travel blog Archives - Page 18 of 26

Africa Mauritania Senegal Trip 2021 Senegal

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.

Africa Mauritania Senegal Trip 2021 Senegal

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.

Africa Mauritania Senegal Trip 2021 Morocco

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?

Africa Mauritania Mauritania Senegal Trip 2021

Return to Nouakchott

From Nouadhibou to Nouakchott

It was the morning after my adventure on the Iron Ore Train. I awoke in my hotel in Nouadhibou with no great urgency. I needed to travel to Nouakchott that day and I didn’t know what time the bus left for the ~8 hour journey, but I just couldn’t be bothered to rush. By the time I showered and got downstairs I confirmed the bus had left. Secretly, I was happy. I didn’t feel like crowding into a hot minibus. I wanted comfort, likely as a direct reaction to the rigours of the train and pre train experience (after all, before the ride on the iron ore train I spent one night sleeping rough and two nights sleeping outside without running water or bathing). Desirous of speed and comfort, I inquired as to whether it would be possible to hire a car and driver and by the time I finished my breakfast, there was a car waiting.

The drive was great. My driver took the time to point out the sights. There weren’t many, but we saw the sea and the border crossing to the quasi country of the Western Sahara and a few small towns. Mostly though it was just sand and camels and I had seen a lot of that the day before, so when sleep got the better of me, I let it.

About half way into the journey, the driver asked if we could make a stop at his friend’s house in a small town by the roadside. Of course.

We exited the highway into a small town of newish but modest houses, sandy streets, and herds of free roaming goats. We entered a house and were greeted by four guys about to have lunch. We sat on the mats on the floor in an otherwise empty room and out came the tea. Tiny sugary tea cups were passed around and cigarettes were smoked as we chatted. Two of them spoke English, which was a treat for me as I could take a break from struggling with my very basic French.

A large platter of rice covered with pieces of meat and a smaller platter of rice with potatoes and carrots appeared. The driver had called ahead and told them I was a vegetarian. They also gave me water and a yogurt drink to take with me. Another example of startling hospitality to add to those I have experienced over the years in unlikely places.

After lunch we returned to the road and, about 7 hours after we left, we were in Nouakchott.

My remaining days in Nouakchott

I stayed somewhere different this time: the Maison de Jaloua. It is a lovely bed and breakfast in a white two level house on a sandy residential street just off a main road.

My room was a huge private room with my own bathroom and, gloriously, a big bathtub. This was a real bonus as I was still finding iron ore residue from the train on my body.

The hotel had a pretty garden seating area for meals and, as it turned out, housed one of the better restaurants in the city.

I had it for four nights.

Usually I write about my travel experiences on a day by day basis, but I don’t think this is necessary for my remaining three days in Nouakchott. They were pleasant, but primarily relaxing, days. I had seen ‘the sights’ of Nouakchott on my first visit. This round I just explored nothing in particular by foot and at a leisurely pace.

Each day I went for a long walk in a different direction, seeing what I could find. I had coffee and cigars at local cafés, lingered in air conditioned markets, revisited the main outdoor market, and sought out local artists.

On the art front, that took a bit of digging. There is a gallery/café Gallerie Zeinart, which looks amazing, but it was closed the days I was there. I did find a smaller place, Art Gallé, which was opened and is run by Amy Sow, a local painter and sculptor. It’s small but very cool, with an exhibition space and a café. I chatted for a long time with a young photographer and met Ms Sow. A pleasant respite from the heat and aimless walking.

I had a covid PCR test, which was required not for my next destination, but to leave the country. The process was simple. At a health centre you arrive before it opens and write your name on a piece of paper found under a rock on the sidewalk outside the gate. When they open they administer the tests in the order of names. It was fast, I got my results in 24 hours, and it was free. This is astonishing as in Canada, where I live, these tests start at $200.

That’s basically what I did in those last days. I was really taken with how peaceful Nouakchott is for a capital city. I can’t say that it is overly interesting or beautiful, but it is calm and pleasant; it feels very safe and the people are great. No hassles. no problems.

I loved my time in Mauritania. I can’t say that I would recommend it for a casual traveller or a first time trip to West Africa, but for off the beaten path travels, untouched desert vistas, hospitality, and once in a lifetime train travel, it ranks highly.

I left Mauritania with a flight to Dakar, via a day in Casablanca.

Africa Mauritania Mauritania Senegal Trip 2021

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.

Africa Mauritania Mauritania Senegal Trip 2021

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.

Africa Mauritania Mauritania Senegal Trip 2021

Nouakchott, Mauritania

I picked Mauritania for my travels first because of the opportunity to ride atop a train through the Sahara, and second because it is so seldom visited. That always makes me curious about a place. Also, I knew little about it, and what better way to learn about a place than to go there.

A bit about Mauritania

It is a huge country in West Africa, largely covered by the Sahara and is both one of the least populated (~4.6 million people in an area roughly twice the size of Spain) and least visited countries in the world. It is poor, filled with many historically nomadic groups and its capital, Nouakchott, is quite new, only having been founded in the 1960s.

There isn’t much here in terms of tourist sights. It’s primary draws are the desert and the lure of the remote and mysterious. That and the Iron Ore Train (more about that later).

It is a Muslim country. The main language is Arabic (though a specific local version) followed by local languages, like Wolof, then French. English is not common. I can speak enough to French to get by in common situations, though understanding people is often difficult. The few pleasantries in Arabic that I have in my repertoire go a long way.

Mauritania is also a bit troubled, as any visit to Wikipedia will tell you. Aside from the poverty and encroaching militant Islamist groups, primarily around the borders with Algeria and Mali, there have been some acts of violence, including one (very bad one) of which I am aware against a group of tourists in 2007.

Mauritania is (unfortunately) notable for being the last country in the world to outlaw slavery (in 1981) and they only criminalized it in 2007. Despite that, it is a country where slavery still flourishes. Estimates say 10-20% of people live as slaves. There is something of a caste system between people of different ethnic groups. I haven’t quite got a grasp on that. And there are some troubling stories of the treatment of women, including force feeding young women (or girls) to fatten them up to make them more desirable for marriage.

Of course I have not seen these bad things in my travels, unsurprisingly. I am glad for that, but I think it is important to acknowledge that they are there. In my experience so far, everyone has been kind, hospitable, and helpful. I recognize that I will never see the whole picture of a country in a short visit.

Arrival

I arrived in Nouakchott, Mauritania after almost two days of travel, including my long layover in Paris. It was late and I wanted only to get to my hostel and settle in. Mauritania has a visa on arrival process, which is great, though it means often hours at the airport standing in queues. Covid has not approved this situation. Leaving the airplane, I power walked to immigration, grabbed the paperwork and filled it out while standing in line. I was person number two. A small victory. I was soon though the process and had in my passport a new visa with the least flattering picture of myself I have seen on a government document.

I was picked up at the airport by Sebastian, the proprietor of my accommodations, who also picked up a friend of his; a woman from France who had lived in Mauritania for many years, and her dog.

We arrived at the Auberge Triskell at close to midnight and I spent the next hour or so relaxing and chatting with my hosts in the lovely garden.

The Auberge Triskell is super. It has private rooms in the former grand home of a Mauritanian pop singer and on the roof it has tents and bungalows. It was very comfortable and in a great location. Sebastian speaks English and was helpful in assisting with onward travel. And it is very inexpensive.

Also staying at the Auberge was an Italian man in town on business, a Greek fellow travelling solo, and a Math teacher from Paris also travelling solo on a break from school.

The First Day in Nouakchott

My first day in Nouakchott was busy. I saw pretty much everything the city has to offer. I spent it with the Parisian Math teacher. As it turned out, he had the same basic plan I did for sight seeing and he was keen to walk, so we ventured out together.

We started in the centre ville and went to the National Museum of Mauritania. It is a modest museum with artifacts and ethnographic displays. Worth a visit (especially for the modest entrance fee of about $1.50 CDN). We were the only visitors at the time.

From there we walked to the Grand Mosque. We were not permitted to enter, but it was indeed grand from the outside.

Nouakchott is good for walking. Surprising to me it was rather calm; not a chaotic, crowded city like others in West Africa. The traffic is not bad, crossing the street is easy and there are often sidewalks. Sidewalks are one of those things that one thoroughly takes for granted until they are gone. You can’t really go for a leisurely walk when you are dodging traffic at every step.

The streets are navigated by cars mostly, with a few yellow tuk tuks, donkey carts, and, occasionally, motorcycles.

We wandered over to the Moroccan Mosque, which is very pretty. We were not only allowed to enter but were given a personal tour by some guy who seemed to be in charge. He really seemed more interested in promoting Morocco than Mauritania, but it was a good conversation.

Our religious visits done, we headed to the market; a sprawling outdoor grid of covered stalls, mobile fruit carts, butchers preparing goat and camel meat, date salesmen, textile vendors and tailors, and women selling peanuts and freshly fried balls of dough, often with meaty centres (I didn’t have the meaty ones but the plain ones were delicious). I love markets so this was a treat.

People for the most part here do not want their picture taken. Art one point a man was unhappy when i took a photo of his donkey. So I kept my market photos few and broad. Sometimes though people were keen for it, like this one vegetable vendor who requested a photo. I thought she looked like a queen on a throne of vegetables.

The textile vendors were very visually appealing as they were mostly blue. Most people here have stayed with the traditional Mauritanian dress of long robes and a long scarf, worn around the neck, around the head as a kind of turban, or wrapped around the entire face, with the exception of the eyes as a protection from the sane, which is everywhere. (Only the main streets are paved.) When the fully face covered men add a pair of sunglasses they look just like the Invisible Man trying to blend in.

We ran a few errands. A SIM card for the Math teacher, some fruits to take back to the rooms, and finding a bank machine that would accept our foreign cards – a feat that, when accomplished, resulted in me doing a lively dance, much to the amusement of onlookers.

We walked back to the Auberge for a 20 minute rest, then walked out to the high street to catch a taxi to take us to the sea. On the way we got a bit turned around and asked a family where we needed to go. They were seated on the side of the sandy street, under an awning, cooking up some meat over a fire and cutting up onions to have with the meat and baguettes (as far as I can tell, the only form of bread widely consumed in the country). They gave us directions, but also immediately invited us to join them for their meal. We declined, as we were on a mission, but this is the sort of hospitality that seems to be common here. That sort of thing never ceases to amaze me.

Nouakchott has a busy fishing port with colourful wooden fishing boats similar to those I saw in Ghana. We were there in the afternoon, just in time to watch the hauls and boats being brought in.

It was beautiful and the breeze from the sea felt incredible after the heat of the city centre. We watched the action and the waves and then walked down to the actual beach that people used for recreation – not swimming as the sea is too strong, but exercise and sitting in groups, hanging out. There were also a couple of camels and horses.

On the way back I saw a ghastly form on the sand and immediately yelled out twice “What the fuck is that?!” What is was was the grossest and most interesting sea creature I have ever seen in real life outside of an aquarium. About four feet long, with a beak like face, beady, evil eyes, and a flat, angular body. I learned later that it was a snub-nosed guitar fish, in the ray family. Like something out of a nightmare.

We popped into the building where the fish were weighed and sold, and to the outdoor place where they were cut up and gutted, the floor covered with a thick carpet of scales.

We managed to find a car (I am using this term in its loosest sense, as the vehicle barely had the structure of a car, with its rear end dragging on the ground and its doors only partially operational) to take us to the vicinity of the Auberge.

We had a bite to eat at an indoor, air conditioned restaurant near a cluster of embassies. I was delighted to see ashtrays on the tables.

I spent the rest of the evening, chatting in the garden with Sebasitan and the other guests, making plans, swapping travel tales, and discussing how after living in Mauritania, returning to France seems unappealing.

I slept well, happy with the day, and with plans to head west in the morning for Atar and adventures in the desert.

Europe France Mauritania Senegal Trip 2021

Paris Layover: Overnight en route to Mauritania

I decided to go to Mauritania. It had been on my radar for a few years. I was drawn to it because I knew nothing about it, it has a vast expanse underpopulated Sahara desert (which seems mysterious and adventurous), and it has the Iron Ore Train (about which I will say more in a future post). After my other pandemic travels were to more conventional destinations, I was ready for some proper adventure.

Getting to Mauritania involved a 22 hour layover in Paris, which was a bonus for me, since I hadn’t been to Paris since 2009. I arrived in Paris at around 5pm. Between the covid checks, the super huge queues at the airport, and train station construction, it took me almost two hours to get from tarmac to the Gare du Nord train station. It was just starting to get dusky as I walked 10 minutes to my hostel.

I booked a private room at the Le Regent Montmartre ‘Hip Hop’ hostel, just on the edge of Montmartre. It was simple, cute, and comfortable…and I spent as little time there as possible before getting out to see something of Paris.

I took myself on a walk through the area around Pigalle, with its sex shops, burlesques historic and modern, and vintage cabarets. I took a series of failed photos. I was just too impatient and wanted to keep moving, so I ended up with a lot of blurry snaps of neon.

I started to meander up to Montmartre, delighted that the cafes and restaurants were full, live music flowing out of open doors, crepe shops cooking up tasty treats. I wandered past the usual, notable sights in the area and enjoyed the busy squares and the Sacre Couer, but it was also wonderful when I found myself on an empty street so picturesque, perfectly French, and atmospheric.

I finally settled at a outdoor cafe just off the Place du Tertre where I enjoyed a glass of wine and a Partagas Series D No.4 (that’s a cigar). I think 3 people invited me to join them or asked to join me for a drink. I don’t know if people are just extra social now that the covid restrictions have been lifted or what, but that sort of open, hospitality to strangers would be very out of place in Vancouver and I appreciated the invitations, but I preferred to remain on my own.

I had the shortest of sleeps and got up early to see a bit more of the city before heading back to the airport. Still dark out, i took the metro to the Seine and walked along it, watching the sky change and the lights reflect in the water. I looped past the Louvre and into an area with cafes and boulangeries. I could smell the freshly baked breads in the cool air.

I settled in to one of the few open cafes and had a proper (carb heavy) French breakfast.

By the time I was finished the sky was light and I strolled back to the metro through the Tuileries Gardens.

*Everything looks so lovely in the early morning light*

I rode back to Pigalle, where the streets were filled with what I assume is a weekly flea market and people were already busy shopping for fur coats, old typewriters, and ephemera.

One last look at the Sacre Coeur, this time in the light of day, and I trained back to the airport for my flight to Nouakchott. It is a long journey and I have enjoyed it, but I am ready to just get to where I am going. Now the new arrivals are boarding. I find myself looking at them, trying to find clues about what to expect in Mauritania. A lot more traditional and religious dress. A group of young French speaking girls who I have overheard say they are on vacation for 5 days. My immediate reaction to that was, “who goes on vacation to Mauritania?” …right. Me. Well, there is some comfort in knowing I am not the only one. A couple more hours and my curiosity about my chosen destination will all be put to rest. Departure is imminent.

Europe Sweden

A Morning in Malmö

I arrived in Malmö at the train station from Copenhagen, which makes a good first impression, along a scenic waterway and just steps off of pretty Malmö square. Pretty though it was, there wasn’t a whole bunch to do and it was early so a lot of things weren’t open.

So I took a stroll through the historic town centre and Slottsparken (castle park) over to Malmö castle sitting on the edge of the park near a windmill and on a waterway with swans.

The castle itself is only moderately interesting, though I did have a great chat with one of the docents who was full of colourful historic stories of imprisonment, scandal, and witches. The great thing about the castle though is that your ticket also gets you into a gallery, a natural history museum, and an aquarium. I went to the art gallery, which was small, but well curated and had a good collection of Swedish art.

From there I went back to the town and went to a small design museum to take in a textile exhibit, which was ok.

Past colourful buildings and patios of cozily dressed brunchers, I too settled down at a café for a coffee and one Sweden’s famous cinnamon buns.

It was a short visit. Just a few hours. But it was great and so cool just to be able to hop on a train and be in a new country.

I was returning to Copenhagen to finish up my long weekend but I was doing so having seen a bit of Sweden, which was real bonus

Denmark Europe

Copenhagen Long Weekend: Sunday

My second day in Copenhagen had an early start. Once I had realized, some time ago, that I could take the train from Copenhagen to Malmö, Sweden in less than an hour, there was not way that I wasn’t going to go.

I had an excellent coffee and a revelatory sandwich (seriously, how are the sandwiches here so good?) and proceeded directly to the central train station. The trains for Malmö leave about every 20 minutes. A ticket and and a few minutes later and I was on board, flying across the Øresund bridge to Sweden.

Because Malmö is in Sweden, I’ll save the description of my time there for another post, here.

I wasn’t in Malmö for more than about 4 hours, so it was early afternoon when I returned to Copenhagen and I took the metro to Nørrebro.

About four days before I went to Copenhagen, a certain international magazine had declared Nørrebro the ‘coolest neighbour hood in the world’, so I figured I ought to check it out.

Nørrebro’s coolness seems to stem from its multicultural population and sense of community. These are both good things, and I can certainly see why the multicultural aspect is of note in Copenhagen, which does feel a little…homogeneous. Coming from Vancouver though, where it is the norm to have people from literally everywhere and and multiculturalism a part of the national identity, Nørrebro didn’t seem so novel in that regard. But it was cool.

It has many of the hallmarks of an up and coming neighbourhood. Street art, excellent cafes, skateboard parks, vintage shops, stores by local and young makers of things and art.

The thing Nørrebro is most famous for though is Superkilen park. The park has some normal things, like green space, sports fields, and walking and biking paths. But it really manifests Nørrebro’s multicultural nature with stuff from all around the world. I couldn’t possibly name all of the things, but amongst the things there are swings from Iraq, a fountain from Morocco, a slide from Japan, a boxing ring from Thailand, soil from Palestine, basketball hoops from Somalia, etc. It’s pretty neat and impressive how much effort went into it. The space was used by families and individuals for playing, socializing, and exercise. It is also home to the Human Library, where you can select a human who will sit with you and tell you a bit of their life story, as a way to make connections. A really nice use of public space.

From Nørrebro I went back to the hostel for a bit of a rest and a chat with the other girls. I then went for an unusual cocktail at a lovely and cozy bar called Ruby’s (a cocktail whose ingredients included whiskey, cherry brandy, whey, and kelp). I then figured I would walk to the Little Mermaid statue. I didn’t care about seeing it really, but I also figured I couldn’t leave and not see it.

It was so dark and I walked past a palace, shrieking when one of the tall, furry hatted and armed guards silently stepped out in from of me from the shadows. He remained suitably stoic. I walked along the sea wall until I saw her, Hans Christian Andersen’s Little Mermaid on a rock, barely visible in the moonlight. It was as underwhelming as I had thought it would be, but I liked the walk.

I finished the evening, quite unintentionally at a fancy French restaurant (I found myself in a very expensive neighbourhood and desperate for a bathroom so I went to the first place that I found) where I had an excellent meal and a Montecristo No.2 while chatting with a visiting chef.

That ended my evening and my weekend in Copenhagen. I had an early flight back home the next day.

I loved Copenhagen and, while I am not often inclined to return to places, there is more there that I would like to do, so I can imagine a return visit at some point in the future but I am very satisfied with what I experienced in my short time.

Wandering North

Tag: travel blog

A Day on the Île de Gorée

Touching Down in Dakar, Senegal

Casablanca Layover

Return to Nouakchott

From Nouadhibou to Nouakchott

My remaining days in Nouakchott

Chinguetti, Mauritania

Nouakchott to Atâr

Nouakchott, Mauritania

A bit about Mauritania

Arrival

The First Day in Nouakchott

Paris Layover: Overnight en route to Mauritania

A Morning in Malmö

Copenhagen Long Weekend: Sunday