tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36242299709513478412024-03-14T06:37:02.945+01:00Deeper into West Africa - the tripA month long loop from Dakar, Senegal down to Casamance, through Guinea Bissau & Guinea returning back to Dakar overland.Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10293944871874663477noreply@blogger.comBlogger29125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3624229970951347841.post-91543760982513789692007-04-27T15:45:00.001+02:002008-11-13T08:53:17.158+01:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RjH-hNIjmFI/AAAAAAAAAiM/iGsy1Dbw2-w/s1600-h/Kinga%27s+banner.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 418px; height: 103px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RjH-hNIjmFI/AAAAAAAAAiM/iGsy1Dbw2-w/s400/Kinga%27s+banner.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058103702928463954" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I've done something wrong with uploading it; it should link to a fantastic website creating educational opportunities for children & teenagers in Africa in memory of KingaFreespirit <a href="http://www.fundacjafreespirit.pl/">http://www.fundacjafreespirit.pl</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript"><!--
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They had electricity due to their generator which ran from dusk till midnight. Plus we all managed to dig into their reserve of Portuguese 'Reserva' wine which was a welcome taste after beer in Senegal.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbCYEH9cu_I/AAAAAAAAAGA/vt6sfrudKeo/s1600-h/PICT2470.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbCYEH9cu_I/AAAAAAAAAGA/vt6sfrudKeo/s400/PICT2470.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5021680781141785586" border="0" /></a><br />Our day there was spent wandering down to the beach just over a kilometre away, 22km of sand without a soul in sight. The sea was warm enough to swim in. It was a sad walk down to the beach, we passed the old barracks that was used by the rebels during the war. There were a lot of houses down towards the beach, all of a European style but sadly abandoned. Such a gorgeous area of the world, Varela is a remote corner of Guinea Bissau and very isolated with Sao Domingos being the nearest town 3 hours away. Since the war and more recently the demise of the bridge it seems even more remote; but I hope people will start to visit again now it's been fixed!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbCYqX9cvAI/AAAAAAAAAGI/1PtUmYwzPXw/s1600-h/PICT2455.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbCYqX9cvAI/AAAAAAAAAGI/1PtUmYwzPXw/s400/PICT2455.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5021681438271781890" border="0" /></a><br />We had a sumptuous lunch with Fatima & Franco and their family (their daughter from Monaco was there on holiday and they have adopted two girls from the village) which was rudely interuppted by the arrival of the military who sat drinking most of the afternoon. Fatima is someone who is held in high esteem in Guinea Bissau, her mother, Helene, was something of a legend from what we understood. Later in the trip we met many who knew Fatima and went out of their way to help us due to the connection. She and Franco speak a multitude of languages, her father was Portuguese whilst her mother was from Guinea Bissau, Italian, Portuguese, French, English, Creolo are all spoken fluently at home; an incredible couple!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbCcKX9cvCI/AAAAAAAAAGk/ZayHfdwW-Ik/s1600-h/PICT2454.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbCcKX9cvCI/AAAAAAAAAGk/ZayHfdwW-Ik/s400/PICT2454.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5021685286562479138" border="0" /></a>The Varela disco! There's life here!!!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbCe7H9cvDI/AAAAAAAAAGs/TTQPsf0zFk0/s1600-h/PICT2475.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbCe7H9cvDI/AAAAAAAAAGs/TTQPsf0zFk0/s400/PICT2475.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5021688323104357426" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbCgTH9cvEI/AAAAAAAAAG0/PPrwa1IesSc/s1600-h/PICT2477.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbCgTH9cvEI/AAAAAAAAAG0/PPrwa1IesSc/s400/PICT2477.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5021689834932845634" border="0" /></a>I had brought about 20kg of childrens clothes & shoes with me donated by friends in France. The intention was to drop them off in Guinea Bissau at a orphanage or hospital. But meeting Fatima, seeing the village and knowing that they'd been without any supplies for 10months (the bridge was fixed 4 days before our arrival) I gave them to Fatima. She is the matriach of the village, everyone came to her for medicine, assistance with food donations and clothing. I knew that this was the right place to hand them out and selfishly I was glad to be rid of the weight in my pack.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbCgj39cvFI/AAAAAAAAAG8/QlFk7-lcc2Y/s1600-h/PICT2478.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbCgj39cvFI/AAAAAAAAAG8/QlFk7-lcc2Y/s400/PICT2478.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5021690122695654482" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Anyone reading this with medical experience or studying medicine who would like to go to Guinea Bissau and volunteer please contact me via the 'comments' option; Fatima has asked me to help find an extra pair of expert hands. </span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbCg6n9cvGI/AAAAAAAAAHE/Ziito761AU8/s1600-h/PICT2481.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbCg6n9cvGI/AAAAAAAAAHE/Ziito761AU8/s400/PICT2481.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5021690513537678434" border="0" /></a>We spent the afternoon wandering around the village and down to the fishermans beach a shorter walk from the village. As ever the villagers were incredibly friendly, one was from Guinea and tried to give us advice as to how to cross into Guinea via the southeast of Guinea Bissau.<br /><br /><br />We had a wonderful final meal with the family, Fatima had arranged for us to get the minibus direct to Bissau for 4,000CFA, the only problem was that it left at 4am! Everyone talking madly, drinking palm wine & beer we didn't get to bed until almost 11pm, but it was sad to even contemplate leaving!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbCiJX9cvHI/AAAAAAAAAHg/mRmG-RdrjBI/s1600-h/PICT2504.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbCiJX9cvHI/AAAAAAAAAHg/mRmG-RdrjBI/s400/PICT2504.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5021691866452376690" border="0" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript"><!--
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A lot cheaper at 10,000CFA we were very unsure about the security as most of the doors didn't fit or weren't in place. It will be a wonderful place to stay when it's finished I'm sure.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbJARH9cvTI/AAAAAAAAAJs/hz3MFiYe6s0/s1600-h/PICT2589.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbJARH9cvTI/AAAAAAAAAJs/hz3MFiYe6s0/s400/PICT2589.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5022147197410262322" border="0" /></a>Back to the guide book; the LP came out of my day pack and we saw two places mentioned in the Caracol area of town, one 'Chez Jeanne' I think it was called sounded dubious as the rooms were usually rented on a half hourly basis. Getting into a taxi we headed over and after a bit of asking around found the other, Hotel Caracol for 8,500CFA. The young brothers of 15 or so showed us a room, not wonderful but for somewhere to put your head down for the night, it would do. They went off to the market and bought a new sheet for the bed; well, they were certainly making an effort on our behalf!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbI_un9cvSI/AAAAAAAAAJk/xN9B4YurL6o/s1600-h/PICT2521.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbI_un9cvSI/AAAAAAAAAJk/xN9B4YurL6o/s400/PICT2521.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5022146604704775458" border="0" /></a>We ordered a beer each and contemplated what to do next. Suddenly a guy came through and introduced himself, Steve, another Irish traveller ... we sat and chatted together before going out to find supper. There was a bar down the road, as soon as we got there we were in trouble, a guy wanted a cigarette and Gianni didn't have any. The situation soon got a little flared whilst Steve was inside trying to ask for a menu; I had a tap on my shoulder and behind me was Douad again, appeared from nowhere and helped us out of the situation. Dinner came from the shop eventually in the form of a couple of baguettes, a can of tuna and some mayonnaise!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbJAb39cvUI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/kkBzmfOR1XQ/s1600-h/PICT2590.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbJAb39cvUI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/kkBzmfOR1XQ/s400/PICT2590.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5022147382093856066" border="0" /></a>The four of us returned to Hotel Caracol and the front of it had suddenly become a disco; there were Nigerian women everywhere ... Munching on tuna filled baguettes, I was getting a lot of dirty looks and then we noticed that the corridor leading to our rooms had a table in it and the prostitutes were going through to the rooms which the four of us found quite funny!!! I went to bed early, locked the door and slept well, to be woken up by the stench coming from the en-suite (which I wasn't keen to use!). <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb9YOQZIYFI/AAAAAAAAAZs/Kju4VngTK14/s1600-h/Steve+Bissau.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb9YOQZIYFI/AAAAAAAAAZs/Kju4VngTK14/s400/Steve+Bissau.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025832711110549586" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I got up and went out to the courtyard to see the debris from the night before; three of the women suddenly started yelling and spitting at me .. I worked out that they were rather upset that I appeared to have stolen some business in the form of Gianni & Steve - we had the last laugh!!! Steve has sent me a photo of one of the rooms, the morning after; not a pretty sight!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript"><!--
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So I knocked on the door that I thought was Steve's room and it was answered by a rather tall man who Gianni later told me was Liberian - he & Steve had been chatting to him the night before!<br /><br />We went into town, glad to be out of the brothel with it's smells and keen to find a good coffee. We got back to the Che Guerva roundabout and went to a little cafe. Douad had been looking out of his office window and spotted us again; he came down to join us and organised for the cafe to look after our packs.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rbii1wZIWzI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/mkaTfDH6x9A/s1600-h/PICT2523.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rbii1wZIWzI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/mkaTfDH6x9A/s400/PICT2523.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5023944428738861874" border="0" /></a><br />Heading off to the Bonjour supermarket as we'd been advised by Fatima we'd get a good rate of exchange, Douad became our guide and we managed to get 660CFA to a euro ... I went straight across the road into an internet cafe to catch up on mine & Gianni's e-mails. Gianni & Douad wandered off for an hour together. I got the last PC as the cafe was full, sat down and was greeted by Steve who was next to me. We had a bit of a chat about what to do next, Gianni & I weren't sure whether to continue on by road towards the Guinean border or try to get to the Bijagos Archipelago, Bolama in particular to meet a friend of Fatima's involved in cashew nut production. Steve had already found some guy at the port willing to get him to Bubaque cheaply on a 'boat' ...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbijHAZIW1I/AAAAAAAAAKg/PzV4NIJqJ-8/s1600-h/PICT2524.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbijHAZIW1I/AAAAAAAAAKg/PzV4NIJqJ-8/s400/PICT2524.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5023944725091605330" border="0" /></a><br />Over another coffee, Gianni & I agreed to go with Steve and head out to Bubaque - I really felt it was a once in a lifetime opportunity to go to Africa's only archipelago which was protected by a UNESCO bio-sphere agreement. We all headed for the port and Steve searched all over for the guy who had offered the boat ride. We sat on the dock for 2hrs or so getting hassled by endless 'boat captains', banana sellers and watching pelicans before this guy showed up with a man in a blue shirt we were all desperate not to get involved with ... he was after money! Another 3hrs on and our man had finally found the captain of the boat and Carlos, Bubaque's Chief of Police who was going home after 2 weeks on the mainland.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbiihwZIWyI/AAAAAAAAAKI/75tuiX7FlCM/s1600-h/PICT2522.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbiihwZIWyI/AAAAAAAAAKI/75tuiX7FlCM/s400/PICT2522.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5023944085141478178" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbikgwZIW3I/AAAAAAAAAKw/e5iTyk4R7Wk/s1600-h/PICT2526.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbikgwZIW3I/AAAAAAAAAKw/e5iTyk4R7Wk/s400/PICT2526.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5023946266984864626" border="0" /></a><br />However, the man in the blue shirt was with us as we all walked across two navy patrol boats to finally find our boat and as Steve jumped on board I smelt a rat. The price still hadn't been agreed and our man and the blue shirted official seemed too friendly, especially as Mr Blue Shirt had offered us a boat for 200,000CFA earlier. I asked Steve to find out the price .. the guys refused to answer him and were taking our packs away from us. By this time I'd lost it, they got a short sharp mouthful from me in French and I struggled to pull the three packs away from them ... after a bit of negoiation and some assistance from Carlos, the price was agreed at 15,000CFA - but until we got to Bubaque the three of us had been wondering the same thing - was it 15,000CFA each or between us - would there be another argument? It was between us luckily!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbikugZIW4I/AAAAAAAAAK4/FZISvs2lD5I/s1600-h/PICT2527.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbikugZIW4I/AAAAAAAAAK4/FZISvs2lD5I/s400/PICT2527.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5023946503208065922" border="0" /></a><br />It was now early afternoon and we'd previously been told it was a 4hr boat ride to Bubaque but the captain assured us that we'd get there in just over 2hrs. We relaxed on board, the guys fell asleep whilst I tried to keep out of the sun whilst we were whizzing past a lot of the Bijagos islands.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rbik1QZIW5I/AAAAAAAAALA/_JEwoelpoKU/s1600-h/PICT2528.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rbik1QZIW5I/AAAAAAAAALA/_JEwoelpoKU/s400/PICT2528.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5023946619172182930" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rbil0gZIW8I/AAAAAAAAALY/ZYkyNLp3Wew/s1600-h/PICT2544.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rbil0gZIW8I/AAAAAAAAALY/ZYkyNLp3Wew/s400/PICT2544.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5023947705798908866" border="0" /></a><br />We went past some lovely looking hotels on Rubane, the island opposite Bubaque, catering to French fishermen before finally getting to the muddy port of Bubaque . Carlos introduced to his family and got one of the villagers to take us to 'Chez Titi'. We walked a little way and found ourselves deposited at Chez Dora's - a Portuguese run auberge. It was a little pricey for what it was but the owner told us that Titi was out of business (which wasn't actually true!). So we retraced our steps to Chez Raoul to be met by a lovely Senegalese lady and her family. We decided to share a room for 9,000CFA between us, including an extra matress she brought in.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbimrgZIW9I/AAAAAAAAALg/BGasd3S2CYg/s1600-h/PICT2541.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbimrgZIW9I/AAAAAAAAALg/BGasd3S2CYg/s400/PICT2541.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5023948650691714002" border="0" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript"><!--
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However, he was very friendly and bought us all a drink!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbjDbQZIXII/AAAAAAAAANo/l8aM-PjR19w/s1600-h/PICT2556.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbjDbQZIXII/AAAAAAAAANo/l8aM-PjR19w/s400/PICT2556.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5023980257356045442" border="0" /></a>Bubaque is very quiet ... very relaxed and we all got into the swing of things; being completely lazy!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rbi_NgZIW-I/AAAAAAAAAMY/xkLowwJ6ye0/s1600-h/PICT2548.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rbi_NgZIW-I/AAAAAAAAAMY/xkLowwJ6ye0/s400/PICT2548.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5023975623086332898" border="0" /></a>We spent a half a day on the beach nearest to the village, a 10minute walk away, passing ruined old colonial houses, abandoned old hotels and the school.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbjDvwZIXJI/AAAAAAAAANw/TPdV7eBI0qU/s1600-h/PICT2573.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbjDvwZIXJI/AAAAAAAAANw/TPdV7eBI0qU/s400/PICT2573.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5023980609543363730" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbjB3QZIXHI/AAAAAAAAANg/wPWuHDhd3lI/s1600-h/PICT2567.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbjB3QZIXHI/AAAAAAAAANg/wPWuHDhd3lI/s400/PICT2567.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5023978539369127026" border="0" /></a>Once on the beach we were only disturbed by a few guys harvesting the palm nuts. The beach itself wasn't particulary long but had gorgeous soft sand, and a few old boats on the shore. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbjA2wZIXGI/AAAAAAAAANY/4gNVYOegzT4/s1600-h/PICT2564.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbjA2wZIXGI/AAAAAAAAANY/4gNVYOegzT4/s400/PICT2564.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5023977431267564642" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />One that had us all laughing, complete with loo on board, must have been used by European visitors prior to the war! The views were spectacular, the people friendly and you couldn't want for more!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbjGuQZIXKI/AAAAAAAAAN4/BbxsWyGZZRo/s1600-h/PICT2562.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbjGuQZIXKI/AAAAAAAAAN4/BbxsWyGZZRo/s400/PICT2562.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5023983882308443298" border="0" /></a>Gianni & I walked back to the auberge at lunchtime, and found Titi of 'Chez Titi' putting the finishing touches to a new house he bought & renovated ready for a Christmas opening.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rbi_0QZIXBI/AAAAAAAAAMw/t-V6uI8nWh4/s1600-h/PICT2554.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rbi_0QZIXBI/AAAAAAAAAMw/t-V6uI8nWh4/s400/PICT2554.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5023976288806263826" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbjAGwZIXDI/AAAAAAAAANA/FXtXkHR5rPE/s1600-h/PICT2559.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbjAGwZIXDI/AAAAAAAAANA/FXtXkHR5rPE/s400/PICT2559.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5023976606633843762" border="0" /></a>There were a few upmarket hotels, not very large, all with speedboats again catering for fishermen; predominantly owned by French expats.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbjASQZIXEI/AAAAAAAAANI/V0ZjHeEsLcg/s1600-h/PICT2560.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbjASQZIXEI/AAAAAAAAANI/V0ZjHeEsLcg/s400/PICT2560.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5023976804202339394" border="0" /></a>I wandered out late afternoon into the village and heard an incredibly London like accent and met Eduardo. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbjJOQZIXMI/AAAAAAAAAO8/L-9xhC8zpXA/s1600-h/PICT2586.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbjJOQZIXMI/AAAAAAAAAO8/L-9xhC8zpXA/s400/PICT2586.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5023986631087512770" border="0" /></a>His family was originally from Bubaque and had heard that there were 3 Italians staying at Chez Raoul; having seen the three of us he was sure we weren't all Italian. He tried in English with me and then in French, I was a bit puzzled and spoke to him in French initially. It turns out he was back on Bubaque writing a book about the immigration of West Africans to Europe. He was also desperate to re-vitalise Bubaque's tourism economy!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbjMnwZIXNI/AAAAAAAAAPM/Ou5Yg2-5rOg/s1600-h/PICT2575.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbjMnwZIXNI/AAAAAAAAAPM/Ou5Yg2-5rOg/s320/PICT2575.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5023990367709060306" border="0" /></a>Multi-lingual Eduardo turned out to be a hero for us. Steve had organised a boat ride to the island of Orango with the same captain that had got us to Bubaque. We'd all met a French-Senegalese couple, Philippe & Marie-Louise and so Gianni & I joined them to find a boat back to Bissau on 23rd December. Eduardo knew of a boat going from Kasa Afrikana, an up-market hotel in the village. The boat was going over to Bissau to pick up the French owner and we were told that we could hitch a lift on it for 4,000CFA each to cover the fuel, there were two Italians getting the boat with us as well. The following morning, four of us walked the kilometer to the jetty of the hotel and were met with a very angry owner's wife who was Senegalese, who wasn't letting the four of us go unless we paid her 25,000CFA EACH, which was daylight robbery! With Gianni talking to the Italians in Italian which she didn't understand we found out that they had managed to pay her 4,000CFA and were already on board, the boat was ready to go. Kasa Afrikana will be one place I won't be staying at for a return trip! Sadly we watched the boat leave and walked back up to Chez Raoul to a very suprised Steve who'd not yet left for Orango!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbjNGQZIXOI/AAAAAAAAAPU/9Fq9xlF-RfQ/s1600-h/PICT2578.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbjNGQZIXOI/AAAAAAAAAPU/9Fq9xlF-RfQ/s400/PICT2578.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5023990891695070434" border="0" /></a>We spent the day waiting for another boat Eduardo had organised for us, we sat in the cafe near the port watching our 'new' boat have some repairs before we could set off. The suprising thing in Guinea Bissau was the amount of pigs, they were everywhere; including on the top of vans and eating scraps on the beach ... the Bubaque pigs seemed well fed ...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbjPVAZIXQI/AAAAAAAAAPs/ygK6yOVU8u8/s1600-h/PICT2583.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbjPVAZIXQI/AAAAAAAAAPs/ygK6yOVU8u8/s400/PICT2583.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5023993344121396482" border="0" /></a>By lunchtime the boat crew still weren't ready so we went back to Chez Raoul to eat and headed back down at the agreed time of 3pm. By 4.30pm we were getting a bit fed up and thinking about the cost of the boat and an enforced night in Bissau due to the time (something I didn't want to contemplate!)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbjOtwZIXPI/AAAAAAAAAPk/bi528-JTgAY/s1600-h/PICT2581.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbjOtwZIXPI/AAAAAAAAAPk/bi528-JTgAY/s400/PICT2581.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5023992669811530994" border="0" /></a>By 5pm Philippe and I wandered off to find our boat captain. He was in a bar, completely drunk and as soon as he saw us he said he'd be there in 10minutes and the price had risen to 10,000CFA a head from the original 4,000CFA. I told him that it really wasn't worth it now, he was drunk and it was going to cost us more to get his boat and a dodgy hotel in Bissau than to stay on Bubaque and pay 2,000CFA the following day to get across to Bissau on the twice weekly pirogue. He was furious with me, I walked off and told Eduardo what had been said and then a drunk Carlos got involved. Fed up with all of them, the four of us & Eduardo walked away. Our lovely Senegalese landlady at Chez Raoul was thrilled to see Gianni & I back for another night!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbjPuAZIXRI/AAAAAAAAAP0/FOzhXQmNLas/s1600-h/PICT2579.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbjPuAZIXRI/AAAAAAAAAP0/FOzhXQmNLas/s400/PICT2579.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5023993773618126098" border="0" /></a>We got up early the next morning to see the sun rise and to be sure of a place on the pirogue back to Bissau, we had forgotten it was almost Christmas and boarding a pirogue that was completely overloaded with supplies & people was a bit of a nightmare!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbjQUgZIXSI/AAAAAAAAAP8/GeE-GCsrp4o/s1600-h/PICT2584.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbjQUgZIXSI/AAAAAAAAAP8/GeE-GCsrp4o/s400/PICT2584.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5023994435043089698" border="0" /></a>But finally we were off and leaving Bubaque, a long, hot 5hr crossing to Bissau with Philippe & Gianni finding standing room only, not easy staying upright in the hull!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbjQ2wZIXTI/AAAAAAAAAQE/T0TPP0_6BGc/s1600-h/PICT2588.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/RbjQ2wZIXTI/AAAAAAAAAQE/T0TPP0_6BGc/s400/PICT2588.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5023995023453609266" border="0" /></a>Bubaque was a wonderful island; we really enjoyed it but as a female, it was the ONLY place in Africa that I have encountered problems. Once whilst with Eduardo, a drunk grabbed me and tried to kiss me and I was 'touched up' twice whilst I was with Gianni & Steve (which was suprising they had the nerve to do that with two European guys with me). However, I would go back, it was stunningly beautiful!!!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript"><!--
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</script></div>Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10293944871874663477noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3624229970951347841.post-64993740144757470412007-01-14T07:40:00.000+01:002008-11-13T08:53:34.205+01:00A Muslim ChristmasWe arrived in Bambadinca just before 6pm and realised that by the time we found another full vehicle it would be dark. Having appreciated the mad tendancies of driving on this road we weren't prepared to carry on. Turning to Mamadou for advice, we discovered that there wasn't anywhere to stay in Bambadinca; he did have a friend in town who might be able to put us up for the night. We walked out of town in the direction of Quebo and after asking around found Alpha, Mamadou's friend. Alpha took us to his family's compound. <br /><br />We waited for the family to finish praying before approaching Alpha's elderly father and asking for a refuge for the night. His father told us that in the circumstances with it being nearly dark, he would take us in but to understand this was in unusual circumstances. I was suprised by this, but very happy to be under a roof for the night; I wondered if Mamadou had translated it properly as his first language wasn't French.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb6NZwZIXXI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/V3bsTJ-uFys/s1600-h/PICT2603.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb6NZwZIXXI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/V3bsTJ-uFys/s400/PICT2603.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025609707818605938" border="0" /></a><br />We were given Alpha's room, Alpha was going to stay with friends for the night. I undid my pack and realised I still had a few more children's clothes. I got them out and found one of the two wives of Alpha's father, handing them over squeals went out from all the children & grandchildren, they were thrilled to have something new, whilst tears rolled down my cheeks. Between the five children living in the compound, they had about 15-18 children between them, Saly, the youngest didn't have any clothes and the parents were delighted.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb6MvwZIXVI/AAAAAAAAAQo/xdFE3sOLf_w/s1600-h/PICT2598.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb6MvwZIXVI/AAAAAAAAAQo/xdFE3sOLf_w/s400/PICT2598.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025608986264100178" border="0" /></a>I'm not religious, neither is Gianni; but we explained Christmas to Mamadou who translated it for us to the family. There was a massive hush as we were talking and trying to explain, that like Tabaski, we give presents to family members for Christmas and for us this meant a lot that we were with a family who appreciated the presents we gave them. Gianni & I later explained how 'materialistic' Christmas is in Europe to Mamadou ... I don't think he or Alpha could fully comprehend it. The weirdest thing was the moon was in a crescent shape ... cornily, it sort of brought it all together for us!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb6MmQZIXUI/AAAAAAAAAQg/eku0SQyPpYQ/s1600-h/PICT2595.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb6MmQZIXUI/AAAAAAAAAQg/eku0SQyPpYQ/s400/PICT2595.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025608823055342914" border="0" /></a>The bottle of Portugese red I'd bought from Boris, the Nigerian at the Paragem in Bissau came out and the two of us quietly toasted Christmas! The family suddenly produced a bowl of rice for us to share with Alpha & Mamadou, totally unexpected as we'd told them that we'd find food elsewhere, but they were so grateful ... Mamadou, Gianni & I then walked into town and found a little nightclub and sat in the bar having a few Super Bocks before going back to the compound.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb6NAgZIXWI/AAAAAAAAAQw/NZOyWxe-9zU/s1600-h/PICT2601.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb6NAgZIXWI/AAAAAAAAAQw/NZOyWxe-9zU/s400/PICT2601.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025609274026909026" border="0" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript"><!--
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But it was the rats that ran around all night that made me petrified and unable to sleep, stupid really!<br /><br />By 6am I'd had enough and attempted to get out of bed; I could hear a few of the wives outside the bedroom and smelt that a fire had been lit. As my feet almost touched the ground, I felt something squidgy and being a complete fool pulled my foot back into bed. A few minutes later a grinning Mamadou sat up at my side of the bed. I had had no idea he was in the room too and laughed, waking Gianni - yet again my rat fears had got the better of me!!!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb6SOQZIXaI/AAAAAAAAARo/Tfu8rEvYYEQ/s1600-h/PICT2602.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb6SOQZIXaI/AAAAAAAAARo/Tfu8rEvYYEQ/s400/PICT2602.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025615007808249250" border="0" /></a>I went outside the room leaving the guys talking; one of the wives offered me a bucket of water and I went out to the bathroom enclosure; a rush fence with two sheets of corrugated iron as a door. There was an incredible morning mist enveloping Bambadinca ...<br /><br />The previous evening, little Moussa had been watching my every move, fascinated by my camera I think. As I was showering & changing, I realised he was just outside the bathroom wrapped up in a towel; watching me again .. he was so sweet!<br /><br />We got our stuff together and with Mamadou started to say our goodbyes .. it was sad to leave but we had agreed that we'd find a good hotel for Christmas day and take the day off from travel .. sit back and relax; we were still aiming for Xitole or a hotel near the Saltinho Falls.<br /><br />It took us a while to leave, they all wanted to say goodbye, some of them weren't up and around yet; the parents were praying ..<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb6TUQZIXcI/AAAAAAAAAR4/cukgxCcPIFk/s1600-h/PICT2605.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb6TUQZIXcI/AAAAAAAAAR4/cukgxCcPIFk/s400/PICT2605.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025616210399092162" border="0" /></a>We headed back into town and got picked up by the driver who'd driven us the night before. He took us all for breakfast where we met a radio journalist from Bafata who was thrilled to have some foreigners to talk to. Mamadou found a van going to Quebo, so we all set off again from Bambadinca market at 10am or so, Gianni & I for a hotel above the Saltinho Falls and Mamadou for his Quebo chickens.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb6VQAZIXdI/AAAAAAAAASM/ahSqKNvxnbc/s1600-h/PICT2608.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb6VQAZIXdI/AAAAAAAAASM/ahSqKNvxnbc/s400/PICT2608.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025618336407903698" border="0" /></a>The minibus dropped us off at the hotel. We walked up the drive to be greeted by an enthusiastic guardian, shame his employers didn't feel the same way. We waited almost an hour for someone to open a door to the hotel, the whole place was completely locked up. A woman stuck her head out and grumpily asked what we wanted and then told us it was 30,000CFA for the night. With little chance of anything at this place - they didn't have coffee for starters; we turned her down and walked down to the bridge over the falls wondering if the hotel on an island nearby would be better.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb6VgwZIXeI/AAAAAAAAASU/Ocr4xe59_TQ/s1600-h/PICT2612.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb6VgwZIXeI/AAAAAAAAASU/Ocr4xe59_TQ/s400/PICT2612.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025618624170712546" border="0" /></a>Standing at the end of the bridge, we got the guides back out and talked to a few people passing from the nearby village. We then realised to our horror that the hotel on the island was 4km downstream and judging by the last hotel, it could also be closed. We were now in the middle of nowhere in blazing sun with nowhere to go and it was Christmas Day!!!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb6WjgZIXfI/AAAAAAAAASc/Rsg7fRAhX7Y/s1600-h/PICT2609.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb6WjgZIXfI/AAAAAAAAASc/Rsg7fRAhX7Y/s400/PICT2609.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025619770926980594" border="0" /></a>Gianni doesn't like walking but I suggested we at least walk up to the village, it wasn't far at all ... and better than hanging around on the bridge in the vain hope that a taxi would pass. We started walking up to the village and realised how small it was and really didn't know what to do next. The village, Sintcha Sambel was small and we were greeted by the whole village who were astonished to see two foreigners walk in. One of them spoke French to a degree and helped us - by telling us that our best option was to go onto Quebo the border town, and stay there.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb6YLwZIXgI/AAAAAAAAASk/5Bo9L5kHBtA/s1600-h/PICT2615.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb6YLwZIXgI/AAAAAAAAASk/5Bo9L5kHBtA/s400/PICT2615.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025621561928343042" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb6axQZIXjI/AAAAAAAAATU/ie_SaQDM4KU/s1600-h/PICT2619.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb6axQZIXjI/AAAAAAAAATU/ie_SaQDM4KU/s400/PICT2619.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025624405196693042" border="0" /></a><br />We waited over an hour in the village for some transport with a spare seat, durng this time we were offered drinks, food & met most of the village ... including Mamie, the grandmother of all grandmothers who we were told was 100 years old. She was delighted to see us ... came up and kissed us both and was an incredible lady if she was 100!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb6ZJQZIXiI/AAAAAAAAAS0/aaJh4pICV0w/s1600-h/PICT2616.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb6ZJQZIXiI/AAAAAAAAAS0/aaJh4pICV0w/s400/PICT2616.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025622618490297890" border="0" /></a><br />As usual my camera caused a stir with all the children desperate to be in a photo that they could see on the screen! Eventually we heard an engine of another minibus, one of the villagers flagged it down for us and after a bit of negoiation by the elders with the driver, we got in and waved goodbye!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb6dWgZIXkI/AAAAAAAAATg/7FLA49GTa4Y/s1600-h/PICT2620.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb6dWgZIXkI/AAAAAAAAATg/7FLA49GTa4Y/s400/PICT2620.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025627244170075714" border="0" /></a>Our minibus got us to Quebo and we were 'pounced' on by the police who'd been playing checkers. They wanted our passports before we disappeared anywhere in the village and to know what we were doing there. We explained that we were looking for somewhere to stay ... Gianni went off with one of the policeman's friends whilst I went through a few questions, they came back and I was told that there wasn't a hotel in the village, just a few rooms off a cafe run by a woman who clearly didn't want foreigners staying there. We were really stuck now!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb6dsAZIXlI/AAAAAAAAATo/fkHlAaX1xcQ/s1600-h/PICT2623.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb6dsAZIXlI/AAAAAAAAATo/fkHlAaX1xcQ/s400/PICT2623.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025627613537263186" border="0" /></a>We asked if anyone knew of the Guinean Consul who's name I'd been given in Bissau. Again, Gianni went off searching to find that he'd left for Bissau the day before. Our next idea was to cross the border. No chance we were told, all the transport for the border had already left. We were doomed & it was Christmas Day!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb6eAAZIXmI/AAAAAAAAATw/chhsMu2MAzM/s1600-h/PICT2621.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb6eAAZIXmI/AAAAAAAAATw/chhsMu2MAzM/s400/PICT2621.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025627957134646882" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb6e9QZIXnI/AAAAAAAAAT4/pvVtnNEyfM4/s1600-h/PICT2626.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb6e9QZIXnI/AAAAAAAAAT4/pvVtnNEyfM4/s400/PICT2626.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025629009401634418" border="0" /></a><br />I went off to find lunch whilst Gianni studied his big map of West Africa with my smaller one of Guinea outside the police & immigration post. Weirdly, I found a Mauritanian owned shop directly opposite who had our supplies of sardines, la vache qui rit & coke .. outside was some fresh bread and we started lunch whilst talking to the female immigration officer. She shed some new light on our predicament; there was a truck leaving at 4pm for the border. In the situation we were in and the fact it should reach Boke in Guinea before midnight, we agreed to get our passports stamped with an exit visa and waited!<br /><br />Eventually, earlier than planned; the immigration lady took us down the street to the truck and told us it was 4,000CFA to Boke, a 75km journey. On the map it looked 'straightforward' piste along the border and then crossing the border just west of Sansale (Guinea) before heading up to Boke.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb8GXAZIXoI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/Mtp9NVQuogo/s1600-h/PICT2627.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb8GXAZIXoI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/Mtp9NVQuogo/s400/PICT2627.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025742701480926850" border="0" /></a>We climbed on board with about 20 Guineans all heading home. A mixed bunch, we had a 7-month old baby, a few toddlers, an 8 year old boy with his two chickens in a box (that didn't survive the journey!) and quite a few interesting adults. We set off from Quebo, Gianni later pointed out that the immigration lady gave a rather interesting smile, like she knew what kind of a journey we were in for! We were elated to be moving towards a hotel, I sat back and now knew that I'd be able to call home tonight.<br /><br />We got to a village after about an hour, everyone got off and for some reason we had our passports checked again although this was still apparently Guinea Bissau. Quite a few others joined us here and extra sacks of nuts were added to our small load. We were no longer sitting on the floor of the truck but a 'sack high' and it was a little more cramped than the previous hour!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb8IDAZIXqI/AAAAAAAAAUg/QzVO98zm4mI/s1600-h/PICT2628.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb8IDAZIXqI/AAAAAAAAAUg/QzVO98zm4mI/s400/PICT2628.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025744556906798754" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb8JmgZIXrI/AAAAAAAAAUo/694dCldXTXY/s1600-h/PICT2629.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb8JmgZIXrI/AAAAAAAAAUo/694dCldXTXY/s400/PICT2629.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025746266303782578" border="0" /></a>We continued on and the bush got thicker, more like rain forest with endless palms, it was stunningly beautiful in it's own way. The added complication was the amount of branches that were now hitting the truck causing us all to keep our heads down. Then we turned onto a rougher piste and were being jolted around, I didn't like the way the truck was swaying due to the difficult terrain. Looking through the cracks in the side of the truck we got to what looked like another small village beside a river. The truck traversed the river with some difficulty and we continued on with shouts in Soso of 'wowoya' which were cries of attention to the ever descending branches, complete with bugs that flew off onto us.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb8KiAZIXsI/AAAAAAAAAVA/5kBWKjuKPQI/s1600-h/PICT2631.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb8KiAZIXsI/AAAAAAAAAVA/5kBWKjuKPQI/s400/PICT2631.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025747288505999042" border="0" /></a>Just before 7pm we reached the Guinean border, a small village of huts. A few soldiers came out to meet us and Gianni got off the truck with our passports. Whilst he was dealing with immigration, the customs officer came out. A little man, very officious started demanding money from us all. I ignored him until he turned on me and suddenly the Guineans heard me speaking English; I refused to answer him in French. One of the other men came to assist him and told me to get off the truck. I almost did as I was asked before realising that I wasn't meant to be able to understand. The first officer then started shouting 'Money'; I shrugged my shoulders and told him that I didn't have any. Eventually we moved off again.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb8QbgZIXtI/AAAAAAAAAVM/KM4jVa5dqkY/s1600-h/PICT2630.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb8QbgZIXtI/AAAAAAAAAVM/KM4jVa5dqkY/s400/PICT2630.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025753773906616018" border="0" /></a>Not much further on we stopped; in the middle of the bush, the driver came to the back and let us all out. He told me that we had to get off and walk, for two reasons; this area of the border was prone to ambushes and the piste was due to get worse so there was a risk of the truck going over. Gianni wasn't too happy about it and wasn't keen to leave the truck; eventually we agreed to and paid our 4,000CFA fare and getting 24,000Franc Guinean change before heading down the track with the others.<br /><br />We walked about a kilometre in fading light; the track was rough and then we got to a small river which was very swamp-like with a few logs in place to cross it. Luckily I had my torch and could see what I was doing admist the most incredible noises coming from the bush around us. We got to the other side and found a clearing where everyone was waiting for the truck, behind us was a village which was apparently a military post. The truck appeared with one of the guys sitting on the cabin roof with a torch as the lights obviously didn't work!<br /><br />We carried on for another hour in the dark inside the truck. Finally we reached a village, it was about 9pm and it was clear we weren't going any further tonight. There was a river ahead that we would have to cross by pirogue, so the decision was made that we'd spend the night here. I had been given the baby earlier by it's mother who had been passing him around. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb8Z1wZIXuI/AAAAAAAAAVU/cNbOSAWiMKM/s1600-h/PICT2634.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb8Z1wZIXuI/AAAAAAAAAVU/cNbOSAWiMKM/s400/PICT2634.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025764120482832098" border="0" /></a>He was fast asleep on my shoulder, my 'new' friend N'Sira got off and I asked her where the mother was, she didn't know but one of the men motioned for me to pass the baby over the side of the truck to him. I climbed off and joined Gianni outside a small hut. This was Christmas night and we discovered that we had about 2L of water left, some bread from lunch together with 'la vache qui rit' and like magic, Gianni discovered one more chorizio sausage at the bottom of his pack!<br /><br />N'Sira came over to us explaining that she'd organised some accomodation for us. We were given a hut in the village. The young guy whom it belonged asked N'Sira quietly for payment, Gianni overheard a figure of 2,000 being mentioned but wasn't sure if it was CFA or Franc Guineen; it turned out to be Franc Guineen. We tried to pay N'Sira back, but she wasn't having any of it; typically Guinean, she was very hospitable and told us we were her guests in her country. The guy disappeared off into the dark to stay with neighbours. Everyone finally settled down for the night.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb8aKgZIXvI/AAAAAAAAAVc/nriPSv6G8mc/s1600-h/PICT2636.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb8aKgZIXvI/AAAAAAAAAVc/nriPSv6G8mc/s400/PICT2636.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025764476965117682" border="0" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript"><!--
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</script></div>Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10293944871874663477noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3624229970951347841.post-32920146326686098662007-01-14T07:30:00.000+01:002008-11-13T08:53:38.326+01:0026th December, will I die here?I was woken by cockerels, again! I got up to see what was going on, a few members of the truck were already up and around, listening to radio's. This worried me slightly, the more radios around being listened to in Africa, the more I think that there is trouble looming.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb8dAQZIXwI/AAAAAAAAAVw/bEQsf4FUmg0/s1600-h/PICT2633.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb8dAQZIXwI/AAAAAAAAAVw/bEQsf4FUmg0/s400/PICT2633.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025767599406341890" border="0" /></a>I went off for a walk to try to find the river that had the village covered in mist (the photo above I kept as it was so true of the light despite the mist interference!). At the end of the village there was a barrier, a stick barring my path. I walked past it and was then asked where I was going by two soldiers. I had no idea there were soldiers here; I got my passport out and handed it to them, scrutinizing it they were very friendly and handed it back. I wandered a little way realising how thick the forest was here before heading back to the village to get my stuff together and to see if Gianni had woken up.<br /><br />Since returning home and doing some more research on this incredible region it seems that there are elephants nearby:<a href="http://journals.cambridge.org/action/displayAbstract?fromPage=online&aid=616672"> http://journals.cambridge.org/action/displayAbstract?fromPage=online&aid=616672</a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb8ePAZIXyI/AAAAAAAAAWA/J0xSAhtwrb4/s1600-h/PICT2635.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb8ePAZIXyI/AAAAAAAAAWA/J0xSAhtwrb4/s400/PICT2635.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025768952321040162" border="0" /></a>We walked down to the river with N'Sira, I wondered how the truck was going to get down here but a few minutes later it followed us. Everyone was calling across the river, the other half of the village had all the pirogues there and apparently 3 more trucks (there turned out only to be two more). The pirogues appeared in the morning mist to take us all across, batches of 5 at a time with all our luggage. The forest was beautiful and whilst we were waiting we started to get to know a few of the other passengers.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb8e_QZIXzI/AAAAAAAAAWI/3Nr2QnQClQ0/s1600-h/PICT2637.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb8e_QZIXzI/AAAAAAAAAWI/3Nr2QnQClQ0/s400/PICT2637.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025769781249728306" border="0" /></a>Once on the other side of the river we followed N'Sira who asked one of the villagers if we could store our things in one of their huts. Suddenly we heard shouting and it was more soldiers demanding to know why we hadn't immediately registered in his office. We followed him in and played the language game, Gianni spoke Italian and I only spoke English; which was pretty desperate as the two of us couldn't understand each other in our mother tongues!!! The soldier wanted money ... we weren't about to give any and N'Sira was putting up an argument for all of us; it didn't work, so I got hold of his office phone and together with the number of the Guinean embassy in Bissau attempted to make a call; it didn't go down well as he snatched the phone back from me but it did the trick and he waved us away!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb8hUwZIX2I/AAAAAAAAAWg/cBq5nYHwiRc/s1600-h/PICT2639.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb8hUwZIX2I/AAAAAAAAAWg/cBq5nYHwiRc/s400/PICT2639.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025772349640171362" border="0" /></a>The three of us went down to the river, N'Sira and I wanted to wash, the water was particularly muddy in places but finally she & I and a few of the other women found somewhere to wash and I got rid of some of the dirt that had built up yesterday from the piste. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb8g0QZIX1I/AAAAAAAAAWY/RZDMZO0sBXw/s1600-h/PICT2640.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb8g0QZIX1I/AAAAAAAAAWY/RZDMZO0sBXw/s400/PICT2640.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025771791294422866" border="0" /></a>We returned to the village and I was spied on by some children, who were fascinated by us. There were twins, the twin in red had seriously bowed legs that he coped incredibly well on ... we sat and waited about 2hrs whilst they moved all the sacks of nuts across the river into the new truck.<br /><br />Finally the truck was ready and everyone ran after it. It was higher off the ground than the previous one and getting into it wasn't easy. We also realised that we had grown in number, there were a lot of new passengers!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb8kegZIX3I/AAAAAAAAAXE/88QON3d_Jxc/s1600-h/PICT2641.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb8kegZIX3I/AAAAAAAAAXE/88QON3d_Jxc/s400/PICT2641.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025775815678779250" border="0" /></a>We made progress for about 5km then we were again told to get off as the hill the truck had to climb was dangerous and we could tip over. We all walked up the hill and waited ... nothing ... finally someone came up to tell us the truck had indeed gone over and they'd gone back to the village to get some help to unload it and load up the second truck. Whilst we were all waiting, Gianni & I tried to explain to most of the men that it really wasn't worth the hell they would have to go through to get to Europe; most of them were intent on making the sacrifices to get there one day!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb8gFAZIX0I/AAAAAAAAAWQ/25W_oQVvuRo/s1600-h/PICT2638.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb8gFAZIX0I/AAAAAAAAAWQ/25W_oQVvuRo/s400/PICT2638.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025770979545603906" border="0" /></a>I was horrified when the second truck appeared, it was loaded to the hilt with sacks .. how we were going to get up there I didn't know. Suddenly the commotion erupted again as everyone clambered on board. I made it on board thanks to help from Gianni and a few Guineans, there wasn't room for Gianni on top of the sacks, he had to sit on the cabin.<br /><br />Perched on top at the rear of the truck I was very unhappy; everytime the truck swayed violently I thought we were going to go over, the piste was particularly rough. We forded a stream and climbed up a hill, the truck didn't want to go up and I saw the cabin come up higher than it should, I screamed convinced it would flip over crushing us all; the driver tried again and the same thing happened, I was gripping the arm of one of the guys Gianni & I had nicknamed 'the pirate' absolutely petrified. N'Sira and the women around her in the middle looked similarly horrified. A few kilometres later we arrived in another village with another policeman.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb8kugZIX4I/AAAAAAAAAXM/vqEDVrr3fHI/s1600-h/PICT2642.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb8kugZIX4I/AAAAAAAAAXM/vqEDVrr3fHI/s400/PICT2642.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025776090556686210" border="0" /></a>Within minutes of arriving I spoke to Gianni who came to the back of the truck. I told him that I was getting off, going to find a motorbike and ride out of here to Boke; I didn't want to stay on the truck, I was scared and I'd had enough. Basically I was desperately and miserably petrified, Gianni was also worried but persuaded me that I was safer on the truck than on a bike. He handed me some bread he'd bought and I handed it straight back saying I couldn't eat a thing. Later in Boke he told me that three times he was also convinced that the camion was going to go over.<br /><br />He went off with our passports to meet the policeman, seconds later I heard him screaming and the policeman telling Gianni to sit down. Never before have I seen a whole village move so fast, they all raced to the police hut to see the drama unfolding; I asked N'Sira if she could see anymore from her position, the 'pirate' was on the ground and came back to tell me to sit tight ... I had visions of Gianni having us both locked up in this village for the next few weeks! Eventually the truck driver went into the hut and calmed things down and gave Gianni 3,000GF to hand the police, both of us were annoyed that we parted with money to the police but the driver wanted to get on ...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb8pTAZIX5I/AAAAAAAAAXc/46GzE3zXcNQ/s1600-h/PICT2644.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb8pTAZIX5I/AAAAAAAAAXc/46GzE3zXcNQ/s400/PICT2644.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025781115668422546" border="0" /></a>Within a kilometre of the village one of our rear tyres exploded. We all got off again. We started walking; I was thrilled to be on terra firma. We walked about 6km in the sun, with very little water (a couple of centimetres in our last bottle) both of us were getting dehydrated; I asked N'Sira & her friend Fatima to ask at the next village we passed for some oranges. There were five of us walking together and we all scoffed about 30 oranges, a great relief! A little later I heard the sound of a generator, I wondered if this would be a larger village - maybe with something to drink. Sadly we discovered it was a generator for milling grain. We walked down a long hill and found a gorgeous stream at the bottom, N'Sira, Fatima & I had a swim, thrilled to have cool water .. before heading up the steep path into what we thought would be the village of Dabiss (and a shop maybe?!). We found some of the others relaxing in the village, they'd gone on ahead of us, it was now 5.30pm and the truck's engine could be heard coming towards us but we were still 5km from Dabiss!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb8phgZIX6I/AAAAAAAAAXk/EVn-CE8-O10/s1600-h/PICT2643.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb8phgZIX6I/AAAAAAAAAXk/EVn-CE8-O10/s400/PICT2643.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025781364776525730" border="0" /></a>We boarded the truck again, ready for the final leg to Boke. The piste became a lot better after Dabiss, we broke down as the light was fading, the engine made a rather sad noise and Gianni was convinced it was finished. Suprisingly, with a bit of water, it fired up again and we were on our way. At about 9pm we started going down a hill and the mechanic guys who'd been sitting around me at the back said that a truck had gone off the bridge at the bottom of the hill a few weeks earlier. We crossed the bridge without a worry, but as we went up the other side, the driver couldn't get the camion into first gear and we started rolling rather alarmingly downhill in reverse. One of the passengers beside me got very tense and jumped off the back, the 'pirate' looked worried and the mechanic guys jumped off with chocks in their hands to put under the wheels. They saved any possible disaster. Not only did we not have brakes, our first gear was out of action too! Finally we climbed up the hill with the engine grunting and saw the lights of Boke ahead. We jubilantly got into town at 10.30pm, only 30hrs after leaving Quebo some 75km away. N'Sira and the driver helped us out on arrival, Gianni ran off to find water and I was left with the bags. We decided to go to the Hotel Philao on the edge of town and to meet up with her in the morning. The truck driver came with us, a lovely guy, only 27 and essentially our saviour ... he made sure we were happy at Philao , a room at 45,000FG and we gave him some Francs to get a taxi home.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript"><!--
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</script></div>Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10293944871874663477noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3624229970951347841.post-21497764430108712142007-01-14T07:25:00.000+01:002008-11-13T08:53:39.438+01:00Millionaires at last!Waking up early again (but not woken by cockerels for a change!) I wandered outside to the restaurant and had a coffee in Hotel Philao's courtyard. There was a chevre roi, very tame who came over looking for scraps. Gianni joined me and we waited for the truck driver who said he'd come back before 9am to see us. He didn't turn up (we found out later he did come but at 10am), we left Philao having paid in a mixture of CFA & Franc Guineen and headed for the town & the bank.<br /><br />We knew the exchange rate was something close to 8,000FG to a euro. We found the bank immediately and handed over 150euros each. After a bit of scrutinizing of our notes, he offered us a rate of 8,190FG which he said was the rate on 18th December! Fair enough, we changed the money and waited ... we were called into a small room with a table, and stacks of money. The largest note in Guinea is 5,000FG, about 60c! We were millionaires, we had 1,224,000FG each or thereabouts!!! But the problem was how to hide it! We decided we had no other choice than to put it in my small day pack and for the rest of the time in Guinea my day pack was closely guarded by the pair of us!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb9HLAZIX7I/AAAAAAAAAX0/hRxzaSL6ev8/s1600-h/PICT2645.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb9HLAZIX7I/AAAAAAAAAX0/hRxzaSL6ev8/s400/PICT2645.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025813963578302386" border="0" /></a>After wandering around the market & calling home, we bumped into N'Sira. We were thrilled to see her again and asked her how to get to Sobane, a beach village next to President Conte's beach 'Bel-Air' plage. We had a laugh about trying to find a truck to get us there ... She was heading in the same direction, wanting to see her mother near Tougnfili before heading home to Conakry. We asked her cousin to find us a taxi to take us to Tougnfili and refused any money from her for the 80,000FG fare; an hours drive down a relatively new road (financed by the Chinese) and met her aunt & carpenter brother in Tougnfili who helped Gianni and I get a taxi to Koukundinke. N'Sira said goodbye at that point. Gianni has since seen her in Conakry when he re-trod the same path back to Varela in mid-January 2007 before the violence began in Conakry with the strikes, he managed to get over the Guinea Bissau border despite it being officially shut due to the problems and along the way everyone asked him where 'the French woman was!!!!'.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb9HsgZIX8I/AAAAAAAAAX8/ffXWoWdJPcU/s1600-h/PICT2650.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb9HsgZIX8I/AAAAAAAAAX8/ffXWoWdJPcU/s400/PICT2650.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025814539103920066" border="0" /></a>We 'felt' the road all the way to Koukundinke for 18,000FG each, the bottom of the car was practically worn through; with 6 of us in a saloon car and two on top, there were a few occasions where I thought we'd see the road in the car. Everyone piled out at Koukundinke, leaving us to argue the fare for the two of us to Sobane, we eventually paid 32,000FG which another driver told us was a fair price.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb9IbQZIX9I/AAAAAAAAAYE/gPU6x1u14TM/s1600-h/PICT2649.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb9IbQZIX9I/AAAAAAAAAYE/gPU6x1u14TM/s400/PICT2649.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025815342262804434" border="0" /></a><br />Arriving at Sobane, the 'Complexe Village Touristique' was deserted. Such a shame, fantastic location, gorgeous beach and with the sun setting at low tide it was incredible - we felt immediately at home and managed to get a bungalow for 90,000FG and meals organised at 25,000FG. We settled in to discover that they didn't have the money to get the generator going .. it wasn't a problem, we were used to torches & candlelight now!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb9IqgZIX-I/AAAAAAAAAYM/VGkz6Ea5XnQ/s1600-h/PICT2652.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb9IqgZIX-I/AAAAAAAAAYM/VGkz6Ea5XnQ/s400/PICT2652.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025815604255809506" border="0" /></a><br />The following day, we were incredibly lazy, swam, slept on the beach and chilled out .. there wasn't much to do. We were still exhausted from the truck ride, the guys at the hotel were amazed by the journey and thought we were mad to go on a truck, they'd never done it! We walked down to Sobane village and back along the beach with a village dog who'd adopted Gianni.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb9MIAZIYBI/AAAAAAAAAY4/fHYDk_Npdg0/s1600-h/PICT2657.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb9MIAZIYBI/AAAAAAAAAY4/fHYDk_Npdg0/s400/PICT2657.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025819409596833810" border="0" /></a>We now had the problem of getting out of the hotel. The main road between Boke & Boffa was 5km away, we asked about transport to Conakry or Boffa, there was a minibus in the village that went to Conakry every other day; but it wasn't due to leave the day we wanted to move on. It was decided the night before that we were going to pay Mamadou, the manager to take us on the back of a motorbike to the main road and hopefully pick up a lift from there. He'd have to do the journey twice, whilst one of us waited on the road for traffic.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb9N_wZIYDI/AAAAAAAAAZI/9ABSAUvSy1E/s1600-h/PICT2655.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb9N_wZIYDI/AAAAAAAAAZI/9ABSAUvSy1E/s400/PICT2655.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025821466886168626" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb9NsAZIYCI/AAAAAAAAAZA/rGyE_KLO618/s1600-h/PICT2656.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb9NsAZIYCI/AAAAAAAAAZA/rGyE_KLO618/s400/PICT2656.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025821127583752226" border="0" /></a>I got up the next morning and went out to see if Mamadou was around at 7am as he'd agreed. No one was in sight but a very flash car was parked by the bar; I waited watching the endless little red birds around, smaller than a wren and quite tame, waiting for some breakfast .. One of the guys appeared half an hour later, I asked him to find Mamodou so that we could get going. He arrived, very apologetic but explained an army officer and his wife had turned up the night before and he'd arranged for us to get a lift with him to Douprou and possibly all the way to Conakry.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb9JhQZIX_I/AAAAAAAAAYU/hUW6JaSo1gU/s1600-h/PICT2647.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb9JhQZIX_I/AAAAAAAAAYU/hUW6JaSo1gU/s320/PICT2647.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025816544853647346" border="0" /></a>The officer arrived whilst we were drinking coffee with his wife not far behind, Camara was very friendly and keen to help us out asking Gianni if he could swap wives!! We headed for Douprou along an unmarked piste and discovered that he'd be spending the day there. So, he found us a taxi and organised the price of 36,000FG to Boffa for 3 seats between the two of us to give us some extra space, his wife growled at him during most of the journey!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb9JhQZIX_I/AAAAAAAAAYU/hUW6JaSo1gU/s1600-h/PICT2647.JPG"><br /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript"><!--
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</script></div>Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10293944871874663477noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3624229970951347841.post-37003549895235947522007-01-14T07:20:00.000+01:002008-11-13T08:53:39.591+01:00Boffa to KindiaWe spent the whole day in taxi's. At Boffa we were greeted by a really friendly crowd who helped us find another taxi to Tamene for 7,000FG each. Getting to Tamene we passed no less than 3 police roadblocks, each wanting money. We did our 'we don't speak French act' which generally worked, at one point I had to get out Camara's phone numbers that he'd given me and they backed down immediately. Tamene to Km36 (the edge of Conakry) the road blocks got tougher, for another 7,000FG we were in a minivan with 10 others and 5 children, half of which didn't have their identity cards and were forced to pay up!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb9RrgZIYEI/AAAAAAAAAZg/dpKvn6DBzFk/s1600-h/PICT2658.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb9RrgZIYEI/AAAAAAAAAZg/dpKvn6DBzFk/s400/PICT2658.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025825517040328770" border="0" /></a>At Km36, the police were dreadful. Asked us for our passports, then our Yellow Fever certificates then our 'ordre de mission' and I threw up my hands in horror and walked away telling them to keep our passports. They were angry & called me back, I pulled out Camara's number again and explained in a mix of French & English (as I didn't want to speak French to them as it would be tougher) that I wanted a receipt for the money I had to part with which I would then show to my 'friend Camara'. One guy visibly started sweating and said he needed money to eat ... the other one was all for giving our passports back and letting us go ... after asking for a phone so I could call Camara, they finally let us go.<br /><br />I had a massive argument at Km36 with a van driver who was incredibly aggressive towards us - the argument got so bad I had an audience. He wasn't happy when I asked him if he spoke to his sister like that, the final insult finished it when I accused him of being Senegalese and not Guinean because his attitude wasn't Guinean-like at all! The women around me all cheered and were very supportive! The Guineans in general are incredible quiet, hospitable and friendly - but not this one!<br /><br />We finally made it to Kindia, a town that had some interest as it was the beginning of the Fouta Djallon highlands. The centre of pineapple growing it had a large market which was incredibly busy. For 10,000FG each we found Hotel La Phare de Guinee on the main road, cheap & cheerful, the manager was a lovely man who'd travelled a lot and we had a long discussion with him about travel in West Africa.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript"><!--
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In a Renault 21 there were 4 in the back, 4 of us in the middle seat and 4 in the front, plus 3 children and three on the roof! He got us to Mamou where we met a guy from the Cote D'Ivoire who did the dirty on us; stupidly I trusted him when he said he'd get his taxi filled soon. We waited in the heat for 2hrs with two women who'd arrived from Dalaba on their way home to Faranah for Tabaski. Several times I went out to look for him, he was nowhere to be found; he obviously wasn't intent on finding other passengers. Eventually he came back, I asked him what he'd been doing as we had been waiting, to cut a long story short, I managed to get the taxi for both of us on our own for 45,000FG to Dalaba. Mamou has a reputation as it's the crossroads from the east and has a lot of refugees from the Cote D'Ivoire, Sierra Leone & Liberia, a lot of problems come with the refugees! We were glad to leave.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb9bnAZIYHI/AAAAAAAAAaA/laZtf70MaYA/s1600-h/PICT2660.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb9bnAZIYHI/AAAAAAAAAaA/laZtf70MaYA/s400/PICT2660.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025836434847195250" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The taxi took us to Hotel Tangama in Dalaba. I left Gianni with the taxi & our packs and went to find a room; they were full, then there was talk about room 15 being free for 20,000FG between us. I went to look at it and Gianni came in with our packs. Meeting him back in the reception area he said 'there are white people here' - it hadn't occured to us before but the last people we'd seen had been on Bubaque! The hotel was full of Spanish & French, we were amazed!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb9y4wZIYMI/AAAAAAAAAbA/Ifad7lVwEAQ/s1600-h/PICT2667.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb9y4wZIYMI/AAAAAAAAAbA/Ifad7lVwEAQ/s400/PICT2667.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025862028557312194" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The town had a great feel to it; we were above the town on the edge of an escarpment about a kilometre away. Walking into town everyone was very friendly and with Tabaski falling on 31st December in 2006 there was a very festive mood in the air!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb9vKAZIYII/AAAAAAAAAaQ/JHfzkDfemAg/s1600-h/PICT2662.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb9vKAZIYII/AAAAAAAAAaQ/JHfzkDfemAg/s400/PICT2662.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025857926863544450" border="0" /></a><br />We soon discovered that despite the Tangama being the 'steal' of Africa for it's prices, cosy sitting room with an open fire (needed as it was chilly at night!), TV (we had news for the first time from France - TV5!); it lacked a decent cook - or rather as the cook put it, he lacked ingredients. So we went to Auberge Seidy II where the owner was a very jolly man and went out of his way each time to create something special!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb9vaQZIYJI/AAAAAAAAAaY/gibdYAM4ozc/s1600-h/PICT2663.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb9vaQZIYJI/AAAAAAAAAaY/gibdYAM4ozc/s400/PICT2663.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025858206036418706" border="0" /></a>We spent the day walking around town and the area. We spent hours talking to a range of people, tourists, expats based in Conakry from Clermont Ferrand and at Auberge Seidy we met a French woman who had lived in Conakry for 18years whilst teaching at the French Lycee. Most of them were stuck due to the petrol shortage that had just started.<br /><br />All over Guinea there are litre bottles for sale on the side of the road; dirty fuel usually but an alternative when a strike is on ... apparently there was a strike about to start (which did happen and approximately 100 lives were lost in Guinea on Monday 23rd January 2007). Eventually fuel turned up in Dalaba on 1st January, the day after Tabaski.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb9xoAZIYKI/AAAAAAAAAao/F1yjQQLQBSM/s1600-h/PICT2664.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb9xoAZIYKI/AAAAAAAAAao/F1yjQQLQBSM/s400/PICT2664.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025860641282875554" border="0" /></a>Tabaski was wonderful, everyone got dressed up, the girls hair was all braided specially for the day of feasting. Children were asking for money, it was the equivalent of Christmas and wonderful to share it with them!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb9ySwZIYLI/AAAAAAAAAa0/M2JRoGv9ug0/s1600-h/PICT2670.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb9ySwZIYLI/AAAAAAAAAa0/M2JRoGv9ug0/s400/PICT2670.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025861375722283186" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V8SIDqjbswg/Rb9vaQZIYJI/AAAAAAAAAaY/gibdYAM4ozc/s1600-h/PICT2663.JPG"><br /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript"><!--
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