Ouidah to Cotonou, Benin was another easy shared car. I just stood by the road, put my hand out and within a minute I had a ride. Again it was a car of five men and me, but this time I got to ride up front.
The thing about Cotonou is that it is big, so when we arrived by car, they dropped me off at a large intersection but I had no idea where I was. I tried to get my bearings, but my paper maps for Cotonou were not detailed enough and there were no landmarks in view. Fortunately – and I am not saying this to boast of my preparation but just because I recommend it in general for traveling in counties where you don’t speak the language and transit infrastructure is lacking – is that at least I knew of two landmarks near my hotel. The moto drivers who approached me all knew the Etoile Rouge, a big traffic circle with a communist tower in the centre. One of the few recognizable landmarks.
I took a moto there, then found my street and started walking toward the hotel. Or so I thought. The smaller streets are named according to some pseudo-dewey decimal system that matched up to neither of google maps nor lonely planet’s. Thankfully (another humble brag) I had taken a screen shot of my hotel, so I just walked until I saw a white 3 storey block-ish building. Success.
I was staying at the Hotel Saint Jean, which is a functional hotel of no particular charm near-ish to the Etoile Rouge and the crafts market. The neighbourhood itself is not full of sights, but it is a terrific transit route and is full of restaurants. I liked it. And, as usual, the people at the hotel were so nice and helpful. I think I was a bit of a curiosity to them as I was the only person staying there who was not in town for an educational conference. I loved that outside the hotel all day and in to the evening women would sit ant cook up various meals over fires at the roadside.
I spent four days in Cotonou. I did day trips (to Ganvié and Porto Novo) on two of those days and spent two just in the city. Cotonou is very spread out so it takes some time to see. The good thing is, you can get around for a pittance on the motos. The bad thing is, if you are averse to riding helmet-less on the back of small motorbikes with strangers, you are kind of screwed. There is no bus system or metro and car taxis are few and far between. Fortunately, I am happy to play fast and loose with my cranial security.
Mostly in Cotonou I picked things and areas that I was interested in and I wandered around. I really liked it there.
I went to the cathedral, which is one of the other main landmarks due to its candy cane exterior. I also had a screen shot of that on my phone that I could show to drivers, which came in handy.
From there there was lots to walk to. Supermarkets and gelato shops, a wonderful riverfront with a breezy patio at the Hotel Le Berlin where I smoked and read, watching fishing boats pass by.
I walked to the Danktopa Market. Passing, along the way numerous inviting cafes and the grand mosque.
The market is a sprawling, crowded chaos of everything a market should have and some thing it shouldn’t, like a smaller but decidedly less touristy fetish market, complete with all the skulls and dried dead things you could desire.
I am glad I went to the market, though it was the one place I could not relax. Upon arrival I attracted a dozen or so rotating shop keeps who followed me trying to convince me to look at their wares. Mostly they kept trying to sell me knock-off designer handbags and clothes, in which I couldn’t be less interested. I might have stayed longer, but I just couldn’t get the anonymity I craved. Maybe I was naive for thinking I could.
I went to the artisanal crafts market, which is a great place to walk around even if you are not shopping. It is leafy and quiet and there are at least 3 good places to sit on a patio and eat and drink. There I smoked cigars and had some good conversations with assorted characters. What I really enjoyed, and never tired of, was watching the women with impossible items stacked on their heads as they walked with fierce confidence, like they were wearing some grand chapeaus from the Paris runway.
From there I walked to the Institute Français, which had a photo exhibit. En route though I walked past the army barracks, where I was invited to some in for a drink at the mess hall with the soldiers. I have to be honest – I declined, and I kind of regret it in hindsight, but at the moment I was confused by the combination of inviting ambiance, a cordial invitation, and the abundance of fatigues and firearms.
Much like in Ouidah, there was a Fondation Zinsou, which had wonderful modern art and a superb cafe / shop.
Aside from just walking around, the only other area I purposely visited was the Cadjehoun neighbourhood, which is where the embassies and bars and eateries for expats and travellers are. It is a nice neighbourhood with fancy white houses surrounded by high walls and armed guards, flowering shrubberies, luxury cars, and some pretty nice patios and restaurants. It was worth it for the nice pizza but it was my least favourite neighbourhood in Cotonou because it both lacked local character and felt kind kind of unsafe. The presence of armed guards means that something bad is expected to go down. In the rest of the city, that was not the case.
Two busy days in Cotonou was enough, but I used my two extra days to visit Ganvié and Porto Novo, each of which were wonderful in their own right.
Benin was the basis for this whole trip and it did not disappoint, even if I did not get to see anything in the way of voodoo magic.
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