Africa Archives - Page 3 of 9

Africa Sudan Sudan-South Sudan trip 2022

Sudan’s Camel Market

Camel Market

Any trip research for Khartoum will mention the camel market, which is out of Khartoum, but not too far. Perfect for a half day trip. I almost skipped it. I thought, “I’ve seen camels.” And had Khartoum had a bunch of other things to do I probably would have skipped it. I am so glad I didn’t.

You need a taxi to get you to the camel market. At the time I went, there were no buses going there. I got a taxi through my hotel and the driver took me up there. It is a good drive. You see the city fall away and become rural, poorer, dustier.

And then you get to the market. It’s just an expanse of desert with some big trucks, men, and hundreds of camels. It happens daily but is busiest on Saturdays. I went on a Wednesday (‘hump day’, appropriately, as a family member pointed out).

The driver stopped and I hopped out. I felt a little bit weird at first, just walking around and inadvertently attracting attention, but that quickly changed. So many people approached me and said hello and welcome. Dozens of young men asked me for selfies. Most people didn’t speak English, so we did not communicate much beyond greetings of “As-Salaam-Alaikum” and smiles, but I felt welcome.

There are SO MANY CAMELS. It’s crazy. And all around them men in white robes, communicating and, as I understand it, making deals. Despite the fact that this is just an open area full of camels and looks very simple, this is huge business. Sudan has the second most camels in the world (after Somalia) and is the biggest supplier of racing camels to the Arabian Peninsula, where racing camels are prized. They are also sold for meat. The camels are mostly bred and brought in from south east Sudan. You can track camel market prices online. There is a really good article about the camel market in Sudan here. (I kind of want to see a camel race now.)

There were also cows, but they were less impressive.

Hospitality

When I was finished my wander, I was ready for a coffee, so the taxi driver, who had been waiting for me, went to a nearby spot. One of those places that, had I been on my own, I would not have known I could go there for coffee. Just a one-room structure made of mud bricks with open doors on the front and back. No signage.

Inside, I asked for a coffee (one of those excellent Sudanese ginger spicy ones). There were two men inside sitting on low cots eating lunch; sharing a big bowl of foul (spicy fava beans) and fresh flatbread. They waved over for us to join them and would not take no for an answer, so my driver and I sat, and we ate with our hands from the communal bowl. They left before I finished my coffee and when I went to pay, I found out they had paid for that too.

*the men who invited me to share their lunch*

Omdurman Market

From the camel market we drove back towards the city. I had asked the driver not to take me back to Khartoum, but to drop me off at the big market in Omdurman and leave me there. Omdurman is technically a different city from Khartoum, just north of the Nile, but it really feels like part of the same city.

The Omdurman market is a ‘must-see’; an excellent, sprawling market where all the usual things are sold: fresh food, textiles, housewares, etc. It was great for a wander and a lot more Sudanese coffee. To my delight, I even saw a few camels walking through the market, transporting goods. I know it is just daily life for the people that live there, but it did feel like a bit like a movie set. Sort of Indiana Jones-esque.

Walking Back to Khartoum

From the market I had originally planned to take a shared taxi back to central Khartoum, but I decided to walk. It took a couple of hours and wasn’t the most exciting walk, but I didn’t mind. It was still interesting.

It also gave me the opportunity to walk across a particular bridge across the Nile where the blue and white Niles meet. The Nile splits into two halves in Khartoum and it flows North and makes the one, connected river that flows up into Egypt. I walked across the White Nile Bridge and watched the two parts of the river flowing together. (One part is a little muddier, but they are not really different colors.) It was cool to see from a geography nerd perspective. I did not, however, take photos, because photos from bridges is not allowed, and from this bridge in particular is specifically outlawed. If you are going to get nabbed for photography in Khartoum, this is one of the spots where it will happen. When I was there, there were two men on the bridge with a motorcycle; I was later told that they were un-uniformed soldiers. Anyway, there are tons of photos online if you are curious.

Back in Khartoum, sweaty, red-faced and tired from hours of walking in the heat, I stopped at the fancy Corinthian hotel for a bit of AC and a cold drink.

I arrived back at the Acropole Hotel and relaxed on the patio with a cigar before heading out in the evening for dinner with some newly met friends.

It was another excellent day in Khartoum. The next day I would go back out of the city again to visit the ruins of Musawwarat es-Sufra and Naqa.

Africa Sudan Sudan-South Sudan trip 2022

Meroë

Meroë was the main reason I decided to visit Sudan. Pictures of pyramids partly submerged in swirling and otherwise empty desert sands. Not another person in sight. It looked like a dream. And so, on my second day in Khartoum, I made the trip.

My original plan was to take the bus/hitchhike. You can catch a bus from Khartoum that will take you fairly close to the Meroë pyramids and there is a town (Shendi) not far away. You can see the pyramids from the highway on the right hand side and it would not be too far to walk to them if the bus drops you off by the roadside. (Take water!) And there are lots of cars that would likely give you a lift to the nearest town to catch a bus back to Khartoum. Easily do-able as a day trip. That was my plan…until the Sudanese consulate in Ottawa said I needed to have a tour booked to get a tourist visa (and that I could only do this through their one approved tour company) so I booked a driver to take me to Meroë and to get my visa. It wasn’t worth the expense, but it got me there and into the country (and hopefully put a few dollars in a Canadian consulate worker’s pocket) so I can’t complain. Much.

To leave Khartoum, you need special papers authorizing you to travel. This is on top of the visa and the multiple registrations that must be done with the police in Khartoum. My tour company arranged the paperwork, and I arranged the multiple copies of my passport and visa that I would be expected to present at the various roadblocks. On the drive there and back we were stopped multiple times by men in various uniforms (berets, epaulettes askew, medals, brooches, etc) who looked at my passport and paperwork and usually smiled at me. I was extra friendly because I was hoping they wouldn’t notice that the tour company had put the wrong date on the document. They didn’t.

When we got to Meroë I was basically on my own. There is a small fee to enter the site (which you should pay, notwithstanding various unscrupulous travelers noting that you can skip by entering from the back). From there was a walk across the desert to a cluster of pyramids in the dunes.

Sudan has more pyramids than any other country. They are smaller than the ones in Egypt or the Mayan and Aztec ones I have seen, but they are steep, pointy, and plentiful. They are also a bit younger; most being built by the Nubians only about 2500-2000 years ago.

The pyramids were used as burial sites for kings and queens. They have been long since plundered and nothing remains of their contents, but what does remain are excellent carvings – like the sort you would see in Egyptian pyramids.

The thing that is best about the Meroë pyramids though is that you have the place to yourself. I saw one guy on a camel who offered me rides and there were a couple guys at the entrance selling crafts, but at the actual site…it’s all yours. And the setting is spectacular. Rolling dunes of various hues set against a blue sky. The sand is slowly filling up the interior of the pyramids and sweeping up the sides. It’s not hard to imagine them being lost altogether. Conservation is important (which is why you shouldn’t skip out on paying the fee).

It was sometimes a little eerie entering the pyramids and having no one else around. Eerie in a wonderful way. I kept thinking of that old Sesame Street bit where Bert and Ernie are inside an Egyptian pyramid and a mummy comes to life and then does a little dance. I found that eerie too when I was small.

It’s not a large site, so I stayed an hour to two and that was it. We stopped at Shendi for some water and coffee.

There is a lovely looking tented camp nearby (the only proper place to stay the night) and I have no doubt that it is excellent, but it is also very expensive, and so I went back to Khartoum and spent my evening with friends from the Acropole Hotel – followed by a cigar of course.

It was an excellent day.

If I had it to do over, I would have booked a driver to take me on a day trip to Musawwarat es-Sufra and Naqa, which are not so accessible on one’s own, and I would have gotten myself to Meroë on my own. Instead, I did a second day trip to those sites with a driver on a different day. Day trips in Sudan are not cheap, but the sites are priceless, so it all balances out in the end.

The next day I would visit the camel market and the market in Omdurman.

Africa Sudan Sudan-South Sudan trip 2022

Visiting Khartoum

As discussed in a previous post, I had finally been able to visit Khartoum. Often I will breeze through a city in a couple of days, but this time I planned to spend nearly a week in Khartoum. I don’t know why, but I just had a feeling like I was going to like it. Plus, there isn’t a lot to do there. Not a lot of formal attractions, so I felt like it might be nice to go there and just hang out and relax. This idea, of going to Sudan to relax was mystifying to the women seated near me on my flight. Thy were all going for work and would not have gone for any other reason. Fortunately, I was right.

I loved Khartoum. It had many elements of a more middle eastern / Arabic city, like a little Cairo, but it also felt like a proper more southern African city. That won’t really make much sense unless you have been to both kinds of cities, but it just felt unique. Political instability and excessive soldier presence aside, it has a wonderfully relaxed vibe. I enjoyed several days of visiting the city and two days visiting outside the city to see the pyramids and temples.

I can’t talk about Khartoum and not say how great my hotel was. I stayed at the Acropole, which is a family run hotel, the oldest still in operation. It has a perfect location for walking and all the services and support you could want for doing trips out of the city and dealing with Sudanese bureaucracy. I was drawn to it for two reasons: 1) I read that archaeologists and news reporters stayed there (I had visions of myself hanging out with journalists and swapping stories over whisky; and 2) giant balconies – perfect for my evening cigars. I really lucked out. The place was lousy with archaeologists when I was there, and I even got to have lunch with a few of them. (I must have been so annoying; assaulting them with questions like machine gun fire.) The family running the hotel was lovely and, yes, the balconies were perfect for smoking cigars over late night chats. NO swapping stories with BBC correspondents, but with other types of foreign workers and expats. The hotel seems to be a hub for social activities. Perfect for a solo wanderer like me. It was a bit over my preferred budget but was worth every penny. (I am not being paid to say this; it just was a big part of why my trip was so great. I met so many wonderful people.)

I arrived late one night and set out early the next morning to see the city. I can see why many people say one day is good. There wasn’t much to ‘do’. The museums were closed for reasons I could not determine.

There are some lovely colonial era, grand buildings to gawk at, but you can’t photograph any of them and there are lots of police (uniformed and not) who will give you trouble if you do. It is a pity because there are so many government buildings. Some very pretty and some imposing with tanks out front, but all of it is left to my memories. Well, except…there was this one restaurant I went to that was on the roof of a tall building and gave good views over Khartoum and the Nile, from there you can see many of the buildings that are otherwise off limits, including the courthouse and the library building.

So on two of my days I just walked around the different areas. I checked out some street art and smoked shisha along the banks of the Nile, under a bridge, where locals gathered to drink coffee, smoke, and get out of the sun.

I walked around the central souq, and up and down the streets that were mostly pretty quiet. I wandered by mosques and churches, investigated shops, and paid a visit to a tiny art gallery.

I visited the University, which was pleasant and leafy. Not much to see there unless you go in the afternoon, when I am told there are lots of monkeys out and about. I saw only students.

One of the best things about walking about Khartoum is there is coffee everywhere. Not so much as ‘regular’ cafes, but these excellent, roadside improvised cafes under trees. They are all similarly set up: a woman with small, low-to-the-ground cart where she can boil water and hold a variety of spices, coffee, and sugar will make Sudanese coffee and patrons will sit on little, colorful woven seats and relax and enjoy. The coffee is like Arabic/Turkish coffee, but with a mix of spices, including lots of ginger. I think there is other stuff in there – cinnamon probably, cardamom maybe – but a big hit of ginger and a good dose of sugar. You don’t think ginger belongs in coffee? That’s only because you haven’t had it. I drank as much as I could, knowing I wouldn’t be able to anywhere else. I am still thinking about it.

So two of my days in Khartoum were spent basically that way: just walking and exploring and loving it.

Also, on those days, I ended up being very social. I mentioned the lunch with the archaeologists, but I also connected with a girl I ‘met’ through Instagram. She is from America but has lived in Sudan for many years. We met up for coffee and then she, a fellow from the hotel, and a guy from Switzerland/Germany/Australia who works part of the year in Central and Eastern Africa. We went out for shisha and dinner at this excellent Lebanese restaurant next to the Canadian embassy. One evening with this trio and I was loving Khartoum. I felt like I got this rare glimpse into what it is like to live there as an expat or a certain type of local, a bit of insight into the political and security situation, and a good amount of local gossip. It was a lot of fun. (IF any of them read this they will know who they are, but I don’t want to use their names out of respect for their privacy.)

*Assaha – Lebanese restaurant and shisha spot*

On the next of my aimless wandering days in Khartoum, I and the fellow from the hotel went to the home of another local guy who had this fabulous loft style apartment in a fancy area of town. We went out for Thai food with a girl from Mexico, living in Khartoum. Again, just another excellent evening. On my final night I went to a party at that same loft. I have never been so social. It was easy to talk with everyone and everyone was so interesting.

For all of this talk of wandering around in Khartoum and there being nothing specific to do; that’s not entirely true. Unless / until the museums reopen, there are still a few things worth making a point of going to: the souq at Omdurman, Tutti Island in the Nile, the camel market, the Sufi night, and the Nubian wrestling. Unfortunately, the wrestling and the Sufis happen on the same evening so you can’t do both. I opted for the Sufis. I will post about that and the souq and camel market separately.

A few practical things, since I keep getting asked.

Sudan is an Islamic country and I dressed accordingly. A long flowy skirt to my ankles and some kind of high-necked, long-sleeved top. I did not have to cover my head. I probably didn’t have to dress so modestly, but I think that is the better way to go. One day I went walking by myself wearing something less modest and I felt a bit uncomfortable.

Few people spoke English.

Cash is king in Sudan. The rest of the world still has embargoes and sanctions against Sudan, which prevents any foreign credit and bank cards from being used. This means, bring your money in cash (pristine US dollars is best) and budget accordingly. Upon exchanging a small amount, you will be given a brick of Sudanese pounds, so exchange as you go.

I never felt unsafe. That said, I didn’t spend much time out alone at night. I don’t think it is a dangerous place, but since the 2021 coup, the cost of living has gone up a lot and that kind of poverty can breed desperation, so why chance it. Plus, outside of one neighbourhood, Khartoum didn’t seem to have a bustling nightlife.

The people were very friendly and hospitable.

I can’t say enough good things about it. Almost every week since I was there, I have a dream that I am back. That’s not normal for me and I think it speaks to how much I loved it.

More to follow about things I did in Khartoum, and excursions to Meroë, Musawwarat es-Sufra, and Naqa.

Africa Sudan Sudan-South Sudan trip 2022

A trip to Sudan

Plans

I had wanted to go to Sudan as soon as I read about it (beyond what I saw in the news). Looking past the corruption, instability, poverty, and violence, I learned that it was a country of stunning deserts and desolate antiquities. Any travel article about Sudan will tell you that it has more pyramids than Egypt; that’s true, but there is a lot more to it than that. I was only there for a week and just around Khartoum, but the little bit I saw I loved and cannot stop thinking about.

I planned to go to Sudan in 2020. We know how that turned out. When I returned to international travel in 2021, I planned to go at the end of that year, but in October 2021 the government was overthrown by a coup, so I put off the trip again. November of 2022 I finally got there. The last of my covid-delayed trips to be carried out.

A smidgen of history

Sudan is a country of superlatives. It is a massive country (it was the biggest in Africa until South Sudan split off in 2011). It has the most pyramids. Its history dates back to the Pharaohs (about 2500 BC). It had a series of kingdoms (Kerma, New Egyptian, Kush, Nubian), was settled by Arab nomads, and then from about the 16^th century, it was dominated by encroaching forces (including Darfur, Ottoman, and Egyptian). In the first half of the 20^th century, Sudan was governed / occupied by the British and the Egyptians, until finally gaining independence on 1 January 1956. I know that is like 4.5 thousand years of history summed up in a paragraph, but the point is: Sudan is big, and old, and because of its location was a hub for trade, transport, and invasion, which has led to it being a culturally rich and interesting country today.

Since independence, things haven’t been easy for Sudan. Its territory has been fractured between factions fighting for independence or control. From 1989-2019 the country was run by a military dictatorship led by Omar al-Bashir that was accused from everything from genocide in Darfur to supporting terrorism. Al-Bashir was overthrown in April 2019. He is, as of the date of writing this, on trial and in prison.

Since the military coup, things in Sudan are…well, it depends on who you ask. Some people I talked to said it is better (more stable, less violent), others said it is worse (more corrupt, more expensive). Right now, the country is led by two military groups reluctantly sharing power. They have passed a constitution and are in a transitional period. There are multiple police and military forces each of which seems fairly corrupt and fond of patrolling in costume-y uniforms and with guns, or lounging on tanks. Weekly protests in Khartoum were ongoing when I was there. No one I spoke to was optimistic.

[***April 2023 Update: on 15 April 2023, the two military groups sharing power entered into an armed conflict with guns, missiles, bombs, and planes being deployed. The airport was seized and shut down, electricity was lost, and civilians are being killed. People are running out of food and water and medical supplies/help, and are risking their lives to get the things they need or to escape out of the country. So all of the people I met who live there have had their lives and communities shattered. Some of them I am in touch with and some not. It’s very sad to think of this city and people suffering.***]

When I was there in November 2022, the Canadian government advised against all “non-essential” travel there and particularly against “all” travel to Khartoum due to threats of violence and terrorism. Administrative hassles and military presence aside, none of these was much of a concern to me. The parts of Sudan that I saw were nothing short of wonderful. Kind people, interesting sights, a relaxed vibe, and some of the best coffee I have had anywhere.

*Canadian advisory for Sudan in November 2022*

Visas and Requirements

Canadians need a visa to visit Sudan. I applied through the consulate in Ottawa, meticulously sending in all the paperwork, photos, and fees. The processing took 6 weeks. Despite there being no requirement for it, the consulate would not issue my visa unless I booked a tour. Not just any tour, but with one particular tour company in Sudan and I had to tell them that the Consulate in Ottawa referred me. So I begrudgingly booked an expensive day trip from Khartoum to the Pyramids at Meroe. (I had originally planned to hitchhike.) It was such an obvious scam/kick back, but what was I to do? It was annoying, but as soon as I had my passport back with the visa in place, I didn’t care.

Fun Facts

Sudan is right below Egypt, with the Nile running through it. The capital is Khartoum. (Not to belittle it, but it is a name that just sounded to appealingly exotic to me.) About 49 million people live there; mostly Sudanese Arabs, but there are over 500 ethic groups throughout the country. People mostly speak Arabic. The median age is just over 18. (Compare that to Canada where it is just over 41.) It is a Muslim country but not as rigid or restrictive feeling as some countries I have visited. Officially alcohol is not allowed, but there seemed to be lots in supply if you know where to look. About half the population lives in poverty. A lot of that sounds bad, but it has the pyramids, vast and diverse natural environments and wildlife, and some of the nicest people I have met.

This post is already long enough so I will start the actual experience of my visit in another post, but I’ll say here that I loved Sudan. I am writing this well after the fact, and I am still thinking about it and, even though I am committed to travelling to new-to-me countries, I want to go back someday.

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A Final Day in Dakar

My final day in Dakar, Senegal was a good one. There is something nice about when you have done the things on your list for a city and then can just freely explore with no expectations and see where it takes you. That was my day. (Truthfully, I did spent about half of the next day in Dakar before flying out, but I didn’t do anything noteworthy.)

I went out before breakfast to get a covid test. It was cheap and relatively efficient, but I got to the clinic very early before there was a big queue.

Nose freshly swabbed, I had breakfast at the hotel and hit the market. I browsed around and haggled over some west African wax print fabric with the ‘speed bird’ print on it, which was destined to be cushion covers in my office back home. A lot of fabric prints have meanings in different countries in West Africa. The ‘speed bird’ print means various things in different countries, including ‘money comes and money goes’ or something like ‘when the hunter learns to shoot straight, the bird learns to fly without stopping’. That was fun. So many interesting patterns to browse through.

I also bought a painting. I haven’t been buying much in my travels recently. (My home décor is minimalist, and my office is already bursting with odds and ends from my travels.) But in Dakar they had these paintings that are done on the underside of glass and I thought they were quite unique, so I bought a portrait of a regal-looking, older African woman in orange clothes.

I decided I hadn’t had enough markets apparently, so I left the arts and crafts market and went headlong into the more local market, past the shops and stalls selling clothing, fabric, and household items, past the colorful buses, until the market became more of a labyrinth of tarps and tents, with outdoor cooking, and, well, really just a lot more poverty. I didn’t take pictures of that part of the market, because, while very interesting, I really stuck out and didn’t want to seem like a gawker.

Around the edge of that part of the market was the Dakar Grand Mosque, which is quite attractive and has a 67 m tall minaret. I might have been more taken with it, but it is very much in the style of the mosque I had just visited in Casablanca days earlier, but smaller, so appreciated was diminished a little.

From there I walked to the Musée des Civilisations Noires, which is a very modern museum (opened in 2018) designed to celebrate Africa’s contributions to the world. It is pretty great. There are some detailed displays on the origin of man and African technical and scientific achievements, but the best part was on the upper floors where there was an excellent mix of (primarily west) African traditional masks and works of art with modern art. It was so good. All they are lacking is a café.

After that I walked rather aimlessly, stopping for a bite to eat and a cigar at a rather posh Lebanese restaurant, and then discovered that there was a decently stocked Cuban cigar store just around the corner from my hotel. I was not out of cigars, but still picked up a few. (I can’t visit a cigar store and not get something.)

On my way back to the hotel for what I felt was a well-deserved nap, I say that there was a concert happening that night at the Institut Français. I bought a ticket. It was the Medicine Man Orchestra. The concert took place at a great outdoor stage – a proper stage and seating, but outside, under the stars with bats and birds overhead. The Medicine Man Orchestra was a little difficult to describe. On their website they say: “Medicine Man Orchestra (MMO) is a time adventure, swinging between ages, dimensions, cognitive or cartographic geographies. It is a show that takes you to the limits of multiple realities. Advanced audio-visual technologies provide the gift to carry you away as in West Africa, beside venerable griots, as in the fancy european clubs of avant-garde electronic music.” That is kind of apt, actually. There was electronic music, mixed with more traditional music, particularly percussion. There was dance. There were video projections of computer-created landscapes and designs. It was cool. And well attended.

I had a cigar and a juice at the café there and then headed back to my hotel. It was late – for me anyway. I had plans to go to bed. I was leaving the next day. On my way back though, I walked past a doorway that had excellent jazz pouring out. Live jazz. I paid cover charge of about $2 and went in. An unremarkable room, but with a jazz quartet playing, people, eating, drinking, and smoking. Everyone was a bit dressed up and having a good time. I stayed for a while and had a small cigar and a couple of virgin mojitos.

What else could you want for your last day? It was wonderful, and wrapping it up with a couple of spontaneous concerts was perfect. It was a great end to a great trip that took me to Mauritania and Senegal (two new to me countries) with short stays in Paris and Casablanca. I flew out, already day dreaming about where I would go next.

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A Day on the Île de Gorée

On my second day in Dakar, I took a day trip to the Île de Gorée, or Goree Island, a tiny island off of the coast of Dakar, just a short ferry ride. (I am going to stick with the English spelling just so I don’t have to keep adding the accents.). Goree Island is small – just over 45 acres – and with a population of less than 2,000 people. It is notable for two things: it’s postcard perfect beauty and its history as a slave trading post. Like the ‘castles’ of Ghana’s Cape Coast, it is another beautiful setting with a grim history. Both are reasons to visit, even if they are uncomfortable bedfellows.

I walked from my hotel to the ferry terminal past some grand buildings from the colonial era.

It is an easy trip to Goree. You might get pressured to take a guide and while that will certainly give you more historical context, it really isn’t necessary. The ferry terminal in Dakar is easy to find and you can buy a ticket there. The ferries leave every 1 -2 hours and the ride back is free.

The harbour of Goree Island

Goree Island was colonized in or about the mid 1400s by the Portuguese, then passed to the Dutch, the Portuguese again, the British, and then the French. It became a trading post for different items, but most notoriously was used as a place to detain enslaved peoples before loading them on to ships and … exporting them. Today there is a ‘slave house’, which contains the cells used to imprison people before leading them out through a door of no return to an uncertain future.

This is similar to the sights I saw in Ghana in 2019. And like the trip to the Cape Coast, I found myself struck by how a place with so much horror in its past can be so beautiful. It seems that places with this history should be forever bleak or barren, but it is the opposite. Lush and green, with all of the buildings painted in bright colors. Flowers spilling over the walls, the sea lapping up on the shore, the sky perfectly blue.

It was a delight to wander around, visiting small art galleries and browsing the crafts for sale at the local market.

It is a real tourist spot. Restaurants full and people splashing in the water. Local women walking around selling pretty fans and jewelry.

As beautiful as it is, there isn’t too much to do there, but enough to keep one occupied for the day. A fort, a few small museums.

As the afternoon wound up I caught a ferry back to the mainland.

Back in Dakar, I walked around a little more before settling back into the restaurant at the Institut Français for a cigar and dinner. (The vegetarian offerings there are dismal, but it is such a pleasant environment, having a cigar with my meal in the garden patio, that I could overlook the ‘vegetarian burger’, which was lettuce, tomato, and onions in a bun.)

An evening wander again proved that the streets of Dakar at night are lively, but I was content to spend a little time on the patio of my room before bed.

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Touching Down in Dakar, Senegal

I arrived in Dakar, Senegal in the middle of the night from Casablanca. Not my favourite thing. Arriving at night is so disorienting and robs me of any ability to get a sense of my surroundings. This uneasiness was compounded by the fact that the new international airport for Dakar is about 50 km from the City through complete darkness. During my taxi ride with the two young men who agreed to drive me for a reasonable price I wondered if I was being abducted until my sleepy brain remembered that I have maps.me on my phone and saw that we were indeed on the right path. They were nice guys who played music videos on a screen mounted on the dash and smoked cigarettes.

I got to my hotel sometime around 1am. I was staying at the Hôtel Ganalé; a small hotel in the absolute centre of the city of Dakar (the area called the Dakar-Plateau). As it turned out, I had been upgraded from my regular room to a suite on the roof, complete with my own rooftop patio. It was great, though I didn’t really appreciate it until the light of day.

Senegal was my 70th country, I believe (country counting being an imprecise endeavor). I picked it because it is close to Mauritania and, after my week there, which was amazing, but a bit rough, I thought it would be nice to hang out in relatively urban and modern Dakar. Senegal is in West Africa, bordered by Mali, Mauritania, Guinea, and Guinea-Bissau, with the sliver country of The Gambia entirely within its borders. Senegal is quite frequented by tourists and is known for its music scene, surfing, and, once upon a time, the Paris-Dakar rally. It is a poor country, but in Dakar there is a lot of wealth on display, with the true poverty a bit hidden in certain areas. The official language is French, but most people also (or instead) speak Wolof or one of the other common local languages.

There was no particular sight that I went to see in Dakar, I just picked it more for the vibe and proximity to Mauritania. It proved to be a good choice.

On my first full day, after a filling breakfast at the hotel, I set off walking. I meandered around the streets. The area around my hotel had a lot going on: cafes, shops, mosques, and the Institut Français. I walked a few blocks to the Musée Théodore-Monod d’art Africain IFAN. Dakar has a lot of museums and galleries, but I picked this one for a start as it was manageable in size and had a good selection of West African traditional art and artifacts. It was great and nice to see West African museum pieces on display in West Africa as opposed to in the museums of the once upon a time colonizing countries.

From there I walked the city with less intention, soaking up the lively atmosphere and appealing architecture.

It was hot and humid. I went from a clean and freshly made-up human to a sweaty beast within minutes. Putting on a covid mask whenever I went indoors did not help. But the weather felt good. Healthy.

I walked down to the sprawling market area where arts and crafts, textiles, clothing, and household wares are sold. I didn’t buy anything that day but enjoyed my browsing and dialogues with the vendors.

I spent some time relaxing with a cigar and bissap juice at the Institut Français, which is just an oasis in the city.

The people I met in Dakar were friendly and outgoing. Before I went, most of what I heard from others and read suggested that I would be endlessly hassled while walking around; that I would be bothered by beggars and hounded by touts. It wasn’t quite like that. I don’t recall seeing beggars – or at least none that approached me. I did have men come up to me and speak to me out of curiosity or offering their services as guides, but it wasn’t a hassle. I never felt bothered by it. I certainly never felt unsafe, which was another thing I had been told to expect – that especially at night one should not walk about the city. It seemed fine, with the usual precautions I employ of awareness, confident walking, and sobriety. With all of the restaurants and music venues, what a shame it would be to not go out at night.

That said, my first night, I did spend mostly inside, apart from a dinner out at a Korean restaurant, where my “vegetarian soup” had octopus tentacles lurking in it (particularly disconcerting as I was reading HP Lovecraft at the time).

It was a great first day.

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Casablanca Layover

I love a long layover. Enough time to get out of the airport and see something, walk around, and return to the airport exhausted but satisfied. Casablanca is one of those places, like Amsterdam, Istanbul, or Seoul that is a common long layover place, and where it is easy to do a lot in a short time. I had 18 hours in Casablanca on my flight from Nouakchott, Mauritania to Dakar, Senegal and I was delighted.

The last time I had a Casablanca layover I had only 7 hours; this time I could more and at a less frantic pace. Admittedly, I was a bit nervous about covid and whether it would slow down the airport process, but it didn’t really; they just glanced at my vaccination papers and ignored my negative test results. I hopped on the train and a short ride later I was in central Casablanca at the Casa Port Station. It was about 7am at that point and, because the airport in Casablanca does not have luggage storage, I booked a hotel room at a modestly priced hotel across the street from the train station and used it to stash my bag for the day and have a shower.

It felt great to be in Casablanca. It was a little bit cool, which felt great after the heat of Mauritania. And it felt great to be in a city that felt, well, more like a bustling North African/European city than Nouakchott.

The city was just waking up. I walked past the fruit vendors and sellers of fresh pomegranate juice and found my way to a Parisian style café for an americano and croissant; chairs facing street side and everyone smoking.

I walked over to the fish market and chatted with the men arranging their creatures for sale. I nearly tripped over some giant swordfish, their bellies slit open and their eyes wide and black.

I spent a couple of hours walking around the city and then went into the medina area; the labyrinth of narrow streets that are the oldest part of the city.

I had been to these places before, but I was more leisurely this time and it was delightful. Snacking of fresh fruit, drinking tiny coffees, stopping for some shisha and a conversation.

I came out of the medina near the sea and went to the Hassan II Mosque. Built in 1993, it is one of the largest mosques in the world and sits gleaming white right on the edge of the sea, with waves crashing alongside

It certainly looks like a new mosque, so it doesn’t have the charm or patina of a historic building, but it is quite impressive. Visiting it requires taking a tour, which I found very slow, but it did impart some interesting tidbits – like that the roof is retractable or that it is so big that you could fit the Notre Dame inside.

After that, I walked along the corniche and talked with a man who worked at my hotel and was heading home, and then I just wandered a bit more, poking around in shops and looking at some street art before having diner and heading back to the airport.

Honestly, by that point I was exhausted. After all, I had landed at about 6am and had been on the go ever since and had only slept maybe two hours the previous night. My next flight was also a short one to Dakar, so I didn’t get much sleep the next night either and the whole thing left me arriving in Senegal exhausted. But it was so worth it. Who needs sleep when you can you can spend the day in a new city?

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Chinguetti, Mauritania

I had arranged for a driver to take me to Chinguetti from Atar for the day. There is a mini bus that goes each morning, but nothing is guaranteed to return to Atar later in the day, so a driver seemed prudent. I mean, worst case scenario, you get stuck in Chingeutti overnight, which would be ok, but I had plans to hop a train and I wasn’t going to risk missing that.

We left after I had breakfast at my accommodations (Nescafé and a baguette – I was like 4 days into the trip at this point and already sick of baguettes). My driver seemed pleasant, but he didn’t speak English or French (and I could not speak his language), so who knows. Despite knowing we could not communicate, he would, from time to time, try to talk with me, which inevitably just ended in an awkward moment of smiling and silence.

The drive to Chinguetti was about two hours into the desert; we went over some small, vegetation-free mountains, and then we were very much in the Sahara. The sands formed dunes and blew across the road, sometimes covering it completely. Camels wandered by.

*Views from the road. The bottom one was the road for a time.*

Four times each way we were stopped by the police and I provided my fiche (passport photocopy and other information). Unlike on the drive to Atar, no bribes were required.

We reached Chinguetti, which is a proper and cute small town, but the reason for visiting it is the historic part.

Chinguetti dates back to about the 1200s, founded as a trading stop on routes across the Sahara, and is the holiest place in Mauritania and, overall, an important holy place for Islam generally, as it was used by people who were unable to complete the journey to Mecca. There is a mosque from the 13th or 14th century that is pictured everywhere, including on the currency.

(Oh, just a digression about Mauritanian money: the currency is called Ouguiya and is abbreviated as UM or MRU [though prior to 2018 it was MRO]. Fine. But what makes it very confusing is that in 2018 they changed the value of the money so what was previously 1000 UM is now 100 UM. The problem is, about half of the time that you ask for the price of something, you are given the old money price. After a few days it becomes apparent when someone is speaking in terms of old money or new money, but initially, when you aren’t sure what anything costs, it is a problem. Like, I took a taxi and it was 500. That’s like $16 CDN. That didn’t seem right, but also the alternative of it being 50 UM (or about $1.70 CDN) didn’t seem right either. It was the cheaper one. When in doubt, just had over the lesser amount.)

The old part of Chinguetti is a pretty labyrinth of one story stone buildings and winding pathways, all filled with sand. There are no paved or even dirt roads. Just sand. In fact, one of the reasons for which Chinguetti has been in the media in recent years is that, apparently it risks being lost to the encroaching sands of the Sahara, as the result of climate change (natural or man made).

Not only would the historical sites be lost, but also of concern are the five (or so) libraries that are in Chinguetti, each of which houses (in one of these ancient mud or stone brick structures) fragile old texts, often religious. Each of these bibliotheques has a keeper to watch over them and also show them to tourists, if there are any around. I was lucky to be able visit one the day I was there. In pre-pandemic times, I probably could have visited more.

*Library photos. One shows me holding the key to the library door.*

Fortunately, there was a young guy around who could translate between me and the librarian, which was good for learning about what I was looking at, but also because the librarian liked to make jokes, which I would have otherwise missed out on.

I went for a bit of a walk around the town, taking pictures of the endlessly appealing simple buildings resisting the sandy drifts. Around Chinguetti was just…nothing, just expanses of empty desert.

Before heading back to Atar, we stopped at a pretty little guest house operated by a French woman and Mauritanian man. The woman brought us coffee and water, gave me wifi access, and sat and talked with me about Chinguetti and Mauritania, where she had lived for almost 20 years. She refused to accept any money.

If you have more time or are keen, you can go farther into the desert from Chinguetti to a beautiful oasis or take long camel treks. I did neither of these things, however, and headed back to Atar.

I had dinner in the town, where I was already known on the streets as Dale from Canada. Word travels fast. Apparently it had been a week or two since they had seen another traveller. At one point I went into a shop looking for batteries and they had none, but ten minutes later, a guy (not the guy from the shop) ran up to me in the street with the batteries I needed. Anonymity was impossible, but everyone I countered was really nice and I didn’t feel like I was being scammed or hassled.

Dinner was what would prove to be a typical vegetarian meal in Mauritania: salad of lettuce and tomato, baguette, and French fries. If you eat meat, that meal would come with a fried whole fish or piece of grilled chicken. Camel and goat meat may also be options. That night I bought a cucumber, oranges, and bananas from the market, just for a little variety.

Back at Inimi, the electricity had been restored, though the water was hit and miss. This marked two days I went without bathing. I slept well inside my cabin this time, as the AC was working. I was excited for the next day, which would be the whole reason I came to Mauritania in the first place: my journey on the Iron Ore Train.

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Nouakchott to Atâr

After a very full day in Nouakchott, I was ready to leave the city and head west to Atâr, a small city that is the gateway to the Adrar region of Mauritania and the Sahara. Atâr is about 6 hours from Nouakchott by mini bus, which is the usual way to get there if you are not driving. Sebastian from the Auberge Triskell drove me and two other guests to the bus stops for various regions. These are mini buses that will be full of people and piled high with baggage. They have approximate times that they leave, but nothing is guaranteed. My bus left about an hour and a half late, which was at least a few hours earlier than I expected.

Through a lot of persistent loitering, I secured the passenger seat in the front, so i had a view of the scenery. (The back windows are all blacked out.)

The landscape became increasingly rocky and then sandy as we moved west.

I snapped a few pictures from the moving van’s windows. And a few when we made brief stops for people to pray or pee.

Along the way we had various police stops. Nine, to be precise. Each time the driver handed the police a list of the names and identification card numbers of the locals on board and fiches for any foreigners. I don’t know what ‘fiche’ translates to, but it is a photocopy of your passport with various pertinent details written down (contact info, parents’ names, travel info, etc). If you don’t have this ready, you will have to wait while they copy your passport or photograph it and write down all the info. This will delay the trip a lot, and everyone will hate you, so you want to be prepared. I brought 40 of them with me. (You might actually be fine with just a passport photocopy, but I had all the extra information written down as well.) I did notice that each time the driver handed this over, he included a 50UM note with the paperwork. (That’s about $1.60 CDN.)

Six hours after we left, we arrived in Atâr at a busy intersection, complete with people milling about, mobile fruit carts, food being cooked street side, wheelbarrows full of baguettes, and a camel sitting in the street. I liked it instantly.

To be clear, there is nothing to see in Atâr, though a spin on foot around the city centre in pleasant, but it has a pleasant vibe for a short stay.

I took a taxi to the place I was staying at: Inimi. Inimi is a campsite / collection of cabins around a central open area of dirt and one big tree. It is pretty basic, but has (or is meant to have) the key amenities.

I was greeted by the host, who speaks very good French and a few words of English. He was seated on a mat under the tree and invited me to sit and have a plate of rice and then joined me for some Mauritanian tea. (He soon gave me a nickname: Saddam Hussein. This was on account of my cigar smoking and, apparently, when he thinks cigars, he thinks Saddam Hussein.)

Mauritanian tea is Chinese black tea and sugar in what I would say tastes like equal parts, and a few mint leaves, boiled over a fire in a metal tea pot and then poured from pot to thimble sized cups, and then from cup to cup at a great height, over and over again, until the cups are half foam and half tea. Then it is ready to drink. And for those of you who are imagining cups like you might have had in Jordan or Turkey, think again. These cups are even smaller. Not much bigger than a shot. And often it seems that you take the tiniest sip and pass it to the next person. (Yes, even during covid.)

Over that tea I arranged for a driver to take me to Chinguetti the next day.

My room was a cabin. Just a box with a door and two beds, really, though it did have AC when the electricity worked, which it seldom did. Toilet and shower stalls were in a separate building, with water that ran when there was electricity (ha) to operate the pump.

I walked into town and looked around the streets and stalls before it got dark.

I had dinner at an outdoor eatery that had none of the food pictured on their awning (I admit it was naive/hopeful to believe they would). They didn’t even have water, but they prepared a salad of lettuce, cucumbers, tomatoes, and onion and served it with French fries, mayonnaise, and a baguette. At least it was vegetarian. The other thing on the menu was the same meal but with grilled chicken. I picked up some fruits for breakfast.

I walked back to Inimi (maybe 2 km from the town centre) to find that the power was out. That meant it was pitch black and nothing worked. Not super convenient, but I am adaptable. (And it hardly matters that there is no water to flush the toilets when the toilets are just holes in the ground – How’s that for a positive spin?) I had my headlamp (which I never travel without) and instead of sleeping in my boiling hot (and now airless) cabin, I slept on a hard metal bed outside with a mat and my big scarf to cover me, reading until I fell asleep under the stars, which were incredible.

I had pleasant day of travel and a visit to Chinguetti ahead of me.

Wandering North

Tag: Africa

Sudan’s Camel Market

Camel Market

Hospitality

Omdurman Market

Walking Back to Khartoum

Meroë

Visiting Khartoum

A trip to Sudan

Plans

A smidgen of history

Visas and Requirements

Fun Facts

A Final Day in Dakar

A Day on the Île de Gorée

Touching Down in Dakar, Senegal

Casablanca Layover

Chinguetti, Mauritania

Nouakchott to Atâr