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!
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