First Full Day In Cotonou

Having the fan, I slept very well. No mosquitos. Not much noise. It was a pretty pleasant sleep. I got up and dallied a while. It was hot out and I wasn't anxious to go out into the sun. But eventually, I knew I had to brave the day. I left my room and locked the door. A man asked me "bien dormi?" I said "oui, bien dormi." He asked if my room was OK. I told him the light didn't work. I didn't know who he was, but he said he worked at the hotel so I let him in to look. He tried and said he'd fix it later. I left hoping he really was an employee. This hotel's front desk is caged and glassed as hotels are in dangerous sections of town and there are signs all over my room warning me to keep all valuables with the front desk.

First destination--the American Cultural Center. If anyone could tell me where to watch the election, they would know. They are way out near the airport along the road along the port. But how to get there. When I went to Steinmetz street the previous day, a construction worker told me I had to go around. So I headed south on the street parallel to Steinmetz but a long block to the east. I passed the Ancien Pont where the street perpendicular to Steinmetz was also under construction, and kept going. Finally I reached a rond-pont and headed what I figured was north. I eventually found what appeared to be civilization passing what looked like a museum that isn't in the Lonely Planet. I'll have to check it out. I found a big street and walked along it to what seemed like west.

I sort of figured out where I was when I saw the post-office. Also, it was Friday and if I want to send post cards to the nieces, now would be a good time to get stamps. I walked toward the post office and noticed that there was a woman with a stand selling pens, paper, envelopes, etc. I asked if she had post cards. She got a out a box and gave them to me to look through. There were about 20 different types of postcards. One of the container port, one of a nondescript palm tree on a nondescript beach, and about eighteen of topless Beninese women. Since these were destined for my young nieces, I opted for the port and the palm tree. (I hope they understand that you don't get the range of stunningly gorgeous postcards that you get in the Western world--which is not to say that some of the topless Beninese women weren't stunningly gorgeous.)

The post office is pretty chaotic. There is a display of motorcycles right by the window where you get stamps so you can't really line up but just sort of work your way in. And each customer in front of me seemed to taking a long time. Eventually, a postal worker pointed at me and that gave me license to work my way to the window. I got 2 sets of postcard stamps. One of them was interesting. There is a line through the Dahomey and Benin written above it and the price is changed form 200F to 300F in the same color ink. Benin hasn't been called Dahomey since like 1972. Are these stamps from then?

Anyway, that was done. Time to go to the American Cultural Center. I walked west. I knew it was about 2 km west so I wouldn't have to start looking for abut on hour. I walked one street up from the port and eventually found the German embassy. I looked at the Lonely Planet in the shade of a building and realized I was about halfway there based on the location of the German embassy icon. As I was leaving the shade, a security guard of the building came up to me and asked if everything was OK. I said it was with a friendly smile knowing that he wasn't happy that I was too close to his building which is apparently the HQ of the local oil company. I walked along the port toward the American Cultural Center. I passed some sort of huge government complex on the north and a cool convention center on the south with a sign welcoming the African delegates to the first extraordinary conference on the peer review system. Then I passed something that looked like it could be the American Cultural Center but it was called the Conseil de l'Entente or something like that. Then I saw the Novotel Hotel on the south. Hmmm.... If I reach the Novotel, I know I've gone too far. So I concluded that the Conseil de l'Entente is now occupying what used to be the American Cultural Center. The American Cultural Center in Togo also ceased to exist. Maybe just a product of Condi saying "Fuck You" to the third world. Maybe not.

So I headed back. By now I was pretty damn thirsty. The Beninese sun isn't forgiving. I headed back into town. I tried to take a shortcut through the huge government complex on what looked like a straight road to the next street over, but some security guards redirected me. I passed the Chinese Cultural Center, quite nice looking. There are a lot of Chinese people in Togo and Benin. China is the new imperial power exploiting the resources of poor countries.

Soon I was close to downtown. I guy selling big lamps and blenders called out to me. I went back knowing there was no way he could sell me a lamp or a blender and interesting in what this interaction would bring. He reached out an shook my hand. And as often happens in West Africa, once they have your hand, they squeeze and don't let go. He spoke English. A lot of people here do, probably because they neighbor Nigeria. He said he wanted me to take him to my country. He promised to work for me and earn his own salary, so I didn't have to worry about that. Then he said that he already did all the paperwork necessary for the visa. Then he asked me what country I was from. I was a bit annoyed, as I always am when a person shakes my hand and then squeezes to hold me there, and I told him that since he told me that he had already done the paperwork to get to my country, then he must certainly already know what country I was from--the one he did the paperwork for. He guessed Germany first then a few other European countries. I said no. He asked again. I said it is the country that you did the paperwork for. He smiled and said America. I told him I had to go. He said he's talk to me next time I walked by.

Soon I came upon a place in downtown called O' Grille. It had a Castel beer sign in front so I went in. I looked into their fridge and saw no big beer bottles. The waitress came by and I asked knowing that sometimes they keep bottles in bigger freezers. She said that the big beer was à pression. "Est ce que froid?" "Oui." I ordered that--she assumed I wanted the grande without asking--they have both petite and grande. When she came with it I also ordered a 1.5L water. By the time the water came I quenched my thirst with half of the large draft beer. CFA 1200 (US$2.40) for a big draft is actually a good price. I had one more and a 1/4 chicken with a green salad.

I read a little of the new book, Le Démon et Mademoiselle Prym. I was close to halfway through already. I love the fact that I can read a Paulo Coehlo book in French without a dictionary. O' Grille is a place with a lot of African art sold by somebody on site who speaks English. He came up and introduced himself. Very low pressure. He also tried to guess my nationality. Germany? England? Sweden? Norway? Germany? Sweden? Then he gave up. I'm always shocked when African merchants try to guess my nationality. They always start repeating countries and then give up before even guessing the United States of America. I think we Americans need to travel in Africa a bit more. Finally, I settled my bill and left.

After a rest in the hotel, I decided to go out. Lonely Planet makes it sound like Cotonou gets dangerous from late afternoon, so I decided I'd finish up anything outside before 6ish and not stray too far from the hotel. I went to the Repaire de Bacchus which is a jazz club. I knew there would be no live music so early, but there wasn't even a jazz CD playing. Then I saw a place across the street called Le Laurier. It looked pretty good so I went in. I ordered a beer while I perused the menu. I decided on a green salad an an order of my favorite Senegalese dishes, Yassa Poulet. They brought me my salad which was pretty simple--lettuce, a few small slices of tomato, and a vinaigrette. Not bad, but definitely not spectacular. A waiter brought me a small plate with a napkin and cutlery but after he set it down, he noticed it was crawling with little ants no longer than 2 millimeters. He took it back, as if I hadn't noticed, and came back a minute later, most, but not all, of the ants gone. Then they brought me 2 warm buns. I asked for butter. "Mayonnaise ou beurre?" the waitress asked. I said beurre about 4 times each with a slightly different vowel since I can't really say the 'eu' sound all that well. There should have been no question that I meant butter because despite the different vowel sounds I tried to make, it couldn't have sounded anything like "mayonnaise". Yet a minute later, mayonnaise is what she brought me.

So I decided to eat the buns unadorned with a fat. I grabbed one and ripped it open. Little dark spots in a bit of a cluster. I thought they might be wheat husks. Then I saw that they were all tripartite, each no longer than 2 millimeters. I looked closer. I called the waitress over. "Est-ce que c'est fourmis?" She took the bun and went back to the kitchen. It caused a bit of stir.

I ripped open the other one. No ant carcasses cooked into this one. As ants aren't a disgusting insect, it didn't bother me and I ate the un-anted roll which was actually pretty good even without butter (which I didn't have) or mayonnaise (which I did have but didn't use).

I got my Yassa Poulet. Quite a bit different from the Senegalese Yassa Poulet. Not bad, but not what I was expecting. The onion wasn't cooked quite enough and it very mustardy. Also it came with peppers which are good but I never had them in Senegal.

Eventually, I asked for my bill. It had my beer, my salad, something called B/B for CFA 500 which was crossed out, and the yassa poulet. I was surprised that they added B/B which I assumed to be Bread & Butter to my bill since I hadn't ordered it. Also, it came with no butter, but mayonnaise only after asking for butter. And one of the buns had a little nest of ants.

So I must say, I don't recommend Le Laurier in Cotonou. If they had given me some sort of discount instead of just crossing off the bread they tried to charge me for without me ordering it, then I could at least give them marks for trying. But all they did after trying to feed me insects was not charge me for something I didn't order anyway. Shame on them. I hope this blog post causes them some lost business because they deserve to lose some business for not making that right.

After that I went to the Mayfair Supermarket. It is a bit bigger than the one a block to the north. I found toilet paper which I need but it was pricey and they only had 4 roll packs. Then I went to the beer fridge. The beer wasn't that cold. I put the toilet paper back and headed a block north to the smaller store. They only had 10 roll toilet paper packs. But it is that cheap toilet paper with almost no substance so I knew I would crush the cardboard rolls and compact it pretty easily. I got some Sour Cream and Onion Pringles (so nice that they don't stock the counterfeit cardboard Cracks) and 2 freezing Heinekens. The bag clerk bagged my beer and chips in a translucent bag. Then I tried to crush the toilet paper into a quarter of its original size to get it to fit into the bag as well. The clerk thought he knew what I was up to. A smile appeared on his face, and he went to get something while I poked a hole in the toilet paper bag to let the air out so I could crush it faster. He came back with a non-translucent black bag for the toilet paper. He thought I didn't want to be seen walking with a 5x2 bag of toilet paper down the street--advertising to the world such things that I do.

It reminded me of one of my favorite Barney Miller jokes. Dietrich took a call from one of Harris's many lady friends. Harris was in the bathroom so Dietrich told her that. When Harris came out, Dietrich told him his lady friend had called and he had told her that he was in the bathroom. The always proper Harris was miffed. "I don't want her to know I do that." Dietrich shrugged and said "Sorry, I thought she knew". It's an interesting phenomenon. If I'm buying toilet paper at the Broadway QFC, I'm unlikely to go to a cute checkout clerk. I guess even in Africa, they worry about that.

Saturday, November 1, 2008 17:41 Benin local time