village Archives - Wandering North

Belarus Belarus/Dubai trip 2023 Europe

Castles Mir & Nesvizh: A Day Trip from Minsk

As much as I loved Minsk, I didn’t want to stay there during my entire visit. I wanted to spend a day visiting two UNESCO heritage castles: Mir and Nesvizh. If you have a car, it makes a perfect day trip. But not having a car, I looked at the options for bus and train; it was technically possible to see both in a day travelling that way, but looked rushed and stressful, with a strong likelihood of missing connections, so I decided to hire a car. There weren’t a lot of people offering this service, but I found a company online, messaged them the night before I wanted to leave, and they picked me up the next morning. (Minsk Airport Transfer & Tours)

Roadtrip!

This was one of those days where the hiring of a guide/driver was much more than just transport. I had a great day with Sergey. A kind and interesting man who was fun to hang out with. He even does his own version of ‘carpool karaoke’ with guests.

*Me and Sergey, in our ‘buddy cop’ movie pose*

Nesvizh

We drove first to Nesvizh (aka Nyasvizh, or Нясвіж, or Несвиж) a small town (population ~15,000), which is famous for its castle by the same name: Nesvizh Castle, a lovely castle built in the 16^th and 17^th centuries and surrounded by a pretty forest. It even has a moat. What more do you want from a castle? Dragons?

Sergey waited outside while I wandered the halls, and then we walked through the forest together.

Nesvizh Castle, inside and out

We made a stop at the Corpus Christi Church in Nesvizh, from the 16^th century.

Corpus Christi Church, Nesvizh

Before we left Nesvizh, Sergey offered me hydration in the form of Byarozavik (бярозавы сок in Belarusian), birch tree sap. It was clear and mild tasting; unsweetened, but slightly sweet tasting. Kind of like coconut water, but not disgusting. I liked it.

Village Life

We drove through the pretty countryside, and I was ogling the villages, so Sergey took us to one (the benefit of having a private driver). I believe it was called Vishnevets, though I can’t find it on a map. It was just so charming. Almost entirely residential, with small dacha type houses; small, with peaked roofs, but they were mostly painted yellows and greens. The landscape was all gardens and farms, very green, storks’ nests on tall poles. This was time number in don’t know how many that I had a fantasy about packing it all up and moving there. I know I would be bored after a weekend, but it was just so lovely.

We stopped nearby at a well by the side of the road and drank cool, clean water that Sergey hoisted up on a rope.

We carried on to Mir.

Mir

Mir is a village of about 2,500 people. It has a turbulent history, having been attacked and/or occupied and/or taken over by Sweden, the Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth, the Russians, and the Nazis (the latter of which killed off the town’s once thriving Jewish and Roma populations). Today, Mir is famous for its late Gothic, 16^th century castle.

Mir Castle inside and out

Mir castle is not as nice inside as Nesvizh, but is impressive, and the views from across the small river are lovely.

We had lunch at a nearby restaurant and I had some delicious soup and potato pancakes with mushrooms. (The vegetarian food in Minsk is not varied, but it is delicious.)

We drove back to Minsk, singing to Phantom of the Opera and My Way (some of Sergey’s favourites – and I can never resist a show or Sinatra tune) and talking about life in Belarus.

road signs

It was an excellent day; made much more fun by having company for the day and getting insights and info I would not have gotten on my own.

I really would like to see more of rural Belarus, but I also wanted to spend more time in Minsk, so I went back to my hostel and made plans for what to see the next day.

Asia Asian capital trip 2023 Brunei Darussalam

Brunei Darussalam

I flew from Manila to Bandar Seri Begawan, Brunei. It was one of those places I knew little about but decided to go to because I was in the area, so to speak. I would be there for about 36 hours, which was just right, I think, for a visit to the capital. Since Brunei is a bit lesser known, here are some fast facts…

Fast Facts

Brunei Darussalam (Or just ‘Brunei’, if you’re cool) is a teeny tiny country on the island of Borneo (surrounded by Malaysia) in South East Asia. It is a bit bigger than Luxembourg, but smaller than Rwanda. Most of it is rain forest. About 500,000 people live there. It was controlled by the British until 1984 when it gained true independence. It is a Muslim country. The capital is Bandar Seri Begawan, which is where I was visiting.

I feel like the things that Brunei is most famous for its (1) being wealthy [oil]; and (2) the Sultan. The Sultan of Brunei, Sultan Haji Hassanal Bolkiah Mu’izzaddin Waddaulah ibni Al-Marhum Sultan Haji Omar ‘Ali Saifuddien Sa’adul Khairi Waddien (or Hassanal Bolkiah ibni Omar Ali Saifuddien III for short), is currently the longest serving monarch in the world. He has been on the throne since October 1967. (When he assumed leadership, Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band was a brand new album.) The first time I heard of him was in the 1990s when a lawsuit was filed in the US alleging that he invited beauty pageant winners to Brunei and then kept them as sex slaves. (The lawsuit was dismissed because he’s the Sultan.) Here’s what seems to be verifiable about him: He loves excess and pomp and circumstance (a visit to the museum is a must do – the palanquin alone is worth a glimpse because of its scale). In the 2010s he adopted Sharia law into the penal code. Although he ultimately rolled back things like death by stoning and amputation, it’s still pretty strict. It’s illegal not to attend Friday prayers if you are Muslim and alcohol is banned.

Back to the travel report…

I arrived in Brunei at about midnight. The border crossing was easy and I went to take a taxi to my hotel. The thing that proved problematic was paying for the taxi. There was no public transportation at this time of night so the taxi was my only option. The issue was, I didn’t have any local currency (Brunei Dollars) and all of the currency exchange facilities at the airport were closed. I tried the two ATMs at the airport and neither of them worked with either of my two cards. Fortunately, I had a stash of US dollars on me and so I approached two of the taxi drivers that were hanging around out front of the airport (the only two taxi drivers that I found) and I negotiated a ride to my hotel. It was a little bit frustrating because I didn’t have small enough bills and so I ultimately ended up overpaying I think for the taxi ride. So my advice is when arriving at the Brunei airport late at night, make sure you have cash in small denominations (and in perfect condition – the taxi drivers would not even accept bills with creases).

I arrived at my hotel the Qing Yun Resthouse Bandar, which is perfectly located right across from the waterfront in a very central location and it’s also extremely affordable. It was brand new and spotlessly clean however my room didn’t have any windows, which was less than ideal. Whatever, I would only be there one day.

*windowless room at Qing Yun Resthouse Bandar*

The man working at the hotel (the only person I saw at the hotel) also didn’t speak English. Brunei is one of these places where English is not widely spoken and I had (admittedly) made little to no effort to learn any Malay, so communication sometimes was a challenge, but again I relied on my excellent charades and awkward smiling.

The Terrestrial Sights

My initial impression of the capital was that it was not that impressive. It just looked sort of ordinary. That initial impression was softened as I saw ‘the sights’ and explored a bit more.

On my way in from the airport I had passed a couple of incredible looking mosques by the side of the highway I never did make it back to them. I tried to snap a couple of pictures from the taxi window and failed miserably but even in the blurry captures you can still get a sense of the grandeur of them.

My first stop was the big Omar Ali Saifuddien Mosque. The Omar Ali Saifuddien Mosque is definitely the most recognizable site from Brunei, and rightly so. It’s spectacular. It looks like something out of a fairy tale; huge, white, golden gleaming, and sitting in the middle of a pond; every angle of it is astonishing. It’s not astonishingly old, however; It was built in the 1950s.

I walked around it and attempted to snap a couple of selfies and then eventually went inside for a look at the interior which was lovely. The men outside who were working on the grounds were very friendly everyone wanted to know where I was from and to chat as best we could.

The thing that was a little bit disappointing about Brunei was that when I arrived it was cloudy and raining, which I figured would spoil my photos. How wrong I was! My favourite photo of the big mosque ended up being the one with the stormiest looking skies. The clouds lifted and the sun came out later and I went back to take more photos, but I didn’t think those had the same atmosphere.

I went to the Royal Regalia Museum. There is more than one museum, but I only went to the one. It’s worth going to learn about the history of Brunei and the Sultan and look at the artifacts and riches of the Sultan and his family.

The Aquatic Sights

Beyond that, and without leaving the general downtown area of the capital, there isn’t much else to do in Brunei itself – on land. There are however some excellent excursions that can be made on the water. From the waterfront there are boats floating around and as I walked along the waterfront several of them would slow down and call out to me to see if I wanted a ride. One man who spoke a little English engaged in conversation with me and I told him I was interested in seeing the floating village and the mangrove forests and he agreed to take me out. I forget the exact price, but it was quite cheap.

We went out for about an hour or so, first through the water village of Kampong Ayer. It’s a small village located on the water (houses on stilts and floating structures) just off the shore from the capital of Brunei. About 10,000 people live here. Apparently, it has been a village for centuries, although at this point the houses all look quite new.

We sailed around the village looking at the different houses. We didn’t stop anywhere to visit anyone, although I understand that is possible.

From there we went into the mangrove forests past thick walls of green trees. Going this way was quite interesting, and it gave us a view of the Sultan’s palace rising above the treetops, shining white.

One of the great things about going into the mangrove forests in Brunei is that if you’re very lucky you’ll see the proboscis monkeys, otherwise known as the ‘big nosed monkeys’. It was pretty extraordinary: we didn’t have to go very far before we saw them up in the trees; maybe about four or five of them. They were sitting and hanging out and sort of jumping from tree branch to tree branch, and I could definitely see their noses which were in fact, well, kind of like penises or potatoes, and very large. I tried to get some photos but they were all useless. This is the best one:

The only other wildlife that we saw on this trip was an alligator who had drowned and was floating belly up in the river and was quite bloated. I’m not going to post that picture because it’s very gross.

The under-looked thing about taking a boat out in Brunei is that if your boat captain is cool (and mine was), you can smoke on the boat. In addition to alcohol being banned in Brunei, smoking is pretty much banned. It’s not illegal to smoke, but the smoking restrictions are so severe that I couldn’t find a place enjoy a cigar. You can’t smoke inside or on sidewalks or on patios or balconies or in parks or on paths… And I was told that you will be found and you will be fined. As far as I understand it, the best place is to get a smoking hotel room, and those do exist; but I didn’t have one of those, so I was delighted to get to smoke on the boat, even if it was just cigarillos and not a full cigar.

Back on Land

After my boat adventure, I had lunch at a little cafe near my hotel which was quite nice, and I chatted with the owner as I was the only person there. We talked for about an hour, and he gave me his feelings about living in Brunei, which seemed to be lukewarm at best.

I spent the next couple of hours just walking around the city.

I visited a picturesque Chinese temple: Teng Yun temple.

It was at this point that I felt like I had really done everything I wanted to do in Bandar Seri Begawan, and I was satisfied that my flight was leaving that night. I had dinner at a local restaurant, Curry and rice that I think cost me about $2.00. It was delicious.

And that was my trip to Brunei. A lot of people had said that it wasn’t worth going to, but I don’t agree. I think every place is interesting and every place is worth visiting – some places for a short time and some for a longer time. I feel like I did Brunei justice. I wouldn’t go back, but I’m glad that I went.

I slept for a short time in my hotel room waking up at an ungodly hour to catch a flight to my next destination: Kuala Lumpur.

Africa Benin West Africa Trip 2019

Ganvié, the floating village

Ganvié is probably the main sight in or around Cotonou, Benin. A dreamy village entirely over the water, not far from the city. A perfect day trip.

I caught a taxi from the Étoile Rouge (where car taxis congregate) and drove not too far to a nearby town on the edge of Lake Nokoué. From there, you check in at a small office (really more of a small wooden shack) and buy your ticket. You can choose between a wooden rowboat or a larger wooden engine powered boat. I went for the rowboat.

The area around the pier is abustle with activity – local people coming and going.

From there, we (my guide and my boat captain and I) set off for the village. We paddled for a while past fishing boats and collections of green foliage.

Finally we reached Ganvié. A village entirely on stilts or floating, it is only accessible by boat. It was built in about the 1600s after the king of the Tofinu tribe (I think), the legend goes, sought to protect his tribe from another tribe who sought to kidnap people to sell to European slave traders. Knowing that the slave capturers were afraid of water (or water spirits) the king turned into an eagle and looked for a lake. Finding this lake, he turned into a giant crocodile and carried his people to safety. The part about moving there to evade capture is true; the part about the King transforming, Manimal-style, probably not. But who knows? Regardless of the origin story, the village has been there for about 400 years and is…amazing.

It is so colorful and picturesque. Fishermen, women transporting pineapples, children playing, people boating around. Wonderful.

There is a small guesthouse there and, upon reflection, I think it would have been nice to have stayed the night. Regardless, it was one of the most beautiful and unique places I have been. Back at the shore, I caught sight of a voodoo shrine, there to provide protection to the non-water dwellers.

I took a few market pictures on the way back to Cotonou.

Ganvié, along with the voodoo culture, was the thing that sparked my desire to visit Benin. It was worth the journey, though the journey itself was a delight.

The next day I would visit the former capital, Porto Novo.

Europe Scotland United Kingdom

Dean Village

From Sterling, we returned to Edinburgh. As we had already seen the main sights of the city, we decided to stay in Dean Village, an area just outside the centre, tucked away along the Water of Leith, which looks like something out of a fairy tale.

We got off the train at Haymarket Station and from there Dean Village was not a far walk, down Palmerston Place, past Mary’s Cathedral, then down hill. For the first time in my entire life I found Google maps to be of more assistance than my paper maps, which only marked Dean Village in a general sort of way.

We descended until we hit the river (the Water of Leith) and saw the view that had convinced me to stay in Dean Village in the first place…

Seriously, it is stunning. Quaint. Picturesque. I know it is Scotland and not France, but I felt like walking down the cobblestone streets, singing the opening number from Beauty and the Beast.

Dean Village, previously known as Water of Leith Village, was at one time its own village before it became part of Edinburgh in the mid 1800s. It was established in the 1100s and for about 800 years was the site of multiple mills, powered by the river. Now it is a largely residential enclave of historic charm.

Our accommodations were easy to find, as it was the historically significant Well Court, dating back to the 1800s and built as housing for mill workers. In the pictures it is the large, brick, castle-y looking building.

We had an Air bnb booked and it exceeded my expectations. It was so cozy and in this tiny two bedroom apartment, it somehow had at least six different wallpapers.

Staying in Dean Village was great. Peaceful and nice for walks. The part with the cute buildings is very small but there is also a lovely walk on a path along the river under a tree canopy. There are no shops and only one eatery in the immediate vicinity, but it isn’t a long walk to the high street, which we did for dinner.

I also took a pleasant walk to Dean Cemetery, which was very pretty, especially the areas where the trees had dropped pink blossoms amongst the headstones. It was a teeny bit spooky as I saw only one other person and the cemetery was about to close. I started imagining that I would be locked in and forced to spend the night. That did not happen, however, as I walked out the back gate onto the lawn of the Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art. It had just closed and I never did get back there (which is a shame – next time), but I enjoyed walking the lawns of the two large buildings where sculptures and installations were on display.

In the distance, I saw a man with a large ring of keys walking towards the gate. Realizing I was about to be locked in to the grounds, I ran up to him and exited just as he locked the gate. In my mind, I did this Indian Jones style, barely sliding through and then reaching back for my hat. Truthfully, I kind of wish I had been locked in, because then I would have a cool story of having to climb the walls to escape the gallery grounds, but instead I just had a pleasant walk back into Dean Village to our Air bnb.

The next day would be our last in Scotland and we would do a day trip to Glasgow and Paisley.

Asia Myanmar (Burma)

Boat to Bagan

As I had already taken the train in Myanmar (from Yangon to Mandalay) I decided to go from Mandalay to Bagan by boat. There are a few options and the prices and vessels are all quite similar. You leave Mandalay at 5:30 am or so and arrive in Bagan about 11 hours later. Many of the trips also involve stopping at a village along the way. I took the Alliance Myanmar boat and that was its itinerary.

The boat ride was pleasant. On the main level were very comfortable seats and air conditioning. On the top level was a bar and covered table seating and an area in the sun with reclining chairs.

It went by quickly. There was the initial excitement of watching the sun rise over the Irrawaddy River, then breakfast.

After that i smoked a cigar and watched dilapidated vessels sail by, as well as small fishing boats and a lot of boats set up to look for gold in the river. People waved at us as we passed.

Near Mandalay and Bagan, the landscape was heavily adorned with stupas and Buddhas. In between it was flat and dry.

The stop at the village was a nice interlude. The village grew peanuts, which they shelled and offered to us raw and boiled. They made hats, which were for sale. Mostly, we were shown around. Everyone was so friendly. I’m guessing (i hope) they get some money from the boat company; we were told not to give money to anyone unless buying something.

We arrived in Bagan, right on schedule, just as the sun was setting. I took a taxi to my hotel. En route I could see the silhouettes of dozens of temples that I would explore the next day.

Africa Uganda

Jinja, Uganda

I had decided to go to Jinja. A more peaceful retreat after Kampala. Hammocks, walks, white water rafting, and the source of the River Nile (sort of). It sounded like a great way to wrap up a holiday that has been wonderful, but busy.

Getting to Jinja is easy. There is a road and various options for getting there from Kampala. There are tons of mini vans departing from Kampala Road or from the market, with touts hanging out the doors, calling out Jinja. The drive should only take about an hour, but the traffic on the narrow road invariably snarls, and the trip actually takes about 3 hours. As incredible cheap as the minivans are (a few dollars) I didn’t want to spend 3 hours crammed in with too many people, sweating. So I decided to take a taxi. It was expensive (like, $80) and I probably overpaid, but I just felt like being comfortable and it was worth it, because the drive was long and hot and I slept much of the way. (On my way back I tried what is probably the best option, which is to take the pineapple express shuttle, which leaves at set times from various hostels and hotels is comfortable and not overcrowded and is about $14.)

Arriving in Jinja I was dropped off at my lodgings, “The Source of the Smile” guesthouse. (I know, but I didn’t name it.) It felt like paradise. Behind a wall was a lovely garden area with little bungalow style rooms, each with its own outdoor seating area, as well as several common ones. A couple of hammocks. A pool. And my room was so gauzy, white, and cool. I was happy. I spent a few nights there and loved it. A perfect place to hang out.

Over the next couple of days I started to decide what I did not feel like doing. I was tired and pretty content to just walk around, drink juices, smoke cigars, and read. I didn’t feel like horseback riding or white water rafting. Plus, my cash was running a bit low at this point and I wasn’t having the best time with the ATMs. So that is basically, what I did in Jinja. I relaxed.

The walk from my guesthouse to the town area wasn’t too long and there were a number of pleasant paths, including one along a golf course that itself ran along the Nile. Apparently back when this part of the Nile was more hippo-rich, the odd hippopotamus would wander onto the course. The road was lined with palm trees filled with screeching bats.

The town of Jinja I found delightful. It is pretty quiet in most places. It has this wonderful architecture, which is very Indian in style; a bit shabby, but still full of charm. Because so many tourists go to Jinja for the outdoor activities, there are a good number of cafes and restaurants catering to them. My favourite of which is The Deli, which had a great menu of healthy food and lots of fresh juices and smoothies – and a garden patio on Main street. A great spot for writing or meeting fellow travellers, both of which I did.

I walked to the Central Market, which was bustling. Vast varieties of fruits and vegetables, meats, and fish. I felt rather conspicuous taking photos, so I went up to the second level to take some pictures looking down on the activities.

The second floor of the market was all seamstresses (tailors?) sewing clothes, all using the old style foot pedal, black sewing machines. The air had a wonderful hum from hundreds of the, machines going at once.

The only real activity I did in Jinja was I took a Nile cruise. “Cruise” might be overstating it. I was the only person on the small, wooden boat who was not working. We sailed past fishermen and past other boats, finally landing in a village in Buganda Kingdom.

The stroll around the village was great. People were friendly and children ran out (as they do) with curiosity. Many of them asked for photos and posed then laughed uproariously when I showed them the results. It is always fascinating to me to see how other people live

From there we sailed to the “source of the Nile”. This is pretty cool – the Nile being that river that captured my imagination as a child and led me in part to visit Egypt at 18 or 19 on my first solo trip. Interestingly though, the source of the Nile is just as mysterious as all it evokes. The source of the (white) Nile was a mystery for centuries. In the 1850s explorer John Hanning Speke “discovered” it in Jinja, Uganda. Today there is a sign post marking the exact spot and a statue to Mr. Speke in a garden overlooking the spot. It is pretty cool.

The thing is, since then, it was discovered that the Nile actually reached Rwanda. Then, in 2006, is was found to reach into Burundi. So the controversy and exploration continues, but all of the businesses named the “Source of the Nile” tours or cafe, etc, persist.

From the boat we watched the sun set on the Nile and Lake Victoria.

And that is how I spent a few lazy days in Jinja.

Africa Democratic Republic of the Congo

Masisi, the Alps of the Congo

Following my day exploring Goma, I was collected at the Ihusi Hotel by Cide, who would be my guide and companion for the next 2 days. I had booked an overnight tour of the Masisi region of the Democratic Republic of the Congo through Kivu Travel. (Website here.) After my gorilla plans fell through (see my previous DRC post) I still wanted to see something of the Congo in the time that I had and Masisi looked amazing. And there was no way I could have managed this without having it organized through a company, as the Masisi is not exactly set up for independent travel. Kivu Travel was super helpful and kept checking in and confirming that all was well and that I was taken care of.

But before Masisi, a boat ride.

Cide dropped me off on the shores of Lake Kivu, placing me in the hands of a 4 man crew on a rather basic wooden boat. We set sail, at first past the shores of Goma, which gave a great view of the otherwise invisible posh homes, and then we sailed farther into the lake.

The plan was to visit a coffee farm, which sounded good, but mostly I just wanted to sail around. And sail we did, for about 2 hours before reaching the farm. It was very peaceful. We saw only a few small canoes type boats and a couple of ferries.

Reaching the farm, I was handed off to a fellow (whose name I cannot recall) who very carefully showed me the coffee farm and explained the process from planting to sending off for roasting. It was surprisingly interesting. I have been to coffee farms before, but they just sort of showed the trees and then explained about the different varieties. This was not a tourist show; it was an actual, working farm and I have to say that it was sobering to see how much hand labour goes in to coffee, just at the farm level. I mean, I guess I knew it, but I never really thought about it. Every single bean, hand picked, hand peeled, washed, hand sorted, dried, etc all by hand. Plus all the planting, replanting, roasting, etc.

It was really interesting and reminiscent of my rice realizations in SE Asia. For all the mechanization we have available, some things are still painstakingly made by hand.

Back in the boat, we sailed for close to 3 hours until a pretty area appeared before us, marked by Cide’s white SUV. I was deposited on the shore, where we had a picnic lunch of vegetarian sandwich, avocado, and bananas. I told Cide that in North America we are crazy for avocados and that in restaurants we will pay $10 or more for a slice of toasted bread with butter and avocado. His eyes went wide and he didn’t stop laughing for a solid minute. I can’t say I blame him.

Then we drove, higher and higher into the mountains. The landscape started out as a beautiful green patchwork of farm lands, then smoothed out into rolling, velvety hills dotted with farm animals. This is the Masisi region.

It was stunning. Like something out of a painting or a picture book. If it weren’t for the villages, which are definitely African, it could easily be the Alps.

Just when I thought I could not be any more impressed, we arrived at this charming farmhouse set on a hill overlooking the valley and with beautiful gardens. This is where I was to stay.

My room was enormous and I had a living room with a fireplace and private balcony. No electricity or internet, though they ran the generator at night for lights and the fireplaces were lit for warmth. It was so perfect.

Cide and I sat overlooking the valley and were served a teapot of warm milk from the cows below. I had a cigar.

We then walked into the valley and the village past the dairy farm, flocks of sheep, errant goats, and parades of geese. Horses grazed. People laboured. Children played and peeked curiously at me.

It was all so lovely.

The best part of the walk was visiting the home of this one grandmother who had 3 tobacco plants in her garden. Cide said she grew them for herself, to dry and smoke. She didn’t speak English or French, but Cide translated. I gave the woman one of my cigarillos. She tried it but was not impressed, saying hers was better. Her friend agreed. The woman then got some of her dried tobacco and rolled me a small one and offered it to me. It was a bit on the moist side, but was good. Cocoa-y.

After that, we returned to the house and were fed an enormous dinner. I briefly dozed by the fire and then went to bed.

The morning brought a massive breakfast with a view of the valley.

We then walked down to the dairy farm, where free roaming cows were being milked. I tried my hand at it with limited success.

From there we visited the “cheese factory” which is just two guys in two rooms making cheese without any mechanization. The cheese is good. Like a tangy gouda.

Finally we went for a walk through the main village, where we were followed by throngs of children, curious and friendly, all giving thumbs up and asking for photos, which they then looked at and laughed hysterically.

Finally, we returned to Goma and I crossed the borders back to Rwanda. It was a perfect couple of days. I liked the comparative bustle of Goma, but Masisi was magical. A peaceful mountainous dairy farming region was not what I thought of when I thought to visit the Congo, but I am glad I made my way there.

Africa Burkina Faso Burkina Faso Trip 2016

Tiébélé: the painted village

I awoke in Pô rested and ready for my reason for being there: to visit Tiébélé. I went out for breakfast: Nescafe, yogurt, and bread, which cost about a dollar. I then met my driver at the hotel, a young guy named Patrice, who spoke no English and wore a knitted scarf in the 40 degree heat. He had a motorbike (and as usual helmets are not available) and we set off. We bounced down the dry and dusty orange streets headed south to Tiébélé past donkey carts, kids headed to school, and women washing clothes with washboards and buckets.

After about 15 minutes we spotted one of the common police checkpoints. Patrice said (in French) “Policeman. It is a problem for me.” And we turned around to take a detour. This is one of those times when my rudimentary French was not enough to clarify the situation. Why were the police a problem? Did he not have ID? Was the moto not registered? Was he wanted for murder? I would never know and simply said “ok”.

Our detour was pleasant, past little villages and large baobab trees, many of which were hung with ropes of sorghum to dry.

We stopped at a little lake and looked at the fields of potatoes, tomatoes, and peppers growing in tidy green rows.

After an hour maybe we arrived in the town of Tiébélé, which is small but had a few shops and cafes. There was a small hut with art and the painter showed me his work, which included pictures of Tiébélé, Che Guevara, and Thomas Sankara.

Patrice and i stopped and had a drink with his brother, who spoke a bit of English, and the the three of us headed to the old village.

Patrice’s brother gave me a tour of the village, which is known for its painted huts, which are covered in symbolic designs representing animist tradition. Geometric patterns, lizards, tortoises, and seeds were common.

The village was designed for protection from enemies and is laid out in a twisty maze, with tiny doorways into the houses to thwart invaders. I learned that round huts were for single people, square huts for married couples, and huts shaped like figure eights were for seniors. I was shown (but not allowed to photograph) the place where sacrifices are made for the village.
I got to go into one hut, which had three rooms, including a kitchen, each separated with tiny portals which one had to crawl through. People live there today and were all quite friendly, particularly the children who handed me peanuts while saying bonjour.

It was all very interesting and worth the journey to get there from Ouagadougou. After the village, we had coffee and took a stroll through the market, where i bought some oranges.

We returned to Pô and i killed time until my bus back to Ouagadougou. I watched some tv with the proprietor of my hotel and had a cigar while making some small talk in Franglais.

The bus ride back was mostly in the dark and was a bit nerve-wracking, as the highway was completely dark and the landscape disappeared. The security checkpoints seemed more ominous and for a while machine gun armed soldiers in full combat gear rode with us through an area known for attacks from bandits.

After about three hours we arrived in Ouagadougou and I made my way back to my hotel, where I fell asleep, too tired for dinner. A long but good day.

Africa Burkina Faso Burkina Faso Trip 2016

Burkina Faso Village Hospitality

My final full day in Banfora started as did the day before: roosters and coffee. I made a little coffee at the house once i got over my fear of the gas stove, and then returned to the local corner cafe for an espresso. Today all of the men were filling out their racing forms. There are gambling kiosks here everywhere painted with pots of gold and horses head. People (men) bet on horse races in France hoping to win big. They din’t get to see the races, not even on TV. It seems to be a popular pastime. I was asked to assist with picking horses. The only one that jumped out at me was La Baguette Magique.

My guide picked me up on the moto and we headed on a dirt road through fields of sugar cane for Domes de Fabridougou. Similar to the Sindou Peaks i saw yesterday, but more round and less pointy. Still, it was nice to go on the hike. It was so serene and beautiful and hot, but dry. We hiked and sat on the top of a dome and took in the view and i had a smoke, trying to be in the moment as much as possible. On a dome, in Western Burkina Faso.

We left and, much to my surprise, made a stop in my guide’s village, near the domes. This is where he grew up until he was 15 and where most of his family lives, including his mother and daughters. About 25 people live in the small collection of tiny huts in the middle of the fields under a huge tree. Some smoke French, but all spoke in a local, tribal language (not Moore, something else).

This was some serious, rural poverty. Not all the kids has clothes and those they had were in very poor repair. No water or electricity. No phone, no lights, no motorcar. But they were very friendly and hospitable. They swept off a place in the dirt, clearing it from debris, and laid out a straw mat for me to sit on. Several of the women and children started making lunch for my guide and i. While they cooked i sat and watched women tend to the children and the women and children doing each other’s hair in braids. I tried to make some small talk, but mostly it was a lot of smiling.

After that my guide took me to two more unexpected stops. First was a visit to a ritual sacrifice area for the animists, of which he is one. Around a beautiful pool ringed with ricks and trees the ground was thickly carpeted in white chicken feathers. It looked like snow. The trunk of one tall palm tree was thickly hung with ropes, which were tied on to skulls, jaw bones, goat legs, and what looked like the skin of a cow’s face and head. From other trees and from the rock wall around the pool were more ropes dangling bones, skulls, and rocks. All for sacrifice and offerings or protection.

It was really interesting but it really looked like something out of a horror movie. Like if Leatherface and the Blairwitch collaborated on a little outdoor decorating.

Near the sacrifice area was the waterfall, which is a ridiculously picturesque series of small waterfalls and green, tropical pools. Had i been prepared i could have gone swimming. It was so beautiful it looked like something created for a film or Disneyland.

I usually don’t want a guide because i prefer to do things myself, but this was a time when i really could not have seen everything i did had i just been alone.

The ride back to Banfora from the village was terrifying. It was dusk to dark. The road was so bumpy that at times i bounced off my seat. We dodged small goats, a large lizard, and regular size pigs. We brushed shoulders with herds of cows. Not only was it dark and treacherous, but it was windy and the dirt road coughed up a haze of orange. I was certain that i would die, but was delivered to my lodging safely, and quite filthy.

I spent the rest of the evening chatting with Marion, the owner of the house at which i stayed and playing with the many kittens and puppies.

Banfora was delightful. Full of outdoorsy retreats and adventures. The next day i would return to Ouagadougou.

Africa Burkina Faso Burkina Faso Trip 2016

Sindou et Banfora

My second or third day in Banfora began when the roosters started crowing. I showered and headed out in search of coffee. The main, central restaurant here is McDonald’s…that is, a local restaurant with the name but which otherwise bears no similarities to the chain. I went there, as i had had a yummy vegetable couscous the previous day, but it was closed.

So i walked around looking for some place that looked like it served coffee. Success! A little café, typical in that it is basically just a corrugated tin roof, a wooden counter and some chairs. Different in that it had a TV and and espresso machine (most places just boil water for instant coffee). It was a good spot. Men sat around watching boxing and it was on a corner, good for people watching.

After that, Djubrie, my guide, picked me up on the moto and we headed for the country. I’m getting more comfortable with the no helmet thing, but it doesn’t help that the distance markers on the highway are shaped like cemetery headstones.

We had to stop for the police a couple of times to show ID. Apparently this is a recent thing. This area of Burkina Faso is currently in the “orange zone”, meaning that there is some additional threat of violence. A girl i met in Bobo Dioulasso was there working for an NGO and wanted to go to Banfora but was not allowed to go because of the potential for violence. But nothing here seems threatening to me.

We stopped at a village on the way where my guide knew the people. I was shown around. There were women preparing bissap flowers for boiling to make juice, women pounding rice with big wooden poles to separate the husks and then sifting then to get at the rice. Men shelling peanuts. Children chasing chickens and staring at me with curiosity. I learned that the women live in the round huts and men in the square ones. (I don’t know how this plays out for married couples.) Unlike other villages i have been to, there was no electricity. Lots of goats and a few sheep. They were kind enough to let me try my hand at rice pounding and to take some photos and one man filled my bag with fresh peanuts before we left.

We carried on. It was about an hour or so to the peaks, diverting down a dirt road under a canopy of trees. When we arrived we were the only ones there. It was majestic and peaceful, hiking through the wind worn rock towers.

Climbing up we had a terrific view of the green valley.

After that we went to a little camp of huts and a lunch of cucumbers, tomatoes, green peppers, and onions was prepared. We ate and i relaxed in a hammock with a cigar, watching chickens and goats and children playing with sticks and hoops. Very peaceful.

We then rode back to Banfora, stopping at another village where my guide had some family. I sat with some old men, smiling and not able to communicate (they spoke only Moore), while my guide tended to some business. Then we were on our way again.

Back at the house i slept then ventured out into the dark streets in search of dinner. Rice with peanut sauce. The streets were busy with traffic, women still selling fruits and vegetables and every roadside shack had a fire going, with meat and fish set to grill. I spent the rest of the evening at the house, relaxing under the stars with a book.

Tag: village

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