Douala To Accra Via Lagos

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Monday, December 15, 7:12 Ghana local time

Last Day In Douala

I got up Thursday the 11th, to go to Delice.  I had pain aux raisins and chausson aux pommes. After that, I headed to the internet cafe.  No connection--come back in an hour, they said.

OK, I looked for a cafe, but there aren't many cafes around Bananjo.  I went to Le Paris and they were more or less open.  Officially open, but no customers at that hour, apparently ever.  I had a nice expresso (as the spell in France) and checked out the menu.  Very nice looking menu.

An hour had passed so I headed back to the internet cafe.  The connection was sort of up but only blogspot.com (owned by) was working reliably.  Frustration!

I had a rest back into my hotel and a few hours later returned to the internet cafe.  It was sort of up again, but only for responsive sites.  Then it went down again.  Gee, this internet cafe is usually pretty good.

It was getting late and I felt like a draft beer so I went to a place called Pression II.  I asked if the have bière à pression.  She said they didn't.  I looked at her aghast.  Really? (C'est vrai?).  The name of the place is Pression II and they don't have beer on tap?  I got a bottle of Castel which turned out to be not as cold as I wanted.  I wrote into my journal.  While I was there, all the other customers eventually left leaving just me.  Then a guy came in.  All these empty tables, but he sat at my table across from me.  Odd.  He ordered a meal.  I continued writing.  His meal came and he ate it as if he hadn't eaten anything in days.  A few minutes later a friend of his came in and ordered some food.  I got to the end of my train of thought and told them bon appetite and headed out.  After all, it was going to be my dinner time soon.  I went back to Le Paris.

What a nice choice for my last dinner in Francophone Africa.  My entrée was chèvre on toast baguettes on a bed of lettuce with diced tomato. The chèvre was sprinkled with rosemary.  Just delicious.  My plat was turkey cordon bleu with mashed potatoes.  It was cooked perfectly.  I have to learn how to make cordon bleu.  The chèvre was CFA 4500 (US$9) and the turkey cordon bleu was CFA 7500 (US$15).  So it was pricey, but one of the best meals I had in Africa.  Again, these guys could make it in the US.  And actually they should because there weren't enough customers.  I was the only one.

I took a moto-taxi back and went to sleep.

Sunday, December 14, 2008 9:24 Ghana local time

Monday And Tuesday In Yaoundé

I spent a pretty relaxing 2 days in Yaoundé.  Just exploring and enjoying the last few days in West Africa.  I had coffee in the (late) morning at Espresso House.  I went downtown to the internet cafe down there.  They have internet at Espresso House but it is ridiculously expensive--CFA 1500 (US$3) for an hour.  I got pastries at the pâtissirie across the street from the Ideal Hotel. It is a wonderful pâtisserie and it is open really early to really late.

On Monday, I ate a nice salade vert for CFA 1000 and Poulet basquaise for CFA 3000  (green salad: US$2, Basque chicken US$6) at Le Sintra,a nice place downtown where I had a croissant and coffee a few days previous.  That was my only meal of the day.

On Tuesday, I ordered a take out pizza from the grocery store close to the Chez Wou Chinese restaurant.  I got a bottle of wine and just enjoyed pizza with the French news and Knight Rider dubbed into French.

I went back to Concordia in the evenings.  It's very nice and the beer is reasonably priced.  Just a pleasant environment to hang out.  The owner came over and introduced himself to me and asked about my trip a bit.  He thanked me for coming and I told him he ran a very nice place.

On Tuesday, I needed to get a ticket for returning to Douala on Wednesday.  I headed south to look for the Guaranti Express.  The Lonely Planet says it is 1km off the bottom of the map.  It actually says the same thing about Centrale Voyages.  I walked pretty far to the south.  I passed the large brewery complex and found a Guaranti Express storage yard but not the station.   So I walked back.  On the way back, I spotted the Centrale Voyages off on a side street.  I explored a bit around that area, but nothing.  So I decided to head into town and rest with a beer at the Sihusa again.  Next I tried a cab, but he wanted CFA 3000 (US$6) round trip.  So I decided, why not try Centrale Voyages.  I headed back there.  They now charge only CFA 6000 (US$12) for their Prestige service.  It's pretty much identical to the Guaranti Express VIP service--you can wait in an air conditioned waiting room, you get a cake or sandwich, a soft drink, and they play music videos on the bus.

Well, that was my two days.  It was pretty relaxing.  A lot of walking and reading Le Zahir.

Thursday, December 11, 2008 7:42 Cameroon local time

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

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

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

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

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

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

Second Full Day In Calabar

I didn't have much planned for Sunday--just hopefully find an internet cafe. My parents are probably starting to worry a little bit and a blog update would help them sleep a bit better. So I headed out. There is an internet cafe up by Freddy's and the Paradise City and other hotels on the way to the airport. Also, I wanted to see how much the car to Ikom would cost and the motor park is on the way. So off I went. I had to get through this parade of people going to church. Man, Calabar is religious. Insanely religious. If the Africans spent as much time educating themselves in science and math as in God and Jesus, they'd be G7. Though I must say, all religious talk here centers on the same few themes--God loves you, Jesus loves you--not much else really. Listening to these preachers--and they are everywhere so you can't not listen--is really tedious. It's the same thing over and over and over just with slight differences. Tell a preacher here that he can't talk about how much Jesus and God love you, and he'll be speechless.
I got to the motor park and entered. There were tons of cars all with wooden signs on their roofs saying "Calabar to ...". I found the Ikom one without much effort. It costs N1200 (US$10) for the 3 hour trip. I asked if there was a person there who could change money to Central African CFA. They said the bank could do it. Hmm... Really? OK. Anyway, I knew what it would cost to get to Ikom near the Cameroonian border. I went passed the mosque hoping a Muslim Hausa money changer would ask if I needed change, but nobody did. Then I just headed up toward the internet cafe.

Unfortunately, since I left the hotel, one thing was becoming obvious. Calabar shuts down on Sunday morning so people can drink their Jesus juice. I made it pretty far north and turned around and came back. I was out for a few hours in the hot sun and needed a rest. I rested a good while back in my room and then in the late afternoon headed out to the Chester Bar in the Metropolitan Hotel. IT was so delightfully cool and the beer was so delightfully refreshing. I read my French version of Veronika Décide à Mourir. A British sounding guy was reading a Robert Ludlum novel--not of the Bourne Identity ones but another one. So there were 2 white guys sitting at a bar reading in Nigeria.

After 2 beers it was starting to get late and I headed back toward the Nelbee. I stopped in Mac Bite, the local fast food place. I got in the "line" at the register and watched as an electric wire on one of their pieces of equipment started to spark and smoke. That was cool. Then I ordered an order of fries and 2 egg rolls. After I got that I went outside to their shawarma stand and got a beef shawarma. While I was waiting, the girl cooking the chicken sneezed on the beef laying out there, so I was happy that she already put my beef into the pita and was warming it up now.
I was extremely tired when I got back and it took all my effort to eat as much of the cold fries and the beef shawarma as possible. I didn't finish it all. Then I just layed there like a beached whale until the generator came on a little after 6 and I could feel some AC. Once I had a little energy, I rigged up my rope and mosquito net since the Nelbee has mosquitoes.
Then I drifted off to sleep.

Tuesday, November 25, 2008 14:54 Cameroon local time

Full Day In Abomey

I got up a bit late since I still have a mild cold. I finally left at about 10 and walked downtown and then headed north to the Musée Historique d'Abomey. But when I got there, I had a problem. I did have a CFA 1000 and a CFA 2000 bill, but I wasn't willing to use them because after those, I had nothing but CFA 10000 bills left. Already one place didn't want the CFA 10000 because he couldn't make change. So I went in and when the ticket woman came, I handed her the CFA 10000 bill. She said she didn't have small bills. I told her I didn't have any either. Finally I said I might came back later. I left. I wandered around the downtown looking for places where I change the CFA 10000 into something smaller. The gas station guy wouldn't do it. The banks were closed because it was Saturday. Finally, I went back to the Motel d'Abomey and ordered a beer. As the expensive hotel in town, it would have larger amounts of all denominations. I ordered a small Castel beer for CFA 850. That gave me a CFA 5000 and 2 CFA 2000 notes.

I headed back to the museum having lost an hour. I still wasn't going to pay the CFA 2500 entrance fee with with of my CFA 2000 notes. I was back an hour later and I gave her a CFA 5000 bill. She wasn't happy. But she took it and wrote that they owed me CFA 2500 on the back of the ticket. I went in and a tour had just started. It was in French and I didn't get much but I got some. It's an interesting museum. It was the palace of some of the Dahomey kings. They were a blood thirsty lot. There are several buildings with these high relief depictions of various things. One king has decapitations, killings, torturing, and other such bloody scenes. The last one we saw was of a horse with a necklace with the head of the enemy hanging in front. The tour guide and a couple of the women in the large tour group sang a song that is probably about that event. There would be another depiction of a horse with the enemy head necklace in another place as well. We saw all sorts of things. There is a throne on top of 4 skulls of vanquished enemies. The tour guide kept telling jokes but I didn't get them. But the people on the tour were having a good time. We went to the mausoleum of one king. We had to take off our shoes and socks and went in. There was a bed and just to the right of the bed, a cloth on the floor. Another smaller cloth was a meter of two away from the larger cloth in the ground. I assume the cloth covers the grave. I'm not sure what the smaller cloth is for. The tour was quite long. Over an hour. But it was interesting.

At the end, I went to the front desk and presented the IOU. The tour guide was there and she had to come up with the CFA 2500 from her personal cash. This museum really needs to be able to make change for tickets. It is a UNESCO World Heritage site and gets lots of visitors.

I was pretty wiped out since I still am fighting a cold so I went to have a water and a beer at the local place I went to the previous night. I sat there and after a while a 20-25 year old cute Asian girl came in. She looked for the owner who was sleeping. I tried to get her attention to point him out, but she got on her phone and started talking with someone. I heard her say "moshi-moshi" as she walked over to a table on the other side of the place. She made some more phone calls and then started writing stuff into an organizer.

I decided that I would try to talk to her. But I'm not good at approaching random women and just starting to talk. I suck at it. I was trying to figure out what to say. I was trying to remember the word for "to reside" but I couldn't. Then, as if it wasn't me, I observed myself get up out of my chair and start to walk over. It was like a part of me was acting while the other part was still trying to figure out what was happening. There is a small wall between her and the area I was in. I leaned on the wall and said "sumimasen, Nihon no kata desu-ka." She turned to me, a mixture of shock and delight on her face. That put me at ease. Certainly the last thing she expected was some random white guy coming up to her and speaking to her in Japanese in Abomey, Benin. She is a JICA volunteer. It's like the Japanese Peace Corps. I got the lowdown in it from some Peace Corps people. JICA is better funded and the qualifications necessary to get into the JICA program are much stricter for the volunteers, so they are the cream of the crop. We chatted for a while. There are 3 JICA volunteers in Abomey. She works with handicapped children and is 2 months into a 2 year stay. I told her about where I lived. She is from Nagoya, so we lived in the same area. I have been to Nagoya many many many times. After a while she had to meet other people so we parted. It was nice to have another chance to speak Japanese.

I returned to my room and rested for a while. Then for dinner I decided to got to The Source--a place with cous-cous an chicken. It was a long walk to get there. I didn't think it would be so long. It came with a big helping of cous-cous and chicken in onion and tomato. It was pretty good and with two small Castels, only CFA 3300 (US$6.60). I walked back and fell asleep in front of the oscillating fan.

Sunday, November 9, 2008 Benin local time

Porto Novo To Abomey

I got up late in Porto Novo and headed to the gare routière which is close to the Hotel Détente. I asked about the car to Abomey and they told me I have to show up 5am or 6am to get a car to Abomey. If I want to get to Abomey, I would have to go to Cotonou and get a car to Abomey there. OK. So I returned to the hotel, packed up, and headed out.

The car to Cotonou was a 6 person car, but since I was the first, I had the option of buying both front seat tickets for CFA 1400 instead of one for CFA 700. It would be more comfortable, we'd have one less person to wait for, and it's only US$1.40 more. Besides, these guys weren't charging me for my luggage. So I agreed. The wait wasn't that long except that the beggars all came up to me asking for money. I gave some to a few of them and then more came and I stopped. The beggars didn't stop. Finally, we drove away. About an hour later we were at the Marché Dantokpa in Cotonou. My fear was that I'd have to find another gare (Gare Misébo) for the cars to Abomey, but they had cars to Abomey right there. A guy led to me them and was delighted with the CFA 500 coin I gave him. Now I just had wait for one more person. And it was a long wait. About an hour.

I chatted with a guy named Benjamin for most of that hour. He is Beninois but lives in Port Harcourt Nigeria in the canteen for GE. It was fun to talk to him. He's a nice guy. He doesn't understand why white people do trips like this. He also doesn't my no sex in Africa policy. He thinks I should partake of the local ladies.

He was waiting for a friend coming from Abomey and his friend arrived so we said goodbye and then soon my car was ready to go. The road to Abomey is half bad and half under construction. It took about 3 hours to get there. Once there, I got a moto-taxi to go the hotel I chose--Vulcain. It's pretty basic. CFA 5500 (US$11) per night gets you a room with a concrete floor, shower with a bucket, a fan, mosquito net, and a desk. The toilet is a small room in another building with a 20cm x 20cm square hole in the floor. As it is a bar, I asked for a water and a beer, but it took a long time for them to come and when they did, they weren't very cold. So I went out to find another place. There is a place just to the north. I asked if he had cold beer. My suspicion was that the Vulcain people came here to get the beer and water so maybe it wouldn't be cold here either. I asked if I could touch the bottle. It was cold. So I stayed. I had a couple while an old man came and sat with me. He had these huge red glasses that didn't fit his face at all. I suspect they are a pair of old glasses donated by a woman to poor countries--probably not long after Sally Jesse Raphael went off the air. I didn't understand much of what he said, but we managed to communicate a little bit. He had a Coca-Cola. Three school girls--maybe late teens--were at a table behind me listening to our conversation. I suspect that not many white people wind up at this particular establishment. I noticed that there were a lot of school girls. They all wear these beige uniforms. Education seems to a priority in Abomey. Finally it was getting dark, so I headed to the restaurant of the Motel d'Abomey where I had chicken curry. I was the only customer for a while, but at the end, people started coming in. When I left, it was dark, so I kept a lookout for holes in the ground as I had seen a couple on the way over. I avoided them and made it back safely.

Saturday, November 8, 2008 10:12 Benin local time

Cotonou To Porto Novo And Porto Novo

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Second Full Day In Cotonou: Visiting Midrange Hotels Saying "J'ai besoin de une chambre pour mardi soir avec un televiseur avec CNN et l'internet"

Saturday morning. I slept in a bit. I felt like I was sleeping longer than usual, but my window was open and I wasn't hearing the usual noises outside. Africans wake up early. After a while of seeming daylight I checked my watch. 8:30. I guess Cotonou sleeps in on Saturday. I left around 9.

I have one goal today: find a place where I can stay up all night Tuesday night watching election returns on CNN. But first I needed a coffee and a pastry. After all, I am in Francophone Africa. I went to the Gerbe d'Or but I didn't realize there was un upstairs. So I got a chausson aux pommes to go which I ate. Then I remembered there was a place a block south of my hotel called Caramel that was a pâtissierie and it had a pretty middle eastern looking woman who appeared to be an employee talking on a cellphone a day before. I went there. I got a croissant and a pretty good coffee. While I was there, every single Lebanese person living in Cotonou must have come to buy something. It was a constant stream of Lebanese (I think--the Lebanese are all over Africa) people coming and buying something to go and leaving.

Then, it was time to start my quest for a place to watch the election. I decided to try the Hôtel du Lac first. It is right across the Ancien Pont. I crossed the north side of the bridge. A mistake. It's a long way if you cross on the north side. Going to the south side on the west side is the much better way to get to the south. I got the Hôtel du Lac and entered the lobby. Heavenly air-conditioning and crisp satellite TV showing! I went to the desk and told them what I wanted. They seemed to have everything I needed except one thing: a vacancy. Yikes! The place was crawling with white French people. I don't know what they are doing here, but they are there at the Hôtel du Lac. And they are using up all the rooms.

That wasn't quite what I wanted to hear. My second choice--Hôtel du Port in the middle of the container port. A bit of a hike, but I've walked further. I arrived dripping with sweat. But again, the lobby had wonderful AC and a TV with satellite. I asked about the room with a TV with CNN and internet. The woman said they have a room, but the CNN had problems and sometimes they can't get CNN. Hmmm.... Not the answer I want--I can't get a room and then not have CNN. I decided to head back downtown.

There is a very small hotel complex called the Tramway Hotel. Their sign said they have internet and satellite TV. I popped in. The desk girl was very helpful. We soon figured out that her English is better than my French. She said that they have CNN but not internet but that we might be able to arrange internet because her boss has it in his office. I tentatively reserved the room and said I'd come back and cancel if I found one with CNN and internet.

Next I decided to look at a new hotel called the Prince Hotel. But within half a block I decided it didn't have much promise. Next, my neighboring hotel which gets high marks from Lonely Planet for professionalism--the Vickinfel Hotel. The guy there said they have CNN, but the internet comes and goes.

Next I went down to the Riviera Hotel, a big modern hotel with a nice cool modern lobby. Again, I repeated my request. Again, they have everything I need except a vacancy, but she told me to ask again on Monday.

So I visited 5 midrange hotels and each either had spotty CNN or internet or no vacancies. Who knew that Cotonou could have so much business for midrange hotels? Actually the midrange hotels are all crawling with white people. By now I was hot and pretty wet though I can't imagine I was still sweating. I headed back to O' Grille where I knew I could get huge beers or CFA 1200. And I chugged half the first beer in one gulp. Then a few glasses of the water. With over half a liter of water and a quarter of a liter of beer consumed in less than a minute, I was finally starting to feel right. I got the quarter chicken again and after a couple more beers and a couple more chapters of Le Démon et Mademoiselle Prym, I asked for my check. The check was for CFA 3400 and included just one beer. I told the guy "J'ai bu trois bieres" and he said something in French I didn't understand. I gave him CFA 5000 and told him to keep the change.

There is something I noticed in Seattle. When a bartender sees me a few times, he or she will often hand me a bill short a beer. I suspect it is to see if I am counting and if so, will the money from the free beer be shared. And I do count and I do share. This leads to more missed beers and more sharing and then to free beers on the bartender. It's a sort of way of stickin' it to "da man" (or da woman in one case) with plausible deniability, I guess. And I'm all too happy to play. It benefits everyone in the end--even da man.

So I figured it was just that. Then as I walking out, the guy called me back. He realized his error. He needed CFA 900 more. I gave him CFA 1000. To bad. His nice tip turned into twenty cents.

It was starting to get late so I stayed in the rest of the night.

Saturday, November 1, 2008 20:44 Benin local time

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

Lomé, Togo To Cotonou, Benin

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lomé To Cotonou: NOT!

I had reservations with Emperor Tours for a CFA 6000 (US$12) bus to Cotonou, Benin for the 10am minibus on Wednesday. It wasn't exactly what I wanted, but close enough. I wanted a bush taxi that leaves in the morning because the Lonely Planet says Cotonou starts getting dangerous in the late afternoon--at least that's when you shouldn't be walking around. It's supposed to be about a 3 hour trip, so that would put me in about 1pm. Plenty of time to make it safely to a hotel and do a little exploring before the 5pm knives comes out.

But this day was not to be one of those days that goes according to plan.

I loaded myself up with all my gear and started the long walk to the Emperor Tours office close to where the Circular Boulevard hits the beach. About halfway there there is my usual internet cafe which is the best one I found in Lomé but whose computers aren't able to let me use my fly-by-night email client (webmail.mailtrust.com). About half the internet cafés let me use it fully, one quarter let me receive but not send, and one quarter puke even on the receiving part. My intention was to just check fivethirtyeight.com for my latest reality check. But I decided to check my email as well. I only had a few minutes but maybe there would something interesting.

Oh boy! A problem. Elena had asked me about a week ago if I could renew her insurance on my secure laptop so she wouldn't have to enter information into a cybercafé computer. I still had a few days in Accra and the Busy Internet cafe has a Laptop Alley where you can connect your laptop and be as secure as you want to be. I agreed. But that was with 3 days left in Accra. Now I was already 3 days in Lomé and Lomé ain't Accra. It's like comparing Kelowna with Victoria. I had no way of sending email. I had to write on Elena's facebook wall, but I wouldn't know if she would look at her facebook so I had to ask people to send her an email to look at her facebook. Yikes. The problem is that her insurance would expire in 2 days and the email warning her of the impending expiration said she had to renew before it expires.

I was all flustered. I left my sunglasses there by accident and headed to the bus station. I got there and put down my stuff. I asked if they knew when the bus would come. Actually not until about 10:30. Whew! I was sweating like a pig and about 3 blocks away is a place called Festival de Glaces which is AC'ed to the max inside. I had time to get a pastry and a coffee and let their AC suck all that heat out of me. And I had extra sweat because I was worried about Elena's insurance. I know that she isn't in internet connectivity heaven either and I hoped she wasn't counting on me to be able to be able to help her. I cooled off a bit and went back to the Emperor tours office. There the woman told me that there are 2 buses--a big bus and a little bus. While the little bus is CFA 6000 (US$12), the big bus is CFA 16000 (US$32) and only the big bus was coming today. Oh my. CFA 16000 normally gets you all the way across an African country. But the trip to Cotonou is like a 3 hour trip. I took it in and sat down. Did I misunderstand? Maybe she meant CFA 1600 (US$3.20). I asked. Nope. She added that you get food. Food? For CFA 16000 I better get a Pastis as an apertif, a shrimp cocktail as an entrée, a steak as a plat--with a glass of French red wine, and a dessert like Crème Brulée with espresso. I asked if the CFA 6000 bus would leave the next day. She said it would. I said that the CFA 16000 was way to cher and I'd be back tomorrow.

So I walked back to the Hôtel du Boulevard. I got back and had a little trouble explaining that I had actually checked out already, but that I wanted to cancel the checkout and extend my stay one more day. I was by now sweating like Niagara Falls. I got out a handkerchief and wiped off the drops of sweat that were falling on their desk. I got my key back and went back up. They hadn't cleaned it yet so it looked like before. I put my soaking shirt on the underpowered fan and tried to dry it. Not to much avail. Then I went down. The girl who works there teased me a little bit because my passport picture (235 lbs.) looks so different from the current me (150 lbs.). That's a kind of teasing I can take. :-) An sustained 85 lb. weight loss is something to be proud of. I went out.

My goal: find a better internet cafe with better computers to see if I could help Elena. I tried one. It was actually one of the worst cafe clients ever. You can't even minimize windows without lots of rigmarole to get them back--which wouldn't be so bad with Firefox tabbed browsing but sucks monkey balls with Internet Explorer's one page per Window. The next cafe was similar to the one I usually go to but worse. It was obvious that Elena was going to have to renew her insurance on her own.

Finally I gave up. I stopped at a place right by my hotel called Nopegali Boulevard or Nopegali V.I.P. I'm not sure if they are the same. I sat a long time before a firl came to take my order. Then I sat a long time before deciding to give up and left without ever receiving my water and beer. And I wanted a beer to calm my nerves because I didn't know if Elena would get to a computer in time to renew her insurance. I was pretty sure I told her I could help if I was still in Accra, but that was a week ago.

I went back down the street to Brochettes sur la Capital and got 4 brochettes and a beer which I knew to be ice cold--and it was. I had another.

I walked by a book store and got an old l'Express and Paulo Coelho's Le Démon et Mademoiselle Prym. The Nigerian guy from the day before was there. We chatted briefly.

Then I headed to the Bena Grille which is a German restaurant attached to the Marox supermarket (actually a bit less than a Seven-Eleven except with a butcher). The menu of the Beni was in German first, then French, then English. The waitress spoke some English and asked if I was American or German. I wonder if my accent doesn't identify me as American. When I hear a German speak English, I know he or she is German. Same with French. But people in Africa often don't recognize my accent as American or they pretend not to. I got a veal in sauce. When it came it looked like the meal I had at the Come Inn in Gambia. But this meat didn't have the consistency of shredded tires. It was tender. But it made me think back to that night of projectile vomiting after the Come Inn beef stroganoff.

I had plans for that night in The Gambia. I wasn't just disappointed that I lost a night to projectile vomiting. I was disappointed that I lost a golden opportunity. I had AC for the first time in a long time, and more than that, I had a pillow similar to an American pillow. American pillows differ from African pillows. The main difference is that an American pillow is basically the size and shape of a human torso. You can cuddle with an American pillow. You can hold the pillow as you would hold a girl who you like. You can close your eyes and turn the pillow into her. You can squeeze her and feel her. And lose yourself in her. The Carlton Hotel in Banjul is one of the only places in Africa that has pillows that fit that use. And my 3 bouts of projectile vomiting cost me that opportunity--an opportunity not had since then.

That ended the night. I walked home rather uneventfully except for seeing a woman carrying a 4' diameter tray on her head loaded with stuff. Two feet in diameter is nothing. Three feet in diameter is a little adventurous. But a four foot diameter tray balanced on a woman's head is just spectacular.

Thursday, October 30, 2008 21:37 Benin local time

Lomé Is Really Nice

I woke up early and headed out. Since my plan was that would be only full day in Lomé and Togo, goal #1 is to get postcards to the nieces so they have a complete set. The post office is pretty easy to find and it didn't take long to get there. I peeked inside. Some post offices sell postcards inside; some don't. This one didn't. There was a postcard vendor right across the street. So I got a couple of postcards. Now, to fill them out. I had seen the previous night a cool looking place on the Boulevard close to the intersection where I turned to get the post office. It is called Case du Café, Route des Vins or something like that. I figured I'd go there and have a coffee and a croissant and fill in the post cards.

I entered. It was not quite what I expected. It was very swanky. I was greeted by a woman wearing the shortest shirt I've seen since arriving in Africa. The place is not big at all and they had no pastries. I sat down. They have coffees. In fact, you can choose the country whose beans you want. I got Colombian beans for an espresso. There were a couple of Frenchmen who I suspect were the owners. They have various wines and apertifs and Belgian beers. All priced for the swanky set. A place for people who know their liquids and care. My espresso was good. They have a big screen TV and turned on the French news. The other girl (the one not in the microskirt) asked me "Êtes-vous français?" "Non, je suis Americain." "So you speak English?" "Yes." "I thought you weren't French from your accent"--and, I'm sure, by the fact that I can barely speak it especially after 2 weeks in Ghana. She said it was good that I make an effort. We chatted a bit. I decided I'd go back later in the evening for a nice relaxing glass of wine. While they don't have food, they do have cheese plates. Nice. I also decided that I like Lomé and considered the logistics of getting myself to Niamey by the election. I decided I can stay one more day and make a 13-15 hour trip from Cotonou directly to Niamey rather than break it into 2 trips. My postcards done, I paid CFA 900 for the CFA 800 (US$1.60) cup of coffee and went back to the post office.

The post office in Lomé is a bit chaotic. I didn't get the window system. I stood in one line, but it seemed to be for banking services. Then I saw a description of window #8, the other window. It had "Bienvenue à Guichet No 8" on a sheet of paper taped to the inside of the glass and among the services listed was "Vente: timbres". That's the window I want. I stood in the chaotic crowd in front of the window. Finally the guy pointed at me and I worked my way through the crowd and showed him my postcards. He asked if I wanted stamps. "Oui." He pointed to another window in the Western Union money transfer section of the office and told me to go there. I pointed at the "Vente: timbres" thing on the paper with a confused look, but the other people in the crowd understanding my confusion told me too that I had to go to the other window. So I went to that window and got stamps. Gee. I got them sent, though.

Next I walked down the rest of the radius to the center of Lomé and the beach. I turned east and went back to the semi-circle that is the Boulevard. I was getting hot and went into an ice-cream parlor, La Festival des Glaces or something like that. It was refreshingly air-conditioned. I got a large coffee, orange juice, and chausson aux pommes. It was good. The place has a security guard. The guard actually frisked one guy on the way out. When I left he didn't frisk me, though. I walked the semi-circle stopping into 3 internet cafés until I found one that had seats. Then I surfed the web for 2 hours. Status quo in the election. Good news. Sarah Palin making off-message and unauthorized comments on her wardrobe keeping it in the news for another precious news-cycle. I guess she doesn't understand how the news system works. It's not intuitive at all. I didn't understand it until I read the fascinating collaboration of James Carville and Mary Matalin, Alls Fair, one of the most interesting books on political campaigning. Anyone who doesn't understand the importance of message discipline needs to read that book. Sarah Palin hasn't read it, I guess. Either she doesn't care about message discipline or she has given up on the election and is trying to salvage her own image at the expense of McCain's campaign. Either way, I'm happy to see it.

Next, I was a bit hungry so I went to a place called Brochettes sur la Capital. I ordered a Star which turned out to be ice cold (much appreciated) and after some effort, since they don't have menus, a brochette sandwich. Brochettes are pieces of meat on sticks cooked over fire. Like yakitori but without the sauce. Brochettes sur la Capital is an outdoor place and it one of those places that doesn't mind if the ambulant merchants come in and sell to customers. I wasn't interested in much, but then a guy showed me Shrek 3. Interested. I took a look at it. It was a French edition. I looked at the back. They listed French as the language and French subtitles. But no English. I told him I couldn't buy it if it didn't actually say English. He argued that the movie was in English and French was on option. But I wasn't willing to buy unless it explicitly said English. We opened it to see if it was written on the DVD. Nope. Then I looked at the back. Actually, the language wasn't French, rather the lanugage was French. And it wasn't subtitled in French but rather subitled in French. Hmmm.... This smacks of pirated copy. I don't think the actual makers of the real Shrek DVD have misspellings on their packages. I'll never understand why spammers and pirates don't run the grammar and spelling by a native speaker. But they don't and I'm happy. The poor guy had to go away without making a sale. He sent in another DVD vendor most likely telling him I required that the existence of an English soundtrack be written on the box. I looked through his stuff. Half of his stuff was hardcore porn which he tried to promote a bit--probably suspecting I wouldn't care what language that was in. But I didn't want it. In the end he had nothing I wanted either. I paid my bill and headed off to the Musée National.

The Musée National has an entrance fee of CFA 1000 (US$2). I gave them a CFA 5000 note and they said they'd give me change later. I had them write the credit on the ticket--something I started doing since my stay at the Date Hotel in Accra. I did it too at the Busy Internet cafe in Accra and the Hôtel du Boulevard in Lomé. When you ask for that, they take it seriously. The Hôtel du Boulevard and the Musée National both got me change quickly and canceled out the written credit on the paper I they had given me.

The woman asked if I needed a guide and I told her I didn't-I could speak a little French but I read it pretty well. The exhibit descriptions are all in French. It starts with a description of Togolese iron age metallurgy. Nice! It might the Museum of Natural History, but I think it is the New York Metropolitan Museum of Art that has a nice exhibit on African Iron Age metallurgy. The Met exhibit is a bit more extensive and gives more of an overview while the Togolese exhibit goes more into the regional differences in the bellows which is the most important part of the forge. The Met exhibit focused more on iron wire as an end product while the Togolese exhibit focused more on hammered metal objects. So the two exhibits complement each other beautifully. Of course I'm biased. My first summer job obtained by sending out fifty resumes after my sophomore year got me one offer--from a steel mill writing lockout-tagout procedures for mechanical systems. So I got an intimate look at the fascinating steel industry. So my interest in metal is a bit more intense than that of most people. The rest of the exhibit was about pottery, musical instruments, and items used for rituals. Then downstairs was a smaller exhibit room with a little section on slavery and a little section with the leaders of Togo from teh first Germans before WWI to the British between WWI and WWII and the French after WWII until 1960 when the locals took over. A very nice and interesting museum. Worth every CFA--as long as you can read French.

Monday, October 27, 2008 17:43 Togo local time

Accra, Ghana To Lomé, Togo: It's Fun Again!

I got up and went to check out of the Date Hotel at about 8am. The guy from 2 days ago was at the desk. Two days ago, I told him I'd like to reserve a room from the December 12th through the 15th. He said he'd make a note of it. When I checked out, he asked me if I still needed a reservation. "Yes, from December 12th to December 15th". There is a calendar on the wall. He flipped to the December page and drew a circle around the 12th of December. I thanked him. But somehow, I don't really trust their reservation system. I hope they have vacancies when I return to Accra.

Then I headed out. I didn't have to walk more than a block when a taxi came by. GH¢3 to Tudu station. We made it to Tudu and people started shouting city names through the window. The Lomé guy pointed us to the Lomé section. I was expecting a minibus, but actually it a car holding 4 people. Better than a sept-place since you only need to wait for 3 other people. And I was already the third. The tickets are GH¢9. Not too bad. The station people grabbed my luggage from the taxi and hauled it across the street and placed it into the trunk of the car. I got in and waited. The 2 guys who hauled my luggage came and asked for something. I gave one guy GH¢1 and told them it was for both of them. But the guy took off as soon as he had the bill leaving his compatriot. This guy then asked for something. I told him he should get his half from the other guy. "But he's already gone." "I told you guys it was for the both of you." "Can't just just give me a little something? It's Sunday." Oh yeah, appeal to the religious sense of an atheist. Ha! "Sorry, but I'm not going to pay GH¢2 to have my luggage carried across the street." He kept trying, but no luck. In the end, he wouldn't get anything. Sorry guy.

It was only about another 5 minutes when a fourth guy came and we were off. Probably not even 8:30. It's about 185 km to Aflao which is the border town a couple of kilometers from Lomé which is practically where the Togo-Ghana border meets the Atlantic Ocean. I had moved to the middle seat since the last guy looked kind of big and probably would suffer there more than I would. It was pretty uncomfortable. The road was pretty good for the first half. Then we started encountering potholes and construction. There were even some places where the locals fill in the potholes with dirt and then shout at the passing cars to give them some money for the effort. Our driver didn't. The police checkpoints weren't a problem. We were just waived through half of them and we didn't even stop at the other half. Finally about about 11, we got to the border.

The car was surrounded by people. Two women moved my luggage into a basket. I went to grab a piece and the woman grabbed it and moved it to her other side. "Why can't I have my luggage?" I guy asked if I needed a taxi to Lomé. "Yes. How much does it cost?" It became apparent this was a team. Two men--one in a white robe--and two women. The guy in the white robe was doing the talking. "We'll decide on that later." Ah ha!

If West Africa is dinosaurs, then Ghana is Barney and Francophone Africa is Jurassic Park. I was among velociraptors again. Yay! No more big purple dinosaurs! It felt good. Yes, it's frustrating and expensive, but it's a lot more fun going mano à mano with T. rex. Travel in West Africa out side of Ghana is a contact sport. It's the black team vs. the white team. The black team knows the rules (and changes them as it goes along) and the white team is still figuring them out. The object of the game: the black team tries to get as much money as possible from the white team using any means necessary short of theft.

We were close to the border. I could see the two border posts. "I won't pay more than GH¢1 for all the luggage" I said causing one women to dump her load on the other woman. I guess she thought I wouldn't be good pickings. They asked if I need CFA. I told them I had enough. We walked toward the Ghana police. I went up and filled out a card. A woman looked it over and then sent me into an office with the card and my passport where I got my exit stamp.

Then we went over to Ghana immigration. I handed the guard my passport. "Are you going to Bamako?" he asked. Bamako? "No, I said, I'm going to Lomé." "Will you be returning to Bamako?" "No." "Will you be returning to Accra?" "Yes, by plane from Douala, Cameroon." "Accra is great, isn't it?" he asked proudly. I smiled. "Yes it is." Then he let me through. Then I realized that I didn't have sunglasses. I went back to look for them, but couldn't find them. Oh well.

Now it was off to Togo. The guy in the white robe said that we had to go through Togo customs. And that would take 1 CFA. I said I didn't understand. He said I would 1 CFA to clear customs. I told him one CFA is worth practically nothing and he needed to tell me what he meant. He asked me "do you know CFA?" "Yes, I've been to Senegal, Guinea-Bissau, Mali, and Burkino Faso. I know CFA. I don't know what you mean by 1 CFA." "Ten CFA." "Ten CFA? I still don't know what you mean." "Ten thousand CFA. We need ten thoudand CFA to get through customs." He was doing Cedi math. In Ghana, there are two money systems, the Cedi and the Ghana Cedi. A Ghana Cedi is equal to exactly 10000 Cedi. He was saying 1 CFA when he meant 10000 CFA.

Of course, CFA 10000 is like US$20 and there's no way that I would need to pay that to get through customs. We went up to the Togo police. I filled out a paper form with parents names' being the oddest question though I've had to answer that one several times so far. But mostly straightforward stuff. Then they gave me my stamp.

I went out and they directed me to a taxi just before Togo customs. The people carrying my baggage put it into the trunk. OK, now how much for the cab ride? "3000 CFA" he said. "No that's too high. I'll pay no more than CFA 2000." "They wouldn't budge." "Fine," I said. I tried to pay the baggage woman GH¢1 and she wouldn't take it. "That's no good," she sneered. The guy in the white robe said I needed to pay more. "I told you way back there that I wouldn't pay more than GH¢1 for all the baggage." "We had to wait for you a long time at the border stops." It didn't take any longer than it would take anyone else. "No!" I said, "If you needed more than GH¢1 for the luggage then the time to tell me was back when I said I wasn't willing to pay more than GH¢1 for all the luggage." "Just a little more." "The time to negotiate this was over way back there! It's finished!" I got into the back seat where they had opened the door. "Just a little bit more," he asked. I reached into my pocket and got out another GH¢1. I held one in each hand. I made him beg for it about 2 more times telling him that the same stuff over again. In the end I suppose he thought he won since he just had to beg for GH¢1 for about 2 minutes while I told him that he wasn't doing business properly. I felt pretty good because I got his hackles up. And they were up as I would soon find out.

We were just a few feet before the customs station. Then the guy in the white robe got in the front seat. "Wait a minute! What are you doing in here!?" He said he was going to help me through customs. I opened the door and got out. He got out. "No! I've been through customs in Senegal, Gambia, Guinea-Bissau, Guinea-Conakry,"--I ran out of breath and got lost--"and a few other places! I've done this before! And I've certainly never paid CFA10000 to any customs official! Ever!" I didn't tell me about the Faramoya customs guys who extorted €30 out of me, of course. I turned to the taxi driver. "Give me my stuff! I'm going to do this by myself!" The white robe guy realized he wasn't going to sucker me out of much more money. "OK" he said, "just get back into the cab and we'll call the customs guy over." The customs guy had been sitting there the whole time just watching this whole scene. The cab driver popped the trunk and he came over and looked at the contents for about 10 seconds. Then the trunk closed, the driver got in, and we started to take off.

I wasn't sure what was happening, but the cab driver and the guy in the white robe got into a shouting match. It lasted about a minute. I wasn't sure what this was about. But I was happy to see that the guy in the white robe wasn't having fun. Finally after a minute, the taxi driver passed him a few coins and started to drive away. Then guy in the white robe followed shouting some more with the driver. The drivers stopped again and handed over a few more coins. Then we were finally on our way.

"He wanted CFA1000 for bringing you to me. But I refused--I only gave him 400." So the guy in the white robe, the young man, and the woman made a total haul of GH¢2 and CFA400. Not much over US$2.50--and they had to scrap hard for that, even. The taxi driver got the best of it getting CFA 2600 to take me into Lomé. But, I was pretty happy. Back among the velociraptors. We were off to the Hôtel du Boulevard. We went along the beach. There are a lot of people on the beach--not sunbathing or swimming. Just sort of loitering. We went all along the beach until we got the far end of the boulevard and turned up to my hotel. Lomé has an interesting setup. The Boulevard is a semicircular street that takes about 30 minutes to walk from one end to the other. Pretty big. Then the beach road goes along the diameter. My hotel is on the Boulevard at the other end of Lomé.

We arrived. "Avez-vous une chambre pour deux nuits?" Yep, they have a room. Only CFA 6000 (US$12) per night. They took my passport to fill out the fîche for the police while I freshened up a bit and looked at the map in Lonely Planet to figure out what I would eat for lunch. It was getting close to noon. I went back down and paid and they commented that I was much much fatter in my passport picture.

Then I headed out and went along the Boulevard to the west. I got almost to the end and decided to stop in a place with a lot of people called Nopagali Plage or something like that. I got a Star. The woman asked if I wanted food. I said I would. She asked what I wanted. I asked if there was a menu. She shook her head. "Poulet, poisson, riz?" "Avez vous frites?" "Non." "OK, je voudrais poulet et riz." She asked something else but I didn't understand. Finally I guess she figured I'd just eat and pay for whatever she put in front of me. And that was my plan.

I had my journal and started writing into it and thinking about things. I noticed something interesting. I've been in West Africa for a bout 3 months now and for the first time, I'm beginning to find larger and larger numbers of women to be sexually attractive. I was never into the black girl look before. Of course, there the ones that are super-hot like Halle Barry. But she's part white so maybe she doesn't count. I don't know if it is just the time I've spent here or maybe because I came through Ghana where the women just look healthier than in the rest of Africa and basically lead a middle class lifestyle with middle class looks. Maybe since I'm now out of the Muslim area, the women act and dress more to American tastes. They certainly do a lot with their hair down here whereas in the Muslim countries they tend to cover their heads. One woman came in and went over to a table of men and one other woman she was meeting. She was gorgeous and had recently coiffed hair. Nice jewelry, perfect makeup. All the men in the place watched her come in and take her seat. She was hot. Later I saw a woman with a really neat hat. She was hot too. I ordered more beer. A group of three young women--maybe early 20's came in and sat at the table in front of me. They glanced over a few times and caught me checking them out. We all smiled.

There were ambulant merchants walking by. I was keeping my eyes out for one with sunglasses. Finally a guy with dozens of pairs of sunglasses came by. I jogged up to him. "J'ai besoin des lunettes de soliel." I found a pair I liked and he cleaned them for me. I tried them on. Not as dark as the other ones but when I stepped out of the shqde and into the sun, they seemed pretty good. He asked CFA 3500. I offered CFA 2500. We settled on CFA 3000 (US$6). While I was buying, another guy came up and bought a pair of sunglasses, too. A good stop for the vendor.

Finally, I paid my bill and headed out. There was a slight misunderstanding. I thought the bill was CFA 8000, but it was CFA 5000. So I didn't understand why I got so much change back. A happy misunderstanding.

I came back to my room to rest and then decided in the evening to go the other way. I went all the way to the other end where I stopped in a Chinese restaurant. I refused the eggrolls (nem in French) because they were CFA 2000 (US$4) and I'm sick of getting ripped off by overpriced a la carte things that should be cheap. I did get a CFA 1500 egg white soup, though. I also got sweet and sour pork and some spicy vegetables. It was pretty good, but not spectacular. The bill came to CFA 12000 or so (US$24). Now it was dark, but the Boulevard is lively and there is enough light to avoid falling into a hole. I passed one guy sleeping on the street. Lomé has muggings and pickpockets, but this won't be a target of them. He was buck naked. Not a stitch. No wallet, no shoes, nothing. I don't know what he does when he's not sleeping, but he sure doesn't seem like a guy with a lot of options. I made it back and tried to sleep with my underpowered fan whispering air onto me.

Monday, October 27, 2008 8:04 Togo local time

Hangover

Well, when you drink beer while reading The Economist and don't stop drinking until you stop reading, you have a lot to drink. So it should come as no surprise that the next day I nursed a hangover. I only got up to go to the bathroom which I did multiple times as I have consumed a lot of 1.5 liter bottles of water over the past few days as well.

So I didn't get a ticket to Pô as I intend. I didn't even go into the hotel common area for food or drink. I just slept and rested.

This morning I got up feeling much much better. I headed out at about 7 to get a ticket to Pô from STMB. On the way in, some guy started talking with me in French that was too fast for me to get it. He tried to help me get a ticket to Pô, but I knew what I was doing and didn't need or want his help. I got a ticket for the 7:30 Monday morning bus.

The reason I chose Pô is that there are 2 ways to get to Ghana: a bus straight to one of the big cities, or taxi hopping from Pô. And frankly, everything has been running too smoothly in Burkina Faso, so I want to do it the harder way. A ticket to Pô is CFA 3500 (US$7). Lonely Planet said that there are 5 busses per day to Pô from STMB, but in fact there are only 2--at7:30 and 16:00.

After that, I decided to upgrade my hotel for my last night. The Auberge de Mangieurs is pretty close to the Pavillon Vert but a bit nicer. So I got a room there for not much more--CFA 10000 vs. CFA 7000 (US$20 vs US$14). I get my own bathroom and shower and the beds are nicer and the rooms are bigger and better lit.

So once I was moved in, I decided to head to the Marina Market to see if they had yogurt. My stomach was uneasy from not eating anything, so I figured it would be good to start with yogurt. On the way there, though, you have to run the merchant gauntlet. And who was one of those merchants? The guy who tried to help me buy a ticket for Pô. He kept talking about taking me to the station for the bus to Pô. I told him "je déjà connais où se trouve la gare." I was annoyed that this guy was broadcasting my travel plans to everyone--like he was bragging that he helped me get a ticket to Pô. Finally as I was about to leave his territory, he asked "où vas tu?" I replied with a half annoyed/half angry "pour quoi?" And he wished me good bye. I don't get why these people always want to know where I'm going--it's frankly not their freaking business.
The Marina Market is nice. Most of the shoppers are expats. You could pretty easily be an expat in Ouagadougou with a market like this. The only thing it was missing is peanut butter. Oh well. Maybe in Ghana. I bought a Snicker's bar for CFA 800 (US$1.60), some Barbeque flavored Kracks which come in a Pringles like can and are shaped like Pingles but taste more like saddle shaped cardboard (actually they are made in China so they probably actually are cardboard since cardboard is cheaper than potatoes). I got a tub of strawberry yogurt, some little chocolate chip cookies, and 2 rounds of Laughing Cow. The total came to just under $10.
Then I headed back trying to keep the bag in my shadow so the yogurt would stay as cool as possible. When I was almost back to the hotel, a guy, Alex, stopped me and told me I had looked at his store but had promised to buy something or something like that. I'm not sure exactly. I told him I could look, but first I needed to eat. I entered the hotel and noticed something I would have to eventually deal with--a Tuareg merchant sitting on a blanket surrounded by jewelry. Oh when will it stop?!

I had my yogurt and some other stuff. After I ate that, I went out and had a Fanta and read a little of La route and The Road. While I was reading, the brother of the guy came and asked me to come out. I pointed at my cold drink and told him I had a cold drink. Like I want my drink to get warm while some merchant who isn't going to sell me anything anyway shows me all the stuff I'm not going to buy. Finally I finished and went out.

I started off by telling them "Je ne peux acheter rien." No problem--just look. So I told them "je peux regarder, mais je ne peux pas acheter rien." They tried to tell me I should something "to encourage l'artistes." They were clever. They weren't asking me to "buy" anything but rather do something to encourage the artists. LOL. I kept repeating that I can't buy anything. The Tuareg jewelry merchant was there watching. I finally told them "J'ai voyagé en Afrique depuis Juin. J'ai visité Maroc, Senegal, Gambie, Guinée-Bissau, Guinée-Conakry, Sierra Leone, Mali, et Burkina. J'ai déjà rencontré centaines et centaines des marchands. Chaque marchand me presse à acheter quelque chose. Je ne peux pas. Centaines et centaines des marchands. Je ne peux pas. Desolé." {For those who don't speak French, and those who do but think I don't, here is a translation: "I've been traveling in Africa since June. I've visited Morocco, Senegal, Gambia, Guinea-Bissau, Guinea, Sierra Leone, Mali and Burkina. I have already met hundreds and hundreds of merchants. Each merchant presses me to buy something. I can't. Hundreds and hundreds of merchants. I can't. I'm sorry. "} The guy seemed to understand. The Tuareg jewelry merchant was nodding like he understood as well. I wished the guy luck and headed back into the hotel. Then, as if he hadn't heard a thing, the Tuareg jewelry merchant invited me over to his blanket. I told him, "desolé mais j'ai rencontré centaines des Tuareg marchands de bijouterie en Mali et Maroc." I threw my hands up and refused to go look. One can only take so much.

I don't blame these guys. Most tourists come here for a couple weeks and then return home. They don't have to shlep the stuff they buy all across the entire length of West Africa. They'll stay in a few hotels in a few cities and only have a few moves. I move constantly. I'm not that short term tourist. They can't tell that my looking at me. Most of the tourists who come here can and do buy stuff. The prices are good once you figure out how to negotiate. But I simply cannot buy something from every high pressure merchant because there are just too many.

Sunday, October 12, 2008 13:08 Burkina Faso local time