To get to Congo (and beyond)

From my last posting in Gamba, I continued south into the 12th and final new country of my trip: The Republic of Congo. For those of you who may make a similar trip someday, here is a rough schedule of what to expect:

Day 1

The much lighter ride back to Tchibanga

06:00 - wake up, eat, say final goodbyes to A/C, internet; mexican food and host.
07:30 - ask around in town for a ride back to Tchibanga
08:30 - miraculously leave almost immediately on the back of a truck to Tchibanga. Feel grateful that there is little luggage in the back, so sitting is possible (see last post for alternative)
13:30 - arrive in Tchibanga, nurse blisters and bruises from the ride.
14:00 - visit first hotel, decide it's too expensive, ask directions to next
14:45 - arrive at second hotel soaked in sweat. Find out it's more expensive than the first.
15:30 - arrive at third (and cheapest) hotel, bucket bath and pass out in the shade until dusk.
18:00 - venture outdoors to the nearest bar, enjoy a beer while fendng off "friendly" scammers trying to get you to buy them one.
18:08 - power cut. Sip beer in complete darkness.
19:30 - get bored of darkness, go to hotel.
19:35 - realize hotel also has no power, thus the fan in the room does not work. lay down and begin soaking the sheets with sweat. Eventually pass out.

Lunch?

Day 2

 06:00 - wake up, wander to find breakfast.
 06:30 - discover everything is closed. Eat bread and wait for lunch. read. shower.
 11:00 - go to find bus to Ndéndé. Discover it doesn't exist.
11:30 - take taxi to edge of town. Find 30 people waiting to hitch rides to Ndéndé, get in line.
13:00 - negotiate a ride with a truck. Get excited about hitchhiking again
13:15 - find out truck charges the same as the taxi, get less excited about hitchhiking again.
13:45 - finally get in truck, discover it has air conditioning. Relax.
13:50 - air conditioning breaks. Sweat.
16:00 - arrive in Ndénde. Go to cheap hotel from before
16:15 - Cheap hotel is full. Get directed to other hotel
16:35 - other hotel is expensive. Get directed to Case de Passage
16:50 - Arrive at case, look for owner
17:00 - call number on the door, wake up owner. Dump luggage in room.
17:05 - run across the street to immigration to get exit stamp for tomorrow morning.
17:10 - chat with immigration officials, wait for them to ask for bribe.
17:30 - get released with exit stamp without paying bribe. Smile. Find food
18:30 - return to case. Get invited to a drink by case owner. Oblige.
20:00 - go to bar with case owner, meet up with immigration officials and other local travelers.
20:30 - try to learn to dance. Fail miserably. Succeed in becoming source of entertainment
21:15 - turn down offers of women. Accept offers of beer.
23:45 - collapse in bed. Sleep.

Night storms in Ndéndé

Day 3

05:30 - wake up, begin search for a vehicle to the border.

09:00 - still looking and waiting for a vehicle to the border.

10:15 - find a truck, agree to a price, point out that the truck currently has a flat tire.

11:15 - leave vulcanization shop after watching tire get fixed, prepare to leave.

11:45 - make last shopping and passenger stop in Ndéndé, prepare to leave again.

12:30 - actually leave

13:15 - stop at Gendarme checkpoint. Hand over passport. No problems

13:30 - stop at another Gendarme checkpoint. Hand over passport. Watch Gendarme flip through visas and pretend to be satisfied without having found the Gabon or Congo visas or the personal information page.

14:00 - stop at border control checkpoint. Hand over passport for stamp, get asked for $20 "departure tax". Assume it's a bribe, refuse to pay. Make a scene, realize locals are paying, too. Maybe it's not a bribe. Try to get receipt. Get 3 tickets instead. Hope that won't cause future problems

14:30 - leave border control checkpoint

14:35 - stop at police checkpoint. Hand over passport. No problems.

The border

14:45 - cross border.

14:46 - stop at Congo border checkpoint. Hand over passport. No problems.

14:50 - walk to Congo customs (the guy next door). Hand over passport. No problems. Cursory bag search. No problems.

15:00 - walk to Congo police checkpoint (across the street). Hand over passport. Comment on "BARACK OBAMA 2008" poster on the wall. No problems.

15:15 - walk to Congo immigration checkpoint (again across the street). Hand over passport. No problems. Get told there are no vehicles until tomorrow.

15:30 - meet Bruce, the Congolese traveler from the car. Book a room at the hotel to share

17:00 - realize there is no food in the border village, eat sardines with Congolese beer.

17:45 - swim in border river. Hope the parasite count is low.

19:00 - crawl into bed next to Bruce. Try to sleep.

Bruce and the local brews

Day 4

05:00 - wake up, ask about a truck, discover there is none.

05:15 - go back to sleep.

07:30 - wake up, go outside, realize there is no truck. Sit in a chair.

09:00 - Truck shows up, says it will leave soon. Prepare to leave.

09:30 - truck driver is sleeping. Eat manioc and sardines with gendarmes and Bruce.

11:00 - get bored with waiting. Take a nap

12:00 - get woken up, truck is leaving

12:30 - truck actually leaves. Prepare for 10-hr journey.

Inside the truck

13:30 - truck driver demands everyone gets out. Truck turns around to go back to the border.

13:35 - begin waiting at village bar with everyone else. Watch young men play cards while little kids stare

17:45 - truck comes back. Now it's filled with jugs of gasoline. Throw bag inside and climb on top. Settle in for long ride.

20:30 - truck stops for dinner. All restaurants are closed. Eat sardines and manioc on the sidewalk with Bruce and new guy.

21:30 - truck leaves again

22:00 - try to sleep on top of truck. Realize it's equivalent to trying to sleep on vibrating wooden pallets with an occasional buck. Sit up straight again and stare forward at the road.

Day 5

03:00 - start falling asleep on top of truck again. Fear falling off of truck. Crawl inside

03:30 - finally find a semi-comfortable spot on top of gasoline jugs between other bodies. Pass out.

06:00 - wake up in Dolisie at destination. Find out the jugs were leaking and butt is soaked in gasoline.

06:15 - go find breakfast and SIM card with Bruce.

Dolisie view

11:00 - find taxi to Pointe-Noire.

12:30 - taxi finally leaves Dolisie for Pointe-Noire. Realize the bumpy truck roof was more comfortable than being crammed into the front seat with wide-hipped African woman.

15:30 - Arrive in Pointe-Noire. Eat beans and chicken with Bruce.

16:00 - Accept Bruce's help to find a taxi to Couchsurfing host's neighborhood

16:45 - realize Bruce expects to be hosted , as well. Have awkward conversation in bad French.

17:00 - Meet CS host. Part ways with Bruce.

17:15 - Arrive in air-conditioned, western-style apartment. Shower. Discover bruises and blisters from truck. Tend to rash on gasoline-soaked butt. Wash clothes. Hope the next leg of travel will be easier.

Epilogue

It isn't.

First this gendarme told us we needed to stop for the night to avoid bandits on the road. Then he bought me a beer. Then I slept on the ground and woke up covered in dust with a torn shirt.

Then I was reminded of home (and this is not an unusual sight...)

Then we got a flat tire. Then the driver drove on it.

And kept driving on it for 10km more

it's hard to jack up a van without a tire, it's easy to get it off the jack!

Then they got the van stuck in a ditch

Then we had to start walking and hitching rides on trucks

Then we hitched a ride on a truck

This is what one looks like after two days on the road between Pointe Noire and Brazzaville.

Next time maybe I'll join these British tourists in their Africa overland battle truck.

Culture shock

Sunrise over Africa

(at least) Eight months, six different countries, two major regions of the world. Alone.

These were the requirements of the Bonderman fellowship. The idea being, in part, that you're gone for a while, see some different things, get thrown out of your comfort zone and rely on yourself the whole time. So far I've been gone over six months, been to 10 different countries (China, Mongolia, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, Turkey, Morocco, Senegal and Cameroon), I've been mostly alone the whole time, and now that I've entered Cameroon, I'm into the second of my two official "major regions" (a vague concept in itself), Central Africa.

Everyone asks about my impressions of this area, so here are a few about Africa in general:

Trust

This is the first impression that's been on my mind. Traveling alone requires a level of trust. There's the trust in oneself and one's abilities to survivie or even thrive in new, strange and difficult circumstances. There's a trust in one's immune system that the lukewarm street-meat-wich you just ate won't haunt you later (it didn't), and there's also a necessary trust of others around you, even when they're not always trustworthy.

The producer of my questionable sandwich.

In Central Asia, I found it fairly easy to trust most of the locals I met. I would willingly hop into strangers' cars, accept invitations to raucous birthday parties (while limiting my own raucousness), sleep on the floors of people I'd met just hours before on the street, and eat their food. This trust was partly due to my being in the region for several months and starting to get a feel for the culture, partly due to the general decrease in corruption and relative lack of tourist predation in this area, and quite likely partly due to some blissful ignorance on my part.

Waiting for the local transport (kind of like Jeepneys in the Philippines)

Africa has been a different story. I don't mean to say that Africans are, as a rule, untrustworthy. In fact, I can think of a few who are the opposite. This is a common perception, however. Before arriving in Africa, I'd heard stories and read in the guidebook about all of the different cons and scams that Moroccans or Senegalese or Cameroonians could, and likely would, pull on you. Once I arrived, I watched many Moroccans and Senegalese and Cameroonians pull these exact tricks on me and other foreigners nearby.

neighborhood street in Dakar

The problem isn't the con men themselves, as I'd expected to encounter them and even derived an odd bit of pleasure from seeing through their scams and continuing on unscathed. The problem is the effect that they, and the fear of them as promoted through guidebooks and traveler lore, have on my psyche. Instead of taking the invitation to come in for tea and plov, I'm instantly suspicious of any friendly-looking face and watching my back as I sip the tea. This leads to a much more stressful existence.

Thankfully, as I said, not everyone is like this. For instance, CouchSurfing introduced me to Ouzin, my Senegalese host in Dakar. He took me all around town, introduced me to his friends and family, who in turn introduced me to various home-cooked traditional Senegalese meals (all delicious, by the way),. he spoke little to no English, forcing me to practice my incredibly rusty French, and in general provided a comfortable, interesting experience during my short stay in Dakar.

Ouzin next to some old French cannons

Here in Cameroon, my host and friend Evan introduced me to a co-worker, Michael, who knows about motorcycles. Michael has been helping me shop for bikes and answer some of my Cameroon-motorcycling questions. Although I'm still wary of trusting him fully, it's been invaluable in finding a decent bike in a reasonable amount of time in a new place

The key has been connections. With Ouzin, it was Couchsurfing. With Michael, it was a mutual trusted friend. When I'm off on my own again riding through Central Africa, we'll see what kinds of trust and hospitality I find

Smiles

Whereas most Central Asians are imprinted with the Soviet mentality of not smiling unless it's absolutely necessary or warranted, you don't see many people beaming on the streets. In Africa, however, and especially Senegal and Cameroon so far, smiles, laughs and humor seem to be the currency that keeps life moving. Getting scammed? Joke with the scammer and he'll leave you alone! Salesman overcharging you? Give him a laugh and the price drops! It's quite refreshing, actually...

Ouzin's uncle jammin'

Heat

My first comment to Evan when I got off the plane in Douala and it was 80 degrees: "It's pretty hot for 5am, eh?" Very different from the frigid steppe of Central Asian in December.

Cooling off in the tree chair in Dakar

Cooling off in the Atlantic Ocean

Near the westernmost point in Africa

Spice

No more plov, no more Shorpa, no more Mante, (although they still have Shawarmas). Now there are all sorts of spicy meaty sauces over rice or with Cassava. Delicious. Best of all - still no sickness since China!

Thieboudienne

kind of like oatmeal with yogurt, but sweeter, and eaten communally. Sugar counts as a spice

Making tea. They make it super strong and carmelize the tons of sugar they add to it.

Politics

In Central Asia, politics is a bit of a non-issue. Despite being "democracies", most of those republics have had the same president for decades. Cameroon is a bit the same, but Senegal had some clear excitement and uncertainty in their election system - as evidenced by these eloquent political statements

Wade was the last president

He was voted out last year

Memorial to the end of slavery on l'Isle de Goree

The African Renaissance Monument in Dakar. It's taller than the Statue of Liberty.

from Traveler to Tourist

Many people have asked me why I chose the destinations for this trip. My answer has generally been something along the lines of, "I want to go to places off the beaten track, where (mostly American) people don't visit very often." This was quite true of much of Central Asia, and even so for China and Mongolia, although to a lesser extent. Morocco, however, is a different story.

First off, Morocco has been a tourist destination for at least a hundred years, I figure, with the French colonization and proximity to Europe. In Central Asia, people are still getting the hang of this "tourist exploitation" thing, but in Morocco they have it down pat. At every turn, in even the small towns, people are constantly trying to sell you knick-knacks, tours, or useless services (like pointing you in the direction of the tourist plaza you just ran away from).

It took some philosophical adjustment to get used to this new environment, but I figure that's part of the point of the whole "two regions" requirement of the fellowship, anyway: to throw you off balance a bit. In the end, I was able to treat it as a game, and a little holiday vacation from cold nights on the steppe and being labeled a spy at every turn...

But first, business

One of the main reasons I made this mid-way stop in Morocco was to get a visa for Cameroon. Turns out that's not as easy as it sounds. After a week of visiting and calling various embassies, I was left empty handed and with new plans to stop in Senegal next week to give that a try. I'll save that story for another time. On the plus side, I was staying with my Moroccan CouchSurfing host, Rachid, at the time, and between frustrating embassy encounters I was distracted by:

Hanging out with Rachid and his friend, Aga

Delicious tagines (and a lesson on how to cook them)

Dressing up in a djellaba for Friday mosque

Couscous (a tradition on Friday after mosque)

Getting lost in the Medinas

Exploring old Kasbahs

Visiting a Hammam/bathhouse (can you guess which side is men and which is women?)

Sharing some meals with Rachid's family (Dad, me, Brother Said and Mom)

And, of course, drinking lots and lots of sweet minty Moroccan tea (they call it "Berber whiskey")

Step Two: Explore Morocco

After the frustrating failure of my diplomacy, I was quickly distracted by a wonderful early Christmas present, the arrival of my girlfriend, Anna, for the holidays. I'll let her take it from here:

I (Anna) arrived at the airport with no less than 60 lbs of gear - 20 or so of it was actually mine. It wasn't a total burden though, I got to walk through the Paris airport carrying a motorcycle helmet and a techy-looking duffel bag. People either looked very confused or very impressed - either way it made me feel cool. The pilot on my flight from Paris to Casa even informed me, politely, that all I would need for the flight was a seatbelt - the helmet wasn't necessary, before exploding in laughter. The only thing that kept me from exiting customs in Casablanca wearing the helmet (to help Shawn find me, of course) was the larger urge to finish my 24 hours of traveling and give that man a hug (helmets get in the way of that).

Us and all of our Shawn's motorcycle crap. Fortuantely, we were able to leave half of this behind in Casablanca

I was insanely jealous that Shawn was already multiple days of eating delicious food ahead of me, so we immediately went out and "splurged" on a $15 dinner.

Shawn even dressed up! (Thanks Mom, from Shawn!)

Then, we actually splurged by renting a car (thanks Kevin and Arlene!) so we could escape the time-sucking nature of bus travel or hitching, but still have the freedom of stopping where we wanted. The picture below is of us right before we crossed the Tizi n' Test pass that crosses the High Atlas Mountains. It is a "yellow road" on our map, which apparently means that ALMOST two cars can fit on the road and there are lots of holes. Everywhere. Needless to say, travel is slow. And stressful, Shawn might say, when you have a passenger screaming every time you round a corner and have to slam on the brakes for the truck coming up the hill.

The Renault SYMBOL that carried us

We stopped in Taliouine,a little countryside town known for growing saffron (so I bought some) where I discovered that I do not, in fact, hate olives (so I bought some a lot, on several occasions). We began our week long road trip by going to the market, where there were oranges, onions, beans, cauliflower, etc. etc. (so we bought some). Shawn practiced his French (C'est combien? Q'uest-ce que c'est?") and made us dinner, while I fulfilled my role of lady on holiday by reading on my Kindle (imagine having the time to read!) and occasionally checking to see if the laundry Shawn had done was dry (it wasn't, ah well, better sit down...).

A traveler's washing machine...

After many failed attempts at this picture (in one, Shawn is still running toward the wall), we gave up and just stood really close to the camera...

We stayed a few nights, so we could spend the day trekking around the town. The town is surrounded by these amazing rock formations (and no trees, really). We hiked up and out of the town, through some smaller villages and back to the road, where we attempted to hitch back until our generous ride stopped and said, "Two minutes", then walked off. We walked back.

Taliouine is in the background.

A view of the hills surrounding Taliouine.

We continued on, staying in various cheap hotels that felt like dungeons and had gross bathrooms. We ended up pushing pretty hard to reach a town called Merzouga, which is on the edge of the Sahara, where we stayed at the best place in Morocco, Hotel Kasbah Panorama. It's situated on a hill, which gives a beautiful view of the dunes. We were there during the lull before the holidays (New Year's), so we were treated really well by the family who owned it. Hands down, the best food we've had here, no one tried to get us to buy useless crap, and it was peaceful. One of the owners, Ismael, showed us around a bit and talked with us about Berber culture a lot - education, history, etc.

This is Jovanna. She is cute. Her partner, Jovannie, followed us into the desert (brave cat!).

Ismael, whose family owns the hotel, took us to the souk (market) in Rissani and showed us where you can buy spices. There were so many types and they smelled so good, so I bought some a kilo of spices...oops.

Then we went into the desert on camels - ours were named Bob Marley (left) and Jimi Hendrix (right)!  This is the first time we learned that if you don't lead a camel, it goes where it wants...

This is me, fighting to keep my seat atop Bob Marley's back. (Look at how red that sand is!)

Saharan dunes, plus Youssef, our guide, who spent some of the walk talking on his cell phone.

Hiking the dunes for a sunset view.

Small Anna on a big Saharan dune at sunset.

Shawn playing on the dunes at sunrise. So early. So cold.

The nomadic Berber camp we slept in, while fennec foxes walked silently around our tents all night, taunting me (my biggest hope was to see one of these critters - no foxes, but lots of burrows and tracks).

The well - only 1 meter deep and - BOOM - cold, clear, fresh water.

 The night we stayed in the desert, our guides kept encouraging us to go for walks, see the stars, etc. We wondered where they had tied the camels...

The next morning, one of the guides approached Shawn and said, "Last night, the camels, they go....I do not know where", in a most dejected way. So there we were, on a camel trek into the Sahara, with no camels! I overheard the Portuguese couple asking him, in Spanish, "Escaparon? (they escaped?)" The guide replied..."Ehh......." In truth, I suppose it's hard for an animal to escape if you don't first tie them to something.

Never fear though, we're in Morocco - he maintained his dejected attitude, and offered to sell us some (fake? real?) fossils while we waited for the 4 x 4 to come rescue us. As they say, ain't no man sadder than a nomad without his camel - but $15 for a rock is still expensive.

Turns out that our camels had gone wandering in search of "greener pastures" - they had been found down by the river, where there are more plants. And so, we learned that Bob Marley and Jimi Hendrix had, quite naturally, left the early-to-bed tourists in search of some grass...

He said, "8 x 8 in, now 4 x 4 out! Haha!"

We have eaten a lot of delicious little street-cart donuts, street meat-wiches, olives (Anna), and had liters and liters of mint tea, I'm sure. Now, we're kicking back and enjoying the last few days together with a newfound confidence to deal with the touts as they harrass us. We only buy things from people that barely talk to us, only enter shops where the person seems apathetic about whether we buy anything, and only stay at hotels if they don't barrage us with advertisements and attempts to draw us in. Take that, Morocco.

Some parting shots:

Hands down, the best tagine we had (at Kasbah Panorama, in Merzouga) - a mixture of chopped beef and vegetables, with eggs cracked on top. It is apparently a traditional Berber dish.

The quintessential Sahara/camel/sunset shot.

Thanks for taking a break from your travels to be a tourist on vacay with me :)