Tuesday, September 30, 2014

September 26/27, home sweet home

I must be blessed. I must be doing something right.

This morning I woke up a bit anxious as to how I would cross the 1500km from Dakhla to Marrakech given the bus situation that got confirmed to me last night. So I was not really able to swallow anything for breakfast despite Fatima's father's constant "Comer, pan, queso! Comer!"

While the women were still sleeping and after the men finished taking their early breakfast, we took off. For some reasons Abdullah was confident I would get a bus ticket. And so he drove us to the main bus agency where I went last night and asked the woman at the counter about available seats for the same day. The one detail I didn't know was that this woman was a friend of his wife. Little yet crucial detail in such culture. And miraculously after a while, she managed to find me a ticket for 50euros officially departing 2 hours later. Miracle. I wanted to jump above the counter and hug the woman!

After this, Abdullah and his father went to check out a travel agency in order to inquire about ticket for Fatima to return to Spain. They found a decent ticket for the same day as well.

The day couldn't start Any better.

Abdullah doesn't have a steady job. The job market in town is quite bad and thus he pretty much takes whatever temp job he can find. Mostly in the fishing industry though...which on average pays about 6 euros a day!

As I was waiting in the car while he purchased the ticket for his sister, when he walks back I see him gently hitting his forehead with his hand, sort of as a sign of disappointment. I don't understand. And he stays there, staring at his back wheel. I get out and finally understand. Totally flay tire, 20 minutes before my bus official departure time from the other side of town. I felt terrible as his car being an old big 4x4 it uses relatively expensive tires. I barely had any cash on me, and I definitely didn't have any time to wait for the car to be fixed. He seemed just as worried about me catching my bus as by his tire. I told him not to worry about me and to go fix his tire. I would manage to get to the station fine by cab. No worries. He stops a cab in the street, tells me to jump in and jumps in as well, leaving his 73year old dad alone on the curb. Once at the station he makes sure I get all the info and know where to wait for the bus departure which would obviously be quite delayed, hugs me good bye with a big smile, and takes off.

I was so amazed and stunned that despite all the goodness in his heart and what he did this morning for me and his sister, he got a flat tire which would mean financial costs, and yet, not a sparkle of anger in him. Voila a pure example of what Vipassana teaches you. The road of life is bumpy, but keep smiling and loving others as if there was no bump. Anger and stress doesn't bring any benefit.

The bus delay, checking in, loading, and boarding was quite a chaotic mess, Morocco at its "best". Lol though yet again, the man who was in charge of the logistics for the check in and luggage's loading was amazingly kind and helpful with me despite that I was the only foreigner around. Given how people around him treated him he could have been mean and sour. But no. Total opposite...at least with me. Genuine kindness.

In the bus I got a good seat, and my neighbor, a veiled 40 something year old local so didn't speak a word of French seemed very nice and friendly. She right away offered me half of all the foods she had in her bag. Gosh! It is weren't for the sharing cultural side of the Muslim world, I would think that I must look very skinny for people always wanting me to eat. Lol

We try to communicate. She is actually super funny and loves to laugh.

She won't stop offering me food for the next 21 hours of our trip. And so I try to offer her food as well every time I can.

Once we had left the Dakhla region, the landscapes were not all that interesting at all. But thinking back about the whole ride from Nouadhibou until here made me have such a feeling of admiration for my Argentine friend Pablo who did it all by bicycle. I kept on trying to figure out how in the world he did it. The distances between each tow and source of water and food are just so huge, and there is no shade whatsoever.

So as the night approached, and as my neighbor started falling asleep, I pulled out my iPod. During my whole trip I have rarely used my iPod as I usually try to interact or observe with all my senses what is happening around me. But my trip is getting to an end and I missed listening to some good music. It also helped me overcome my slightly impatience to arrive in Marrakech.

It felt like the ride was never going to end. My whole body was sore and impatient to arrive. As the sun rose, my neighbor elbowed me a couple of times so that I would look at the guy across the aisle leaning forward asleep in a funny way. When I saw it, we both started laughing.
And finally we arrived in Marrakech...at last, I reached back home...I haven't given much time to myself thus far yo really think about and digest all that has happened for the past almost two years. The thing is though, that deep inside, I strongly believe that the adventure is not over, but rather that it is ongoing and will never stop until I take the mental decision to end it. Why would I do so?! Every day is an adventure...or better said everyday is part of an adventure...that gets more and more exciting as experiences accumulate.

The coming two months in Morocco will be fantastic.

Monday, September 29, 2014

September 25th, crossing over the Sahara

What a looooonnnnng day! Very anxious in the end but all went well.

This morning I got on board of the most expensive public transportation I have been on thus far for such a "short" distance.

The Bamako-Dakar bus ride of 33 hours did cost me $60. But today's right of only 12hrs cost me $40. So it upset me quite a bit, but my other option would have been hitch hiking and I was way to tired for that. So OK, I got in a car with four other people, including a young Saharawi who lives in the Basque Country and this spoke Spanish. And off we went. The landscape out of Nouadhibou was beautiful. The closer we got to the border the more cadavers of old cars we saw all over the place. Especially on the no man's land separating the Mauritanian border from the Moroccan border. What a sight! Especially when everyone knows that 95% of these cars are all stolen cars from Europe. I kept on wondering the face their real owners would make if they saw their cars there. Lol

Exiting Mauritania was simple and smooth.  But entering Morocco was another story. A lot more safety precaution and a lot more dumb brainless police officers. One of them, as I entered the visa office for people arriving from Mauritania even asked me 3 times if I was entering Morocco. Doh! What else could I be doing in this pit of the world of a location since i had just exited Mauritania. So I told him "yes" each time but he never seemed to really understand and finally gave up and let me through. Ufff...

All the other passengers had no trouble crossing the border and entering the country.

Oh yes, three funny events. First, when going through my bag at the customs, the office found a wooden slingshot I had bought in Mali. I started laughing at how ridicule if he had considered this a real weapon. He quickly realized how silly indeed it would have been, and let me through.

Second, the visa office has an officer just there to fill up the basic info form for each traveler. This for is the one that they give away to passengers in the plane about to land. Thus this form could be filled up by each traveler but no one seemed to know this and all queued up to hours waiting for their for to be filled up before being able to walk next door to get the entry stamp. So I asked for the form and filled I up myself. I saved a lot of time...but what for anyway as the other passengers and the driver blindly followed the rest of the flock though I tried to tell them.

Third, as i was in line to exit Mauritania, and since we were in the bright burning sun, a huge Libyan man asked if he could borrow my hat (i wasn't using it since I had my turban on). I have it to him. Later on when I was waiting for my entry stamp, he came to sit next to me on the curb to chit chat, in French and Spanish about the tragic situation of Africa which according to him is hopeless. Lol huge teddy bear who looks quite scary at first sight.

Anyhow, though all of us passengers had gone through without to much trouble we still had to wait literally hours for the driver and his car to go through the vehicle scanner and the entire procedure before being able to get on the road again.

The road up north was not all that amazing once we had left the Sahara area. All flat rocky ground without much to see other than a few tents here and there along the long sea shore cliff overlooking the ocean.

But the landscape we could see as we approached Dakhla was jus ridiculously unbelievably gorgeous. I had never ever seen before on !y life nor imagination such beautiful beach front and sea shore. Spectacular! To the point it felt unreal. I want to go back there for a longer period of time, not tired, not rushed, and with friends.

Though the area around Dakhla is spectacular, the town of Dakhla is not as breathtaking at all. Not much more than a simple ocean town...in intensive and obvious urban expansion mode. Fresh concrete sprouting just about everywhere.

Since I had sympathized with the Spanish speaking young lady (Fatima) in the car, she kindly offered that if I couldn't find a bus tonight to head to Marrakech, I was more than welcome to crash at her brother's place for the night. Thank you very much!

But I was as determined as can be to find a bus tonight and head out. And after dropping off all the passengers, the driver kindly took !e to every single bus agency in town. All 5 of them and each at a different location in town. I say town but it is actually rather a city.

Anyhow, each agency told me that they were fully booked for all destinations all the way till October 5th, the day of the biggest religious holiday in the Muslim world. I couldn't believe it and was so frustrated. At this stage, 9pm, I was hesitating between starting right to hitchhike a ride up north or to call Fatima. My guts told me to call her. Funny how traveling like I have been doing for so long, you start to develop a much better intuition and you start to actually listen to it.

Fatima's brother, Abdullah came to pick me up and took me to his house where he lives with his wife and dad. Both Fatima and Abdullah's wife are young and fully covered women. Yet the family offered me, a white non Muslim young man, dressed like a bum, the hospitality for the night with the most incredible kindness. This night was the absolute most perfect way to end my trip, by simply and concretely reminding me of the selfless random outmost generosity and kindness potential of any human beings. People have a good heart and all have the potential to be good, filled with love and compassion no mater who you are, where you are from, and what you believe in. The most important lesson I had learnt throughout my whole trip was reminded to me the very last night of my trip, kind of like a "see?! Dont forget this when your trip is finished!". Beautiful. The incredible importance of overcoming and ignoring people's background, faith, education, wealth, and rather focusing on the present interaction with them. Fatima works at a cash register in a small supermarket in a small town of the basque country of Spain, and I used to manage multimillion budgets for luxury brands over 5 different countries. Not only an interaction between these two opposite social worlds would rarely interact but if anything the gesture of hospitality would probably be expected in the opposite direction. But when you only consider the present interaction with a person, the smiles, the kindness, and don't ask what you do, what you believe in, how old you are, where did you study, etc... A lot of factors that would usually lead to the build up of judgments and obstacles are no longer at play and leave free ground to pure, sincere, genuine interaction. This is what the world needs more off...to break down all the social strata's of society or at least not let them become such barriers to people's friendly interaction. Everyone needs help at one point or another, everyone can use a smile or a hand, everyone could use a pad in the back or a hug, whether you are rich or poor, Muslim or Jewish, young or old, white or black...another way to look at it could be that surrounding yourself with people who are like you is securing in a way, but the ones who are different from you have so much to bring and teach you. Someone said once that to succeed in life you should always surround yourself by people who are smarter than you. But then is success defined? What is meant by smart?

I have learnt and am still learning that to succeed, no matter how you define success, you must be happy, and to be happy, you must surround yourself with people who behave with love and compassion. And those who have anger on them, you must try your best at helping them get rid of that anger and find that kindness in them.

Imagine a world where everyday everyone strived at doing as many random selfless acts of kindness as possible.

So to go back to this evening, it was so cute how the father, 73 years old, was trying to force feed me, telling me all the time "comer, comer!". He was worried about my health and the fact that I didn't eat enough according to his standards as if I were his son. I had a very interesting conversation with Fatima's cousin who is quite a devout Muslim but also works for the government, about religions. Very interested. Trying to explain to a devout Muslim who gives you such hospitality, that you don't believe in religion and even less in one religion being better than the others, and that one shall not say that one religious book is more true or better without first having read the other books, can be quite a scary challenge, but I happily managed to find the right words and get his full agreement. It was so interesting for the both of us I believe. He didn't reject the other religions yet maintained that to him Islam was truer than the other religions. But I tried to convey to him that perhaps it would be interesting to consider the fact that perhaps a religion is like a perfume or a shirt. Not everyone can wear the same perfume or wear the same size of shirt. A perfume will smell differently on each type of skin. A shirt will fit differently on each type of body. People just have to find the perfume or shirt that will fit them best based on their skin, their fragrance preferences, their size, and their fashion taste. I truly believe that religion should be approached in a similar way. Believe in whatever you want and need based on your faith, beliefs, spiritual needs, moral values, sociocultural environment, rituals, etc...but why bother looking at what your neighbor believes in? Who cares? Why not instead simply look at how your neighbors behaves with other people in society? Thoughts and beliefs are most definitely very powerful and can be dangerous, but actions and behaviors speaks louder than anything else.

Today was a very long day...I am exhausted. I have the privilege to sleep in the living room where the father also sleeps.

Again, the incredible kindness and generosity of this family at such hour of the night for a total stranger was quite overwhelming. But throughout the whole evening I was fully conscious and aware of the reason why I was unable to find a bus for tonight. And I was more than happy to not have found any and actually relieved to not have missed such a fantastic evening. I couldn't have enders my trip in a better way...or perhaps yes...by being the one offering such kindness and generosity...but I know I have before and will strive to do so for the rest of my life.

September 23 & 24, Choum Choum!!!

Ha! I wanted to finish my journey on an adventurous note, and I got what I wanted! Wow!

Yesterday the 23rd, was one of the most fun and adventurous days I have had in a while...at least since I got to Africa.

The price of the seat inside the pick up truck to get from Atar to Choum was to my taste way to expensive for such a supposedly short distance.

So I got a ticket to sit on top of all the cargo loaded on top of the pick up truck. Basically I was sitting on top of loads of stuff slightly unstable and higher than the actual roof of the truck. And well, good thing I was the only one there as there was no space for another person up there. What a ride. The driver drove as if there was no one sitting on the roof. I had to duck down quite often to not get swiped out by the dangerously thorny branches of acacia trees. I had to hold on tight to the ropes all along in order to not get thrown out of the roof. I had to cover my head and eyes in order to not get burnt by the hot and sandy air. And every time we passed humans on the desert trail I would obviously be the source of much surprise and shock. A toubab sitting alone on the roof and the local sitting comfortably inside with the A/C and all. Crazy toubab! Lol but I absolutely loved it. And the views while crossing the desert were just priceless. Beyond imagination. Even on Photoshop one could not create such natural beauty.

After a good 2 hours we finally arrived at Choum...a small group of small  mud houses gathered there on the edge of the rail tracks. A tiny village looking nothing like a village. There, in the middle of absolutely nowhere. Why in the world would people even want to live here and remain here?! Why? No restaurant, no bar, just rows of small boutiques selling snacks and sodas and a couple of resting huts with foam mats on the floor where people can lay down and grab a plate of rice to eat while they wait for the train to arrive. All the forums mention that there are three trains per day. False! There seem to be only one train going towards Nouadhibou and it usually comes by around 6pm or so. Since I got there at 2 pm I had quite some time to wait, yet a not anxiously as no one in Choum was able to inform me of when would the train arrive and where I was supposed to stand in order to get onto the wagons containing the minerals: the free wagons. And since it is the longest train in the world (about 2.3km) I didn't want to have to walk such distance a the last minute and risk missing the train. So it was not much of a fun and relaxed wait.

I ate a huge plate of rice knowing that my next meal would probably not be before the next day at lunch time, and I tried to nap a bit.

By 5pm I couldn't wait any longer and so I decided to walk towards what looked like a sort of tiny station right on the tracks.

On my way I got joined by three local kids from the town. Probably around 12 years old each. Two of them only spoke Hassania and one luckily spoke Spanish. (I forgot to mention that apparently in Mauritania, I look more Spanish than anything else...probably better for me given what the islamists in the region have declared they wanted to do to the French). And so we spent a good half hour chit chatting together, while the other two were acting foolishly and doing silly things along the tracks. It was actually quite funny and entertaining. They obviously wanted to show off their foolishness like any kid their age and interact with a white foreigner which they must see very rarely. Choum has absolutely nothing of interest except that iron ore train going to Nouadhibou, and even then, going to Choum to catch the train is more of a detour than anything.

When the kids left after a while not knowing exactly where to stand I joined a group of locals who had a ton of boxes and bagages and thus looked like the kind of traveler who would ride for free and jump on the iron ore powder wagons. My intuition was right on, so I waited next to them. Language being a barrier yet again and then not being very social at all, I luckily once again was joined by two Saharawi of about my age who both spoke Spanish. (I had no clue that Spain had colonized a part of the western Sahara region back then). Great meet, as we kept on chatting as the day turned to total dark night. Indeed, all of a sudden it was 8pm, not a light around other than our cell phone lights and the waiting locals wooden mini stove to make their tea.  The train was late.

By 8:30pm it finally showed up...we saw a bright light very far away in the valley getting bigger and bigger as it got closer to us. And then finally, we saw the monster of a train. Well not the train as it was way to dark, but its black silhouette in the night. An endless giant black stripe going as far as the eye can see. The most impressive thing!

Once the monster finally stopped, then it was an exhilarating moment of rush. Everyone ran as fast as possible to climb up the wagons throwing all their bags and all high up into the wagons. Movie like. Like clandestine. The two Spanish speakers and i jumped into our own wagon. The locals with their loads and even goats climbed the wagon next to ours. We all hiked up and jumped not having a clue of what to expect nor where we would land. It so happened that the wagons were full up to the rim of black iron ore powder. Very thin and warm powder. The one thing we all knew off was that during the ride the powder would be hell for us to see and breath. But we were far from expecting it to be that much hell nor how fast it would all start once we had jumped on the train.

Thank god I had anticipated it a bit and made sure to rain proof both my bags, put my sweater aside just in case, and got my very long turban in hand as well as my sun glasses for what I thought would insure full face protection. Yeah right!

There was so much powder flying around and with such intensity, that I might as well not have had anything on my face. At one point I couldn't stop spitting powder through my turban in order to try and breath a bit. It was insane. But I loved every second of it.

The best part was how much space we had and how nicely warm the powder was to lay on. Little did I know how much it would all eventually stain every inch of my body and clothe.

Anyhow, no landscape to look at given the dark night. So I tried to lay on my back and star gaze. Ha! Only problem is that to star gaze you need to open your eyes...mission impossible.

Nothing to look at but the back of my eye lids. I was not tired, so I thought to fetch my iPod and listen to some tunes to add some spice to the adventure. Bummer, the battery was dead. OK...sleeping is the only option...which i can't just yet do as I really want to pee.

Try to take a pee on a speeding train that stops or skills unexpectedly, with your eyes closed because of the dust, and with a strong wind turning around every second. Ha!

Suddenly the wind seemed to have take a break, the air was a bit clearer. So I get up, stumble to get to the edge of the wagon and finally do it. At last!!!

Now time to sleep.

The hardest part was to get my mind to accept the incessant powder on my lips and teeth and the fact that my breathing had to slow down much in order to create less incoming powder into my mouth and nose. Once I got my mind to accept this, I quickly fell asleep...to my surprise, as every single blogger I had read about had mentioned that sleeping was mission impossible on that train.

I did wake up a couple of times we went through sand storms during the night. Apocalyptic storms adding to the already quite intense train created powder storms. If only I had had a friend of mine with me to share this experience.

Anyhow, I woke up with the sun...well...my sun glasses, with all the accumulated sticking depot of black ore on top of the lenses gave me the impression that it was still night when the sun was getting up.

Once the sun was up I could help but to take my glasses off to watch the beauty of the landscape. All the way till we got to final destination.

The whole ride was 13 hours long. Not that long I guess.

When the train finally came to a stop, the three of us looked at each other...all black or dust and dirt. Ufff...the only thing I was dying to do at this stage was to shower. I knew that it would take days of scrubbing to remove of that black dust.

Lucky me Wedadi had connected me with one of his friends in town. Well...not all that lucky actually...no offense but so far the worst host I have had in Africa.

Anyhow, that friend (I think his name was Dah) picked me up and took me to his shack or a room so I could clean up and rest. At last. My hair was so thick of dust it felt like a helmet.

Once I was clean and ate some rice in the room, Dah fell into the longest of naps, pretty much the entire afternoon. What a waste of a day. I didn't get out as I had no clue where in the city I was, nor had the keys of the place. So I waited for him to wake up just before the sun set. At last. Then he took me for a ride around the city. I barely got to see anything at all of the city, which sucks as this city being the capital of the Mauritania blue gold of the fish industry in west Africa it must have had some amazing sites to visit.

But I listened to my gut feeling once again. Both Dah and the city didn't make me feel all that comfortable, and on top of that I was really looking forward to getting to morocco at last. So I decided to leave Nouadhibou tomorrow morning and not spend the couple of days I initially thought I would. Big deal. I know I will come to this country again in the future, so I will take the time then.

I love to travel alone, but now that I have a life partner, traveling alone is not all that much fun anymore.

So off to sleep I go, knowing that tomorrow will certainly be a very long day...crossing the border between Mauritania and Morocco won't be a walk in the park.

September 22nd, Mercedes is great!

Ha! Fun day!

Mercedes should most definitely come to Mauritania to look for inspiration on how to promote its brand. Lol

My ride from Chinghetti to Star was quite special. We had a model 190D I believe. Or something like that. Old and small. I shared the front passenger seat with another local my height and size. But the most incredible part is what follows...

Since the beginning of the ride I had been hearing kicks coming from the trunk. I was amazed that the locals would dare carrying a sheep aboard such a car and locked inside the trunk. How "inhumane"...no pun intended. So after a while, I got over the cruel thought and let my mind wander around to other things. But at some point, and in the middle of absolutely nowhere, after hit a pot hole, the driver stops. Being so squeezed in my seat I take advantage and like the rest of the passengers I get out to stretch my legs a bit. And there, to my grand surprise, the driver and the sheep owner (I suppose) pop open the trunk...to check on the sheep I assumed. Well yes... But, it was not one seep stuck in that trunk, nor two, nor three, not four, but a whole 5 adult sheep's, plus a suitcase plus a spare fuel tank!!!!!! Seriously!? If I had doubt about the capacity of such car's trunk before, well now I know. It was the most unbelievable thing to watch this flock come out of the trunk...and worse, watch the owner stick them back in there as if he could fit three times that quantity. The driver closed the trunk and off we went.

I spent the rest of the ride sitting down quietly thinking about all the ways that Mercedes could have used that scene in one of their commercials. Lol if only I could have gotten a nice shot of it to send them.

Back in Atar I went straight back to the house took a good shower and drop my bags. But as soon as I passed the front door, the two little kids of the guardians ran to me like mad and each hugged one of my legs and refused to let go. It was so cute. It was only the second time I saw them. So I stayed with them like that for a bit. Their parents were a bit surprised. When they finally let go of my legs, I went to my room.

Showered up and changed I went to grab a bite to eat at the little corner place where I ate the very first time I got to Atar. Fish and rice. Yummmmmy! There I met Nicolas, a going French nurse who has been coming numerous times to Star for years now and thus considered like a son of the owner and sort of a local resident as well. We see t the rest of the day chatting about travels and Africa and about the local culture. He is moving to Dakar soon so I gave him Astou's contact just in case. Really cool and easy going guy. He also gave me a couple of tips for the train ride I am heading to tomorrow.

Wedadi took me for another ride before sun down, again to go get his camel milk and show me the "beach" of Atar. Funny place...not a drop of water. A dried oued where people go to picnic as if they were on the beach...well, being so far away from anything remotely similar to a beach that's pretty much the only option the have.

For dinner I went back to the same place and again met up with Nicolas. Atar by night is very interesting and surprisingly lively for such a small town so isolated.

I am now in my room, I just packed everything up for tomorrow and am ready to sleep...one more day closer to Marrakech, NYC, Sao Paulo...yay!!!

Leila saida.

Sunday, September 28, 2014

September 21st

Today was such a good day!

This morning, after some more rice for breakfast, I went to help Moussa care for the little garden he is supposed to take care off for the owner of the house. Spending my youth and recent years helping out my dad with gardening, I have by default acquired quite some knowledge about caring for plants. So I gave home quite a few tips and showed him how to trim olive trees and lemon trees to help them grow bigger and stronger instead of taller and thinner. I showed him how to trim a palm tree to keep the core safe and healthy. I taught him what to do with basil and citronella. And so forth. We spent the whole morning gardening. The amazing part is that the garden is in the middle of the desert and does not have any specific soil or protected area. Despite it all, Moussa has managed to grow pomegranate tree, olive tree, jasmine, lemon, basil, citronella, mangos, baobab, etc... He definitely has a green hand!

Towards mid day and before we had lunch, he had filled up the mini water tank which can also be used as a mini pool, and so I sank myself in the not so refreshing water...there, in the middle of the dunes...heaven.

Moussa had told me that further away in the dunes, there was a sort of clay/banco well where the villagers usually go often, to gather clay and use it for constructions. But he was unsure as to where exactly that well was because he had himself never seen it. So in mid afternoon, as the sun is still high up and criminal, we headed out...modestly protected, hunting for that well...trying to track down the different foot prints left by the carrying donkeys. We walked for a good couple of hours far, far, far away from town. To the point that we found ourselves totally surrounded by nothing else but dunes. Wow! I have seen so many movie scenes like that...where one could freakout to feel so far away from any drop of water or any inch of shade. But it was gorgeous. Here and there some shrubs were growing either on the flat in between dunes and among rocks, or on the incline of a dune. Beautiful!

As the sun was setting, we slowly made our way to a new and high dune overlooking the village but in a beautiful angle to watch it all, as village kids not to far away are having a blast sand surfing down a few dunes with some pieces of plastic.

I tried to call Angelina...it worked. Voila...a perfect day. :-)

Today we made sure to head back home before total darkness...because we both wanted to dip in the pool before the night wind got up and out.

The sky is gorgeous...a deep blue sea of stars hovering above the now black sea of warm powder thin sand cooling down after a busy day of inactivity.

Tomorrow morning I am catching a transportation back to Star...before the big ride on the famous iron ore train...so exciting!

I am sleeping outside again...though the sky now looks much darker and thicker...let's see.

September 20th

Ufff I fell asleep in seconds last night. A good night sleep in somewhat of a bed. Good!

This morning I ate the rice left over from last night for breakfast. Yummy!

We walked to the town to buy some more food.

Today was so hot outside that we didn't do much at all. This morning we walked around the beautiful remnants of what I used to be the center part of the town back then. Gorgeous, but mostly in ruins like Ouadane is. But that part of town is within sand dunes, so no floor is even or flat. It is all as if a huge sand storm had taken over the city years back and no one ever removed the sand afterwards. I love it. It gives a mysterious and isolated aspect to the town. No wonder where some SciFi movies get their inspiration for their sets.

The temperature got extremely hot the closer we got to mid day. So after a while, we went back home to cook some yummy lunch. Rice again, but so good that I am not tired of it.

The afternoon, aside from hiding from the sun and the heat, watching movies, we didn't do anything at all. The day passed by quickly.

We ate dinner sitting on top of the house roof top wall, overlooking a big chunk of the old town, beautiful sight at sun down. Spending a week or so with some friends in this house must spectacular...though I would spend all my evenings and night picnicking and sleeping in the dunes.

Tonight I am sleeping in the roof, blanketed by the stars. Much nicer obviously, and much cooler. Let's hope no storm hits this time...

September 19th magical Chinghetti

This morning I took off from Ouadane with this tax driver. Lucky me I was alone and had plenty of space for once. And the driver was really good on the trail speeding as if he had an important meeting to make in Chinghetti.

The ride was smooth and quite.

The night before, the american guy had told me how uninteresting and plain he had found Chinghetti, so I wasn't really sure what to expect. In my mind it couldn't be any worse than Ouadane anyway.

When we arrived I was blown away. This big very large city sort of camouflaged into the desert. On one side the old slightly in ruins city and on the other side the new part of the city. In the middle a giant dry river bed, or Oued as they call it in Arabic.

All around, nothing but the smoothest and thinnest of whitish goldenish sand. Beautiful and exactly what I was looking for.

Chinghetti used to be one of the most important cities of the Muslim faith centuries ago. So it still reigns this mysterious historical vibe in the air, mostly on the old side of the city. However, tourism has taken such a dramatic toll on the city year after year that a lot of of the more front row and attractive infrastructure of the old town is the numerous auberges built by foreigners. And consequently, all the necessary "urban" infrastructure to foreigners life style has also been built all around. Huge phone antennas, giant electric generator running 24/7, power cables a bit all over, running water pipes popping through the sand here and there...all such things that if you look a bit further than the tip of your nose you will notice and will realize the kind of negative impact foreigners can have had in such a former desert heaven.

When I look at places like Pokhara in Nepal and how to some extend the impact of foreigners has been so beneficial and positive to the city. Trash cans all over, tree planting initiatives all around, only solar based electricity, etc... I am not saying that Pokhara is a model town for tourism. Hell no. But compared to most places I have seen in Africa, I don't really understand why such places do not try to replicate successful models from other places.

Anyhow...back to Chinghetti.

Once I arrived there I was quickly met by Moussa, the man who Wedadi had told me to contact to get a place to sleep. I wasn't told anymore than that so once again I had no clue where I would end up. Let life surprise me yet again.

Oh boy! Did it surprise me big this time again. Moussa (who was born a month a few days before me) happens to be the house keeper of this beautiful stone house built by a Belgium architect and a Belgium movie producer a few years back. And because of the recent Islamic crisis that has bee going on in the region, or rather east of that region, both Belgium ladies haven't come to Chinghetti for over two years now.

So Moussa and I would be the only ones here. Amazing!

I had my own little room, though I will realize soon enough I am sure that sleeping on the roof is the best option.

Since it was the weekend, Moussa had two friends of his join us to share breakfast and tea. Me still being the victim of my criminally sick intestine, I decided to pass both on tea. I read somewhere that caffeine and sugar were not good for what I had. Having been uncomfortably sick the night before I didn't sleep so well and still felt pretty bad. So after a few bites of bread I apologized and went to my room to lay down and sleep for a bit.

After a couple of hours of heavy sleep, everyone but Moussa had left the house. I woke up and Moussa and I crossed the giant oued to get to the new part of town to go buy some food to cook.

Moussa cooked a delicious vegetable and rice and we ate like there was no tomorrow. I decided to eat as much rice and veggies as possible to not lose any more weight and stay energized.

Right before sunset Moussa took me for a long walk to the far away huge dunes. It was magical. The dune was like a cliff almost. The sand was so thin and smooth that from afar and even from close it looked like some sort of caramel custard. Digging my bare feet in that sand and hiking up the dune was so delightful. I had been dying to do that for such a long time. Real Sahara dunes...

And so after hiking and walking around for a bit we sat atop the tallest dune and waited there watching the bright red sun setting and swallowing the whole desert town of Chingethi. I tried to call Angelina, but no luck. :-(

We waited until it was totally dark outside. It made the walk back all the more fun and adventurous.

Now that we are back home, we are watching a movie on TV. Am pretty sure I will fall asleep in a few seconds...

September 18th, Terjit to Ouadane

Wow! Last night was like I had only seen in movies until now. Apocalyptic. Sand storm by night. What a moment!

I was laying on my mat on top of that hill like rock formation, looking at the stars, trying to spot the big dipper. The family down below was slowly falling into Morpheus' arms while the TV was still on. Jamal was doing his last round of the area to make are everything was in order before turning the TV off.

I dozed off for a bit. A sudden blast of thick hot wind woke me up. I reopen my eyes and don't see the stars anymore. All of a sudden everything is black around me. Hmmm...the sky is no longer deep. It is now on me, around me, below me. I don't know exactly how to react. A same storm is taking shape. How bad will it get? Should I stay where I am or should I climb back down with the family? I first pull the mat further away from the edge of the mi I cliff and closer to the small tent set up there. I try to calm down and hope that things won't get any worse. The air and wind are so thick that I feel like they will sweep me up and take me away. I wrap my scarf around my nose and mouth for protection from the sand. And I try to close my eyes and fall asleep again.

The wind going through the oasis palms down under creates a sound as if it was pouring torrential rain. Quite disturbing to be honest.

The wind gets stronger. The sandy air gets thicker. If I didn't have my backpack and all with me it could have been sort of a fun adventure to stay up there till the morning. I look down and see Jamal wrapping up everything and taking the whole family under the tikit. I see him running. Hmmm...not a good sign.

I pack up my stuff and decide to play it safe. I am not sure how strong can such wind get and being on top of the hill where I was could be very dangerous should the wind intensify any more. And so I climb back down/ throw my stuff under the tikit and run back out to help Jamal with whatever else needed to be taken in for protection.

The whole moment was so exhilarating. I wish I could have shared it with someone.

As we were all laying down under the tikit, throughout the night, the wind blew so powerfully. Though the air was burning hot, the wind blew so strong that it was actually refreshing.

In the morning we all woke up early and covered in sand from head to toe. The family woke up as if nothing had happened. It was funny. Their daily routine I suppose. Not for me. But I did like them, and went on to brush my teeth.

We had breakfast all together sitting on a smaller mat behind the kitchen. I love how each hour of the day, based on where the sun is, they relocate the mat to a new place.

By 7:30am Jamal and I had taken off, heading back to Atar. He had some shopping to do for his goats and I wanted to go to Ouadane.

I felt sad leaving Terjit and knew I should have stayed at least one more day. I didn't. Why? No clue.

The ride to Ouadane was not good at all. We were all squished into a small pick up. All 7 of us plus 2 kids. And the back of the car was overloaded with cargo. A long and ultra uncomfortable ride. But interesting in many ways. Especially seeing how people kept on popping out of nowhere. And the driver stopped each and every time to chit chat with the coming Bedouins. We also hit a softer sand storm on the way. But we stopped before hand to reinforce the covers and tarps on top of the back cargo, just in case the sand is accompanied by some rain.

But no rain...just sand.

The road to Ouadane was nothing all that exciting. Except perhaps the tow just before Ouadane. Nested in some sand dunes. Brick houses and tikits spread all around. I thought it was Ouadane and wished I could have stayed there. But finding a ride out would have been impossible.

We finally arrive. At last I can stretch every inch of my body. My first reaction when seeing Ouadane was "really? This is Ouadane?!".

The Auberge I had been told by Moktar, Auberge Zaida, was the least charming of all thus far. But Zaida's story brought it its appeal I suppose.

So since I still have the whole after noon ahead of me, and since it seems to be a challenge to find a ride out of here as well, I decide to hike up to the old part of town, walk around and decide if I want to leave tomorrow with the other two foreigners here or stay an extra day.

Ouadane is famous not for its sand dunes, it has none, but rather because it used to be a big city all built of mud bricks, overlooking the oasis valley of palms, and because of time, heat and dryness, all collapsed into a ghost town kind of place. It reminded me a lot of the ruins of brick house villages I went by on the Anapurna circuit. The view of it from down below is most definitely unbelievable. But when walking through the ruins and seeing that no one lives in it anymore and that a whole new sort of modern town has been rebuilt right behind it takes some of the spice from it all.

It still was spectacular. But as I am walking around, my decision is quickly made up: I am going to Chinghetti tomorrow.

And so I keep on wandering around the new part of town. People are friendly. Kids beg me to take their photos and give me the biggest smiles. The more adorable group of little girls pop out of a street level window so I can take a photo of them. This one kid come by and starts crying so dramatically as if he had just gotten his a arm cut off. His buddy yells that he is a bandit. So he stops crying right away, wipe off all his tears, and smiles, asking me to take a photo of him. He loves soccer and sites numerous names of players I have no clue about. I take their photos. Funny pauses. They really look like a trio of kid bandits. Trouble makers.

I keep walking. Two teenage girls say hello with the most flirtatious tone. One of them suddenly blows me a kiss from afar. It is comical as they are both veiled and we are walking by the mosque. Lol I laugh, thank them and keep walking away.

This town is so interesting. Like all the tows of the area so far I suppose. Everyone is living outside on the doorstep of their boutique or house. Everyone laying down, fanning themselves. Waiting...as if someone had turned the heat on maximum and broke the switch. Everyone on passive survival mode. Planting trees would create a lot of shade and freshness. Why bother. Building windmills that would capture the wind high up and send it right back down into a fan would produce free ventilation units. Why bother. Building houses closer to each other would lead to shaded street. Why bother...

Everyone seemed sedated. Surreal sights.

Before heading back to the Auberge, I hike up a bit on the opposite hill to watch the sun set over the flat desert.

I get back to the Auberge. There I meet Fanny a French girl traveling with her local "guide", and Robert, an american who lives in Dakar. We have interesting chats about social work and NGOs. They both do social work. I secured my rode for the next morning. The evening goes on without much excitement. Robert is slightly anti social and goes to sleep very early. Fanny and her guide finish a game of cards they had started in the afternoon.

I set my mat in the courtyard and lay down to watch the stars. The Auberge is very badly set up as once inside, it is all walled up and all you can see is basically the sky. Not a single view of the landscape or the old collapsed town. But as I was about to lay down, the French girl's "guide" came up to me, and extremely discretely asked me if I had any condoms. I felt so sad for him when I told him I didn't have any. He had just taken the French girl on a five day camel ride through the desert from Chinghetti to Ouadane and was hoping to have built up enough romanticism and friendship with her that tonight she would give in. Lol so funny. I can't believe he actually dared asking another foreigner such a ting though. Hahaha!

Whatever happens will stay between them. Hopefully they both had a good time.

I can't wait to leave this town. I didn't really have a good vibe when I arrived here earlier to begin with.

Tomorrow, Chinghetti!

September 17th, Terjit...

Hmmm...apparently the one car who had planned to go to Terjit this morning couldn't find enough passe gets so he canceled the trip. Bummer!

Other option, take a private cab for a lot of cash. It is only 50km away.

Or, I am told I can take a shared cab to the Gendarmerie. There find a ride to the Police station. And from there, either find another ride or walk the 15km left.

When I ask the price for the first shared cab I am told a price way to high. Hell no!so I start walking. After the 850km of the Camino, walking is not !much of an obstacle for me. Not that it ever was before anyway.

Ask am exiting the tow , a cab stops by and asks for what seems to be a decent price...well compared to what I had been told at the market. I get in.

I get dropped off at the Gendarmerie. The legal forces in this part of the world are real clowns so ridicule and unprofessional they are. Gardeners and toll booth agents in Europe look like Wall street bankers compared to them. So I hang out with them for a not until I find my next ride. Funny chats they are having with each other about a pot of plant they just stole by corruption from a car who just passed by and who seemed to have to many plants in its trunk. Can't even believe the head officer told the others that lemon are the very small ones and that anything bigger must be a grapefruit. How about big lemons or oranges???!!!

Thank Gog I find my next ride. 35km later I get dropped off at the Police station. The officers there were by far the head clowns I had seen in the country so far.

No ride seems to show up. The sun is almost at a 90 degree angle. The heat is thick. No shade in sight on the way. I buy some water just in case and get going.

I could read the thoughts in the mind of the shop keeper who sold me the water about how crazy white people acted some times...walking at that hour, that far, with only a t-shirt and hat for shade. Oh well...

It was hot indeed, but the heat was so thick that it didn't feel all that dry. Almost comfortably hot...strange. I pondered for a while whether to put sun screen or not.

After about an hour of walking, I reached a construction site...they are building a new road. A young man stops by with his beat up Mercedes and asks if I want a ride. At this stage I assumed I was half way through and was very much determined to walk it all the way if I had to. So I smile, say hello, and ask how much for the ride. He says whatever I want...even free of I want. I say OK for free. Hehe!

His name is Moktar. He is still not married. 30 years old, and works on the road project.

The distance between. Where he picked me up and Terjit was a lot longer than I thought, a lot longer. So I was actually now willing to give him so money. And plus he turned out to be quite a nice guy anyway.

In Terjit he insisted that I stay at his friend's Auberge and took me up there. I usually don't like that. Drivers taking me to their friends places to get a commission even though the place actually sucks.

Well well well...this time I decided to follow the flow. Let's see life's surprises. Well, the surprise was beyond expectations. I had just been taken to a little paradise in the middle of the oasis off Terjit. Auberge Tourvine, run by Jamal and his family. Beautiful a and kind family. I was on a cloud. The place was beautiful and simple. The attention I received was genuine and without any expectation in return. My presence was enough.

Their two kids, Bopa (10) and Selim (6) were so adorable. Bopa is the cutest girl, though quite plumpy, and Selim is just curious and won't show any facial expressions.

I am told to just rest inside the giant tikit. That tikit by the way is unique. It is built like a huge flat straw pancake around the trunk of a big acacia tree. The stricture is such that it provides shade and freshness all day long. Plants all around, and from time to time the kids water both the plants and the straw to produce even more freshness.

Bopa speaks a very nice and polite French. Very impressive.

As I am there the only thing I keep on thinking about is for Angelina to be there and see this as well. The moment is so magical.

And so I rest. Soon Jamal starts preparing the traditional 3 cups of tea. Such a long and choreographed process.

I also observe how he smokes his very traditional black tobacco cone pipe and how he uses with dexterity his small old leather case for it.

Jamal is very quiet, poised and kind of like his son, doesn't show much facial expression. So I get quite happy when I manage to create a hint of a smile on his face.

His wife has Moroccan blood. She also has a serious limp on the left leg. She has a lot more facial expressions than her husband. The lunch she is cooking smells delicious.

After the tea, we just sit there...breathing the silence of the air and being glad that we are in the shade. The heat outside seems lethal.

Jamal suggests we go check out the natural spring in the middle of the oasis...more like a mini natural pool created by a spring and a series of mini water falls. Hell yeah! Let's go! Not everyday that one can see a natural pool in the middle of the desert. Definitely the only one in the country as far as I know.

The beauty of my timing with my trip to west Africa is that it is the lowest of the tourist season. I am the only foreigner in Terjit. And walking through the palm tree oasis/forest, and to the spring, all alone with Jamal and no one else around is priceless.

Jamal makes me drink some of the spring water. Out of decency and adventurous curiosity I taste it. Hopefully the water is indeed pure. Hmmm...

I take a long deep in the refreshing and quite pool while Jamal is further away in the shade and giving the privacy I didn't even ask.

If Terjit had been the very last stop and day of my long journey before going back home I would have been OK and happy with that.

The place is totally empty. Not a soul around. So peaceful and dream like.

We soon head back home...both of us are hungry.

Lunch is finally served. I am starving. It is a kind of paella...without the seafood. It is as delicious as its smell had announced.

I eat and eat and eat...

As we are about done, Moktar reappears...and gets eating as well.

Soon we all fall into a deep sleep...post lunch sleep, under the tikit. And the afternoon passes by like that. Listening to the music of the thick golden heat flowing through the palms and softly brushing the sand off from one place to another.

A few hours before the sunset started Jamal had made sure to fill up what would normally be used as a water reserve basin, but in this case a small swimming pool...well swimming for the kids but not for people my size. Lol

Selim is then the happiest kid on earth. Flipping and flopping in the water. Pretending to be diving in as the kid probably never has seen a real pool or even the ocean. He is having so much fun.

Before it is to late I climb up the dunes behind the garden to get and catch some nice views of the far landscape. The view is spectacular. Almost surreal. Golden sand dunes sparkled with green acacia trees and ruins of old circular stone tikits. On and on and on...surrounded by giant high above plateaux. Gorgeous sights...hopefully I manage to capture some decent shots with my camera.

Then as I hear some noises from down below I decide to go check out the actual little village of Terjit to see what it looks like.

No movie set would have been able to recreate such beauty. From the houses to the people. I bumped into a small group of primary school aged girls. I am in awe by how beautiful the scene is. Each wearing a different bright color kind of sari. Their hair half covered reveals the wildest most beautiful hair. Their eyes are between a deep purple and a red. Their smiles...almost paralyzing. Just pure, innocent, and beautiful. I literally stayed there, not moving for five minutes, not having a clue of what to do. If only my eyes were cameras with which I could take unnoticed photos!!! I would have taken a photo but before I even hinted at it they made sure to say "no photo!". OK.

National Geographic and its famous green eyed Afghani girl should reshoot the scene here!

A block further I see this young girl waving in a funny almost dancing kind of way. So I "dance" back imitating her voice. Lol every one starts laughing infectiously. The scene keeps on going for a bit.

As I leave, everyone runs after me. I stop and quickly turn around. They all get scared and run the opposite way, still laughing hard. And so we play that game I have so often played in Africa so far, for a bit. And this time I really leaves. I would love to stay there much much longer...but the frustration of not being able to take a single photo would kill me.

When I get home, Selim and Bopa jump into the pool. They invite me, so I jump in as well. Flipping and flopping as well. Happy.

When I get out as the sun is almost down, the "table" had been magnificently set on the floor in the middle of the sandy yard. It looks like a fairy tale. Where the hell is Angelina?!?!?!?!

Jamal and Moktar are wearing their traditional white boubou. I feel bad, only having a dirty T-shirt and short. But no choice.

We lay there on the pillows under the rising moon and setting sun. The air is silent yet still hot. Barely any noise other than some of the village kids herding their goats and sheep's back home.

And the couscous dinner is served. It is now night time. The wind feels even more present as the sun light is not here to blond us nor give us a burning impression anymore. The wind feels hot and thick but very much enjoyable.

Soon Jamal plugs in a small TV set under the acacia in front of us, and the moon and stars are now complemented by this loud speaking square source of bright light.

Everyone is chatting. I wish I spoke the local dialect so I could participate.

I dose off a bit. I had a long and exciting day. Everyone starts leaving soon.

The family sets up their mats around ready to go to sleep. Well, the kids are already deep asleep. Jamal suggest I climb up the rock hill to go sleep at its top. Sure. Sounds like a fabulous plan. So we both climb up to set my bed up.

Today was magical.

September 16th

Up early this morning. I had breakfast with the kids in the kitchen. These kids are so adorable!

It felt weirs to leave the house and the family. I only spent a few days there but built very strong bonds. Who would have known. (Again,thank you XsideX for the connection with Fatou).

Cheikh drove me to the transportation hub on the outskirt of town. As he went to check out the prices and cars leaving, he purchased a ticket and refused that I pay him back. Agggrrr...it made me feel bad because they have been way to generous with me though they just met me.

The long distance buses, rather mini buses, here, are real luxury compared to any bus I have taken since the beginning of my trip. I actually had my own normal size seat. Leg space. A/C...

We made it to Atar in less than 4 hours.

Compared to the Rosso-Nouakchott road, it is nothing spectacular at all, but I enjoyed it anyway. No problem with the police check points.

In Atar, I was quickly met and picked up by Wedadi, Chalana's friend. A very nice and Maure man. Driving a Mercedes like 95% of the people on the country. He dropped me off at the house Chalana had offered me to stay in. Nothing fancy at all. My room is basically a small loving room with sofa mattresses all along the wall.

I dropped my bags off and went for a bite to eat before resting for the afternoon. The heat is so intense, staying indoors and resting is the safest and smartest thing to do.

Later on, Wedadi picked me up and took me for a drive around town and to the nearest pass. The Azougui pass overlooking the beautiful town of Azougui.

Wedadi dodimt want to have dinner with me. He only drinks camel milk for dinner. So I ate alone at this little outdoors pseudo Moroccan restaurant on the sort of main square.

Atar is really a cute little town, nested in the middle of nowhere.

The heat got to me. In Nouakchot I got spoiled by the A/C all the time, so the thermal shock was a bit brutal.

Early night...to borrow morning I am supposed to find a ride to Terjit by 9am at the market.

September 15th

I really like Nouakchott. It is such a developed city for west Africa. And to some degree, because of how spacious the city and its streets are, it almost feels more developed than Dakar. If only it had more plants, trees and parks.

I stayed the whole morning at home, studying Portuguese. The internet connection wasn't so good, so I chose the books over the web.

Towards mid day Cheikh proposed that I tag along. We went to the ministry of finance as he had a meeting with the minister. But we had to wait for a few hours, in a huge fancy meeting room, which is rather used as as waiting room. There I met a friend of Cheikh, Chalana. A very interesting man who asked me to check out the prices of frozen chicken once I get to Brazil as it could be a profitable importing business for Mauritania. Sure, OK! Since he also has a house in Atar, he offered me to stay there for a few nights, even though he doesn't live there, and he connected me with a tour guide friend of his. Just to have a point of contact there. Super nice.

We had lunch quite late as usual, and on the floor of the huge leaving room. I really like this part of the culture. They could eat on crystal tables with fancy silver wear and all, but no, simply sitting on the floor, eating with a spoon and off a common big dish. I love it! The food was fabulous as usual.

The rest of the afternoon, I played with Maggie, their adorable 2 year old who is so irresistibly cute. She is such a tom boy though. This girl will for sure be a trouble maker when she grows up. Lol

Then later on Fatou had asked a Deputy to come by to tell me about the different buses, times, and prices to go to Atar. So he came by just for that. Wow! Very nice guy, very helpful.

I love how the Arabs as well as the Africans overall are so tight together and so helpful for everything. This sort of cultural behavior really is a strength that I wish we had in the "West".

When Cheikh got back home, we all went to the market. I needed to buy a postcard for Milan and Surya, and a big turban for myself to protect me from the sin and dust for my up coming train trip. They refused to let me pay for anything. It made me feel quite uncomfortable. And even more when on top of that Fatou went to buy me a whole traditional beautiful " boubou" outfit. Too kind and generous, really!!!!!!!  Mom, I will wear that outfit for your birthday. :-)

After the market they wanted me to go meet their parents. So first Cheikh's family. 19 brothers and sisters!!!!! His father is such an interesting man. Barely 76 years old, former teacher. He spent a bit of time telling his grandkids around us about my trip to try to get them interested and educated about the importance and benefits of traveling.

Then we went to meet the General. The biggest leaving room I had ever seen. A couch 10m by 10 m by 10m. The conversation quickly turned to politics and the development of sports in the capital. The now retired General is now the president of the basketball federation. It was a very entertaining and interesting conversation.

Fatou's sister, Astou was there as well. She is really cool. To bad I am not staying in town over a weekend as she could have sowed me the other side of the city where the younger crowd hangs out as well as maybe the surroundings of the city. Funny is that she also happens to be friend with Zeinabou, Sonia (Dakar Astou's sister)'s friend who works here for UNICEF and who I was supposed to meet but ran out of time. Small world.

Cheikh is really passionate about his job with the urban city counsel. Every time we are driving around he shows me different parts of the city and makes sure to explain to me about each building. I must !mention again that the French embassy here is probably by far the biggest French governmental building even compared to the ones in France. Unbelievable! And the US is building a brand new embassy which will compete with the French one very closely. Mauritania is definitely a very important and strategic country for western nations.

We got back home at 11pm...just on time for dinner: a Mauritanian couscous. Uffff!!!!! Delicious! Probably better than the Moroccan couscous. I will have to double check when I get back home. Chalana's elder brother was there as well. He used to work on conflict prevention missions for the government, but is now involved in another minister. Anyhow, we had very interesting and enriching talks about the current geopolitical situation and Mauritania's neighbors. The world is a fascinating place to live in.

I can't believe that the weird Canadian guy I had met back in Mopti had told me that Mauritania was of absolutely no interest whatsoever. This only confirms my impression of the guy when I met him. No comment. Lol

Buenas noches. Tomorrow, leaving Nouakchott for Atar. A bit sad, as I would happily have stayed much longer with Fatou and Cheikh, but I am so looking forward to reaching Marrakech at last and also seeing other parts of Mauritania.

September 14th

Today is Fatou's birthday. Shit, all I have to wear is a pair of old ripped jeans, sandals, and a casual linen shirt. Hmmm...

Today was a slow but nice day.

Since the city of Nouakchott terminated its contract with the foreign company in charge of the garbage collection in the city, Cheikh got assigned the temporary garbage collection of the most important neighborhoods. And so I spent part of the day to do the rounds to check on each area to see if the work had been well done. Such an interesting topic to deal with. As I was telling Cheikh, since the beginning of my trip, garbage and recycling has been a common thread to al the places I have been to.

In the afternoon, after a delicious lunch, and before the sun set, we went to the beach nearby. Wow! What a place and experience! The beach is not all that far, but to get the to, you need to pass some minor dunes and sandy areas. And then, well, plastics everywhere, yes, though wayyyy less than in Senegal, but the beach itself, the slightly inclined part that gets hit what the water based on the up or down tide, is pristine sand. The water as well. And the temperature...just perfect. Literally, perfect! Perhaps because it was during the week, but there was barely anyone there. That inclined area is ligned with numerous long and large white wooden pirogues flipped upside down, creating such a beautiful decor.

So we just sat there. No one bothering you to try to sell you anything. No shade. No umbrellas. No shops. Just pirogues, sand, water, and the horizon. Amazing! The coast is so wide that the swimmable beach doesn't mingle with the fishermen's beach. I must absolutely mention that though there was no shade and we were in the bright sun, there was absolutely no uncomfortable heat in the air. It was such a weird phenomenon. 1km away it feels like 45 degrees Celsius, and there it felt like 20.

After out swim, we did go to the fishermen's beach though. Well i had to check out one of Mauritania's blue gold spot. Apparently Nouaddhibou is supposed to be even more impressive. But today, wow! Pirogues parked up along the beach as far as the eye can see. Surreal! Hundreds, thousands...ufff...unbelievable. And the area, the market, the beach, so clean!!!  Nouakchott is really a surprising city. Really! It keeps on surprising me everyday.

Fatou's birthday dinner was low key. I felt super privileged as I was basically the only guest which almost made me feel I was intruding on such romantic moment Fatou and Cheikh could have had if I hadn't been there. The food was French, delicious.

We left early. Good thing given how tired I was.

No clue what tomorrow will be made of, but today was great! Fatou and Cheikh are amazing hosts filled with generosity and kindness.

Happy 31st birthday Fatou!!!

Sunday, September 14, 2014

September 13th, Mauritania...welcome to hell???

I woke up in a small backpackers hostel in Saint Louis, bargaining for the price of a kg of banana for breakfast, and I am going to sleep in the house of the vice president of the urban city council of Nouakchott, cousin of the finance minister, husband of the daughter of the army general and former Olympics athlete.

Today has been quite an eventful day!

I woke up relatively early this morning, I didn't want to cross the border to late, but to get to Nouakchott in the afternoon.

I get up, pack, shower, head out to fetch bananas and bread, head back to my room, have my breakfast, and off I went. Each time I take off from a place these days, i am excited as each day I feel closer to home.

Anyhow, I find a cab. Always funny when cabbies try to screw you with the prices. He said 1000, I said 600. He insisted, I said good bye. It always works. So I got in for 600, the price locals pay.

I got to the main transportation center/lot. Loads and loads of very very very ancient cars...it's amazing how most of them can still ride. Locals are the worst with outside maintenance, but these cars are the living proof that regarding engine maintenance, they are doing a hell of a great job.

So I find my car. Funny moment. The coaxer tells me the price for every one is 3500. I tell him I am not paying more than 2500 ($5 for about 100km). [Transport in Africa is ridiculously expensive]. We start haggling. The driver comes in. I tell him my price and that o had been told it was the price for everyone. He swears to God (ouallah!) That 3500 is the true price. I maintain my position. After a bit we all agree on 2500. Minutes later, as I am chatting wit the driver about Senegal and other things, he tells me that he is a great Muslim and that never in his life has he lied or stolen. Hahahahaha! I wanted to roll on the floor I was laughing so hard inside. And how about the whole bargaining about the price of the ride, dude?! I should have asked him what he meant by lie and steal.

A few hours later we arrive at Rosso Senegal, the Senegalese border on one side of the river. Thank God I had done all my vaccines in Miami before leaving. No one had told me before that to exit Senegal and enter Mauritania one need any kind of vaccine. The guard looked at my very worn vaccine folder...pretty sure he didn't even know how to read. He let's me through.

In the meantime, people had told me that I should take a private boat to cross because I would have to wait another 5 hours before the ferry came back. Price quoted was sky high. Funny people!

I walk to the shore. I see the ferry just left. Too bad. I meet this local how like all of them on that dock looks very sneaky and suspicious. He offers to share a pirogue together for 500 each. That what I would have had to pay on the ferry anyway. So OK, why not. I knew I was getting screwed with the price anyway, but I just wanted to get the hell out of this border. I really had a bad feeling and didn't want to stay around to long.

We cross, and there hell started. Welcome to thief's and liars headquarters!!!

The guy from the boat offers to help and show me where to go. Let's see where that leads to. A guy dressed formally but without uniform tells me he is a police officer and wants to see my passport. I refuse. I want to see his bagde he says to follow him. Off course he was lying. I am not giving my passport to anyone without a badge and a uniform. Mauritania has its reputation.

I get to the visa check point. The officer tells me to go talk to the tall guy outside dressed with a formal traditional attire. He looks at my visa and tells me it is not good and that I need to pay for a new one. Then without leaving me a second he takes off in his car. Son of a b@#$%!!!!!

That stupid fool, unsurprisingly, just wanted to scam me and pretended that the expiration date to enter the country was the expiration date off the visa. (Little hic up was that between the issue date and expiration date there was a month and 4 days and the visa duration said 1 month...stupid embassy to have made this even more confusing).

Anyhoy, I refuse to spend a dime to pay for a new visa. Lucky me, my friends rock!!!!! XsideX in Dakar had put me in touch with the daughter of the General in Nouakchott, Fatou. And so as I walk back to the visa checkpoint with the guy from the pirogue, my supposedly friend, I make sure to mention and threaten to call Fatou and the general and create a huge mess with these guys. As well I am calling Astou for help. I was so frustrated and upset in front of such scammers and thief's.

I made sure to speak as loud as possible when on the phone with Astou and suggesting my calling Fatou. The officer with my passport asks me where I am staying in Mauritania, I answer at the house of the General. I mentioned his two daughters and even give him their phone numbers. Then the guy cracks me up by telling me that I only mentioned girls but no boy. And BAM! I answer right away by asking him if he prefers the company of men or women and says in my case, women. He laughs and his colleagues laugh. I am almost there, my passport is almost stamped.

Oh, by the way, I forgot to mention that just before handing my passport in everyone was telling me I would have to pay 2000 to get the stamp. Lol no way. That visa already cost me way to much money.

And so after much stress and patience, I finally get my passport with a stamp on it. All this fuss for such a lame unimpressive little stamp.

But the game is not over...the "fun" continues.

Now is time to go through customs. Ha! My "friend" tells me that I am not allowed any foreign currency through the border. Any I might have will be taxed. (I was so upset that yesterday I mistakenly pressed 200,000 instead of 20,000 at the ATM...I now had the equivalent of $400 in my pocket!!!) Ufff!!!!

Had I been smarter I would have declared I only had just about 50,000 but I stupidly said I had 100,000 and no other currency. I had declared I lived in Morocco and was a student in agriculture. That's the line I am keeping forever when traveling now. Works so well. While the customs officer was reviewing my passport, he asks me if I am a socialist or a republican. Being French chances are I am one or the other. I tell him I never voted because we have never had any chance with our government anyway. He gets upset. He says it is my civil responsibility and obligation to vote. He insists. Gosh I wanted to through so much in his face about civil obligations after all the crap I was going through at this border but I let it go. Sure, whatever! At the same time, in that room, or rather box, which was wide open, there was this infra red vide camera which had been put there to scan arrivers for Ebola. A nurse sitting shyly in the corner. What a joke. Not a single person went through the scan. When I asked the nurse what was the body temperature that would alert a potential case of Ebola, she answered 38 degrees Celsius. Hahahahaha! I informed her that the body temperature was slightly about 37 and that with the outside temperature it was easy for the body temperature to get close to 38. And if you add on top of this a small little fever for a tooth problem or a sore throat, we get to 39. She seemed clueless and so did the guards in the room.

The customs officer thought a bit before letting me go. I knew something was coming.

I finally passed the border, hallelujah!!!!

As I am about to look for a car to go on, my "friend" and his friends all corner me into a small dark boutique. Holly crap I am unsure of what will happen to me next. I am just hoping the whole talk about Astou and Fatou was enough to deter them from doing me any harm. But still I am a bit worried. Anyhow I keep my cool. They just want me to change all the Senegalese currencies I have into local currency. All I knew was the spot rate of the day. Since they knew how much I had, 100,000 I can't tell them I now have 50,000 so I take my money out, they want to take it from me. No way, let's talk FX rate first. After doing some calculation I tell them I will trade for the sport rate of the day. They agree. Shit! I know I could have had a lot more. What the hell was wrong with the spot rate!? How could the true rate be higher? Were these guys stupid? Well, yes they were, but still...

Hmmm... I change my cash and they let me go.

Another set of haggling with the cars goes on. I want a window seat (it is 210 km to Nouakchott) and I am not paying more than 2500. Everyone tells me 3500. They all want to take my bag to shove it into their car. Hell no! Get the hell away from me. The whole scene is quite aggressive. But again, I had been worn in Senegal and on the forums. My conditions are set and should I not find a buyer I would hitch hike anyway.

I find this car. The coaxer tells me OK for my conditions. Great! The car is half full with boxes and half with three Senegalese women and one kid. Good, we chat about Senegal and of much hell this border is.

Right before getting into the car, Fatou had finally called me back and told me that if I had any problem on the road with the police check points, to call her, that her father had a lot of influence. Those few words were enough to finally make me relax and feel better.

I still ended up giving 2000 to my "friend" for his help. He was asking for 5000 and I wanted to give him 1000 but had no change on me. I was so pissed but didn't want to get into any worse trouble so close to the end. And when I said bye I told him up close that he was not my friend like he enjoyed calling me, friends don't so favors for money.

After a while on the road, we get to a gas station, the driver asks me for my fee. I only have a  5000 bill. I give it to him. He fills up the tank and back on the road. He gives me 500 back and tell me he will give me the 1000 remaining later. I tell him he still owes me 2000 not 1000. And then explodes a huge loud word fight about the price of the ride. I first tell him I had negotiated 2500 and not 3500. If he is not happy to drop me on the road and give me all of my money back. He refuses. I threaten to get him arrested at the next checkpoint. (Knowing that this would be useless given how corrupt a country I already knew it was). The Senegalese women try to calm us down, well mostly him. He was screaming so loud. I had told the driver that i was staying at the General's house in Nouakchott and that if he wanted trouble i was gonna give him trouble. The luckily Astou called me. I tell her very loud that Fatou had called earlier and that had she known her father would have come to the border to get me by helicopter. Yes, I purposefully made the up just to reinforce even more to the driver that I was not just a simple toubab he could screw. It worked like a charm. I got my 2000 back and the rest of the ride was smooth as silk.

Next thing, Fatou called to ask for the driver's number. Ouffff! Now I could relax and enjoy the ride. I was out of trouble! Thank God. Welcome to Mauritania, welcome to hell! Lol

On the other hand, the landscape along the road was just pure spectacle of beauty. Red sand dunes sparkled with bright green acacia trees and touareg tents all over. And from time to time, flocks of dromedaries. Gorgeous! I was actually happy to be in Mauritania. The border was passed, now time to enjoy.

We almost crashed against a small dunkey who had decided to slowly cross the narrow road as we were driving at a good 130k/h. The driver had to jump on the breaks making the car slide sideways a bit. After all this hell at the border, totaling the car with a dunkey would have been quite comical, no?

Arriving in Nouakchott, I finally meet Fatou. Her house, a palace. Four living rooms of different sizes. Huge couches everywhere. My room? Ha! The Hitlon would not have done better or bigger. I quickly shower, put whatever decent clothes I had in my bag. Very limited. And I join them in the first living room to meet her husband, the VP of the urban city counsel, also there a depute, the VP of the Qatary bank implanted in the country, and bunch of other VIP people. I thought to myself "Holly crap! Where have I just landed?! Thank you so much XsideX!!!"

We chit chat a bit in that living room about life and my travels. I try to mention my troubles at the border but no one seems to want to hear that part.

Then we move to the outdoor living room where we all lay down on floor mattresses...touareg style. After a while I am served a huge tray of delicious food.  I ate it all. I am going to explode!!!

Then back inside before heading out for an hour. We drive to this house, or rather complex of buildings, crouch a bit to go through some outside doors and finally get to the private back parking lot where bunch of people are laying down on floor mattresses, traditionally dressed, and in front of this gigantic bewutiful touared tent. I am amazed!!!

I shake hands with the finance minister, his wife, the mayor, and bunch of other important people. Ha! And we spend an hour there, them chatting and me just trying to realize the day i went through. The outside air is perfect. No humidity. Not hot, not cold. Perfect. Yes!!!

Then we drive back home after dropping one of Cheikh (Fatou's husband) cousin home and after Cheikh gave me a very long tour of the city center by night showing me every single official government building. (This country does have a huge potential and a ton of money, the infrastructure and the size of the embassies foreign powers are building are screaming this potential so loud). It is close to 11pm. They say "OK, now let's have dinner please!". Ufff...my intestines have been so trikky lately and I just had lunch a few hours before. I was full. But I had to be respectful...so I sat down in the outdoor living room, and we ate. An absolutely delicious roasted chicken with a prune and onion sauce...like in Moroccan tagines. Ufff I was so upset to be so full as I would have esten the who!e dish just to myself. Lol

12:30 we say good night. I go to my " suite" lol.

As I am reflecting on today and on my trip, I van believe how amazing the ride has been so far. Between India, Bangladesh, Thailand, Indonesia, Senegal, and now Mauritania, I have been so privileged to be able to experiment seeing both lower class and upper class in the same trip and to see how gigantic or a gap there is in between. But so far Mauritania seems to be the country where this gap is the widest. It is unbelievable. I only wish I had gotten more opportunities to do more volunteering work like Angelina did during her trip. But I am happy with my trip as well. It is what it is and I have seen so many different worlds.

I am dead tired now. Tomorrow should be interesting. I will need to find out more about my itinerary and how to get from place to place. I won't get on any tour (like Fatou alluded to today) and I won't pay more than what I should. But I will take public transportation.

Terjit, Atar, Chingetti, Choum and Nouadibbu here I come!!!

Buenas noches!

September 12th, last sunset in Senegal

The huge monument of La Renaissance Africaine in Dakar, which is supposed to display the power and hope for a great future of the African (west African perhaps) nations, was built by Koreans. Only 9 Senegalese were involved.

As I lean outside my window this morning, I see that the whole paved road being renovated along the river is being managed by a Korean.

West Africa is quite a poor region of the world, but if the governments prefer to outsource the massive infrastructure labor work to Asia instead of hiring locals to boost the economy it definitely shows how corrupt the leadership is in pocketing as much cash as possible during their term, and also how they have no intention to help develop the countries they have been elected to govern. But it also shows that the local population doesn't really give a damn either.

It is really sad when you think about it. The locals don't seem to bother all that much. Would something like this happen in France or the US, we would have massive national strikes and revolts. The other question I am also asking myself is: does the local labor actually have the technical skills required for such infrastructure work? If not, why not?

Anyhow, today was quite interesting. I was super tired this morning. The pasta I ate last night kept me awake and sick for part of the night. I should have known better. Oh well..I can't wait to be in morocco to do a full deep intestinal cleanse. Probiotics and heathy mom's food!

I went back to the restaurant where I had had my first dinner when I arrived/ I knew they had wifi and I needed to use the internet to book my Permaculture course in morocco as well as send some emails and get on Skype if possible. I had previously found my supplies to have my usual banana sandwich breakfast, can't go wrong with that. And I went to sit down at one of the bistro table of the restaurant. I shared a table with this engineer from morocco who was on a mission here for a year. So we chatted for a good hour about Morocco and the things we missed from from there food being on top of the list. Lol. Then he left. I ate my sandwich, and spent most of the morning and early afternoon there, online, and an hour later having lunch. They had a good thiebudjen for a decent price. So why not? I didn't want to have the same cream cheese sandwich I had yesterday.

I slowly made my way back to my room to hide from the sun and heat and take a little power nap.

When I woke up I wanted to charge my tablet with the new charger I bought yesterday. Lucky me it didn't work. Hahaha! I say lucky, because thanks to this incident, I had to get up and go find the shop to exchange it back for one that worked. But best of all is that once I had gotten it, and since I was on the other side of the bridge, on the Langue de Barbarie, I decided to go hang out and walk along the beach side. One of the most colorful, vibrating and lively place I have seen on my trip so far. Gosh! What a magical spectacle of a sunset. I couldn't believe I would have almost missed that.

Kids wrestling in the sand, or making fake races with small tin pirogues they built on the model of their father's real one. Other kids standing atop the tip of their daddy's large pirogue and flying tiny hand made kites. Groups of men hauling back their big pirogue filled with fish. Women preparing food. Teens playing soccer. Men fixing their fishing nets, blue, green or red, spread all over the beach. Sheep's of all sizes spread all over the beach and having their dinner from bowls given by their owners. Groups of men of all ages sitting under a tent and having their weekly gathering. Little girls dancing. And the sun slowly making its honey like smooth decent towards the water. And despite the fact that the beach was a total garbage dump site, the scenes were so overwhelming of beauty. I walked while playing with kids and saluting adults all along. I got to a halt when a large group of kids and mostly little girls surrounded me, asking for money, candy, gifts, anything...more so by reflex than by real necessity. And so I kept on asking the oldest one "why?". If i give you money who will give me money? If I give you food who will give me food? Ha! It was so funny to watch her confusion and frustration in not being able to give me a good answer. All the while the smallest kids were trying to climb on me, or playing with my leg hair, and then running away as fast as possible as soon as I would tease them and look at them with mean eyes. Hilarious!
I was magnetically stuck to this little group. But I went on...still more of the beach to explore. But soon after I had left, I decided to get on a mission to buy a big bag of candies to bring back to this group. I just wanted to spend more time with them. It took me a while, especially since shop owner think "bomboms" means cookies, and thus most of the time told me they didn't have any when the front part of their shop was covered with candy boxes. Funny frustration. But I bought 30 lollipops. Wink wink to my favorite Lollipop.

And so when I got back to the beach, the group of girls was just about to start a little dance show, where the youngest ones were dressed with these red dot dresses, all made up as adults and dancing according to some special traditional songs telling stories of married couple. It was adorable.  I gave the whole bad of candies to the woman I had spoken with earlier and told her to give the candies to whoever she wanted. That way I am not myself making any jealous or sad kids. And I went to sit down on the little cement wall to watch the rest of the show. The boys were annoying, always trying to divert my attention to anything they could find. Really annoying. "Hey, hey, hey, hey!"

The sun was almost set. The light was most gorgeous. I saw afar scenes with that light that would have made the most amazing photos...but I decided to stay. Deepen myself into the moment...my last sunset in Senegal...magical and well worth it...encapsulating the beauty of this country, set atop a garbage dump.

The more places i see, the more I realize how garbage is impacting me and how without a doubt, this issue of garbage disposal and recycling potential will most certainly play a big role in my future. It really has been a common thread of my adventure so far, country after country.

When I left the beach, the older girl who was so frustrated and upset earlier ran after me and told me: "monsieur, toi tres gentils, Merci!". I was moved. I didn't do much. I just gave the a few candies, and barely took any photos. I didn't want to ruin the moment. I just spent time with them and appreciatively sat there enjoying the moment.

People are most definitely what makes this life and world so interesting. People often wonder why we are on this planet, why we exist. I tend to think, that it is simply because our existence is what allows to diversify the pool of beings and the interactions between us all. The energy produced from these interactions, the continuity of this magical flow of diverse emotions and feelings is what makes the presence of each additional being well worth it. It is incredible to see how we tend to spend more time and energy in our life trying to find out why we exist, rather than to enjoy our existence. What a shame...

Friday, September 12, 2014

Djeredjef Dakar...

Today is September 11th, it is 9:25pm and I am laying down in my dorm bed in Saint Louis dead tired.

It has been such a long time since I wrote in my blog. Why? Well, I guess because I hadn't felt like writing. Not !much was happening, yet at the same time, so much was happening that by the time I went to bed I was to tired to spend 30 minutes recounting the day's events.

In retrospect, now I do wish I had spent that half hour each day. But it is what it is.

I am in this weird phase now, where I am close to the end of my adventure, well the nomadic part of it as life in itself is a big adventure. And so though I am dying to reach morocco, spend time at home and with my parents, then hang out with Sonja and the kids in Connecticut before the big leap...the move to Brazil and joining Angelina at last. Get at the same time, I do feel a bit of sadness inside as the world is so big and there are so many countries I want to explore. The weirdest part though is that I have this deep craving of going back to Asia. I miss Indonesia, India, Burma...much more than I thought I would.

Anyhow, yesterday afternoon I had to say goodbye to my dear friends in Dakar, Astou, Bye, Saly, X, Francois, Maryse, Marem, Safi, Mbayang, Alyoun, Djili...

After spending so much time in Dakar (it has been the city where I have spent the most time in all of my trip) thanks to the fantastic hospitality of Astou and the welcoming of her crew, it wasn't so easy to leave at all. I could have kept postponing my departure day on and on...but the longer I stayed in Dakar, the less close I felt to being back home and moving to Brazil. So I needed to get going and hit the road again.

Dakar however, has provided me with such great moments with great people. Dakar the land of teranga (hospitality) deserves its name without a doubt. Well, at least thanks to the great friendships I have made there. It definitely made all the difference, and my experience would have been a whole other adventure of I hadn't made such friends.

During the past couple of weeks, I spent a lot of time resting, sleeping, and reading. I read about 5 books (not much for Angelina's standards, lol). But most importantly I patiently heeled my intestinal problems. Whatever I ate or drank in Mali kept me sick for more than four weeks! I a still not 100% back to normal but I am feeling much better and have apparently regained a bit of weight. Since the very beginning of my trip I had apparently lost about 7kg!!! Hehe here is a tip for people seeking to lose weight, eat street food in developing countries...and if you want to lose even more weight, drink tap water. Lol

Astou and her cook/maid Mbayang took such good care of me during the whole time, preparing me delicious meals in large quantities. It was funny and cute to watch Mbayang's face each time she would come pick up the dishes after I had finished them all to the very last crumble/drop. It made her so happy and proud.

We went to a nightclub once, for the birthday of Astou's cousin's wife. It was good fun. Much more fun and less pretentious than the first time I went to a club in Dakar. Yet, I am not much of a clubber anymore. I enjoy way more house parties with friends. More convivial and entertaining.

We went to ride quads (my first time) by the famous Lac Rose (pink lake not pink any more) at sunset. It was magnificent. Riding the high sand dunes and then along the ocean beach while the sun is slowly making its way down.

Sunday morning, Astou's father organized a morning walk around the gigantic monument of the Renaissance Africaine. I hadn't woken up that early in a while. Lol but it was a very nice way to start our Sunday. About 200 people of all ages joined the walk. There was so specific cause or fundraising. Just getting people together to do some sort of exercise. All of it over viewed or rather supported by the army. Astou's father used to be the General of the army back then.  In the afternoon we went to the Sarpent Island. This is an old and deserted island off of the coast of Dakar. Beautiful setting of black and white rocks surrounding meadows of miniature baobab trees. The good thing with this island is that at least the water is totally clean, and there is no one around trying to sell you things or looking at you weird.

Dakar and its surroundings have such a huge diversity of places to explore and enjoy. Desert, mangroves, islands, beaches, forest, national parks, and much more. To be bored in Dakar one has to do it on purpose.

My last week in Dakar, I managed to find a social business project to help out on the beach of Yoff, 20km away from Dakar's city center. A beautiful neighborhood. If I were living in Dakar and had a car, this neighborhood would definitely be on my top 3 hang out places.

Anyway, the project is called Begue Coco. Begue means happiness in wollof. It was created by Emma, this going american girl who also graduated from AU, and Cheikh, a young Senegalese man. They are pretty much running a little beach bar they built themselves, out of recycled materials, and are selling all sorts of waters, cocktails and cosmetic products derived from the coconut. The only formal place in Dakar doing so. Is it really a competitive advantage? I am not so sure.

The other part of their project, which to me is the most important one with the most potential, is the work they plan to do on reforestation of the whole Senegalese coastline to stop the soil erosion, produce coconuts for their business, but also promote environmental sustainability. They haven't really started that part yet unfortunately as I would have so loved to get in on it. Cheikh is also working on a few ecovillages around the country which will be a beautiful add to their project.

So I joined them for a week to help out with the reviewing and improving of their business plan, as well as to build up a key hole permaculture garden right on the beach. My very first interaction with Permaculture. Yay!

The experience was great. Begue Coco has A LOT of work to do if they want to really get their business and its profitability going. But the potential is definitely their. For sure! One thing I learnt, aside from the  Permaculture gardening, is that running a beach bar is far from being exciting and even further from being all that profitable. A thorough competitive analysis is  much needed and I think Begue Coco might have gone through that a bit to quickly.

In any case, it was a great experience. I got to help with my business experience and acumen, I got to hang out by the beach and swim a lot, I got to learn some very basics about Permaculture, and I even got to try to surf for a morning. The waves sucked, but I tried. Good workout anyway. Lol

When I think of my time in Senegal, it was probably the worst time to be in the country: hottest time of the year, rainy season, Ramadan, summer holidays, Ebola outbreak all around.  But I still managed to have a spectacular time. Djeredief to my friends!!!

Because between Senegal and Mali I didn't feel that I been all that adventurous, instead of cutting through Mauritania in in three days to make it to Morocco, I have decided to actually travel around Mauritania for a bit to see some of that very little traveled desert country...hoping that the Islamist conflict present in the region, between northern Mali, Algeria, and eastern Mauritania, doesn't create to much of a challenge or danger in the places where I will go. It would be a bummer to get kidnapped or worse, so close to the end of my trip.

And so, to make the Dakar - Nouakchott leg smooth, I decided to make a few days stop in Saint Louis...the very first city where the French colonizers set camp in west Africa.

After a sad farewell to Astou and the gang yesterday after lunch, I shared a five hour taxi with bunch of other people to get to the island of Saint Louis, almost 300km north of Dakar and 100km south of the Mauritania border.

The taxi took much longer than expected, and so I arrived last night at 10pm...tiiiiiired!

I found a hostel, by the river side, on the island, and close enough to the center, yet far enough to not hear all the noise and traffic.

The cheapest option was a dorm bed. So that's what I chose. There was only one other person in the dorm, this girl from Madrid. Uffff...I was so happy to find someone I could speak Spanish with. Her name is also Emma. She had been in Senegal for almost three weeks and did more or less the same circuit as me expect that she also made it to Casamance. Agrrrr!!! I wish I had gone there. Next time for sure.

So Emma and I hung out, chit chatting about our Asia and Senegal experience until she left this afternoon. It was a cool transition between busy Dakar, and now alone Saint Louis...and soon alone Mauritania.

This morning, after I found my usual kg of bananas and my baguette of bread, we found a bench in an area with absolutely no shade (it seems it is very hard to find a shaded area here), where I could finally have my breakfast. The moment was priceless. We very quickly got surrounded by a dozen kids. All asking for money, food, gifts...the usual. And behind us, yet sneaking through our bench, a huge sheep who was trying to eat whatever he would reach, and at the same time, head bumping Emma to make his way to my food. It was hilarious. The kids were so funny. We spent a good hour there, just enjoying the moment. Emma was trying to communicate with her Spanish on her side of the bench, and me I was jus playing around with the kids.

Saint Louis, just like in Dakar, is filled with these beautiful big sheeps people are getting ready for the big Tabaski, the Muslim religious holiday 40 days after the end of Ramadan. Those sheep's are gorgeous. They make ours in morocco look like ugly fur balls. But the city is covered with them. I had never seen so many before. And though Senegal is a poorer country than morocco, their sheep's which are much better looking, sell for much more money.

It is such an interesting phenomenon when you think of it. Sheeps are easily sellable items here, and thus highly liquid assets for their owners. And so seeing these thousands of sheeps roaming the streets of the city is as if people were walking around with their wallets wide open displaying how much cash they have...thus far I have surprisingly not seen any conflict being created because of this.

This afternoon I had a very relaxing yet entertaining time chatting with this retired teach and this plant nursery manager about not only Senegalese culture but also about religion. Ufff it is always such an interesting topic to touch on with such devout religious people. The nursery guy got a bit uncomfortable and upset when I told him I didn't believe in God and in religion. And his reaction made the teacher laugh the whole time. After a while, I left the place recommending him to sell and promote citronella as a mosquitoes repelling plant and am easy way to make cash for him.

The cutest part of the day though, was when I sat Dow on the side of the road to eat a simple sandwich. This tiny little girl comes to me and says "Ana madame?" Which translates into "where is your wife?". It was so cute how she assumed that white people are always traveling as couples.

I walked so much today, probably close to 15km...which doesn't seem like a lot, but with this suffocating humid, sticky salty and dusty heat...it is a hell of a lot.

But Saint Louis is such an incredible and vibrating place. A lot of it reminds me of Havana, Banda Aceh,  Viejo San Juan, and even Mopti. The city is a total dump it is so filed with litter, but somehow it makes it beautiful. The ancient colonial houses filling up the little alleys, the kids playing in the streets, the fishermen drying and fixing their gigantic colorful nets in the alleys where the women are also drying their fresh ultra colorful laundry of the day. People sitting at their balconies. The river bank filled with these hand painted and made long fishing boats. Sheep's all over the place. All sorts of smells floating around. A lot of people in the streets, yet only a meager portion of them actually doing something while the rest are just waiting for time to pass.

Saint Louis is magnetic. I started walking and was unable to stop because of how each little street I saw made me want to see the next one. This place is a photographers paradise...if only I had a real camera.

It is now 11:08pm...I am tired.

Silly backpackers observation from Saint Louis: a can of soda is way cheaper here than in Dakar, and a kg of banana is more expensive here than in Dakar. Bread and water are about the same price.

Last though of the day: I miss Mbayang's food. Can't wait to be in Morocco. Nothing better than home cooked food. Here, not much street food (Mali's was much better), and restaurants are to expensive. One. One more day here and Saturday morning I am out.

Angelina just texted me. I miss her. Less than 85 days! :-)

Boa noite!