Then finally at 9:20, off came the bolt. An hour and sixteen minutes this guy hammered to shear off that bolt. I wonder what Bittar paid him. He deserves something. His arm is sore right now.
It took them 10 minutes to get the wheels off. They are like those horseshoes with the ring--you need to get the angle right and twist at the right time to get the wheels out. They finally got it. But, it turns out that was the easy part. The tread of the flat tire was wedged into the axle assembly pretty good. They tried to chisel it, but I guess chiseling doesn't work so well on rubber. They eventually found some tool but I'm not sure what. It made a funny noise that I don't remember anymore. It took them 50 minutes to get the tread out. It was 10:10. The next 30 minutes was devoted to putting the wheels back on and taking one nut from each front tire since they found they were unable to use some of the nuts they'd removed. Finally, with 11pm approaching, we all got back on the bus and took off.
My eyelids were getting heavy. Then after 10 minutes, I was jolted awake by a short yelp followed by snapping and crunching sounds. Bus: 1 Dog: 0. There are quite a few stray dogs in this part of Mali. Not so much in the rest of West Africa. The mechanical crew conducted a cursory inspection of the bus to see if the dog got in a lick while expiring. Nope. No fractured bone punctured the tires. We were running pretty quickly.
I was nodding off. The woman in the seat next to me was nodding off. It was a long way. People are up all along the road--even at 1am. Finally, at 1:30am, we arrived at the Bittar station in Ségou. I was worried there would be no taxis and the hotel would be closed. There were three taxis, though. I took a cab with 4 other people to a hotel in the Lonely Planet--the Hôtel Djolibe--easy to remember since it's the first 3 syllables of "Joe Lieberman". I paid CFA 500 (US$1) but the hotel was closed. But a guide named Bako took me down the road to another hotel called the Cnar. It's OK. AC and fan, but shared bathroom for CFA 15000 (US$30). I paid Bako CFA 2000. He was very happy. Ségou seems like a nice place. We passed a night club on the way. Not too many people out at 2am, but enough that I felt completely safe walking with Bako and his brother. I signed in in a graph paper book--just name, nationality, and number of nights. No passport number, visa number, or any of the other stuff they usually (but not always) ask. At the Rama Hotel in Mamou, they didn't even need my name--just my cash.
So here I am about to finish up my post. Whew! I'm tired.
September 21, 2008 3:23 Mali local time
Friday, September 19, 2008
More Le Café Du Fleuve
Since I spent toute la journée ("all day long"--I adore the increasingly frequent yet still rare instances where the French appears at the threshold of consciousness before the English) using the Café du Fleuve's internet connection, I decided to eat there again.
For an entrée I got the tomate mozzarella for CFA 3800 (US$7.60). It was OK, but certainly not spectacular. I wished I had ordered the chèvre again. My plat was pièce de boeuf aux morilles for CFA 8900 (US$17.80). Medium rare. It was so good. The cut of meat was tender, and the flavors harmonized. With the beer and the coffee, the total came to CFA 14900 or CFA 17000 (US$34) with tip.
It's an expensive way to use the internet, but it sure is tasty.
September 20, 2008 0:06 Mali local time
For an entrée I got the tomate mozzarella for CFA 3800 (US$7.60). It was OK, but certainly not spectacular. I wished I had ordered the chèvre again. My plat was pièce de boeuf aux morilles for CFA 8900 (US$17.80). Medium rare. It was so good. The cut of meat was tender, and the flavors harmonized. With the beer and the coffee, the total came to CFA 14900 or CFA 17000 (US$34) with tip.
It's an expensive way to use the internet, but it sure is tasty.
September 20, 2008 0:06 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
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
Trip Budget A Bit Lighter
I had joked that I was going to finance my trip through Africa by not being available to the political organzations and candidates who wouldn't be able to reach me by phone. But I gave in and sent a donation to embattled Barack Obama. I haven't given anything to anyone since I gave to Gov. Richardson in the primaries. But it's time for me to step up and put some cash behind Obama/Biden. After all, my trip through Africa is made easier to some degree simply by his candidacy. It shows people here that America is what we claim to be. At least, if Obama loses, I got to see the effect he has had in Africa--something few people get to see. It is extremely heartening to see the excitement here.
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
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
Heading To Ségou
I'm about to set off to the interior of Mali. I'll take a short trip to Ségou (about 1/3 of the way to Mopti) so that my longer trip to Mopti isn't ridiculously long. From Mopti, depending on the status of the river transportation, I'll either get a boat immediately to Timbuktu (about a 3 day trip), or I'll more likely hang around and go to the Djenné Monday market outside their mud mosque.
All of these places have internet, but none are well connected. So I will most likely be out of email contact and may be out of blog contact. I'm also expecting no ATMs so I have withdrawn enough cash to get me through the rest of Mali.
I'll be OK. This is a very safe area of Africa. No news is good news. ;-) I'll be having an interesting (if not fun) time.
September 19, 2008 9:12 Mali local time
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Soukhothai And Afterwards
Last night was supposed to be my last night in Bamako. So, I decided to splurge a fourth day and visit a Thai place in the same block as the Appaloosa, le Café du Fleuve, and the Hôtel Yamey. I got there at 7:01. It opens at 7. Whew! I didn't have to wait.
Naturally, I was the only customer. I ordered a Castel beer and perused the menu. They have 3 set menus--CFA 9000, CFA 14000, and CFA 24000. I felt about CFA 14000 hungry, so I got that. The entrée was a plate with a samosa, 2 deep fried spring rolls, and 2 shumai. They were all delicious. I savored every bite. Next I got chicken curry with rice. It was a yellow thai curry. That was really good, too. About now, the place is starting to fill up--mostly white people again except a table of 8 Indians or possibly Pakistanis (I never want to guess wrong--Pakistanis are often confused for Indians the way Canadians are confused with Americans and Kiwis are confused with Aussies).
Finally it was time for dessert. If I have a quibble, it is with the dessert--not the flavor--ice cream with melted chocolate hardened by the cold of the ice cream. But the timing. I would like to have finished my beer before getting ice cream. And when they brought the ice cream, that's when they asked if I wanted tea or coffee. The coffee didn't come until I was almost done since the ice cream was melting. I want my coffee with my dessert--especially when there is chocolate because I like the sweet chocolate/bitter coffee flavor combination.
Finally, since it was busy, I just sat there reading La Route/The Road.
Then I headed home. A guy found me right there. He spoke English (bad sign) and told me we was an artist (another bad sign), and walked all the way back to the Maison des Jeunes with me trying to convince me to buy these 2 bronze figurines. He started at CFA 10000. Then CFA 8000. Then CFA 5000. Then CFA 4000. I had decided not to buy anything in Mali because the merchants here use accusations of racism and I don't want to support locations where verbal abuse against tourists occurs. But this guy didn't. And I actually liked the figurines. So just outside the gate, I decided to buy them. He didn't have a CFA 1000 note--and I only had a CFA 5000 bill, so I got a CFA 500 coin and paid CFA 4500 (US$9). They were bit heavier than I had hoped, but oh well. They'll look neat on my desk. It's a couple sitting each with little bowls in their laps. The bowls are about the size to hold a chocolate truffle.
Then came my hellish night. I had been drinking the local tap water and it's been catching up with me. Last night was the worst. The bathrooms are a nightmare, the water tank is overhead and leaks on you while you're squatting. I'll spare the details. I made a few trips, each grosser and more hellish than the previous. I came to absolutely despise the Maison des Jeunes. Mosquitos were swarming into my 10'x10' room with filthy walls. There's so much junk on my walls, I can't tell what's a resting mosquito and what's just bits of garbage stuck to the walls. I didn't fall asleep until 5am. I sure didn't want to face a trip to Ségou in this condition.
So I decided to spend another day in the Yamey. I could get a hot shower, a very comfortable bed with the second nicest pillows I've had in Africa (the Carlton's in Banjul were #1), a mosquito free room, both a fan and AC, French TV--I don't understand it yet but I love listening to French French, and possibly the internet would be working again. And the woman behind the desk is so sweet and happy. So now I'll work on recovering for a trip to Ségou tomorrow.
September 18, 2008 11:39 Mali local time
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Impressions Of Bamako
I've been in Bamako for a few days now, so I'll write down my random impressions.
First, the architecture is very unusual. Anyone who has ever played Anarchy Online will think the Norwegian designers probably spent some time in Bamako. The bank that created the Franc CFA has a tower on the river that comes right out of that came--expect it's brown instead of black.
Not a Bamako impression, but a road to Bamako impression--it's like Utah if Utah were a rainforest. Just absolutely gorgeous.
Bamako shares the bad points with Dakar--people engage me to try to get money out of me. It's not quite as bad down by the river--worse in the Hippodrome. They aren't as persistent as at the Place d'Independance in Dakar, at least until you get to the market on the Avenue des Peuples which is worth avoiding anyway.
The layout of the city is pretty chaotic. Not really a grid system where I'm at. Further out, it is a grid.
The National Museum is excellent--a must see in my opinion.
There are more tourists than I thought there would be. I got spoiled in the relatively tourist free Guinea-Bissau and Guinea-Conakry. Africa is wonderful where the tourists are few. It can be downright annoying where the tourists support the industry of hangers-on, persistent merchants, and hustlers.
Kids like to greet me and ask ça va? That's all they want to do. They do it in the same spirit as when I was a kid in the car on I-94 and I'd pump my arms to truckers to see if they would blow their horn. When they did, we'd all laugh. I don't know if people do that to truckers anymore. Was it because I was a kid? Or because it the age of CB radio, Smokey and the Bandit, Every Which Way But Loose, and BJ and the Bear--when trucking was the cool job.
First, the architecture is very unusual. Anyone who has ever played Anarchy Online will think the Norwegian designers probably spent some time in Bamako. The bank that created the Franc CFA has a tower on the river that comes right out of that came--expect it's brown instead of black.
Not a Bamako impression, but a road to Bamako impression--it's like Utah if Utah were a rainforest. Just absolutely gorgeous.
Bamako shares the bad points with Dakar--people engage me to try to get money out of me. It's not quite as bad down by the river--worse in the Hippodrome. They aren't as persistent as at the Place d'Independance in Dakar, at least until you get to the market on the Avenue des Peuples which is worth avoiding anyway.
The layout of the city is pretty chaotic. Not really a grid system where I'm at. Further out, it is a grid.
The National Museum is excellent--a must see in my opinion.
There are more tourists than I thought there would be. I got spoiled in the relatively tourist free Guinea-Bissau and Guinea-Conakry. Africa is wonderful where the tourists are few. It can be downright annoying where the tourists support the industry of hangers-on, persistent merchants, and hustlers.
Kids like to greet me and ask ça va? That's all they want to do. They do it in the same spirit as when I was a kid in the car on I-94 and I'd pump my arms to truckers to see if they would blow their horn. When they did, we'd all laugh. I don't know if people do that to truckers anymore. Was it because I was a kid? Or because it the age of CB radio, Smokey and the Bandit, Every Which Way But Loose, and BJ and the Bear--when trucking was the cool job.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Appaloosa
Six o'clock having rolled around and being hungry and thirsty, I decided to check out the Appaloosa one last time and see what passes for Tex-Mex in Bamako. I packed up my Moleskine journal, fountain pen and La Route and The Road and walked the 5 minutes to get there. When I got there, the Lebanese guy I met the first time I went there was behind the bar. He thinks I'm positively nuts to be backpacking through the countries I'm backpacking through. Well, I can't argue against that. This is certainly not a trip for just anybody. You really have to want to do a trip like this to do it. And I mean want it bad. The challenges you need to face and overcome are immense, constant, and tiring.
Anyway, I wrote into my journal for a while, then read La Route for a while. When 7pm rolled around, I got a menu and 4 white women walked in and ranged themselves behind the bar. It became clear from their accents that they are all Eastern European. The oldest one is Ukrainian. The circumspect Lonely Planet description of this place and the Lebanese guy's mysterious mercenary-like description of his career path was suddenly coming into a little more focus. I too will remain circumspect to some degree except to say that I think that perhaps young pretty Ukrainians don't always know what they are getting themselves into when they agree to take a job in a foreign country. After a while 3 white men came in and zeroed in on the Russianesque girls. They all spoke English with each other and acted all flirtatiously as the alcohol started to flow. I was left alone by all the women except the hot African girl (prettier than the 4 white girls) who waited on me. And all she did was waitress stuff. I guess backpackers keeping to themselves before the crowds arrive reading and writing are probably not considered the type of person willing to pay for fake attention from pretty girls.
For food, I ordered chicken and cheese enchiladas. OK, let's see what a Tex-Mex bar in Bamako can deliver. I got my enchiladas. I won't say they were bad--they weren't. But they weren't Tex-Mex. I would categorize them more as California Mexican. I'm not claiming to be an expert on Tex-Mex, but more than one person has noticed that I'm a lot fatter in my passport picture taken when I lived in Houston and peaked out at 235lbs compared to my current 150lbs. That fat came from 2 sources: 99 cent Whoppers and Tex-Mex. Anyway, they were tasty--just not Tex-Mex.
The bill came to CFA 10500 (US$21) and I gave the CFA 12000 (US$24). I came back to the Maison des Jeunes and was happy that the annoying guy still wasn't around.
September 16, 2008 22:40 Mali local time
Anyway, I wrote into my journal for a while, then read La Route for a while. When 7pm rolled around, I got a menu and 4 white women walked in and ranged themselves behind the bar. It became clear from their accents that they are all Eastern European. The oldest one is Ukrainian. The circumspect Lonely Planet description of this place and the Lebanese guy's mysterious mercenary-like description of his career path was suddenly coming into a little more focus. I too will remain circumspect to some degree except to say that I think that perhaps young pretty Ukrainians don't always know what they are getting themselves into when they agree to take a job in a foreign country. After a while 3 white men came in and zeroed in on the Russianesque girls. They all spoke English with each other and acted all flirtatiously as the alcohol started to flow. I was left alone by all the women except the hot African girl (prettier than the 4 white girls) who waited on me. And all she did was waitress stuff. I guess backpackers keeping to themselves before the crowds arrive reading and writing are probably not considered the type of person willing to pay for fake attention from pretty girls.
For food, I ordered chicken and cheese enchiladas. OK, let's see what a Tex-Mex bar in Bamako can deliver. I got my enchiladas. I won't say they were bad--they weren't. But they weren't Tex-Mex. I would categorize them more as California Mexican. I'm not claiming to be an expert on Tex-Mex, but more than one person has noticed that I'm a lot fatter in my passport picture taken when I lived in Houston and peaked out at 235lbs compared to my current 150lbs. That fat came from 2 sources: 99 cent Whoppers and Tex-Mex. Anyway, they were tasty--just not Tex-Mex.
The bill came to CFA 10500 (US$21) and I gave the CFA 12000 (US$24). I came back to the Maison des Jeunes and was happy that the annoying guy still wasn't around.
September 16, 2008 22:40 Mali local time
Passport From Ghana Embassy To Burkina Faso Embassy
One of my goals yesterday was to find the Burkina Faso embassy so I could quickly get there after I picked up my passport from the Ghana embassy at 2pm. But, in the afternoon, I had a beer and a 1.5 liter bottle of water at Appaloosa instead. Hey, my hotel is right next door to it, so why not? And since I was virtually the only customer I could read La Route/The Road and ponder what to do next time I ran into the annoying people who called me racist for refusing to fall for their flim-flammery.
So this morning, I had to deal with moving from my nice US$45 room at the Yamey back to a barely passable $8 room at the Maison des Jeunes. They reception man said there would be a room at 7am. I showed up at 9am. Not ready yet--it'll be ready at 11am. So I went back, packed, showered (with hot water--so nice), enjoyed the last of my AC for a while, and then headed over at 11. I got my room. It's the smallest room I've stayed in so far on my trip, I think. Just 2 beds in a stuffy 10' x 10' room. OK for 2 nights, but boy will I be happy to leave Bamako. Actually, I think I'll be glad to leave Mali. Too many tourists in Mali. Burkina should be back to the way things were in Guinea--nice.
Anyway, the Lonely Planet map shows a road going off with an arrow saying the Burkina Faso embassy is 400m off the map. I walked to the Rond-pont de l'unité Africaine (a sort of arch of two arms holding up a globe) and turned south-west. I walked a ways and didn't see any Burkina Faso embassy. I did find the American embassy, though. We have a very nice embassy in Bamako. :-) I started looking on the side streets and after about an hour, I found it. It actually is probably just barely within the boundaries map in the Lonely Planet, if they chose to put it on there--it's actually probably right around where the words "Burkina Faso embassy" are located on the map. Basically, from the rond-pont, go either SW or NW one short block. Then go NW or SW, one short block. This puts you at the eastern corner of the huge Libyan embassy complex. The Burkina Faso is across the street from the Libyan embassy on the north-west side.
So I headed up from the rond-pont and soon came to a rond-pont with the first president of Ghana or something, and then to the rond-pont with the elephant. Then I just took a left and headed down to the Ghana embassy. I had some time, so I popped into La Marquise, a pizzeria and pâtisserie and got a nice croissant and a desperately needed Orange Fanta. I arrived at the embassy about 20 minutes early and apologized in French, though English should work just as well in the Ghanan embassy. I handed the woman my receipt for the passport. (Ghana's embassy is the only one that actually gives you a receipt for a passport. IMHO this should be standard operating procedure in all embassies.) She went to the desk, got out the passport, and handed it to me. I looked it over. Looked good. I smiled, thanked her, and headed out to go the Burkina Faso embassy.
I was there in about an hour. They require 3 photos, CFA 28200 (US$56.40), and 3 forms--two of which are identical and one that's a little bit different. I had to give my parents' names and an emergency contact, which is a new one to me. Then I handed it in and they told me to return at 15:00 tomorrow. So now I have the rest of the day to myself and all tomorrow morning to myself. Thursday, I escape the hustler den that is Bamako for Ségou--the next stop on the long trip to Timbuktu.
I came back to my room. I thought it was at the end of the hallway and unlocked the door. Then as I was about to enter, I noticed I was one room to far. So my key works in my neighbor's lock. Nice. That gives me warm fuzzies--NOT. At least, the annoying guy still wasn't there. Maybe he is taking a break from the Maison des Jeunes for a while. I tore into him pretty hard. Maybe he is having some down time to ponder his future and why he seems to provoke people into not liking him. But I doubt it. I'm sure he's out on his circuit looking for white prey.
September 16, 2008 15:51 Mali local time
So this morning, I had to deal with moving from my nice US$45 room at the Yamey back to a barely passable $8 room at the Maison des Jeunes. They reception man said there would be a room at 7am. I showed up at 9am. Not ready yet--it'll be ready at 11am. So I went back, packed, showered (with hot water--so nice), enjoyed the last of my AC for a while, and then headed over at 11. I got my room. It's the smallest room I've stayed in so far on my trip, I think. Just 2 beds in a stuffy 10' x 10' room. OK for 2 nights, but boy will I be happy to leave Bamako. Actually, I think I'll be glad to leave Mali. Too many tourists in Mali. Burkina should be back to the way things were in Guinea--nice.
Anyway, the Lonely Planet map shows a road going off with an arrow saying the Burkina Faso embassy is 400m off the map. I walked to the Rond-pont de l'unité Africaine (a sort of arch of two arms holding up a globe) and turned south-west. I walked a ways and didn't see any Burkina Faso embassy. I did find the American embassy, though. We have a very nice embassy in Bamako. :-) I started looking on the side streets and after about an hour, I found it. It actually is probably just barely within the boundaries map in the Lonely Planet, if they chose to put it on there--it's actually probably right around where the words "Burkina Faso embassy" are located on the map. Basically, from the rond-pont, go either SW or NW one short block. Then go NW or SW, one short block. This puts you at the eastern corner of the huge Libyan embassy complex. The Burkina Faso is across the street from the Libyan embassy on the north-west side.
So I headed up from the rond-pont and soon came to a rond-pont with the first president of Ghana or something, and then to the rond-pont with the elephant. Then I just took a left and headed down to the Ghana embassy. I had some time, so I popped into La Marquise, a pizzeria and pâtisserie and got a nice croissant and a desperately needed Orange Fanta. I arrived at the embassy about 20 minutes early and apologized in French, though English should work just as well in the Ghanan embassy. I handed the woman my receipt for the passport. (Ghana's embassy is the only one that actually gives you a receipt for a passport. IMHO this should be standard operating procedure in all embassies.) She went to the desk, got out the passport, and handed it to me. I looked it over. Looked good. I smiled, thanked her, and headed out to go the Burkina Faso embassy.
I was there in about an hour. They require 3 photos, CFA 28200 (US$56.40), and 3 forms--two of which are identical and one that's a little bit different. I had to give my parents' names and an emergency contact, which is a new one to me. Then I handed it in and they told me to return at 15:00 tomorrow. So now I have the rest of the day to myself and all tomorrow morning to myself. Thursday, I escape the hustler den that is Bamako for Ségou--the next stop on the long trip to Timbuktu.
I came back to my room. I thought it was at the end of the hallway and unlocked the door. Then as I was about to enter, I noticed I was one room to far. So my key works in my neighbor's lock. Nice. That gives me warm fuzzies--NOT. At least, the annoying guy still wasn't there. Maybe he is taking a break from the Maison des Jeunes for a while. I tore into him pretty hard. Maybe he is having some down time to ponder his future and why he seems to provoke people into not liking him. But I doubt it. I'm sure he's out on his circuit looking for white prey.
September 16, 2008 15:51 Mali local time
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