Saturday, November 18, 2006
Friday, February 03, 2006
Christmas in Morocco? Or will we make it to Mauritania? Pere Noel in plastic has made it here!
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The LONG journey south!
Having returned from a long (in kilometres) but short (in time) trip from southern France to Mauritania I thought I'd better sit down and describe it!
I am a 'regular' on the Thorn Tree, Lonely Planet's forum and needed 'somewhere' to escape to after a long year of work. Somewhere cheap & warmer than southern France is at Christmas!!! I started making arrangements for another independant jaunt then decided, for a change seeing as it was over Christmas, to see if 'someone' out there wanted to join me on my trip south. Lo & behold I found a poster on the Thorn Tree who might be interested, and sent this:
Sure enough 21minutes later an answer came back from a very similar e-mail address, worldcyclist ... sounded ideal!
We exchanged a few e-mails and I started doing a lot of research, predominantly on Lonely Planet and the French equivalent 'Routard'. Both on travel routes and on medication - whether I really needed to get Larium or some other form of defence against malaria again - but being winter and looking to stay in the north & desert areas of Mauritania, I decided against it
I am a 'regular' on the Thorn Tree, Lonely Planet's forum and needed 'somewhere' to escape to after a long year of work. Somewhere cheap & warmer than southern France is at Christmas!!! I started making arrangements for another independant jaunt then decided, for a change seeing as it was over Christmas, to see if 'someone' out there wanted to join me on my trip south. Lo & behold I found a poster on the Thorn Tree who might be interested, and sent this:
Saw your TT posting - Lonely Planet forum.
I'm in France, I live near Carcassonne and am getting the bus from here to Granada on 14th (eve) arriving in Malaga the next evening via Granada. I am then off to Morocco determined to head south for some warmer climes - I've already been to Morocco last year and seen Marra, Tinehir & the desert etc, so this time it's Casablanca (for a night probably staying with friends) then onto Essouria and south to Tiznit and possibly even to Dakhla
I'm pretty well travelled, having lived abroad for years .. If you want to meet up do let me know - I'm probably going to have to fly back to France from Agadir on 30th December although I'm looking at other options to fly back after the New Year!
Sure enough 21minutes later an answer came back from a very similar e-mail address, worldcyclist ... sounded ideal!
Wow, I am very impressed with your travels (I saw your map in yourprofile). I am in the middle of a trip that's connected to a book I amwriting. ... I have looked at enough of your stuff to come to the conclusion thatyou are an interesting person and most importantly share the travelbug. ... I am used to traveling extensively but occasionally some company isnice to have.
We exchanged a few e-mails and I started doing a lot of research, predominantly on Lonely Planet and the French equivalent 'Routard'. Both on travel routes and on medication - whether I really needed to get Larium or some other form of defence against malaria again - but being winter and looking to stay in the north & desert areas of Mauritania, I decided against it
Finally in Morocco!
The day came, Wednesday 14th December, I met with my new travel partner a day or so before and he spent some time seeing Carcassonne & it's historic Cite. Sitting in a bar in central Carcassonne across the road from the Eurolines bus stop for the bus to Granada ... wine was sipped for several hours amongst a few friends of mine. Phone call after phone call it turned out the bus was running an hour, then 2 hours and then 3hrs late, after being kicked out of the bar at closing time, my friends having left, we took shelter in the station until 1am!
Finally on board the bus, I caught a few winks as far as Valencia, we were transferred to another bus where I caught up on a bit more sleep and enjoyed the scenery passing us by. Eventually we got to Granada at 6pm ... about 3hrs later than planned which presented a problem, to go to Algeciras now (another 4hr bus ride) or to stay here the night and go in the morning. I didn't have a guide for Algeciras and had no idea about accomodation, so I went on the internet did some searching and posted a message on Lonely Planet for some urgent help with a hotel. It's strange to me, in the 19yrs or so that I'd travelled, I'd never had the internet to use before like this. A faithful 'anorak' of Andulucian bus timetables was online and posted a wonderful list of Algeciras hotels whilst I was buying our bus tickets south.
Spent a rather uneventful night in Algeciras in a clean but also strangely smelly hotel not far from the port. Getting up early the next morning we downed a few coffees before heading off to buy a ferry ticket across to Tangiers!
Crossing to Tangiers, I realised with some dread that my travel companion didn't speak a word of another language bar English nor had he been travelling like this, despite repeatedly telling me he had been to over 40 countries ... I thought I'd keep quiet for now and see how it continued, we arrived in Tangiers where I immediately lost him as he went down to the car deck for some reason. I waited and waited for him to re-appear from the car deck ... I gave up and went off to the bank to get some dirhams whilst being chased by every available Tangiers taxi tout. I went back into the port building to see if I could find him so that we could make a quick escape and onto a train bound for Casablanca, he was waiting for me but hadn't got any dirhams sorted out .. so as not to waste time I offered to share mine until he was organised.
Luckily I found a 'honest' taxi driver to take us to the Gare Nouvelle - well honest in the sense that the car doors weren't going to shut until I had made him put the meter on despite his protestations ... the meter went on and the fare was a 'normal' 8Dh, paying him 10Dh, he was still protesting that as a tourist I should be paying the 'non-metered' prices!!! Three Aussie girls arrived a few minutes behind us telling us that they'd got their price down to 30Dh a head ... I gave them a few pointers ... and went off to find a seat on the Sidi Kacem train.
An hour or so into the journey one of the Aussies came down the carriage to have a chat, her first time to Europe and Africa she was with her 2 friends who would be leaving her for the final 2 weeks in Morocco. We chatted about where to go and what to do when she left us to re-join her friends in another compartment, my travel companion handed out one of his cards which I'd never seen before, a bit like a business card but describing him as a traveller, without a home address ... oh well!
Getting into Sidi Kacem for the change of trains to Casablanca was a bit of a nightmare, the cafe there seats 15 maximum I would think, if you can imagine a busy train changing there with everyone jumping off to find food and drink it presents chaos in the cafe! The smell around the station from the factory behind was pungent to say the least. I grabbed two seats at a table with two Korean guys (who I am very embarassed to say I thought were Japanese on first spotting them and started in Japanese!) they were with the 'Korean' Peace Corps - I never realised the Koreans did this, the Americans have their own version but to find two lads from Pusan doing a similar thing, teaching IT to Moroccans, I was very suprised!
Finally on board the bus, I caught a few winks as far as Valencia, we were transferred to another bus where I caught up on a bit more sleep and enjoyed the scenery passing us by. Eventually we got to Granada at 6pm ... about 3hrs later than planned which presented a problem, to go to Algeciras now (another 4hr bus ride) or to stay here the night and go in the morning. I didn't have a guide for Algeciras and had no idea about accomodation, so I went on the internet did some searching and posted a message on Lonely Planet for some urgent help with a hotel. It's strange to me, in the 19yrs or so that I'd travelled, I'd never had the internet to use before like this. A faithful 'anorak' of Andulucian bus timetables was online and posted a wonderful list of Algeciras hotels whilst I was buying our bus tickets south.
Spent a rather uneventful night in Algeciras in a clean but also strangely smelly hotel not far from the port. Getting up early the next morning we downed a few coffees before heading off to buy a ferry ticket across to Tangiers!
Crossing to Tangiers, I realised with some dread that my travel companion didn't speak a word of another language bar English nor had he been travelling like this, despite repeatedly telling me he had been to over 40 countries ... I thought I'd keep quiet for now and see how it continued, we arrived in Tangiers where I immediately lost him as he went down to the car deck for some reason. I waited and waited for him to re-appear from the car deck ... I gave up and went off to the bank to get some dirhams whilst being chased by every available Tangiers taxi tout. I went back into the port building to see if I could find him so that we could make a quick escape and onto a train bound for Casablanca, he was waiting for me but hadn't got any dirhams sorted out .. so as not to waste time I offered to share mine until he was organised.
Luckily I found a 'honest' taxi driver to take us to the Gare Nouvelle - well honest in the sense that the car doors weren't going to shut until I had made him put the meter on despite his protestations ... the meter went on and the fare was a 'normal' 8Dh, paying him 10Dh, he was still protesting that as a tourist I should be paying the 'non-metered' prices!!! Three Aussie girls arrived a few minutes behind us telling us that they'd got their price down to 30Dh a head ... I gave them a few pointers ... and went off to find a seat on the Sidi Kacem train.
An hour or so into the journey one of the Aussies came down the carriage to have a chat, her first time to Europe and Africa she was with her 2 friends who would be leaving her for the final 2 weeks in Morocco. We chatted about where to go and what to do when she left us to re-join her friends in another compartment, my travel companion handed out one of his cards which I'd never seen before, a bit like a business card but describing him as a traveller, without a home address ... oh well!
Getting into Sidi Kacem for the change of trains to Casablanca was a bit of a nightmare, the cafe there seats 15 maximum I would think, if you can imagine a busy train changing there with everyone jumping off to find food and drink it presents chaos in the cafe! The smell around the station from the factory behind was pungent to say the least. I grabbed two seats at a table with two Korean guys (who I am very embarassed to say I thought were Japanese on first spotting them and started in Japanese!) they were with the 'Korean' Peace Corps - I never realised the Koreans did this, the Americans have their own version but to find two lads from Pusan doing a similar thing, teaching IT to Moroccans, I was very suprised!
A day back in Casablanca
Finally the train hauled into Casablanca, I was overjoyed to be back, I'd be closer to my friends Fatiya & Abderrahim and their family. I rang Fatiya immediately and said I was in town and we could meet up in the morning, but in true Fatiya style she was having none of it and asked me to wait there whilst she'd drive over and pick me up. I told my travel companion and apologised for leaving him to his own devices but said that the Hassan II mosque & the medina near La Places des Nations Unis was worth visiting and it would be a 'modern' introduction to a Moroccan town. He wasn't too concerned, and as Fatiya pulled up he was heading for the Ibis next to the station. She told me to ask him to join us into town and we'd drop him somewhere more central, he said he found a cheap hotel in his guidebook but I think he ended up at the Best Western and ended up eating in similarly western fast food places.
The following day I went out with Fatiya and one of her daughters, we (as girls do) headed for the souq and shopping ... I was very well restrained and came away fairly lightly (or rather my purse did!). I had a great day with them catching up on news before she dropped me at Casa's bus station to get a bus 'south' at 5pm or so. South was a question, whether to go to El Jadida or Safi, or to go the 'whole hog' to Tan Tan (only 18hrs!) just north of the Western Sahara border. I arrived at the bus station after several calls from my travelling companion wondering where & when to meet. Having chatted to Fatiya about my predicament (she was also given this 'card' which she was quite bemused by). I thought I'd make it easier on myself and go alone as the job of an interpreter for the trip hadn't been factored in my plans but was already becoming a little annoying from someone who had spent a month in France, in a Buddhist centre, but not even picked up the basics.
The following day I went out with Fatiya and one of her daughters, we (as girls do) headed for the souq and shopping ... I was very well restrained and came away fairly lightly (or rather my purse did!). I had a great day with them catching up on news before she dropped me at Casa's bus station to get a bus 'south' at 5pm or so. South was a question, whether to go to El Jadida or Safi, or to go the 'whole hog' to Tan Tan (only 18hrs!) just north of the Western Sahara border. I arrived at the bus station after several calls from my travelling companion wondering where & when to meet. Having chatted to Fatiya about my predicament (she was also given this 'card' which she was quite bemused by). I thought I'd make it easier on myself and go alone as the job of an interpreter for the trip hadn't been factored in my plans but was already becoming a little annoying from someone who had spent a month in France, in a Buddhist centre, but not even picked up the basics.
Thursday, February 02, 2006
Tan Tan ...
I looked around the bus station, he was nowhere to be seen, I went off and got a coffee and thought if he's not here by the time I finish this then I'm going! Sure enough he turned up as I was finishing it. Unfortunately the hint to go our separate ways wasn't taken so we continued on ...
On the most awful bus! Packed full with bad seats, a normality in Morocco BUT the worst was to come as we headed SE towards Marrakesh en route to Tan Tan, the rear door wasn't firmly shut so a billowing gale of freezing wind came through all night, to the point that I could feel my toes for the cold! I hardly slept, the cold just went through me. Arriving somewhere in the lower Atlas between Casa & Marrakesh we got off the bus for supper, the normal Moroccan situation where there's a few cafes on the roadside, usually one of the cheapest but best Moroccan meals are to be found in places like this. Jumping off I said I'd go and find some food for us both and asked him to go and order 'the' Moroccan drink, mint tea, for the two of us; I needed something to warm me up! My companion turned around and asked 'well where am I meant to get tea from'??? - I'm not a sarcastic person but in the middle of the night in the freezing cold in a place that I don't know any better than he does - I could have made some flippant comment, but I bit my tongue and said not to worry I'll do it! The tea & food made a bit of a difference for a while, I was warmer until just after Marrkesh, but from there on, into the early hours it remained very cold on board that bus!
Arriving in Tan Tan at 6am or so, I blearly staggered off the bus into a muddy bus station looking for a hotel & something hot, I'd slept the last two hours or so since somewhere between Tiznit & Goulmime when the sun came up - I'd also managed to get two seats as the bus was emptying out the further south we went. There was a cafe directly in front of me the 'Anaj Mat' - we made a beeline for it, the female owner was a little suprised to see two Westerners at that hour of the morning but made the best cafe au lait that I'd ever tasted!
On the most awful bus! Packed full with bad seats, a normality in Morocco BUT the worst was to come as we headed SE towards Marrakesh en route to Tan Tan, the rear door wasn't firmly shut so a billowing gale of freezing wind came through all night, to the point that I could feel my toes for the cold! I hardly slept, the cold just went through me. Arriving somewhere in the lower Atlas between Casa & Marrakesh we got off the bus for supper, the normal Moroccan situation where there's a few cafes on the roadside, usually one of the cheapest but best Moroccan meals are to be found in places like this. Jumping off I said I'd go and find some food for us both and asked him to go and order 'the' Moroccan drink, mint tea, for the two of us; I needed something to warm me up! My companion turned around and asked 'well where am I meant to get tea from'??? - I'm not a sarcastic person but in the middle of the night in the freezing cold in a place that I don't know any better than he does - I could have made some flippant comment, but I bit my tongue and said not to worry I'll do it! The tea & food made a bit of a difference for a while, I was warmer until just after Marrkesh, but from there on, into the early hours it remained very cold on board that bus!
Arriving in Tan Tan at 6am or so, I blearly staggered off the bus into a muddy bus station looking for a hotel & something hot, I'd slept the last two hours or so since somewhere between Tiznit & Goulmime when the sun came up - I'd also managed to get two seats as the bus was emptying out the further south we went. There was a cafe directly in front of me the 'Anaj Mat' - we made a beeline for it, the female owner was a little suprised to see two Westerners at that hour of the morning but made the best cafe au lait that I'd ever tasted!
Tan tan tan tan tan tan tan
Well the call at the bus station all day that I could hear from the room of our hotel was 'Agadir, agadir, agadir, agadir' so after organising for us both to do some washing on the roof top of the hotel I went down to the bus station to organise our tickets southbound. I had no idea when the next bus south would go or when it indeed where it was going to go. I walked into the bus station area with everyone continuing to shriek town names and then they all piled on me asking me if I wanted to go to Agadir, Marrakesh or anything else (except a southern destination) so I just walked through them all pointing at the ground and saying 'Tan tan, Tan Tan, Tan tan' which had most of the stitched up laughing!
We met back at Anaj Mat's cafe for another coffee after he'd finished doing his washing and found another restaurant on the bus station square to have lunch in, not a great lunch but better was to come. Another European guy wandered past our table, and went to sit at Anaj Mat's, our lunch needed washing down with a good cup of mint tea so after a while we went back there. I spoke to the guy next to us in French, but he turned out to be German, Berndt a retired History or was it Maths teacher???spends the European winters in Agadir and points south. As a threesome we wandered in the direction of the souq that I heard happens on a Sunday in Tan Tan, after a few minutes with several donkey taxi carts trotting past, a voice called out and it was my friend and her daughter going to the souq. They stopped and let the three of us on board, she refused to let us pay the dirham each for the ride ...
We met back at Anaj Mat's cafe for another coffee after he'd finished doing his washing and found another restaurant on the bus station square to have lunch in, not a great lunch but better was to come. Another European guy wandered past our table, and went to sit at Anaj Mat's, our lunch needed washing down with a good cup of mint tea so after a while we went back there. I spoke to the guy next to us in French, but he turned out to be German, Berndt a retired History or was it Maths teacher???spends the European winters in Agadir and points south. As a threesome we wandered in the direction of the souq that I heard happens on a Sunday in Tan Tan, after a few minutes with several donkey taxi carts trotting past, a voice called out and it was my friend and her daughter going to the souq. They stopped and let the three of us on board, she refused to let us pay the dirham each for the ride ...
Berndt's delicacy
Berndt took us back to 'his' end of Tan Tan, which is a long strung out town with a military base at one end and to a cafe he knew although he was in the Hotel Dakar opposite ours he'd explored the other end of town having been there a few days in an attempt to get to Tarfaya.
He introduced us to something I'd never eaten before in Morocco, a kind of omelette but on a base of tomato puree and cooked with a large green chilli in the middle, lots of spices and as usual I added a good helping of cumin to my eggs ... so that was an early supper and a delicious one at that!
We said goodbye to Berndt the following morning before his bus at 10am to Tarfaya, he was hoping to find somewhere to stay there, I hope he did as he was on the hunt for more history regarding St Louis de Expuery and it would take more than the few hours that he would have before the bus left again.
Our bus to Dahkla left at 2pm ... a sad farewell to my friends at Anaj Mat .. but I knew I'd see them again!
He introduced us to something I'd never eaten before in Morocco, a kind of omelette but on a base of tomato puree and cooked with a large green chilli in the middle, lots of spices and as usual I added a good helping of cumin to my eggs ... so that was an early supper and a delicious one at that!
We said goodbye to Berndt the following morning before his bus at 10am to Tarfaya, he was hoping to find somewhere to stay there, I hope he did as he was on the hunt for more history regarding St Louis de Expuery and it would take more than the few hours that he would have before the bus left again.
Our bus to Dahkla left at 2pm ... a sad farewell to my friends at Anaj Mat .. but I knew I'd see them again!
Western Sahara ...
Leaving Tan Tan was a bit difficult, I was torn, such a scruffy little town but everyone we met had a heart of gold, I really wanted to stay on but was also concerned that 'wasting' time in Morocco would leave less time to see Mauritania!
Getting a SATAS bus to Dahkla for 320Dh was a good move. Clean, heated and more spacious I knew this wasn't going to be the same journey from hell as we had had with the other bus from Casablanca!
The journey was relatively uneventful apart from the odd police posts where yet again I had to interpret no less than 7 times for him, what his job was, not once did he ask me how to say it or practice it in case we hit another police post! We reached Laayoune when I was told not to get off as we would be moving shortly. Fine, lots of people got off and I thought that we might just get lucky with seating and have 2 seats each to spread out in and sleep overnight as it was now 9pm.
How wrong I was! It filled up again (40 minutes later so I could have had a tea!) then we reversed into an alley .. I thought to turn around; no, they were still loading. Then it seemed as if we were off, but someone had tried to fiddle his ticket and was getting a public telling off for doing so ... eventually we pulled out, but only for a kilometre, we didn't have enough fuel!!! By this time we had spent over an hour and a half in Laayoune, I was gasping for a drink!!!
We pulled out and after 2hrs or so at 1am we pulled into a service station, ate and had another mint tea. We then went on for an hour before reaching Boujdour, a new town, very typical of the Western Sahara where the Moroccan government has poured money into create these new little towns. I got off and left my travel companion dozing next to the window, whilst I was off I started chatting with Buchara who was hysterically funny, my age, recently divorced which she thought was hysterical as it wasn't 'the done thing' in Dahkla, we spent 20minutes chatting out in the rain!
Arriving in Dahkla, Buchara and I said goodbye as her taxi had turned up to take her home. It was a little van and suddenly she called out to me asking if I wanted a lift further into town to an open cafe - an offer like that at 4.30am went down well so I got my backpack and called to Julian to jump into the back of Mohammed's van. He dropped us at a cafe and we had a coffee and listened to the Koran full blast from a Kuwaiti TV station, I was desperate for some sleep but I wasn't going to get it here and really wanted to use today to push on and get to Mauritania.
Forty minutes after being there and I decided to send J off on a 'test' mission to find 'something' open, internet cafe anything that was quieter than the Koran blasting from the TV prior to the first call of prayer. He came back saying he was being 'followed' by some Moroccans so he'd turned around; no comment; being almost dawn, I suspect these Moroccans were on their way to the mosque!! Then suddenly Mohammed returned and was parked outside the cafe, he came over and asked me if I wanted to go back to his to meet his wife who had invited us back for breakfast, I interpreted all this to Julian and we clambered back into his van for a second time and drove out to near Dahkla's grand taxi rank to his flat. Barka was in fact his second wife and heavily pregnant, due 20th January! Over an impromptu breakfast with the four of us (I don't think that poor Barka had any idea we were coming!) Mohammed wanted to know more about us both so I explained about the trip and what I was doing and did a fair bit of interpreting on J's behalf before falling asleep on the cushions (fantastic guest aren't I??!).
Later that morning (9am) he drove us out to the police post at the northern end of town to get a van to Mauritania - 450km away!
Getting a SATAS bus to Dahkla for 320Dh was a good move. Clean, heated and more spacious I knew this wasn't going to be the same journey from hell as we had had with the other bus from Casablanca!
The journey was relatively uneventful apart from the odd police posts where yet again I had to interpret no less than 7 times for him, what his job was, not once did he ask me how to say it or practice it in case we hit another police post! We reached Laayoune when I was told not to get off as we would be moving shortly. Fine, lots of people got off and I thought that we might just get lucky with seating and have 2 seats each to spread out in and sleep overnight as it was now 9pm.
How wrong I was! It filled up again (40 minutes later so I could have had a tea!) then we reversed into an alley .. I thought to turn around; no, they were still loading. Then it seemed as if we were off, but someone had tried to fiddle his ticket and was getting a public telling off for doing so ... eventually we pulled out, but only for a kilometre, we didn't have enough fuel!!! By this time we had spent over an hour and a half in Laayoune, I was gasping for a drink!!!
We pulled out and after 2hrs or so at 1am we pulled into a service station, ate and had another mint tea. We then went on for an hour before reaching Boujdour, a new town, very typical of the Western Sahara where the Moroccan government has poured money into create these new little towns. I got off and left my travel companion dozing next to the window, whilst I was off I started chatting with Buchara who was hysterically funny, my age, recently divorced which she thought was hysterical as it wasn't 'the done thing' in Dahkla, we spent 20minutes chatting out in the rain!
Arriving in Dahkla, Buchara and I said goodbye as her taxi had turned up to take her home. It was a little van and suddenly she called out to me asking if I wanted a lift further into town to an open cafe - an offer like that at 4.30am went down well so I got my backpack and called to Julian to jump into the back of Mohammed's van. He dropped us at a cafe and we had a coffee and listened to the Koran full blast from a Kuwaiti TV station, I was desperate for some sleep but I wasn't going to get it here and really wanted to use today to push on and get to Mauritania.
Forty minutes after being there and I decided to send J off on a 'test' mission to find 'something' open, internet cafe anything that was quieter than the Koran blasting from the TV prior to the first call of prayer. He came back saying he was being 'followed' by some Moroccans so he'd turned around; no comment; being almost dawn, I suspect these Moroccans were on their way to the mosque!! Then suddenly Mohammed returned and was parked outside the cafe, he came over and asked me if I wanted to go back to his to meet his wife who had invited us back for breakfast, I interpreted all this to Julian and we clambered back into his van for a second time and drove out to near Dahkla's grand taxi rank to his flat. Barka was in fact his second wife and heavily pregnant, due 20th January! Over an impromptu breakfast with the four of us (I don't think that poor Barka had any idea we were coming!) Mohammed wanted to know more about us both so I explained about the trip and what I was doing and did a fair bit of interpreting on J's behalf before falling asleep on the cushions (fantastic guest aren't I??!).
Later that morning (9am) he drove us out to the police post at the northern end of town to get a van to Mauritania - 450km away!
Dahkla difficulties ...
Having been dropped at the police post I asked around for a van that was going south. It was 9am and starting to get warm; Mohammed went into town in his van with two ladies who needed something ... all was to be revealed!
The guys offered each of us a place for 400Dh each, I said no it was over the going rate and put my pack down. The price was lowered to 300Dh each and I put my pack by the van but told them I still wasn't happy with the price and if I found a better option I'd be off. I stood on the side of the road seeing if there were many European registered vehicles around to catch a lift south with. I was immediately spied upon by the police officer sitting in his van opposite registering all foreigners .. he took our passports to add to his list and then called me over. I was waiting for what I had heard ALL night from the 7 police posts that we had been past - where do you live, what do you do, where are you going??? etc, etc .. Oh no! I got a marriage proposal instead, this is quite normal and with politeness easy to divert - USUALLY! So by turning him down he then started on the topic of westerners sleeping around with a variety of partners whether or not they were married; I wandered back to the vans whilst he was mid-sentence.
I then caught sight of a bearded guy about 300m further up the road towards the campsite. After 30mins or so he wandered towards us and in heavily accented French (a thick Turin twang) asked me where I was off to then whether he could join us. Great! I had further bargaining power and offered the guys an extra passenger in the form of Gianni for a price less than 300Dh; we agreed on 250Dh. By this time Mohammed had come back with the two ladies, a friend and a mountain of goods which at the time I took scant notice of; but all the goods where taken off the top of Mohammed's van and out of it and put into the back of a Mauritanian van.
As all this was going on a taxi from town turned up with a non-French speaker inside. It turned out to be Brendan, an Aussie guy who was also wanting to head south and had been told that for the price of 400Dh he could have a front seat .. which got me thinking - what did 250Dh buy us? A roof position???
Brendan soon cottoned onto the fact that Gianni and I were able to do some hard bargaining and turned around to his tout and said that he'd pay 250Dh like us. The tout turned on me quite nastily and blamed me for the shortfall of 150Dh and that I shouldn't have told Brendan anything, I feigned ignorance and said it couldn't be helped if Brendan understood the price we were paying. They agreed 300Dh.
We were ready to go! The guys asked us to climb in - I said 'where?' the van was full and they wanted us in the back of it. Climbing up I saw that over all the boxes, tables & sacks there was a space for sitting on a few blankets on top of our packs and the two Moroccan ladies had already climbed in and were making themselves very comfortable.
So now I was headed for the Mauritanian border feeling like an immigrant being smuggled over the border, like we have in Europe so often!!!
The guys offered each of us a place for 400Dh each, I said no it was over the going rate and put my pack down. The price was lowered to 300Dh each and I put my pack by the van but told them I still wasn't happy with the price and if I found a better option I'd be off. I stood on the side of the road seeing if there were many European registered vehicles around to catch a lift south with. I was immediately spied upon by the police officer sitting in his van opposite registering all foreigners .. he took our passports to add to his list and then called me over. I was waiting for what I had heard ALL night from the 7 police posts that we had been past - where do you live, what do you do, where are you going??? etc, etc .. Oh no! I got a marriage proposal instead, this is quite normal and with politeness easy to divert - USUALLY! So by turning him down he then started on the topic of westerners sleeping around with a variety of partners whether or not they were married; I wandered back to the vans whilst he was mid-sentence.
I then caught sight of a bearded guy about 300m further up the road towards the campsite. After 30mins or so he wandered towards us and in heavily accented French (a thick Turin twang) asked me where I was off to then whether he could join us. Great! I had further bargaining power and offered the guys an extra passenger in the form of Gianni for a price less than 300Dh; we agreed on 250Dh. By this time Mohammed had come back with the two ladies, a friend and a mountain of goods which at the time I took scant notice of; but all the goods where taken off the top of Mohammed's van and out of it and put into the back of a Mauritanian van.
As all this was going on a taxi from town turned up with a non-French speaker inside. It turned out to be Brendan, an Aussie guy who was also wanting to head south and had been told that for the price of 400Dh he could have a front seat .. which got me thinking - what did 250Dh buy us? A roof position???
Brendan soon cottoned onto the fact that Gianni and I were able to do some hard bargaining and turned around to his tout and said that he'd pay 250Dh like us. The tout turned on me quite nastily and blamed me for the shortfall of 150Dh and that I shouldn't have told Brendan anything, I feigned ignorance and said it couldn't be helped if Brendan understood the price we were paying. They agreed 300Dh.
We were ready to go! The guys asked us to climb in - I said 'where?' the van was full and they wanted us in the back of it. Climbing up I saw that over all the boxes, tables & sacks there was a space for sitting on a few blankets on top of our packs and the two Moroccan ladies had already climbed in and were making themselves very comfortable.
So now I was headed for the Mauritanian border feeling like an immigrant being smuggled over the border, like we have in Europe so often!!!
Our van with Brendan (Aus) Julian (US) and Gianni (IT) whilst broken down somewhere between Dahkla & the border!
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Border formalities
A lot of banter in several languages was going on between the six of us. Two of the three Moroccan women were in the back with Gianni, Julian, Brendan and myself. Having been firmly shut in by a bar across the back door of the van we couldn't see much at all and were trying to talk above the noise level of the engine. Occasionally Gianni would peer out of the dirty rear windows and tell us that there were camels out there ..
I started reading my first guide book on Mauritania which Brendan had thoughtfully brought along. First things first; the import of alcohol was strictly prohibited into the Islamic Republic of Mauritania - did that include Bombay Sapphire? Would anyone take away my prized possession that I bought on the Algeciras-Tangiers ferry??
Secondly, no one seemed to know that if I could pick up a visa at the border if I needed a photocopy of my passport (I had one such copy) or a passport sized photo (which would have meant a long trek back to at least Dahkla). Gianni & Brendan being rather more intelligent than I; had picked up their visas in Casablanca. I was relying on information posted on Lonely Planet that you could now get your visa processed at the border.
The van was suddenly pulled off the road and we hit a bumpy track, I thought we'd reached the border, the guys came to the rear of the van and let us out; we'd broken down - in the desert .. nothing for miles, just the odd BMW whizzing past doing what seemed to be a test run at 200kph or so ... one of the guys lifted the bonnet, the ladies went off with bags and later called me to join them for tea.
Falling asleep on the blankets with my head happily banging the side of the van (I was up to date on tetanus!) I decided that if I didn't get my visa then at least I'd be able to keep my bottle of Bombay Sapphire ... the downside was that I'd let Julian do the same as I, so I would be responsible for his non-entry into Mauritania.
We arrived at the Moroccan border, complete bedlam with trucks everywhere .. I started realising that I was back in Africa, the Africa I knew and loved, the 'tsking' noises by the men, the warmth of the sun, the smells .. suddenly at this border post I felt like I knew where I was!
The customs guys got a little annoyed with us and slammed his door shut with our passports inside, then he called us in one by one, I was the first and he stamped my exit out of Morocco .. the others went in, after maybe two of them he came out and got me - and asked me which vehicle I had come in; I pointed out the van. He dragged me back inside and got my immigration card out and said 'that's a Mercedes not a Peugeot' - uuumm, well it's a van to me and I'd just scribbled down a make of vehicle - how was I meant to know it was a Merc?!!!
We piled back into the van, leaving the Moroccan border we were now on piste in no-mans land, with the comforting thought that if the van went off the piste, the area's got a few unexploded land mines! With a few bumps and unappreciative groans from the six of us in the rear, we made it to the Mauritanian post. Friendly faces all round, they seized Gianni and nicknamed him Monsieur Spaghetti so he & I returned the taunts with Messieurs Poissons - the Mauritanian coast is famous for it's fish! I handed over my 30euros for a visa, nothing else was asked of me; we refused the offer of a lift in the van down to the customs post 300m away where they weren't too worried about our bags. Funnily between the two posts there's a sign pointing into the dunes saying 'Auberge 500m' - couldn't see one but I was sure there were several land mines to negotiate if you did find it!
I started reading my first guide book on Mauritania which Brendan had thoughtfully brought along. First things first; the import of alcohol was strictly prohibited into the Islamic Republic of Mauritania - did that include Bombay Sapphire? Would anyone take away my prized possession that I bought on the Algeciras-Tangiers ferry??
Secondly, no one seemed to know that if I could pick up a visa at the border if I needed a photocopy of my passport (I had one such copy) or a passport sized photo (which would have meant a long trek back to at least Dahkla). Gianni & Brendan being rather more intelligent than I; had picked up their visas in Casablanca. I was relying on information posted on Lonely Planet that you could now get your visa processed at the border.
The van was suddenly pulled off the road and we hit a bumpy track, I thought we'd reached the border, the guys came to the rear of the van and let us out; we'd broken down - in the desert .. nothing for miles, just the odd BMW whizzing past doing what seemed to be a test run at 200kph or so ... one of the guys lifted the bonnet, the ladies went off with bags and later called me to join them for tea.
Falling asleep on the blankets with my head happily banging the side of the van (I was up to date on tetanus!) I decided that if I didn't get my visa then at least I'd be able to keep my bottle of Bombay Sapphire ... the downside was that I'd let Julian do the same as I, so I would be responsible for his non-entry into Mauritania.
We arrived at the Moroccan border, complete bedlam with trucks everywhere .. I started realising that I was back in Africa, the Africa I knew and loved, the 'tsking' noises by the men, the warmth of the sun, the smells .. suddenly at this border post I felt like I knew where I was!
The customs guys got a little annoyed with us and slammed his door shut with our passports inside, then he called us in one by one, I was the first and he stamped my exit out of Morocco .. the others went in, after maybe two of them he came out and got me - and asked me which vehicle I had come in; I pointed out the van. He dragged me back inside and got my immigration card out and said 'that's a Mercedes not a Peugeot' - uuumm, well it's a van to me and I'd just scribbled down a make of vehicle - how was I meant to know it was a Merc?!!!
We piled back into the van, leaving the Moroccan border we were now on piste in no-mans land, with the comforting thought that if the van went off the piste, the area's got a few unexploded land mines! With a few bumps and unappreciative groans from the six of us in the rear, we made it to the Mauritanian post. Friendly faces all round, they seized Gianni and nicknamed him Monsieur Spaghetti so he & I returned the taunts with Messieurs Poissons - the Mauritanian coast is famous for it's fish! I handed over my 30euros for a visa, nothing else was asked of me; we refused the offer of a lift in the van down to the customs post 300m away where they weren't too worried about our bags. Funnily between the two posts there's a sign pointing into the dunes saying 'Auberge 500m' - couldn't see one but I was sure there were several land mines to negotiate if you did find it!
5 days down, over a fortnight to go ...
Once we had got past Mauritanian customs we hopped back in the van, then horror of horrors a tout from Nouabidhou (NBD in future as it's a pain to spell!) jumped in too. He started telling us the best place to stay in NBD, another hour away despite protestations from Gianni who had been there before and wanted to go to La Baie du Levrier (which didn't pay touts!). Brendan was following some of this French, rolling his eyes in horror after what had been a long day, Julian as with the earlier part of the trip didn't really understand what was going on.
I finally lost my rag, I was tired, I had been on the road for over 30hrs now without a proper sleep and turned around to our baseball capped tout and said to him firmly but politely; 'we're tired, we've got another hour to go and we do not need your sales pitch the whole way to NBD, please shut up'. Incredibly he did!!! He didn't utter another word the whole way! We got to the police post 15km from NBD where the border roads splits between Nouachkott (capital, some 5.5hrs away) and NBD, this passed without incident and the van rolled into NBD.
Suddenly the van slowed down, the front doors were slamming and someone was trying to lift the bar off the back doors to let us out. In front of me as I scrambled over the cargo of our van was an English guy with a London accent, behind him was a French car I'd seen go past me at Dahkla when I'd been looking for a lift. Well, we were somewhere but I didn't have a clue which hotel/campsite we had arrived at but there were other travellers, a brand new BMW off road bike with a UK registration parked in the hallway and there seemed to be enough rooms for all of us. Five days after leaving a cold Carcassonne by bus on 15th December, I was in NBD on 20th December ...
We walked in, feeling a bit like space aliens after the ride in the van .. my thoughts suddenly turned to money - it had been impossible in the amount of time we had had in Dahkla to buy Ougiya, the currency of Mauritania. Finding Amadou, the guardien of the hotel, we discovered that I could share a room with Alexandra a girl from Paris, Julian & Gianni were sharing with a Japanese guy & Tony, the Londoner from Wales with the bike, Brendan was able to get his own room as he had hoped. But it was 8pm at night, we were all starving hungry, we didn't have any money. Tony & Alexandra were wonderfully helpful and said that Amandou could organise a banker for us, I asked Amandou about this and sure enough he made a phone call to have us meet someone as the banker usually came to the hotel in the morning to do foreign exchange. The next problem was that Gianni remembered that we hadn't picked up a foreign currency declaration at the border, we had not been offered one either, Amandou didn't see this as a problem but Gianni wasn't so sure.
We all trooped out of a side door into the street with Amandou leading the way to the bankers office. We arrived in an office with a desk, two chairs and a safe, our party of 4 became five as the Japanese guy needed money too. A few Mauritanian guys came in and hastily organised chairs for all of us. Gianni (the only other one that spoke French) started the proceedings asking for the rate, a mere 280UM to 1euro. Seemed odd as he had got 360 or so earlier in the year in April, but the banker explained that due to oil prices the Ougiya had become stronger. Gianni & I were still suspicious, then it turned out the Japanese guy had US dollars. I translated for the Japanese guy who didn't speak French and not much English to boot which completely puzzled our 20year old turbaned banker. A female in a room with 4 men and SHE was leading the negoiations in three languages. He refused to talk to me, he spoke directly to the guys in French, I pointed out that only Gianni spoke French but couldn't translate to the others, so if he wanted any business he had better get over his problem of dealing with a woman and speak to me ...
Due to this situation and the dodgy rate of exchange I gave him 10 euros, enough to buy me some food and see me through until the morning when I would have to give Amandou 2,500UM for my B&B.
I finally lost my rag, I was tired, I had been on the road for over 30hrs now without a proper sleep and turned around to our baseball capped tout and said to him firmly but politely; 'we're tired, we've got another hour to go and we do not need your sales pitch the whole way to NBD, please shut up'. Incredibly he did!!! He didn't utter another word the whole way! We got to the police post 15km from NBD where the border roads splits between Nouachkott (capital, some 5.5hrs away) and NBD, this passed without incident and the van rolled into NBD.
Suddenly the van slowed down, the front doors were slamming and someone was trying to lift the bar off the back doors to let us out. In front of me as I scrambled over the cargo of our van was an English guy with a London accent, behind him was a French car I'd seen go past me at Dahkla when I'd been looking for a lift. Well, we were somewhere but I didn't have a clue which hotel/campsite we had arrived at but there were other travellers, a brand new BMW off road bike with a UK registration parked in the hallway and there seemed to be enough rooms for all of us. Five days after leaving a cold Carcassonne by bus on 15th December, I was in NBD on 20th December ...
We walked in, feeling a bit like space aliens after the ride in the van .. my thoughts suddenly turned to money - it had been impossible in the amount of time we had had in Dahkla to buy Ougiya, the currency of Mauritania. Finding Amadou, the guardien of the hotel, we discovered that I could share a room with Alexandra a girl from Paris, Julian & Gianni were sharing with a Japanese guy & Tony, the Londoner from Wales with the bike, Brendan was able to get his own room as he had hoped. But it was 8pm at night, we were all starving hungry, we didn't have any money. Tony & Alexandra were wonderfully helpful and said that Amandou could organise a banker for us, I asked Amandou about this and sure enough he made a phone call to have us meet someone as the banker usually came to the hotel in the morning to do foreign exchange. The next problem was that Gianni remembered that we hadn't picked up a foreign currency declaration at the border, we had not been offered one either, Amandou didn't see this as a problem but Gianni wasn't so sure.
We all trooped out of a side door into the street with Amandou leading the way to the bankers office. We arrived in an office with a desk, two chairs and a safe, our party of 4 became five as the Japanese guy needed money too. A few Mauritanian guys came in and hastily organised chairs for all of us. Gianni (the only other one that spoke French) started the proceedings asking for the rate, a mere 280UM to 1euro. Seemed odd as he had got 360 or so earlier in the year in April, but the banker explained that due to oil prices the Ougiya had become stronger. Gianni & I were still suspicious, then it turned out the Japanese guy had US dollars. I translated for the Japanese guy who didn't speak French and not much English to boot which completely puzzled our 20year old turbaned banker. A female in a room with 4 men and SHE was leading the negoiations in three languages. He refused to talk to me, he spoke directly to the guys in French, I pointed out that only Gianni spoke French but couldn't translate to the others, so if he wanted any business he had better get over his problem of dealing with a woman and speak to me ...
Due to this situation and the dodgy rate of exchange I gave him 10 euros, enough to buy me some food and see me through until the morning when I would have to give Amandou 2,500UM for my B&B.
Nouabidhou
The second largest city in Mauritania, Nouabidhou is one long dusty street, very busy with vehicles pouring in from the north with supplies from Morocco and further afield.
Having got some money from our young banker we caught up with Tony & Alexandra and the two French guys who had driven down and were heading for Mali the next morning. We all went to a little restaurant, Les Trois Etoiles in hope of some fish, Alexandra had eaten there the night before and said the corbine had to be tried and for 250UM we could get a great meal. Getting there at 9pm it turned out we were too late, the corbine had been eaten and there wasn't much else on offer.
We continued through town in the hope of finding somewhere open that had food (and I wanted some fish!), eventually we found a little Moroccan restaurant just past La Baie du Levrier that was open but by this time we had lost the two French guys and Brendan who were too tired. Watching EuroNews on TV we sat down and ordered, then waited and waited and waited for our food, which I began to think was being bought in Morocco and brought over the border for us. Walking back Alex commented that I had a shadow that for every step I took in one direction he followed me, this was to become quite a laugh whilst I was there with Gianni noticing it too!
Arriving back at Imal Camping we sat down with Amelie & John, a Swiss/UK couple and carried on chatting over a few glasses of my illegally imported Bombay Sapphire and Julian's bourbon. I went into my room later as Alex was dragging her mattress out into the courtyard, looking around the room at the presence of mossies I decided that she didn't have such a bad idea. Had a sound sleep only to be interrupted by the call to prayer at dawn from the neighbouring mosque but fell back to sleep until 9.30am when I woke up to everyone having breakfast around me and the French guys had already gone off to Mali.
Alex, Gianni and I went out and did some essentials, mainly money - I found that the rate was 280UM to the euro but with a bit of pressure on a money changer I managed to get 320UM with a receipt. Gianni was spotted in the street by Ali, the owner of La Baie du Levrier and we were invited in for some tea and a suprise he had for Gianni. There in the courtyard was a French registered campervan with Christine and her husband overjoyed to see Gianni again, they had all met a few times on previous trips. Christine and her husband were an incredible couple, they had adopted 4 children, two from Gabon and two from Peru and at the ages of 71 and 72 looked remarkably fit despite both having had heart attacks. (PS. I have since had someone contact me about this site to say that she met this couple with Gianni in early 2005, Christine's husband (who's name I have forgotten) was a Hungarian Jew and went through hell as a child at the mercy of the Nazi's; a very lucky man!)
We went back to Imal Camping to find it locked up, we sat around in the sand outside waiting for Amandou to show up. Eventually he did and we found Julian & Brendan locked inside!!! We offered to take them down to the beach as Kosando with us, a small dormitory town built exclusively for SNIM workers, the iron ore company that runs the worlds longest train between the mines at Zouerat and the port here in NBD.
Having got some money from our young banker we caught up with Tony & Alexandra and the two French guys who had driven down and were heading for Mali the next morning. We all went to a little restaurant, Les Trois Etoiles in hope of some fish, Alexandra had eaten there the night before and said the corbine had to be tried and for 250UM we could get a great meal. Getting there at 9pm it turned out we were too late, the corbine had been eaten and there wasn't much else on offer.
We continued through town in the hope of finding somewhere open that had food (and I wanted some fish!), eventually we found a little Moroccan restaurant just past La Baie du Levrier that was open but by this time we had lost the two French guys and Brendan who were too tired. Watching EuroNews on TV we sat down and ordered, then waited and waited and waited for our food, which I began to think was being bought in Morocco and brought over the border for us. Walking back Alex commented that I had a shadow that for every step I took in one direction he followed me, this was to become quite a laugh whilst I was there with Gianni noticing it too!
Arriving back at Imal Camping we sat down with Amelie & John, a Swiss/UK couple and carried on chatting over a few glasses of my illegally imported Bombay Sapphire and Julian's bourbon. I went into my room later as Alex was dragging her mattress out into the courtyard, looking around the room at the presence of mossies I decided that she didn't have such a bad idea. Had a sound sleep only to be interrupted by the call to prayer at dawn from the neighbouring mosque but fell back to sleep until 9.30am when I woke up to everyone having breakfast around me and the French guys had already gone off to Mali.
Alex, Gianni and I went out and did some essentials, mainly money - I found that the rate was 280UM to the euro but with a bit of pressure on a money changer I managed to get 320UM with a receipt. Gianni was spotted in the street by Ali, the owner of La Baie du Levrier and we were invited in for some tea and a suprise he had for Gianni. There in the courtyard was a French registered campervan with Christine and her husband overjoyed to see Gianni again, they had all met a few times on previous trips. Christine and her husband were an incredible couple, they had adopted 4 children, two from Gabon and two from Peru and at the ages of 71 and 72 looked remarkably fit despite both having had heart attacks. (PS. I have since had someone contact me about this site to say that she met this couple with Gianni in early 2005, Christine's husband (who's name I have forgotten) was a Hungarian Jew and went through hell as a child at the mercy of the Nazi's; a very lucky man!)
We went back to Imal Camping to find it locked up, we sat around in the sand outside waiting for Amandou to show up. Eventually he did and we found Julian & Brendan locked inside!!! We offered to take them down to the beach as Kosando with us, a small dormitory town built exclusively for SNIM workers, the iron ore company that runs the worlds longest train between the mines at Zouerat and the port here in NBD.
Kosando ...
Alex, Gianni and I finally found a taxi driver that agreed to our price to take us to Kosando. The journey out there was interesting as we drove past what must be the worlds biggest shipwrecked beach. He dropped us at the beach and we wandered around the village complex, a lot of flats and small houses in remarkably good condition. A school was there that I presume was sponsored by the company. The people there were suprised to see us, I don't think it's on the normal tourist track, but then nor is Mauritania really!
We had left Imal Camping with our swimsuits in the hope of swimming there, Julian gave us a parting shot as we left about being stupid to swim in an Atlantic rip tide. Kosando is on the 'inside' of NBD's peninsula so therefore tides weren't really a problem, however the beach was overlooked and there were a few kids that joined us. When we saw what was in the water, we decided against it, far too much 'disturbed' mucky waters from the large tankers that come past to fill up with iron ore.
Returning back to central NBD, we got out of the taxi outside La Baie du Levrier and had another tea with Ali. Alex was wondering where to go next prior to flying out of Atar on New Years Day, the answer was waiting for her. At Ali's was Massimo, an Italian lawyer who had just arrived in his Land Cruiser and told some hysterical tales about landmines exploding under a vehicle causing the Swiss occupants to jump out of their vehicle and the same couple writing their GPS codes of their home address on the side of their vehicle! He was also having a dilemma as to whether to go to Atar along the railway piste (on the right as the left side is heavily landmined - the right has a few though!) or go down to Nouachkott. Alex asked if he was going to Nouachkott if she could join him ... he said he would make the decision over supper with us at Les Trois Etoiles!
We met Massimo as planned, Julian came to join us for dinner but as Massimo also spoke French, the language - as with the rest of the trip, was in French. He found this hard going and after handing Massimo one of his now famous travellers business cards, left us to it, so quietly that Massimo didn't realise for a while that he had gone, just gaffawed when he saw the card next to his glass. Little Aiwa, the restaurants 2 year old daughter spent the whole evening with us, playing and mimicking Gianni! It was agreed that Alex would meet Massimo the next morning to head south to Nouakchott and we would catch the train out to Choum and then onto Atar and Chinguetti.
We had left Imal Camping with our swimsuits in the hope of swimming there, Julian gave us a parting shot as we left about being stupid to swim in an Atlantic rip tide. Kosando is on the 'inside' of NBD's peninsula so therefore tides weren't really a problem, however the beach was overlooked and there were a few kids that joined us. When we saw what was in the water, we decided against it, far too much 'disturbed' mucky waters from the large tankers that come past to fill up with iron ore.
Returning back to central NBD, we got out of the taxi outside La Baie du Levrier and had another tea with Ali. Alex was wondering where to go next prior to flying out of Atar on New Years Day, the answer was waiting for her. At Ali's was Massimo, an Italian lawyer who had just arrived in his Land Cruiser and told some hysterical tales about landmines exploding under a vehicle causing the Swiss occupants to jump out of their vehicle and the same couple writing their GPS codes of their home address on the side of their vehicle! He was also having a dilemma as to whether to go to Atar along the railway piste (on the right as the left side is heavily landmined - the right has a few though!) or go down to Nouachkott. Alex asked if he was going to Nouachkott if she could join him ... he said he would make the decision over supper with us at Les Trois Etoiles!
We met Massimo as planned, Julian came to join us for dinner but as Massimo also spoke French, the language - as with the rest of the trip, was in French. He found this hard going and after handing Massimo one of his now famous travellers business cards, left us to it, so quietly that Massimo didn't realise for a while that he had gone, just gaffawed when he saw the card next to his glass. Little Aiwa, the restaurants 2 year old daughter spent the whole evening with us, playing and mimicking Gianni! It was agreed that Alex would meet Massimo the next morning to head south to Nouakchott and we would catch the train out to Choum and then onto Atar and Chinguetti.
Spider ruins plans?
Returning to Imal Camping to go to bed, Gianni, Alex & I joined Julian with a few more glasses of Bombay Sapphire & bourbon. To my relief it was agreed that Gianni would come with Julian and I to Chinguetti. Then we would all meet Alex in Nouakchott on Christmas Eve and have a French Christmas 'banquet' the night we would arrive and Alex said she would organise it all prior to our arrival, and even try to find some wine!
Pulling out our mattresses, we went to bed, to be joined by Gianni & Julian in the courtyard with theirs. Julian, it turned out, had left the restaurant early due to a fish bone stuck in his throat, shame for his meal to be marred, as the corbine was excellent. Just as I was dozing off I heard something and brushed a bug from my forehead; I fell asleep under the starry Mauritanian night.
At 5am I woke up, madly scratching just above my eyebrow and thinking that I had conjunctivitus as my eye wouldn't open. I got up in the dark and found my way to the bathroom and quietly screamed .. my eye was enormously swollen. This would ruin the plans to go on the train as Alex had been telling us how dusty it was, thoughts went through my head, if I could find over-the-counter drugs in NBD then I might be OK, but it might be safer (and more responsible - something I don't usually do) to get the first available lift north and get back to Dahkla for treatment. Amandou suddenly appeared in the kitchen, he was about to go to the mosque to the first prayers of the day, I was trying to get the gas bottle open so I could heat some water to gently bathe my eye. He looked very worried and went off to wake Alex up. Alex decided it wasn't conjunctivitus but an allergy to something. I went back to bed feeling a bit easier, touching my forehead I noticed that the skin was getting hard .. I fell asleep hoping it would all go away in the morning!
Pulling out our mattresses, we went to bed, to be joined by Gianni & Julian in the courtyard with theirs. Julian, it turned out, had left the restaurant early due to a fish bone stuck in his throat, shame for his meal to be marred, as the corbine was excellent. Just as I was dozing off I heard something and brushed a bug from my forehead; I fell asleep under the starry Mauritanian night.
At 5am I woke up, madly scratching just above my eyebrow and thinking that I had conjunctivitus as my eye wouldn't open. I got up in the dark and found my way to the bathroom and quietly screamed .. my eye was enormously swollen. This would ruin the plans to go on the train as Alex had been telling us how dusty it was, thoughts went through my head, if I could find over-the-counter drugs in NBD then I might be OK, but it might be safer (and more responsible - something I don't usually do) to get the first available lift north and get back to Dahkla for treatment. Amandou suddenly appeared in the kitchen, he was about to go to the mosque to the first prayers of the day, I was trying to get the gas bottle open so I could heat some water to gently bathe my eye. He looked very worried and went off to wake Alex up. Alex decided it wasn't conjunctivitus but an allergy to something. I went back to bed feeling a bit easier, touching my forehead I noticed that the skin was getting hard .. I fell asleep hoping it would all go away in the morning!
The long train wait
I had breakfast with everyone looking on in astonishment at me, I was still concerned that I shouldn't really be catching the train out today - out to the middle of nowhere. My eye was massively swollen as was that side of my forehead. However, they all agreed it was an allergic reaction to the bite, so I found some paramol in my bag that I had left over from when I took my godson, Kurt, to Morocco previously. He's allergic to wasps and these anti-histimines might do the trick. Still unsure, I did something I've never done before, I rarely travel with my phone, but I got it out and dialled New Zealand and spoke to Kurt's mum who's a nurse in Invercargill Hospital. After a short 40second phone call, I popped a paramol and continued to do so every 3hrs during the day, by the next morning I was back to normal.
Alex left with Gianni carrying her pack for her to go and meet Massimo whilst I got organised. Going out to the market with Gianni to get provisions for the train, I wore my sunglasses everywhere to cover the bite!! Julian went off to write his website and unbeknown to us hadn't done any shopping for the train, just as well we had more than enough to see us through, or so we thought!
We eventually found a taxi to take us out to the station for 50UM. The previous day we'd paid 80UM to go out to Kosando a few kilometres past the station, all the taxi drivers suddenly saw a window of opportunity and wanted between 200-300UM to take us to the station, it took a while to find an honest one!
On getting out there at 1pm to meet the 2pm train, we found ourselves strangely alone, apart from two guys loading up a donkey cart with empty barrels. Just before 2pm the 'station' started filling up with other passengers and a few soldiers, four women came along to set up their stalls with food & water. Julian went up to the ladies and asked them in English for some bread, as had been previously pointed out, no one understands English so Gianni and I acted as interpreters. The ticket seller was nowhere to be seen, things were looking a bit grim ...
It looked as if we were in for a long wait!
Alex left with Gianni carrying her pack for her to go and meet Massimo whilst I got organised. Going out to the market with Gianni to get provisions for the train, I wore my sunglasses everywhere to cover the bite!! Julian went off to write his website and unbeknown to us hadn't done any shopping for the train, just as well we had more than enough to see us through, or so we thought!
We eventually found a taxi to take us out to the station for 50UM. The previous day we'd paid 80UM to go out to Kosando a few kilometres past the station, all the taxi drivers suddenly saw a window of opportunity and wanted between 200-300UM to take us to the station, it took a while to find an honest one!
On getting out there at 1pm to meet the 2pm train, we found ourselves strangely alone, apart from two guys loading up a donkey cart with empty barrels. Just before 2pm the 'station' started filling up with other passengers and a few soldiers, four women came along to set up their stalls with food & water. Julian went up to the ladies and asked them in English for some bread, as had been previously pointed out, no one understands English so Gianni and I acted as interpreters. The ticket seller was nowhere to be seen, things were looking a bit grim ...
It looked as if we were in for a long wait!
It got worse ...
We waited, saw most of the men pray at least twice during our stay on the concrete benches, a few locomotives go past and then finally the train came - going the wrong way, but a good sign was that it was loaded up with iron ore (complete with passengers riding for free on top). This was about 4pm so we decided it would be a good hour or so until it came back.
There was nothing to do, it was a little frustrating as we could have spent more time in NBD, but the risk of going back into town and then missing the train was too great.
Eventually the ticket seller turned up just before dusk, sold us a seat each for 2,500UM and we felt a little more relieved that the train might just come before the morning!
The worlds longest train, operated by the Anglo-French mining company SNIM, turned up at 8pm, there was a sudden rush of passengers to it, everyone dying to get on, police were at the door trying to calm the chaos. I climbed in (it was a climb to get up to the carriage from the sand below!) and grabbed a seat in the first compartment opposite a couple of men, Gianni soon joined me and we held the final seat for Julian.
The stench of the carriage was unbelievable, I've been on a few trains across India, the Trans-Siberian and other locales but this was incredible. I had been warned that if we got a train with couchettes to have something to lie on as the couchettes were filthy dirty. As long as we got to Choum I thought I could put up with it and dozed off to sleep against the window. Julian did the same at the other end of the three seats and Gianni went out into the aisle to join some Mauritanian mine workers for tea all night. By 2am I'd given up on sleep and left Julian dozing in his chair whilst I went out to join Gianni and chat to the guys. The train had an awful sudden heaving motion, which was what woke me up, probably because of it's length. Just having been handed a glass of tea, not holding onto any of the rails it did it again and I threw my tea over my hosts and with them went flying about 3metres down the aisle.
There was nothing to do, it was a little frustrating as we could have spent more time in NBD, but the risk of going back into town and then missing the train was too great.
Eventually the ticket seller turned up just before dusk, sold us a seat each for 2,500UM and we felt a little more relieved that the train might just come before the morning!
The worlds longest train, operated by the Anglo-French mining company SNIM, turned up at 8pm, there was a sudden rush of passengers to it, everyone dying to get on, police were at the door trying to calm the chaos. I climbed in (it was a climb to get up to the carriage from the sand below!) and grabbed a seat in the first compartment opposite a couple of men, Gianni soon joined me and we held the final seat for Julian.
The stench of the carriage was unbelievable, I've been on a few trains across India, the Trans-Siberian and other locales but this was incredible. I had been warned that if we got a train with couchettes to have something to lie on as the couchettes were filthy dirty. As long as we got to Choum I thought I could put up with it and dozed off to sleep against the window. Julian did the same at the other end of the three seats and Gianni went out into the aisle to join some Mauritanian mine workers for tea all night. By 2am I'd given up on sleep and left Julian dozing in his chair whilst I went out to join Gianni and chat to the guys. The train had an awful sudden heaving motion, which was what woke me up, probably because of it's length. Just having been handed a glass of tea, not holding onto any of the rails it did it again and I threw my tea over my hosts and with them went flying about 3metres down the aisle.
Choum's 13 seater Landcruisers
Now the fun really started, here we were at 5am,in the cold. We had quite a few vehicles come out from Choum (in the distance) to meet the train, they drove us back to Choum, a dusty little place, if you've never been here, you've not missed much!
Then we started negioations to get a seat to Atar in a taxi. There was a Land Cruiser being loaded up with luggage etc, I helped out along with Gianni to get everything in place ready to go. We got a place each organised, then climbed. Taller than both Gianni & Julian at 5'10, I found it difficult being seated in the boot of a Land Cruiser with 5 men sharing the space with me, there were 3 women and a child across the back seat and a couple sharing the front passenger seat. Space was an issue and my knees were already starting to give me hell and my head was trying to dent the ceiling with each bump we went over.
The driver was trying to be the next Schumacher in his Land Cruiser, so overloaded with people with cargo and luggage on the roof, there were a few scary moments in between our breakdowns every 3km. Having completed no more than 25km in 2.5hrs we were suddenly exposed in the desert with nothing nearby and not a vehicle in sight of course. A pick up suddenly came into view and helped our driver with the mechanics .. we did another 2km when the driver had had enough and asked the pick up driver to take us all to Atar. So, with 10 already on the pick up with twice as much cargo as we had, we became 22 on a pick up with luggage and cargo, including a plastic bucket filled with fish someone had brought from NBD! I sat at the back on top of my pack fighting with the bar that was jerking into my ribs with every bump. After an incredulous 6hr drive (normally 3hrs) we finally saw Atar!
Then we started negioations to get a seat to Atar in a taxi. There was a Land Cruiser being loaded up with luggage etc, I helped out along with Gianni to get everything in place ready to go. We got a place each organised, then climbed. Taller than both Gianni & Julian at 5'10, I found it difficult being seated in the boot of a Land Cruiser with 5 men sharing the space with me, there were 3 women and a child across the back seat and a couple sharing the front passenger seat. Space was an issue and my knees were already starting to give me hell and my head was trying to dent the ceiling with each bump we went over.
The driver was trying to be the next Schumacher in his Land Cruiser, so overloaded with people with cargo and luggage on the roof, there were a few scary moments in between our breakdowns every 3km. Having completed no more than 25km in 2.5hrs we were suddenly exposed in the desert with nothing nearby and not a vehicle in sight of course. A pick up suddenly came into view and helped our driver with the mechanics .. we did another 2km when the driver had had enough and asked the pick up driver to take us all to Atar. So, with 10 already on the pick up with twice as much cargo as we had, we became 22 on a pick up with luggage and cargo, including a plastic bucket filled with fish someone had brought from NBD! I sat at the back on top of my pack fighting with the bar that was jerking into my ribs with every bump. After an incredulous 6hr drive (normally 3hrs) we finally saw Atar!
Atar & the evil Karim
Reaching Atar at 1pm, it was hot, very hot. No one was outside and it gave a creepy appearance to the town. The pick up left us in the taxi rank and a driver offered to take us out to Chinguetti for 12,000UM we tried to bargain him down; he wasn't having any of it. We knew the price should be 2,000UM a head to get out to Chinguetti another 2hrs away.
We walked to a house where we were told there was a pick up taxi usually waiting to go out to Chinguetti, it was behind the little street market. On arriving there, no one was around and there certainly wasn't a pick up. Armed with a bottle of water each we walked down the main street towards the roundabout and found a little restaurant run by a Moroccan guy from Larache. A good omen for me, I love Larache, a town on the NW coast of Morocco about 2hrs south of Tangiers. We decided to stop there and get something to eat. I was desperate to get my jeans off which had a pair of three-quarter length cotton trousers underneath so I was incredibly hot with the extra layer that I'd donned in NBD just before the train came to keep me warm overnight.
Chilling out at a table in front of the restaurant, Gianni & I were chatting with the owner, Julian had told him that he came from Canada as he was feeling a little insecure to declare himself an American in Mauritania .. with lots of banter going on we didn't see the Mercedes taxi pull up beside us.
Suddenly a large man sat down on the table next to us and starting talking to Gianni, he had a friend with him and a young guy who he told us was 'his driver'. Karim asked us if we wanted to go to Chinguetti, we asked how much and were offered 2,500UM a head with only 4 of us in a taxi. I agreed that if we could have the taxi as a '4-seater' rather than the normal 6-seater then I was prepared to pay the extra 500UM to get out to Chinguetti.
We piled into the taxi ... despite my tiredness I could still count .. there were 5 of us, Gianni had offered me the front passenger seat to give me some leg room, but in the back there was Karim & his friend making the back seat rather squashed for Julian & Gianni. I took umbrage abou this, I told him in no uncertain terms that we had agreed to pay the extra to give us room, Karim's friend suddenly got rather upset with my comments and an argument ensued between him, Karim and I. Gianni joined in as he was in the middle between Karim & Julian and exhausted from not sleeping on the train and was upset I was getting all the flack; Julian of course didn't understand a word of what was going on and was ready to sleep off his lunch. The friend told the driver to stop and jumped out of the car storming off into the dusty streets of Atar.
The whole way to Chinguetti, Karim sat crosslegged on the seat, still making it rather tight for Gianni & Julian, I was feeling rather guilty having the front seat to myself but Gianni wouldn't let me move into the back. We past the police check point with the minimum of fuss and whilst Gianni was gone I suggested that Julian take the middle seat and let Gianni get some sleep beside the window, the retort I got was 'why should I give up my seat?' despite my pointing out that Gianni had been in the same predicament on the train, hence he hadn't slept!
We walked to a house where we were told there was a pick up taxi usually waiting to go out to Chinguetti, it was behind the little street market. On arriving there, no one was around and there certainly wasn't a pick up. Armed with a bottle of water each we walked down the main street towards the roundabout and found a little restaurant run by a Moroccan guy from Larache. A good omen for me, I love Larache, a town on the NW coast of Morocco about 2hrs south of Tangiers. We decided to stop there and get something to eat. I was desperate to get my jeans off which had a pair of three-quarter length cotton trousers underneath so I was incredibly hot with the extra layer that I'd donned in NBD just before the train came to keep me warm overnight.
Chilling out at a table in front of the restaurant, Gianni & I were chatting with the owner, Julian had told him that he came from Canada as he was feeling a little insecure to declare himself an American in Mauritania .. with lots of banter going on we didn't see the Mercedes taxi pull up beside us.
Suddenly a large man sat down on the table next to us and starting talking to Gianni, he had a friend with him and a young guy who he told us was 'his driver'. Karim asked us if we wanted to go to Chinguetti, we asked how much and were offered 2,500UM a head with only 4 of us in a taxi. I agreed that if we could have the taxi as a '4-seater' rather than the normal 6-seater then I was prepared to pay the extra 500UM to get out to Chinguetti.
We piled into the taxi ... despite my tiredness I could still count .. there were 5 of us, Gianni had offered me the front passenger seat to give me some leg room, but in the back there was Karim & his friend making the back seat rather squashed for Julian & Gianni. I took umbrage abou this, I told him in no uncertain terms that we had agreed to pay the extra to give us room, Karim's friend suddenly got rather upset with my comments and an argument ensued between him, Karim and I. Gianni joined in as he was in the middle between Karim & Julian and exhausted from not sleeping on the train and was upset I was getting all the flack; Julian of course didn't understand a word of what was going on and was ready to sleep off his lunch. The friend told the driver to stop and jumped out of the car storming off into the dusty streets of Atar.
The whole way to Chinguetti, Karim sat crosslegged on the seat, still making it rather tight for Gianni & Julian, I was feeling rather guilty having the front seat to myself but Gianni wouldn't let me move into the back. We past the police check point with the minimum of fuss and whilst Gianni was gone I suggested that Julian take the middle seat and let Gianni get some sleep beside the window, the retort I got was 'why should I give up my seat?' despite my pointing out that Gianni had been in the same predicament on the train, hence he hadn't slept!
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