It's Monday evening and I had an interesting day here in Bobo. It started when I left the hotel. Two people tried to tell me I owed CFA 650 (US$1.30) for a beer I drank yesterday. I had a beer but I paid for it--first by trying to pay with a CFA 2000 note and then with coins when he didn't have change--I think. Anyway, I headed out and went to the internet cafe for a couple hours of surfing and then to the Restaurant Dan Kan for lunch. The Dan Kan was good, but I now know to avoid the seats near the outside edge because the beggars stop by and ask for money. The inner part along the wall on the outside or the interior where they have a bar (sans beer) is better.
Since it's a month to the election and my parents haven't received my absentee ballot, I sent in the provisional federal election ballot. Each state treats this ballot differently for state races so hopefully Washington is a state that lets you fill in the governor's slot. I voted for Obama, McDermott, and Christine Gregoire. I don't know if my original application for an absentee ballot even made it, and if so, if this provisional ballot with make it, but I've done my best to cast my votes. And speaking of the election, I got a reply from Seretta--a Peace Corps volunteer in Niger and it looks good to meet her as well as other Americans in Niamey to watch the election returns.
I returned to my hotel and they were still talking about the CFA 650 for the beer. I was sure I paid, but not 100% sure--I don't have an absolute 100% clear memory of handing money over, but I have a memory of fiddling with change and giving it to the guy and thinking I was settled up while I drank it. Anyway, I decided to just pay it. It's only a $1.30. And having been in Africa this long, I know when I'm being played and they weren't playing me. The staff at the Cocotier is not dishonest. They clean my room and my iPod, Swiss Army knife, etc. are still there laying about. They charged me CFA 200 (US$0.40) for cleaning 2 shirts and CFA 500 (US$1) for a shirt and 5 pairs of underwear. These guys just don't rip off white people. Either I am wrong or the guy who gave me the beer is wrong. Whichever one of us it is--it is an honest memory slip.
I had a few beers on the terrace. A trio of French people came--two parents in their 50's and a pretty daughter in her late 20's or early 30's. She was facing away from me and her mother was facing me. The mother probably knew what was on my mind every time I looked over at the daughter.
Soon it was dinner time. I wanted pizza. The Entente pizza is better than the l'Auberge pizza so I went there. I tried to get egg rolls but since it's not tourist season, I usually order by asking "avez vous les nems, ajoud'hui?" And any time I use the "avez vous...?" question with something a little exotic, the answer is invariably "non". So I got the salad composée. The pizza was good.
A guy I met 2 nights ago, Buba from Bobo, came in. He pulled out a US$5 bill and a 50p British coin. He wanted CFA for them because he needed to eat, he said. He asked how much they were worth. I told him the US$5 was CFA 2500 and the 50p coin was worth CFA 500. He asked for CFA 2000 (US$4) for the US$5 bill. I told him he should be able to get a better deal elsewhere. The Entente staff had come over in the meantime and were watching over the whole scene. They seemed to not trust this guy. In the end, made no exchanges--that's not my business. I don't think anyone counterfeits US$5 bills, but who knows.
So I was sitting there having my pizza and reading La Route/The Road when these two people came in and sat at the table next to me. One guy was white in his 50's with long grey hair and who looked like a totally burned out rock musician. The other was a black teenager who I'm 70% certain was male. They had some drinks. The white guy was barely conscious--on drugs? They were there about an hour and left.
Then when I was getting ready to leave, two local guys came in and sat with me. I think one was a merchant who tried to get me to buy some stuff yesterday (his wares included bronze figurines in sexual positions--like I need bronzes mocking me with "we're doing this and you're not"). We chatted about my trip and then they asked for a beer. I figure I could buy them a $1.30 large beer. We ordered it. It didn't come. I was ready to leave and asked where the beer was. They said that it would come after they ate. But I doubt they would eat there. Whatever. I wished them a bon appetite and headed out. The restaurant staff didn't come over and watch over us, so I figured they are known to be safe. And my hotel is just a block away so I can make it there in a dead run if they start to follow me in a scary way. But, that didn't happen. I made it back safe and sound.
October 6, 2008 22:36 Burkina local time
Monday, October 6, 2008
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Second Day In Bobo-Dioulasso
Not much to report today. I went to the Bonne Miche Pâtisserie and got better pastries than at the Sorbètiere but the coffee still sucked. Next, I spent 2 hours on the internet where my screen froze up on google reader with a Stranger Slog post promoting Hump! 4 with 3 men in underwear--one with a video camera--making their Hump entry. There's NSFW (not safe for work) and there's NSFBFIC (not safe for Burkina Faso internet cafes). They are pretty much equivalent. [[BTW, if any women are interested in making something for Hump! 5--call me. ;-) Parents, aunts, and uncles are advised to not google "Hump! 4"--just be content to know that it's a Seattle thing. Just kidding. Sort of. ;-) ]]
Ahem....Anyway, so after that, I went to La Marguerite where I had a shawarma (with basil--an interesting flavor) and a plate of fries and a totally yummy slice of chocolate cake with fruit. I got 3 beers and stayed past closing watching the French news--even in France they report on OJ's guilty verdict. Of course the big news in France is--the American financial crisis. I read quite a bit about it in the internet cafe (my google reader subscription to Salon's How The World Works my link to economic reality). Speaking of NSFBFIC, normally I quickly scroll pictures of George Bush off the page in Africa, but they were all really horrible pictures of him so I let them linger so the Burkinans could see a man deservedly devastated. It must be hard presiding over the end of the era where your philosophy of life has dominated and is now imploding in such spectacular fashion. It really shows on the recent pictures of Bush that my bloggers are showing. Unlike Gorbachev who presided over the end of a failed system by trying to guide it out of the depths of its rot, Bush and the Republicans seem too stubborn to actually recognize the grand failure of their system of letting the deregulated marketplace have its way. Maybe it's because the communist system breeded skepticism while the Republican system is founded on anti-scientific faith. I don't know what it is, but to a guy on the losing side of 2 decades of political trending, it's nice to start to feel vindicated. What have the Republicans come to when their faith-based economic system is so far offset from where they thought it would be that the the ability to look gorgeous while hunting moose is the most important criterion for choice of a VP. When a parent continues to believe in abstenance-only education even after her daughter gets pregnant by some redneck who is not really given a choice as to whether he wants to marry her or not, I guess that means you have the right kind of blinders to head up the party when the 5th melanoma is malignant.
After that, I came back and had a nice beer on the terrace of my hotel, the Cocotier, reading La Route and The Road. There was a table of about 5 or 6 French girls--each stunningly gorgeous. They eventually left and the last one out said "au revoir" to me as I was reading, but I didn't catch it in time to respond. I was concentrating on the meaning of the encounter with Ely which is the most cryptic part of The Road. It's not it's the first time I froze in front of pretty women. And it surely won't be the last.
October 4, 2008 16:29 Burkina Faso local time
Ahem....Anyway, so after that, I went to La Marguerite where I had a shawarma (with basil--an interesting flavor) and a plate of fries and a totally yummy slice of chocolate cake with fruit. I got 3 beers and stayed past closing watching the French news--even in France they report on OJ's guilty verdict. Of course the big news in France is--the American financial crisis. I read quite a bit about it in the internet cafe (my google reader subscription to Salon's How The World Works my link to economic reality). Speaking of NSFBFIC, normally I quickly scroll pictures of George Bush off the page in Africa, but they were all really horrible pictures of him so I let them linger so the Burkinans could see a man deservedly devastated. It must be hard presiding over the end of the era where your philosophy of life has dominated and is now imploding in such spectacular fashion. It really shows on the recent pictures of Bush that my bloggers are showing. Unlike Gorbachev who presided over the end of a failed system by trying to guide it out of the depths of its rot, Bush and the Republicans seem too stubborn to actually recognize the grand failure of their system of letting the deregulated marketplace have its way. Maybe it's because the communist system breeded skepticism while the Republican system is founded on anti-scientific faith. I don't know what it is, but to a guy on the losing side of 2 decades of political trending, it's nice to start to feel vindicated. What have the Republicans come to when their faith-based economic system is so far offset from where they thought it would be that the the ability to look gorgeous while hunting moose is the most important criterion for choice of a VP. When a parent continues to believe in abstenance-only education even after her daughter gets pregnant by some redneck who is not really given a choice as to whether he wants to marry her or not, I guess that means you have the right kind of blinders to head up the party when the 5th melanoma is malignant.
After that, I came back and had a nice beer on the terrace of my hotel, the Cocotier, reading La Route and The Road. There was a table of about 5 or 6 French girls--each stunningly gorgeous. They eventually left and the last one out said "au revoir" to me as I was reading, but I didn't catch it in time to respond. I was concentrating on the meaning of the encounter with Ely which is the most cryptic part of The Road. It's not it's the first time I froze in front of pretty women. And it surely won't be the last.
October 4, 2008 16:29 Burkina Faso local time
Blog Dump
Well, I just finished a big blog dump catching me up from Timbuktu. I seem to have forgotten to put the post about Gao on my USB key, though, so I'll get to that a bit later, so if you are reading this within hours of my posting, you may have missed the part with the locust infested Hotel Atlantide.
I have an hour left on my CFA 300/hr login. Burkina Faso is cheap. :-) Time to check the blogs I subscribe to.
I have an hour left on my CFA 300/hr login. Burkina Faso is cheap. :-) Time to check the blogs I subscribe to.
Final Verdict On The Hôtel Bouctou
Staying at the Hôtel Bouctou is a double edged sword. It's more expensive than the Hôtel Camping Timbouctou, but it has a bar with beers that are cold and moderately priced. The water is also cold and moderately priced--though you do have to make sure the plastic seal on the water is not broken already. I'm not sure why I got one that was broken but I don't really trust the whole place. They can do some food. I got a plate of lamb that was supposed to come with bread but when I asked for the bread he said he couldn't find any. So maybe, stick with the beverages.
The hotel is filled with what Lonely Planet describes as hangers-on. And boy do they hang on. They let me know every single service available--trucks to Mopti, cars to the airport, cars to the river, tours of the city. You name it. There seems to be a loose confederation with the building that is called Azalaï tours in Lonely Planet and the hotel. A collection of all these hangers-on is often found lazing about in the copse just in front of the bar. They are all in cahoots with one another as well. When I checked out to take the boat to Gao, one of them who apparently saw I was throwing away an empty box of cookies asked me if I needed cookies for the voyage since I couldn't get any on board.
Someone told someone that I had a rip in my shirt and they offered to fix it. Somehow the original quote of CFA 1000 turned into CFA 2500.
There are also plenty of Tuareg merchants. They all have jewelry, knives, and other stuff to sell. I was there in low tourist season a few days before the big festival at the end of Ramadan, so they were desperate to unload their wares and gave good prices. But I still didn't buy much because I can only absorb so much Tuareg jewelry. They all ask and try to show me their stuff even though I tell them up front that I can't buy anything. It's sort of annoying, but I don't begrudge them it. It is what they do for a living--after all how can they compete with Mortons. Carrying blocks of salt through the desert on camel back is just not a viable business model except for the boutique salt market.
I had the "don't bring change and hope they forget" thing happen to me twice there. I never forget. >:-<
So I stayed there and I played fair. I bought a bunch of postcards from a kid, a bracelet, a necklace, and a little box. I got the shirt fixed and I had 5 shirts and a pair of pants laundered (quite well I must add). And I had a good experience with the barber who was expensive but the most honest guy I met there. And it doesn't surprise me because he is the only one there who doesn't speak English. In the end, all he expected for a tip was a cold bottle of Coca-Cola.
So, anyone going to Timbuktu needs to consider what the Hôtel Bouctou is and what it isn't when they go. It is not a place you can relax and unwind in peace with an ice cold beer. But if you like the rough and tumble of bargaining and fighting for the best deal and trying to see through all the scams, it can be fun. Also, if you don't speak French and are helpless without locals who speak English, it might be a good choice. But as for me, I would never stay there again.
The hotel is filled with what Lonely Planet describes as hangers-on. And boy do they hang on. They let me know every single service available--trucks to Mopti, cars to the airport, cars to the river, tours of the city. You name it. There seems to be a loose confederation with the building that is called Azalaï tours in Lonely Planet and the hotel. A collection of all these hangers-on is often found lazing about in the copse just in front of the bar. They are all in cahoots with one another as well. When I checked out to take the boat to Gao, one of them who apparently saw I was throwing away an empty box of cookies asked me if I needed cookies for the voyage since I couldn't get any on board.
Someone told someone that I had a rip in my shirt and they offered to fix it. Somehow the original quote of CFA 1000 turned into CFA 2500.
There are also plenty of Tuareg merchants. They all have jewelry, knives, and other stuff to sell. I was there in low tourist season a few days before the big festival at the end of Ramadan, so they were desperate to unload their wares and gave good prices. But I still didn't buy much because I can only absorb so much Tuareg jewelry. They all ask and try to show me their stuff even though I tell them up front that I can't buy anything. It's sort of annoying, but I don't begrudge them it. It is what they do for a living--after all how can they compete with Mortons. Carrying blocks of salt through the desert on camel back is just not a viable business model except for the boutique salt market.
I had the "don't bring change and hope they forget" thing happen to me twice there. I never forget. >:-<
So I stayed there and I played fair. I bought a bunch of postcards from a kid, a bracelet, a necklace, and a little box. I got the shirt fixed and I had 5 shirts and a pair of pants laundered (quite well I must add). And I had a good experience with the barber who was expensive but the most honest guy I met there. And it doesn't surprise me because he is the only one there who doesn't speak English. In the end, all he expected for a tip was a cold bottle of Coca-Cola.
So, anyone going to Timbuktu needs to consider what the Hôtel Bouctou is and what it isn't when they go. It is not a place you can relax and unwind in peace with an ice cold beer. But if you like the rough and tumble of bargaining and fighting for the best deal and trying to see through all the scams, it can be fun. Also, if you don't speak French and are helpless without locals who speak English, it might be a good choice. But as for me, I would never stay there again.
First Day In Bobo-Dioulasso: Birthday Meals
I was awakened by the mosque at some early hour and then by some minute long air raid siren at 6:30. After lingering in bed for a little while, I showered and headed out to explore Bobo-Dioulasso. My hotel is right on the edge of the commercial center so I walked around quite a bit. It's pretty nice. For the most part, the people of Bobo are too busy to do more than greet me. But there are always exceptions. Two kids found me and tried to sell me some jewelry. I didn't need any, but then they told me they had post cards. Now we're talking. They tried to get me to buy some jewelry with the post cards, but it was a no-go. I just wanted post cards. Nothing else. They followed me around a bit after that. I wasn't going to pay them off. They sold 3 post cards for CFA 1000 (US$2) and that was all they were getting.
I found the Sorbetière--an ice cream parlor without ice cream, but with pastries recommended by Lonely Planet. Though I didn't find their pastries particularly good. The croissant was burnt on the edges and the pain au raisin was too bland. And instead of real coffee, it's just hot water and a plastic tube of Nescafe powder. There is another patisserie that I'll try tomorrow.
Then a guide managed to find me. He was a bit persistent, but I shook him after a while only to snag him again a few minutes later in my aimless and apparently circular wanderings. This time he offered his services not just as a guide, but as a pimp--gay or straight--oddly enough, in that order. Is Bobo-Dioulasso the San Francisco of Burkina Faso? I said no to both.
I found an internet cafe and had some trouble connecting so I thought I'd return later. As I wandered around I found where I want to have dinner and lunch. Dinner will be at l'Auberge. Lunch at l'Eau Vive. The internet was working when I returned and the first thing I did was check google news for election news and then intrade (via TPM Election Central) for the latest odds on the election. Obama is back up to 65%. Whew! The Lonely Planet says they have really slow connections and don't know what a USB port is in Bobo. Fortunately, things in Bobo have improved since then. It's not like the MouNa in Conakry, but the one I went to is not at all a bad internet cafe. And at CFA 350 per hour (US$0.70) it's cheap. Still, the computer locked up on me and it wasn't exactly blazing. But it can handle my email client which barfs on about half of all West African computers.
Now I was hungry and thirsty and it was noon--l'Eau Vive would be open. Yay! It's run by nuns. There's a picture of the Pope in the dining room. I wish he didn't look like the guy from the Red Meat comic. I don't really want those dark ringed eyes looking down on me while I eat. Anyway, I was the first customer. At first, the dining room smelled like antiseptic soap, but that went away soon enough. The menu looks delicious. Almost as good as le Café du Fleuve in Bamako. I got a chef salad for CFA 2500 (US$5) that had tomatoes, an egg, a bacon like cured meat of some sort, cheese and lettuce. It was so good. For my plat, I had a filet flambé au poivre vert. A filet of beef with a pepper sauce and light little bread things called dauphins. The meat was cooked perfectly and the sauce was delicious. For desert, a coffee and a Dame Blanche-vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce and whipped cream. With beer and water, the total was CFA 12400 (US$25). With a CFA 2000 tip, that comes to just under $30 for my 40th birthday lunch. I'm allowed to do that when I turn 40. There were other customers eventually. A large party of about 20 Africans came in, a single African guy, a couple--one white one black, and a single white guy. That was the lunch crowd for this day. I was the first one in and the last one out. I journaled and got almost to the end of my Moleskine. In half a page, I flip it over go in reverse.
I went back to the hotel and rested. The ceiling fan doesn't have the vanes bent far enough, to it spins but doesn't move air, so I tried to bend them a bit more. Why would somebody make a ceiling fan that doesn't move air? The vanes were pretty solid, but I got them bent a little and now there is some air movement though not a lot.
In the evening I went to l'Auberge for dinner. They have a 3 course meal for CFA 6000 that is recommended by Lonely Planet. The restaurant runs along the swimming pool and a set of older French people were all swimming in the pool. I had a cabbage with mayonnaise entrée and Provençial frogs legs. The plat menu was pretty exotic. The frogs legs were pretty good. Though, the lunch at l'Eau Vive was definitely the better meal.
At night after I got back, there was a good hard rain. My room was getting stuffy and since it is on a corner and was a door in one wall and a window in another, I was able to create a cool cross breeze and lower the temperature in my room from hot to pleasant. In fact, with a floor fan blowing on me, it was too cold and I needed to sleep under the sheet. I love it when that happens.
There are some somewhat persistent merchants. Not too bad. About as bad as Dakar and I learned early on how to handle them. To my relief, it's not as bad as Mali at all. I was so hoping that Burkina would be more like Guinea-Conakry and less like Mali. So far, so good.
October 4, 2008 8:46 Burkina local time
I found the Sorbetière--an ice cream parlor without ice cream, but with pastries recommended by Lonely Planet. Though I didn't find their pastries particularly good. The croissant was burnt on the edges and the pain au raisin was too bland. And instead of real coffee, it's just hot water and a plastic tube of Nescafe powder. There is another patisserie that I'll try tomorrow.
Then a guide managed to find me. He was a bit persistent, but I shook him after a while only to snag him again a few minutes later in my aimless and apparently circular wanderings. This time he offered his services not just as a guide, but as a pimp--gay or straight--oddly enough, in that order. Is Bobo-Dioulasso the San Francisco of Burkina Faso? I said no to both.
I found an internet cafe and had some trouble connecting so I thought I'd return later. As I wandered around I found where I want to have dinner and lunch. Dinner will be at l'Auberge. Lunch at l'Eau Vive. The internet was working when I returned and the first thing I did was check google news for election news and then intrade (via TPM Election Central) for the latest odds on the election. Obama is back up to 65%. Whew! The Lonely Planet says they have really slow connections and don't know what a USB port is in Bobo. Fortunately, things in Bobo have improved since then. It's not like the MouNa in Conakry, but the one I went to is not at all a bad internet cafe. And at CFA 350 per hour (US$0.70) it's cheap. Still, the computer locked up on me and it wasn't exactly blazing. But it can handle my email client which barfs on about half of all West African computers.
Now I was hungry and thirsty and it was noon--l'Eau Vive would be open. Yay! It's run by nuns. There's a picture of the Pope in the dining room. I wish he didn't look like the guy from the Red Meat comic. I don't really want those dark ringed eyes looking down on me while I eat. Anyway, I was the first customer. At first, the dining room smelled like antiseptic soap, but that went away soon enough. The menu looks delicious. Almost as good as le Café du Fleuve in Bamako. I got a chef salad for CFA 2500 (US$5) that had tomatoes, an egg, a bacon like cured meat of some sort, cheese and lettuce. It was so good. For my plat, I had a filet flambé au poivre vert. A filet of beef with a pepper sauce and light little bread things called dauphins. The meat was cooked perfectly and the sauce was delicious. For desert, a coffee and a Dame Blanche-vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce and whipped cream. With beer and water, the total was CFA 12400 (US$25). With a CFA 2000 tip, that comes to just under $30 for my 40th birthday lunch. I'm allowed to do that when I turn 40. There were other customers eventually. A large party of about 20 Africans came in, a single African guy, a couple--one white one black, and a single white guy. That was the lunch crowd for this day. I was the first one in and the last one out. I journaled and got almost to the end of my Moleskine. In half a page, I flip it over go in reverse.
I went back to the hotel and rested. The ceiling fan doesn't have the vanes bent far enough, to it spins but doesn't move air, so I tried to bend them a bit more. Why would somebody make a ceiling fan that doesn't move air? The vanes were pretty solid, but I got them bent a little and now there is some air movement though not a lot.
In the evening I went to l'Auberge for dinner. They have a 3 course meal for CFA 6000 that is recommended by Lonely Planet. The restaurant runs along the swimming pool and a set of older French people were all swimming in the pool. I had a cabbage with mayonnaise entrée and Provençial frogs legs. The plat menu was pretty exotic. The frogs legs were pretty good. Though, the lunch at l'Eau Vive was definitely the better meal.
At night after I got back, there was a good hard rain. My room was getting stuffy and since it is on a corner and was a door in one wall and a window in another, I was able to create a cool cross breeze and lower the temperature in my room from hot to pleasant. In fact, with a floor fan blowing on me, it was too cold and I needed to sleep under the sheet. I love it when that happens.
There are some somewhat persistent merchants. Not too bad. About as bad as Dakar and I learned early on how to handle them. To my relief, it's not as bad as Mali at all. I was so hoping that Burkina would be more like Guinea-Conakry and less like Mali. So far, so good.
October 4, 2008 8:46 Burkina local time
Friday, October 3, 2008
Sevaré, Mali To Bobo-Diolasso, Burkina Faso Via Bla, Mali
I went to the gare routiere at 6am to get a ticket, but the 7am bus was already sold out. Dammit! But there is an 8am bus and they told me I can still get to Bobo. Whew! I paid CFA 5000 (US$10) for the ticket to Bla. Since I had some time, I went back and had coffee, tea and breakfast. Then I still had time to take a needed shower and shave so I look nice and clean to impress the customs and immigration people. Checking out was fun. Again, I had a liquidity problem. The lack of circulation CFA 1000 notes is so annoying. My bill for room, food, beer, and water came to CFA 21000 (US$42). I gave them 3 CFA 10000 notes wanting CFA 9000 in change. They just sort of stared at the third CFA 10000 bill. OK, I took it back and gave them a CFA 5000. Again, they couldn't deal with it. Dammit! I hate this stupid illiquid economy they have here! I gave them one of my last two CFA 1000 notes. Ugh!
Then I headed with all my luggage to the gare routiere. When I got there, they told me that they would make the ticket from Bla to Bobo for me. That was CFA 15000 (US$30). Again, Bani does the system where you board the bus by name in the order you bought the ticket. I got mine early, so I got a good seat out of the sun.
Then we were off. The trip was uneventful until where I got off and a guy from the Bla gare bus companies met me and took me to the stop for the bus to Bobo. It was 1:30 and he predicted the bus would be here at 3 or 4pm. So I have some time to kill. I got some cookies and journaled for a while.
Then at 2:20, a Bani bus came. The guy pointed at me, so I got my stuff and headed to the bus. They didn't want to let me on because the bus was full. I told them I had a ticket and that the Bani people in Sevaré had called ahead to make sure I would get on the bus. Negotiations continued while the bus driver kept inching forward. Finally, they made me pay CFA 2000 (US$4) and I got on. The bus left. The aisle was full, but I crawled over some people and they brought a cooler over for me to sit on. There was a pretty white girl just over my right shoulder. She seemed to be reading Oliver Twist, so probably English speaking. After a few minutes a guy got off and I got a seat.
I was relieved. The appropriately named Bla, Mali is not a place I want to get stranded for my 40th birthday. I want to usher in my fifth decade of life in the mellifluously named Bobo-Dioulasso, Burkina Faso. My new found assertiveness got me on the bus--and hence helped me set the right tone for starting my 40's.
At about 5pm, we hit the border. The border procedure goes in three roughly equal half hour chunks. First there is the Malian exit procedure. There were two Americans, me and the girl is just finishing up her Peace Corps tour. She was doing tourism in Gao. She probably knows the annoying guide who sat with me when I just wanted to drink my beer and write in my journal. We went to a separate table outside in the sun where we sat on bamboo chairs and filled out forms with some odd questions like my parents' names. But mostly just the standard boilerplate questions. It just seemed odd to write some of these for an exit stamp. They didn't actually look at the papers. They stamped the passports without even touching the papers. And no fees.
Then back on the bus to go to Burkina immigration. There, I stood in line until they took me into the building where I had to fill out a similar form to the one I just finished. The funniest question on there was my religion. I just put Christian since I used to go to a Unitarian church in Houston (where you can be an atheist). Then you walk by another gendarmerie where a guy looks at your passport and hands it back for no apparent reason. Again, no fees.
Finally, customs. We all had to get all our baggage and line up. We slid our baggage down the table as people popped off the end after inspection. The Peace Corps girl got an extra inspection. I figured I would too, but my bag was the first set of bags that he didn't even open--just let me through. Nice.
Then we got back on the bus. It was now just starting to darken. After about 50 minutes, we stopped at a police checkpoint. This was a new experience. A policeman came on board and inspected stuff. He looked at the bus driver's luggage, and the bus company's cooler. Then he started doing detailed inspections of the luggage of the people at the front of the bus. One guy was transporting 2 packages of powdered milk. He opened them and sniffed the contents. He looked at my water bottle bag and checked my cookies. Then he headed further down. I thought he was going to do this to the whole bus, but the search only lasted about 8 minutes. On the road again. Again, about 50 minutes later, another police checkpoint. Another policeman got on and started his search. The funny thing is that he searched all the same places as the first guy.
Finally, at about 9pm, I was in Bobo-Dioulasso Whew! A couple of guys said they'd take me to my hotel for CFA 1000. I figured it was high (it always is) but it's 9pm, dark, I'm in a new city, and even though it's high, US$2 is not egregiously high. Actually they took me to a taxi and then charged me CFA 500 while telling me I had to pay the taxi man CFA 1000. Oh well. US$3 is still not egregious. I just want to get to the hotel and unwind.
And I did. The room is OK. There is a shared toilet (only 1), but I get a shower. And the price is right--about CFA 6000 (US$12). It's centrally located and has a terrace bar with no waiter, but you can get the reception guy to grab a beer from the fridge. And I sat and wrote in my journal. I did that until midnight when it turned October 3, 2008. I was now 40.
October 3, 2008 8:10 Burkina local time
Then I headed with all my luggage to the gare routiere. When I got there, they told me that they would make the ticket from Bla to Bobo for me. That was CFA 15000 (US$30). Again, Bani does the system where you board the bus by name in the order you bought the ticket. I got mine early, so I got a good seat out of the sun.
Then we were off. The trip was uneventful until where I got off and a guy from the Bla gare bus companies met me and took me to the stop for the bus to Bobo. It was 1:30 and he predicted the bus would be here at 3 or 4pm. So I have some time to kill. I got some cookies and journaled for a while.
Then at 2:20, a Bani bus came. The guy pointed at me, so I got my stuff and headed to the bus. They didn't want to let me on because the bus was full. I told them I had a ticket and that the Bani people in Sevaré had called ahead to make sure I would get on the bus. Negotiations continued while the bus driver kept inching forward. Finally, they made me pay CFA 2000 (US$4) and I got on. The bus left. The aisle was full, but I crawled over some people and they brought a cooler over for me to sit on. There was a pretty white girl just over my right shoulder. She seemed to be reading Oliver Twist, so probably English speaking. After a few minutes a guy got off and I got a seat.
I was relieved. The appropriately named Bla, Mali is not a place I want to get stranded for my 40th birthday. I want to usher in my fifth decade of life in the mellifluously named Bobo-Dioulasso, Burkina Faso. My new found assertiveness got me on the bus--and hence helped me set the right tone for starting my 40's.
At about 5pm, we hit the border. The border procedure goes in three roughly equal half hour chunks. First there is the Malian exit procedure. There were two Americans, me and the girl is just finishing up her Peace Corps tour. She was doing tourism in Gao. She probably knows the annoying guide who sat with me when I just wanted to drink my beer and write in my journal. We went to a separate table outside in the sun where we sat on bamboo chairs and filled out forms with some odd questions like my parents' names. But mostly just the standard boilerplate questions. It just seemed odd to write some of these for an exit stamp. They didn't actually look at the papers. They stamped the passports without even touching the papers. And no fees.
Then back on the bus to go to Burkina immigration. There, I stood in line until they took me into the building where I had to fill out a similar form to the one I just finished. The funniest question on there was my religion. I just put Christian since I used to go to a Unitarian church in Houston (where you can be an atheist). Then you walk by another gendarmerie where a guy looks at your passport and hands it back for no apparent reason. Again, no fees.
Finally, customs. We all had to get all our baggage and line up. We slid our baggage down the table as people popped off the end after inspection. The Peace Corps girl got an extra inspection. I figured I would too, but my bag was the first set of bags that he didn't even open--just let me through. Nice.
Then we got back on the bus. It was now just starting to darken. After about 50 minutes, we stopped at a police checkpoint. This was a new experience. A policeman came on board and inspected stuff. He looked at the bus driver's luggage, and the bus company's cooler. Then he started doing detailed inspections of the luggage of the people at the front of the bus. One guy was transporting 2 packages of powdered milk. He opened them and sniffed the contents. He looked at my water bottle bag and checked my cookies. Then he headed further down. I thought he was going to do this to the whole bus, but the search only lasted about 8 minutes. On the road again. Again, about 50 minutes later, another police checkpoint. Another policeman got on and started his search. The funny thing is that he searched all the same places as the first guy.
Finally, at about 9pm, I was in Bobo-Dioulasso Whew! A couple of guys said they'd take me to my hotel for CFA 1000. I figured it was high (it always is) but it's 9pm, dark, I'm in a new city, and even though it's high, US$2 is not egregiously high. Actually they took me to a taxi and then charged me CFA 500 while telling me I had to pay the taxi man CFA 1000. Oh well. US$3 is still not egregious. I just want to get to the hotel and unwind.
And I did. The room is OK. There is a shared toilet (only 1), but I get a shower. And the price is right--about CFA 6000 (US$12). It's centrally located and has a terrace bar with no waiter, but you can get the reception guy to grab a beer from the fridge. And I sat and wrote in my journal. I did that until midnight when it turned October 3, 2008. I was now 40.
October 3, 2008 8:10 Burkina local time
Gao To Sevaré
After my long river trips, it was nice to have a nice uneventful trip from Gao to Sevaré. The bus was supposed to leave at 9:30 am but actually left at 10 am. Not bad. They dídn't charge for baggage. And the way Gana tours works is that you give them your name when you buy your ticket and they call off the names in order so you can get a better seat if you get your ticket early. I got mine the previous day, so I got a good seat.
They have a TV playing Malian music videos. Not quite as creative as American music videos, but fun to watch. But the most spectacular thing on the trip is the geology. The huge rock formations are awesome. The shapes are more interesting on the south side of the bus and the cliffs are more immense on the north side of the bus.
We pulled into Sevaré just after dark--about 6:30 pm. The white couple that was on the boat to Gao was sitting in front of me, but we didn't talk until the end when they suggested sharing a cab. They are Swiss and come to Mali every couple years. The taxi driver wasn't willing to offer a reasonable price, so they walked to their hotel and I just stayed in the Via Via right next to the gare routiere.
Lonely Planet says there are direct buses to Bobo-Dioulasso from Mopti but doesn't say anything about Sevaré, so I was a bit worried. I asked at the Via-Via and they told me to take a 7am Bani bus to Bla and change there. Sounds good. I could go to bed happy.
October 3, 2008 7:32 Burkina local time--but this trip was 2 days ago
They have a TV playing Malian music videos. Not quite as creative as American music videos, but fun to watch. But the most spectacular thing on the trip is the geology. The huge rock formations are awesome. The shapes are more interesting on the south side of the bus and the cliffs are more immense on the north side of the bus.
We pulled into Sevaré just after dark--about 6:30 pm. The white couple that was on the boat to Gao was sitting in front of me, but we didn't talk until the end when they suggested sharing a cab. They are Swiss and come to Mali every couple years. The taxi driver wasn't willing to offer a reasonable price, so they walked to their hotel and I just stayed in the Via Via right next to the gare routiere.
Lonely Planet says there are direct buses to Bobo-Dioulasso from Mopti but doesn't say anything about Sevaré, so I was a bit worried. I asked at the Via-Via and they told me to take a 7am Bani bus to Bla and change there. Sounds good. I could go to bed happy.
October 3, 2008 7:32 Burkina local time--but this trip was 2 days ago
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