Niamey

I have been stalling my post in the hope anything interesting would happen I could write about. No such luck and if I do not write now, the danger exists my blog will die a quiet death. With nothing to write about that might happen anyway of course, but what is a death of a blog? Enough of the babbling let's start with the nothing.

Although Niamey was described to me as a dump, I was impressed by its looks. Not that it is beautiful or has (many) touristic sites, but it looks relatively well organized, has a lot of asphalt roads and even some tall buildings and places with street lightings. I believe in the seventies uranium was found in the north of Niger and with prices sky high, money was available in abundance. From these times stem the fancy looking big buildings. When uranium price plummeted the country all of a sudden was poor as a church rat. I wonder what the country would have looked like if they had spent their money on education and irrigation projects?

Still Niamey has friendly inhabitants and I have enjoyed myself, I wish it would be a little bit less hot, today temperature rose to 47 Celsius, they said. I staid in the case de passage of the Deutsche Entwicklung Dienst(?)(DED). The previous week there had been a gathering of all DED staff in Niger. Thorsten, still was there, awaiting the arrival of his girl-friend and 2 friends. Thorsten was so nice to take me to good spots to eat in the evening and took me with him when visiting his friends in Niamey. He even arranged a place for me to stay in Agadez with a colleague, Anne. In Niamey a lot of Embassies are present so I made an embassy tour to find out my options for traveling further. Lybia only gave visa to local people; Algeria said their consulate in Agadez managed overland border crossings into Algeria and maybe they would allow me one; Chad was no problem but on the same day a civil war broke out! I did not want to go south so my only option was to go north to Agadez.

Timbuctu, just a name?

Early in the morning I managed to arrange a ride with an aid of a businessman. The price was rather high, but an eighth of yesterdays price, so relatively ok. At the moment of departure the businessman did not want to take me on his car as he said he was not public transport. Fortunately one of the boatworkers knew him and managed to convince him I was good people. His reluctance to take me, I was not able to overcome and he dropped me at the ultimate south of the city. Although it was before 7 it already started to warm up. I wanted to see the city anyway and now I was forced to, so what am I complaining about? The city was crowded with police, army and predominantly white 4x4 cars. Timbuctu happened to host a big African summit. Khadaffi also was giving acte the presence, which apparantly was felt as a big thing. Everywhere in the city were posters with Khadaffi, banners welcoming him as the great African leader. Loads of people were wearing t-shirts with a picture of Khadaffi and many children had Lybian banknotes, which the Lybians had been handing out.
Another consequence of the summit was that much of the accomodation was taken, also the one I had planned to visit. Fortunately I met someone who happened to be at hotel Sahara Passion and, what a coincidence, still had a room available. At that time I already had been roaming through the famous city for 3 hours, because no one had known my prefered sleeping place, so I agreed to go with him. The place was actualy quite nice. I decided to stay for a night and decide further the next day. First I took a short but much needed shower, it had been more than a week since I took one. As my money supply was in desparate need of replanishment, I textmessaged my brother if he could send me some money via Western Union. Taco came quick to the rescue and after some messages back and forth all was arranged. When I arrived at the bank, at the very south of the town, it should have been closed for a couple of hours already. This time the African way was to my advantage. I managed to retrieve my much needed cfas in the dying seconds of the extended opening hours. Later that day, when the sun was a little bit less hot, I managed to find some energy to explore more of the city, but most I had already seen in the morning. The city did not succeed in enchanting me, it is like mopti, djenne and all those little villages we passed on the river a lot of mud stacked up. In Timbuctu even the people are less friendly, they are realy accustomed to tourists. Especcialy the children are very anoying. Their standard reportoire goes like this: Monsieur, cava? Donne m'un cadeau. The best reaction is no reaction, then they will usually go away in 1 minute. When you feel you can't be so blunt and do respond, it can happen they will only go away when you go into a shop for a while.

The next day I decided I had seen enough of the once great and powerfull city and would leave for Gao. I was lucky and met a guy who would take me, we only had to wait a few moments for the wife of the boss as she was doing some last minute shopping. Ofcourse this was not done in a few minutes, women are the same everywhere, give them some money and they will not return in hours. When finally the woman returned with her hard bargained newly acquired stuff, again the boss of the car did not want to take me and this time there was no one to convince him otherwise. This was particularly bad as by the time the wife returned several hours had passed and many of the 4x4's had already left Timbuctu. My only chance was the bus station. To my luck they assured me that definitely a car would leave for Gao, departure time unknown. Nothing to do but wait until enough people showed up to go. After 4 hours the guy came back to me, to excuse him, the car would not leave today. If I wanted I could go in the back of a truck on top of the cargo. The truck would go to Douentza. From an old geezer sitting next to me I learned that was not a bad direction as it was on the road from Bamako to Gao. I climbed on the truck to find about 10 fellow travellers. At first is was quite comfortable, but after about 20 km the truck was filled up with empty oil drums, which are much less soft then ricebags, we were previously sitting on. The drums were not the worst though, it was the big spare truckradiator bumping to the back of my head with every hole in the road that got to me. Halfway Douentza something in the steeringhouse of the truck broke. If it was because we hit a concrete pole or that we hit it after it broke, fact was that we had to stop. Chauffeurs are quite resourceful in Africa and after half an hour the problem was solved and we could move again. After an hour something had to be tighted on the steering, but we did not run in any problems afterwards. At 1:30 we arrived at Douentza, where I tried to sleep by the road until one of the busses arrived. I did not catch any sleep as the first bus arrived within the hour. They still had plenty of place, although it has by definition more space than a bus of the same size in Holland. E.g. in one row are 5 chairs, 3 left and 2 right from the aisle. At 9 in the morning we arrived in Gao.

The truckbus to Niamey was to leave the same day in just one hour. I decided to take it, who knows when the next one would go. I had been in crowded transports before, but this was definite a new personal record. The compartment was long full when they kept on pooring passengers in. The strategy was, see a spot that is not a head and let your self down until you touch something hard. I thought I had taken a good spot at the door, at least some space for my legs and a window I could stick my arm through. Before we left, my legspace was annihilated with cans with water and my armspace turned out to be annoying as I now had no way of resting my had anywhere.

At the beginning we were making good progress and I hoped I would be in Niamey in the evening. This changed dramatically when we reached Labaganza. There the piste ended and the driver had to find his own way to the Malinese side of the border. Average speed dropped to about 20 km/h. The Nigerien side was even worse, often at a speed below walking pace we conquered holes and bumps. I was the only white guy on the bus, consequently the whole bus had to wait for me at the Nigerien side of the border. Local people do not need a visa, I do. Although I already had mine and the driver tried to speed things up with the customs it took a considerable amount of time. The people did not seem to mind though, time is something they have plenty of. After second passport control the road improved, I should say there was a road again and at 4:00 we arrived in Niamey. I decided to sleep in the street, I had no clue where I was and where I should go.

River cruise

When we finally left, the Irish were not totally comfortable. They would have to be in Accra next sunday. Seemed like a lot of time but the prognosed travel time by the captain was 4 nights and already we had a delay of 1 day. After sailing 800 meters we stopped for about an hour, no clue why, then we sailed another km and stopped again. The Irish had enough of it and wanted to get to shore and take a 4x4 to Timbuctu. Just at that time we left and the Irish would have to wait with disembarking. Now the plan was to do this at niafounke the next big village on the route, which we should reach in the evening the next day. It seemed that now we really got going, but we had loads of problems with the water level. Constantly we had to search for the least shallow parts to motor through. Often we were grounded and the boats (alongside the biggest pinasse, with the motor, was a slightly smaller piroque without a motor) had to be pushed.
The next day we leave at 8:00, rather late and have rice for breakfast (every meal turns out to be rice) This day we manage to cover I think only 10 km. We get stuck at every bend and the boats have to be untied and separatly pushed through the shallow waters. At 12 we got stuck so bad it takes the rest of the day to pass. Also the 3 toubabs do their best to get the boats through and their help is much appreciated. For the Irish very frustrating, they are pressed for time, but for me fun to do, although I would not have minded this was our last day of kirikiri (moving the boat back and forth, front to the left, rear to the right and viceversa to get the boat afloat again)
This time an early start 5:30, but after 500 meters we are stuck, all people, except the kids, women and elderly, help out and after a good hours work we are moving again. I helped pushing the first boat and decide not to go back to push the bigger boat. Instead I go ashore to see what a village looks like from ashore. At that time I thought I better should not miss the boat, because life could be rather difficult in only my boxershorts and t)shirt. I returned to the river and swim to back to the little piroque. Unfortunately there is no shade on this boat and I am rather sunburnt when the the pinasse joins us. We get our hopes up of finally having overcome the last difficulty but this turned out in vain. Before lac Debo, some of our cargo is offloaded in two sailing piroques as the lake is even more shallow than the river. This does ofcourse help, but not enough. We have to push the 2 boats one after the other for large parts of the lake. After the lake we load back the earlier offloaded cargo and even get some extra from another ship. This really annoys us, as we already were heavy loaded. After this we start sailing again and there is hope we will sail on through the night, again idle hope, we are not allowed, we have no light. This time I try to sleep on the shore, I slept even worse than on the boat, so that I will not try again. In the morning we get stuck right away, the toubabs do not help as they are angry that the boat was loaded with extra cargo, while they knew the boats were already lying deep in the water. Without the help of the white the job gets done, so it is apparent that you can just do as well without them. Rest of the day no huge problems only stuck a few times. We see our first hippo, that is to say, a small part of his head and loads of birds. At night the toubabs go to a little village to see if they can buy some food, to eat something other than rice. We find no food but we are invited to sit with the locals. Tadhg gets even a little baby on his lap, that throws up over him and his bag. Soon after we decide to leave to another hut. There they have a radio that plays some music and I dance a while with a few girls and women. Afterwards we secretly eat pears from a can the Irish brought, delishes, a welcome change to the rice dishes. On Saturday we finally reach niafounke and the Irish go from board, I get all the remaining drinking water, as it is hard to predict how long the trip will take. At the same time a lamp is bought to enable night travelling. A new phenomenon appears, after an hour we have to stop because of to much wind. The wind creates waves and they collide with the side of the big pinasse and from there go into the lower piroque. I cover a large part of the gap between the boats at the front with a sleeping mat left behind by the Irish, to prevent the water from coming in over the side. The boat people do not think much of it and we keep on waiting. After an hour although the wind is still the same, but the water that comes in is less because of my litle screen. Gozou the guy in charge of the engine wants me to send a picture I took of him to his address, when I ask what his address is he does not know it. I am now the only toubab aboard and the boatpeople are involving me more in their affairs. I now get served tea when they have some, Seckou, who almost knows the alphabet wants me to teach him to read. I try to come up with easy French words but that is not that simple. Many are pronounced differently then they are written. Still it makes a lot of fun. I let Ba the son of the captain and his burkinese friend play with my fotocamera and they love it. I also take pictures of the crew and promise to send it to them. The 8 of them know of only 1 address I can send it to, but that ofcourse is enough.

On the last day of our voyage we encounter high winds causing our little piroque almost to sink. Again I covered the gap between the pinasse and the prioque again with the sleeping mat and an old blanket that was not used only the engine guy Gozu helped me as he desperately wanted to return to Mopti. After four hours of waiting we got going again although the wind had not seriously deminished. Still water was falling into the boat, but considerable less than before. At one stage the two boats had to be separated because tied together they could not pass the shallowness. When we left again with the boats next to each other, but without my screen a lot of water splashed in the piroque, making all the grainsacs wet. Then I had my greatest moment of the day. The captain ordered the other guys to make a screen as I had done. They left some space open at the front and when I wanted to cover that as well I got loads of help and was complemented on my work. I am curious if they will also use it in situations in the future aswell?
Finally late in the evening (Monday) we reached the harbour of Timbuctu, it is to late for me to go to Timbuctu and I decide to sleep one last night on the ship.

Djenne and Mopti a lot of mud

Up early to catch an early bus to Djenne to arrive before it gets dark. I am lucky and get a ride from a scooter to the busstation and he even does not want money for it, I am surprised and give him some anyway. I let me convince me to buy a ticket to Djenne at one office before the bus has arrived. This proved a stupid thing to do, as loads of busses of other companies arrived, but none for mine. After 4 hours my transport arrived, I deliberately do not say bus as it is a mercedes van. I had asked explicitly if it would be a bus and had pointed to one and they had confirmed. I am very angry and refuse to get in. After a long argument with not to many words, my knowledge of the French language is still very limited, I finally get in the van, but I am allowed to sit next to the driver, still I have to share my seat with a women with her child. I am sitting at the window, so I can stick my arm out of the window and catch some fresh hot air. The problem with the taxi vans is that they stop everywhere. If someone waves at the side of the road, the van stops and tries to get the person and/or his luggage aboard. My van is no exception to this rule and we stop often and long. We transported people, upto 24, wood for boats, aluminium roof parts, bags of rice, potatos and of course the normal luggage. They tried to let me pay extra for my bag but I refused and said I would carry it on my lap. Not to convenient, but this was a matter of princeples, after half an hour the driver allows me to put my bag on the roof free of charge, a little victory that increased comort as well. Still I could not enjoy the ride. Of course we arrived late at the destination, which was not Djenne, but Djenne carrefour, 30 km from Djenne. At 8 I could not find a taxi driver to bring me to Djenne unless I found 8 other people to join me to fill the peugeot 504. I arranged with a guy who had little shop in a shack that I could sleep there if I would not find a ride to Djenne. At 11 a taxi van arrived who went to Djenne and would drop me off at chez baba, the place I wanted to stay. For CFA2500 I got a place on the roof with view on the famous mosque and large other parts of the town. There were poles to tie my mosquito net to, so all was perfect.


Next day I walked through town, initially trailed by a guide. After a quarter of an hour I finnaly could make clear to him I did not want his services and would definitely not pay him. After the guy left I finally could enjoy the city. Around midday I had seen what was to be seen and tried to find a taxi out. In the central square I wrote down my name on a paper with a fellow coordinating the taxis and they would fetch me at chez baba when the taxi would be filled and ready to go. In chez baba I was invited to join a guy to have a great view of the mosque when the friday prayers were done. I went with him to the central square where he tried to arrange a place on one of the buildings facing the mosque. They owners would not let him and I said I did not want it anyway, expecting I would have to pay him in the end. I took some pictures from the mosque from ground level, when he told me that I had to pay CFA 500, because I had taken pictures of the mosque on a friday. I asked him to whom I should pay this and he pointed to an old man, just sitting on the square. I laughed at the guy and said he was telling nonsense and even the little boy sitting next to me he said he was lying. I returned to chez baba and waited the rest of the 3 hours, before we left to Mopti.


It took only 15 minutes before the engine broke down. The vehicules are not to modern, making repairs to it relatively simple and after half an hour we were moving again. Until Mopti we only had to stop twice more, once for another repair job on the engine. The other time was when we all had to get out of the car to cross the river on foot. Te car with only the driver was able to make it aswell. Before nightfall I was able to find mission catholique. Again I had chosen to stay with the catholiques as the previous stay with them pretty ok. Also this time I had to wait a long whil for the sisters, now they were all at mass.

Mopti like Djenne has many mudbricked buildings and I think the old town of Mopti is not much different then Djenne. I was happy that I had visited Djenne first or else it most likely would have been a disappointment.
In the mission Imet 2 nice German girls who had worked on an orphanage in Bamako for a month and had stayed with a local family. They had just visited Dogon country as a sort of holiday before going home. They were very nice company, unfortunately they went south again to visit Djenne, with the last of their money. This was the reason that they moved to an other hotel as that one was CFA 2000 cheaper a night and that was the difference for them to having diner or not. I regretted that, because I would not have mind to spent some more time with them. They left and to Irish guys came in. They wanted to go to Timbuctu by boat, like me. We decided to travel to gether and found one cargo pinasse who would take us. It set us back more than expected, but at least we would go. The boat would leave on monday at 10 in the morning. That ofcourse did not happen. It turned out that it only left the next day at that time, leaving Tony, one of the Irish, and me enough time to bring another visit to the local bar and have some beers (of 1 liter). I decided to sleep on the ship, Tadgh, the other Irish and Tony stayed for the night at the mission. Which was also good for me as I could shower there and get some fresh water.

Concert, swimming, football

At the station in Bamako we tried to arrange a taxi for the six westeners to the hotel, Mission Catholique. Of course it was not possible to have more than 3 passengers in 1 taxi, while normally they trie to cram 6 to 9 persons into 1 taxi, but ok. After a lot of negotiating, I arranged that 2 taxis would bring us for CFA 2000 per taxi. The high price was not a garantee for service. Our drivers had no clue of where the mission was, although they had admitted at the station, that they knew where it was. The wanted to drop us at the catholique church, I asked him if he expected us to pray at 2:30 in the night? They wanted to go no further and we did not want to pay. After investigation from us with local people we found out the directions and we were finally brought to our destination. We soon found out the mission only was open from 7 in the morning, so we decided to set up camp on a terrace in front of a bar opposite the mission. A neighbour borrowed us a mat to sit on and we shared our last food, before attempting a short sleep. I did not succeed in that, as I had to much trouble with the mosquitos. At 6:30 the Austrians returned to the station to fetch their bikes and all their other stuff as that had been in a cargo wagon and at night they would not open those, even a lot of complaining did not help. Although the mission opened at 7 we were only to check in at 11 as the sisters were in morning prayers and they were not to happy that the 2 girls slept with the guys. Eventually they made an exeption for us.

The next day at the evening we visited a concert in the national football stadium. Entry ticket was only CFA 1000 not much even for the Malinese, so no surprise it was crowded at the gates. One of Pauls new found friends guided us past the huge queues. I felt a little embarassed, but did not complain. At the gate we bribed a police officer with CFA 1000 to let us in. Unfortunately his superior did not allow us to enter this way and sent us back. The young officer felt obliged to perform for his money and forcefully made a hole in the queue for us. We got some angry looks, but we were in the stadium in no time. Inside the big stadium it became clear that the sound system would only be sufficiently strong enough for a middle sized bar. Which meant that when the 20,000 people were quiet we were able to hear a distant bass high up in the stadium. For me the music was not the entertaining part, but the crowd.They were great to watch, singing and dancing with teh playbacked music. Soon after we arrived the stadium ws full, but still a lot of people were waiting to get in. For a short while the police opened the gates to the ground terrain, causing a run for the gate. After half a minute they closed it again allowing only about 200 people to the pitch. Loads of people were hanging in the fences and gates ready to climb over when the right opportubity rose. The first people who climbed over were violently chased and beaten by the police, but did gave oppurtunity to others to climb over and quickly mix with the crowd aleady on the pitch. This game went on for the whole length of the event and was great to watch. Once in a while people were carried away to the ambulance to be brought to hospital. The ambulance would only start after being pushed for a fex meters. In due course thousands of people were on the pitch randomly attacked by police officers. Sometimes one officer had to be stopped by his colleagues, because he would not stop beating up a victim. At 12 at the the hight of the concert, with finally some live music, which we still could not hear, we left an ecstatic crowd of 30,000 spectators behind us. A great show! The last day in Bamako, the Austrians and I really spoiled ourselves with visiting a pool at a big hotel. The pool was nothing fancy, but it was nice to have a fresh dive and some lazy hours at the pool.

The next day by bus to Segou. I did not see much of the city. I had a short visit to the river Niger to watch the local women do the dishes half naked in the river and after that managed to get in a football game on a beautiful green grass pitch. I scored the first 3 goals and for those who know my goalscoring skills, they know the defence must have been pretty lousy. Despite the fact that we lossed, I was invited to join them for a game the next day. I did not accept, because I had planned to go to Djenne.

I am on it

It took a while but finally I could embark at the long awaited train. I entered in second class and I was shocked by the state the material was in. Seats fell apart, hugh gaps underneath the exit doors, everything very (very) dirty. Sometimes half of the seat was missing. Fortunately I had booked first class, I disembarked and walked to the front of the train. To my dismay things were not much better here. Though the car was devided in compartments, those still had to be shared by 8. I could stow my little bagpack overhead, but all other free space was occupied with all sorts of luggage of my fellow travelers. They took enormous amounts of luggage with them, ranging from sacks of potato to presents for the family abroad. If their strongest relative could carry it, they would take it. We were with 5 in our compartment, 2 older women who ocupied the whole other side with the 2 of them; a young woman (very good looking) with her child, occupying 3 of the 4 seats at my side and me occupying only the seat next to the isle. This was not all bad as I now could leave without trouble and, more important, stretch my legs into to hallway a bit. I had been looking forward to enjoying the views on the land while travelling through it. This could not be done by sitting in my seat, because the windows were to dirty to look through. For a view outside I had to stand in the aisle and look through the open window. I expected to catch some fresh air while standing there, this proved to be an incorrect assumption as the wind from outside was even hotter then the air inside.

The promised departure was 13:50, of course this was not met, actual departure was 17:00, so all in all a delay of 4 days and 7 hours, not bad on a lifetime. Although we left the station with an amazing speed of about 5 km per hour, I was relieved that we were finally going, I was fearing we would not leave at all. Soon our speed increased to 8 km/h and we reached Rufisque, 7 km from Dakar after one hour. This did not stay this way as we managed to reach Thies all ready after 3 hours and it lies at least 80 km from Dakar.

I tried to sleep a bit in my seat but did not succeed, to hot and to uncomfortable to sleep. At five at we stopped, because a cargo train ahead of us was derailed. When I found out at 7 I left the train to visit 2 guys from Burkina Faso, I met earlier, while waiting for the train at the station. We hung around the train in the shade and once in a while we bought some food or drinks frpm people of a nearby village, who used the occasion to earn some extra money. This was by far the best part of the traintrip. It was cool, loads of space and food, fresh drinks and nice people to share it with. Too bad we were not moving. At 12 we left, which was sooner than expected.

Later that day I found out I was not the only white guy (toubab or toubabou) on the train. I met my first non French Canadian, Paul. He was heading for Bamako to play the famous Malinese music and become a professional musician in Canada. He had taken the wise decision to to travel first class with a sleeper. He had been able to sleep well last night and only one other person was in his compartment.

At 19:00 we arrived in Tambacounda. Here 4 toubabs entered the train. Two of them ended up in my compartment, Alex and Michelle. Austrians on a 2 year bicycle journey from the north cape to the south cape. This was the first time they did not cycle to cover a distance with the exception of the boat from Sweden to Denmark. They proved very good company, but made our already full room, even more full.Since then I did not spend any time there anymore, but to get to my lukewarm water. I mainly stayed in the restaurant car. Do not think this was a luxurious place. It served a rice meal 3 times a day and you could get some cold beer and soft drinks. However it was better to get the food and drinks (cold bissap), from the local people at the stations where we stopped.

In the evening I saw 6 carriages lying upside down beside the track. Apparantly derailed once. All of a sudden more understanding for the at times excruciating low speed. During the second night someone came to fetch our pasports and put them in a plastic bag. We would have to retrieve them at the Senegalese border. Though I was sceptic about the efficiency, everything worked out smoothly. When stamped, they would call your name for s far they could pronounce it and you could collect it. The Mali customs officers came on board and checked passports while we were riding. Westeners should get their passports stamped in Keyes, the first stop in Mali. Stamping the document did not take more than 5 minutes, finding the place to get it stamped turned out more difficult. Luckily we made it back to the train before it left. Later that day I was not that lucky. I had bought an ice cold bissap and was talking with a lot of people, finishing with the guys from Burkina. When I started to look for some food, the horn of the train blew and the train set it self in motion. Before I could make it to the door of the last carriage 20 people were already hanging there to get in. I decided to run along side the train to a free door, but that was only to be found 5 carriages ahead. In full sprint I made it easily and jumped , under a loud sheer of the locals, onto the train.
The rest of the day not much happened. Although still not travelling with the speed of light, we arrived at Bamako at 2 at night.

A shitty start

Yesterday I met Julien again, I knew him from when I went for a visa at the Mali embassy, when I had just arrived in Dakar. Together we went to an expensive hotel to sit on the terrace at the shore. We both bought an expensive coke to be allowed to sit there. Afterwards we went together with Alioune, a local guy, to Ile de Ngor. On the island I met an Iranian woman and I asked her about the situation in her country. She advised me not to go as there still was a lot of aggression to white people. She could not provide me with an address to stay and to use to invite me to the country as she and all her family would be out the country in a few months. In the evening we ate at street at one of the many little stalls and afterwards I returned to the centre.

At the place I walk propably 10 times a day, two guys tried to rob me. At first they tried to sell me something, no idea what it was. When I said I was not interested one guy grabbed my right leg and hung onto it. The other one tried to grab my wallet from my front pocket of my pants. While I kept my left hand on my pocket I hit the guy on my leg with my right hand, yelling that they should get lost. After a few seconds, they saw that they were not succeeding and gave up their attempt. A bit shocked I followed my way to cybercafe. A now have removed my last bankcard from my wallet and put it also in my moneybelt, that is concealed in my pants. If they will ever steal my wallet, they will only have a small amount of cash, that is maximum the amount I usually spend in a day.

The next day I woke up with a light pain in my stomach and a strong urge to go to the toilet. Just when I put my feet on the floor I shit in my paints. One moment I considered running for the toilet down the hall to offload the reste of my waste, but I knew that then all would and up in my underpants. I have a sort of urinoir in my room and made a dash for it. Just in time I arrived to drop the rest of my waste products. With the immediate urges out of the way, I cleaned my underpants in the sink, hoping that all I left in the urinoir, would flush away from it self. Unfortunately that was not the case. As I had not the intention to stir my shit with my finger, I searched for something that would do the job. The only thing I could find was my bic pen and it worked marvelous. It took ten minutes before all was gone, but by then you could not see anything of the accident anymore. I will not be using the pen anymore, but it was a shitty pen anyway.

After two visits to the toilet, my bowels felt they had done enough and I left for my daily visit of the train station. Ofcourse I went first for a banana at the market, where they now know me as monsieur banana. At the station I was positively surprised, because they were able to tell me the train would most definitely leave tomorrow at 13:50. This seemed a bit exact as they previously were not even able to tell what day it would leave. Added to that I was allowed to buy a ticket for the train. I choose first class, but without bed. I hope now that the train really goes and it was all worth while. Time will tell.

Maybe Tuesday

Latest information about when the train will run is Monday, but it also might depart on Tuesday. I wonder how the local people know when to go to the station to take the train? May be it is written in the papers or in the news, all I know I go at least once a day to the station until it is Tuesday, if by then the train does not leave I will take the bus, the bus is faster anyway.

In the mean time I have started to try to do some programming for my cycling game on paidiagames.com. This is not very easy as I have to write everything on paper and have no way to test. I hope I can use it later on. It is a pity the only books I can buy here are in French, else I would buy some on programming. Now that is of no use as I am bad in programming and even worse in French. I have started buying Senegalese papers to search for train departures and practise my French, though. The paper only consists of 8 pages tabloid format, but still there was a piece on Marco van Basten, it seemed to have something to do with when to publish the final selection for the world championship football.
I had to write a piece for the Toeter, the lifestyle magazine of football club Ariston. I found it to hard to refuse as I had not much to do, but I hope Rob does not ask me again. Which is very likely as I was not very happy with the quality of my attempt.

No train today

ARGG, I now have been waiting for a week in Dakar for the train, does it seem it will not run tomorrow. Nobody really seems to know, but the most heard story so far is that the train is derailed. It might be that it will arrive today, but it will definitely not leave tomorrow, they tell me. As most people have other interests as well, like family with a bus company I still have a little hope. I will return to the station a few times today, luckily it is not far from the centre and my hotel. I now have to consider going by bus as it possibly might take 2 weeks before the next train (is the same train, they only have one) goes. I will keep you posted.

Waiting for the train

All days look the same here and much is not happening, but still I will try to write a short piece for you. I found out on Monday that the train to Bamako only goes once a week, on Saturday, if it goes at all. I decided to wait and that is what I am doing. My days start with waking late, paying for another night at the hotel and walk to the market to buy a banana. I now have bought so many times one banana with the same guy that I not even have to ask for it, he just hands me the banana and I hand him the 100 CFA. This reminds me of my lunching routine at ABN when I went to Arie van der Raa for sandwiches. After my banana I try to think of something to do for the day. I have visited Ile de Gorree 3 times, whichs happens to have Dutch ties. The name comes from Goede Reede and in the harbour lies a (very) small boat donated by the Dutch embassy. It is not very strange then that I feel very at home at the small Island. It is very quiet -no cars- and a little bit less hot than the mainland. Marcel a promising young Dutch writer, according to his publisher Bezige Bij at least, rents a room up there. With him I visited some of Dakars bars or clubs. He also lend me a book and his Lonely Planet of West Africa. It is nice for a change to speak Dutch and to enjoy some of the nightlife, although I have nothing exiting to tell about.

I also have visited an Island in the north Ile de Ngor. On this Island I was invited by locals to join them in eating their just caught fish. The fish were prepared in a little restaurant at the beach and we ate with our right hand. Although I never used to like fish, I am really starting to enjoy it. After that we drank a cup of Senegalese tea, strong but nice. Earlier at the beach one of the kids/young guys tried to sell me slippers. I refused to buy anything with my standard reason that I do not have space in my backpack. We chatted a bit afterwards and he came back to me every time he had tried to sell slippers to newly arrived guests on the island. He asked me if I was married, I denied, but told him I would search for a wife after my trip. I promised him if I met a Dutch girl I did not want for myself, but was blond, rich, not taller than 1.75m, I would recommend him as a very good husband. This must have impressed him, because when I wanted to take the bus into the centre he handed me a little money. First time it happened to me in Africa someone gave me money instead of asking for it. So ladies take your chance if you qualify, the young guy s name is Ousmane, he is almost 19 and his email is Ousmane_@yahoo.fr. He is the nice lad in the picture.

Tomorrow, Friday, I am going to try to get my train ticket. Do some shopping for the train trip, it is scheduled for 2 days, but easily can take longer. Also have to by some good anti mosquito stuff. The one I have now does not impress me and what is worse it does not impress the mosquitos either. Do not know yet what I am going to do about the malaria risk yet.

It is a pitty that there is no embassy of Niger or Chad up here. I had plenty of time to get a visa. Entering Niger might be a hassle as there is no embassy of Niger in Mali either, well I will see how it goes. I think I am going to visit Abdul, he sits at the corner of the street of my hotel and sells delicious baguettes with meat, vegetables, spagetti and hot sauce. May be not healthy, but very tasty, sorry mam, I will make up for it tomorrow.

Going south again

Although the first night I slept in a bed, I decided to change that again as I found the room to expensive and to smelly as a bathroom was included. This was one reason for the high price propably. There also supposed to be a warm shower, but I did not find any remotely warm water in the morning. They let me sleep on the roof terrace in the tent. Which I guess was in any way much better. Next night I did not sleep much better as I was too lazy to swap to another couch as the one I was lying on was tilted. What did not help either is that it stormed.

Also in Ifni is not much happening, although I met here a nice French girl, who spoke English and a very nice German guy, with who I drank some wine and beer. He brought it from Spain, when all what he had brought was gone, we tried our luck at the 2 bars of Ifni, but at 12 they al ready were closed. I managed to buy a bottle of wine though, which we emptied in my room. With the German, Kai, I went on a short tour through the surrounding hills, with his 4x4. On one of the hills I was attacked by a dog, it did not manage to really bite me, but still it left an impression and it hurt too.

Kai had plans to repair his car in Ifni, but it turned out, he did not like the price they asked for two new doors, so he decided, after consulting with me, to leave as soon as possible to the south. We had decided earlier that I would join him until Dakar. So we left March-6, midday and headed south, for a trip of about 2000k through the desert. At 2:30 at night we stopped for a sleep at the beach near Dakhla. Kai slept in the car, I next to it in the sand. Around 12 we left Dakhla, after some coffee, the purchase of food and the attachment of the 2 number plates to the car at a mechanic shop. Until now the plates had been taped behind the windows, but the police always was clueles about their whereabouts and were always stopping us because of this and because of the strange shape of the car of course.

Leaving Morocco was not that difficult, nor entering Mauritania, it was getting from one country to the other that caused some problems. There was a strip of no-one’s land with no roads only sand and rocks. Although we had a 4x4 car we got stuck in the deep sand. We had to move the sand to get the car driving again. With the help of a local we managed to find the border post of the Mauritanians. At night we arrived in Nouakchott and we slept in a tent at an auberge, which was quite nice, because the wind could cool us a bit. During the day it had been about 45 degrees Celcius in our non air-conned car.

In the morning we had breakfast at the auberge and after that we left for the border to Senegal. Kai had the idea not to cross the border at Rosso, which looked like the logical place to cross, but more to the west, where we could use the bridge instead of the ferry. According to Kai there was a lot of hassle in Rosso. It must have been really bad in Rosso, because the place where we tried to cross, they tried to squeeze money out of us at every occasion they could think of. We had to cross a national park, pay; cross a town, pay; pass the customs at the Mauritanian side, pay; pass the police post at the Mauritanian side, pay; cross the bridge, pay; pass the police at the Senegalese side, pay; pass the customs at the Senegalese side, pay. We also had to buy insurance for the car in Senegal. Because our tactic for not paying/lowering the amount was just walking out of them and wait till they came back to us, it took a rather long time before we were on the move again, but the tactic was pretty effective.

We arrived in Dakar at night. The first hotel was very expensive, the second I found was half its price and with much less comfort. I decided to go for the low price. In the price included was the easy access to hookers, as the hotel is used as a brothel. It did not bother me though. All the women were very friendly anyway. It was a shame I had to part from Kai, as I really liked to travel with him, but he had to go further south and I thought the train trip to Bamako would be really cool.

I wanted to go by train from Dakar to Bamako by train as soon as possible. Because I thought Dakar not that appealing partly because of the high prices. At the train station I heard that the next train would leave on Saturday, 2 days away. The only thing I needed was proof of vaccination against the yellow fever if I were to use the train to enter Mali. I knew I was vaccinated, however did not bring my vaccination booklet. The guys at the station knew a guy in town who would be able to provide me with such a document, for proper reward of course. I was brought there and in 5 minutes I was vaccinated against yellow fever and cholera at least on paper. It only cost 2500 CFA’s, so that was not bad at all. Now hope it works. Of course I also needed a Mali visa, unfortunately the embassy was already close when I arrived on Thursday. On Friday I was in time, but then they told me the visa would only be finished on Monday. I could not speed up the process in any way. So now I am going to take the Tuesday train.

A day at the beach

My appearance must be very gay as I am often asked to act in that direction. Also in dignity I was invited to some sexual activity with a person of my sexe. At first I did not really understand what he was talking about. He spoke French and my knowledge of the language is "petit". When he made an effort to touch my dick and made some moves of what he liked to do with it, I grasped what he was talking of. I declined his generous offer and was happy I was close to my hotel. Earlier I was followed by a guy who wanted to arrange a marriage for me with a girl who needed it to get into fort Europe. He offered 4000 Euros. Also this offer I declined, but if anybody (boy or girl) is interested, let me know and I will set you up with this dude.

When I arrived at Mirleft by grand taxi, sharing the front passenger seat, I was a bit disappointed. I had expected a town at the beach but a beach could not be found. After walking half an hour to the sea I saw little pieces of sand between the rocks. This were not the beaches I was aiming for. After another half an hour I stumbled into something that resembled my view of a beach. It was not very crowded, which is fine, but I was hoping to meet people, only an elder Belgian couple was present with a camper. I headed back to town to have a late lunch. I also investigated how much a room would cost in a hotel. I thought this to be too expensive and decided to sleep on the beach. After buying some food and water I returned to the beach. A few kids now were playing football and invited me to join. They were technically skilled enough, but did not know much about tactics. Had a good time though, but after 2 hours, when most had left, I decided to quit. By now a bunch of Germans arrived with 4 campers and I invited myself to there little carnavals party even had some beer, which tasted good, but mainly because I did not have any for a month. At 11 party was over and I went to my sleeping place which turned out to be 10m, on the beach. Ofcourse I had not prepared anything, so I dropped at the first spot I did not feel, it was rather dark, too many rocks, although the little flashlight Iljoesja gave me just before I left Delft was very usefull. It took some time before I fell asleep, but was wakened rudely by rain at about 2. I gathered all my stuff around me and hid underneath my big raincape. This worked very well, but did not allow me to sleep. After an hour or so I took all up and walked to a nearby cave, where a Moroccan permanently lived. When I arrived I found out there were 2 caves and I took the one he was not in.

I was awaken by a German to invite me for a hot drink, which I accepted of course. Rest of the day I did not do much but reading and talking with other people on the beach.Although the sky still was not cloudless I tried another night at the beach, again the rain woke me up. Again I put all my stuff under the cape, now I had prepared for it so it went much faster than the night before. After only half an hour it was dry and I could go back to sleep. Later I was woken, again by water, this time the one already on the ground, the tide was coming in. Although at first still not to close, soon one wave came to about 10 cm of my feet. Time to climb a little higher. Unfortunately the surface was very rocky and I could not catch any sleep. So when the sea returned the land to me I went back to my old spot, which had not been flooded anyway, so was still dry (it had been for a large part under my cape, when it rained). It turned out that I was lucky that I had not slept in the cave, because this one was badly flooded.

In the morning the germans left and so did I. In Mirleft I met an Englishman, Dominic, giving me loads of advice about traveling in Africa and Asia, he also told me about a great spot about 9k south. When I arrived, the 2 people he described who would be there, were. I shared some of my bread, water and oranges with them and they gave me some hot tea. I could sleep in a room of a deserted house. To Hassan who spoke English, I gave one of my English books, because I no longer wanted to carry it and I had heard from Dominic he was reading English. In the evening not much to do but read by the candle light, from the candles I just bought. Good nights sleep, without worries about rain or tide. Only that the floor was rather hard.

For breakfast I was invited by another fisherman in his cave. I had tea and bread with oil which was quite nice. I put in my last orange. Before returning to Mirleft had a long walk south on the coastal rocks.

In Mirleft I ran into Dominic for the second time while I was drinking the very sweat Moroccan mint tea. Dominic had finished reading his book and I still had one to spare so we traded. For the moment he convinced me to going south into Mauritania and Mali, but I might change my mind as I have done so often on this subject lately. I made one litle effort in this direction I took the bus to Sidi Ifni, where I indulged myself by allowing me to sleep in a bed this time. I think I will stay here for a while, although there is not much to do or see, that actually suites me just fine right now.

Hatless

Arggh, I did it again. This time I accidentaly pushed a switch that cut the power to my pc, all my work gone. I should admit I have wisened up a bit, as I now save quite often, but apparently not often enough. As I began with earlier that I was not to enthousiastic to start updating my log, but the longer I wait the more work it will be, I now can confide in you that I have even less enthousiasm left. So bewarned readers, this most likely will not be a very good piece for reading. Fortunately not much happened since my last report, so it should not take me that long to type.

I left you in Ouarzazate and that is what we also did after a day, because there was not much to do, except for arranging a camel (dromedar) trek in the dessert (!), which is what we did. At 10 to 5 in the morning we arrived at the busstation to head for Zagora, so we were 10 minutes early, unfortunately our bus was 1 hour and 45 minutes late. Great start of the day. What I would do when I was late, I would try to make up for it, this is something they will not do here. They acted still as if they were half an hour early. Eventually we arrived in Zagora were we tried to get a grand taxi to MHamid our dromedar ride starting point. Finding the taxi was easy, getting it filled to the max was more difficult. After half an hour we had 4 passengers, still one shy, we agreed to split the cost between the 4 of us. In the end we, Fede and I, were the ones turning up for the cost, but what else is new. An other slight problem was that the other passengers did only want to go halfway of MHamid. We decided to leave anyway and deal with the problem when it happened. In the end there was no problem as halfway there were plenty of people to share a cab with us. Who would not, how often can a Morrocan share a cab with two fine western male specimen as we? Although all that went well, I was so unlucky to lose my Nepalese hat in one of the cabs or around it. When I found out in MHamid I searched the 2nd cab but to no avail. A day later in Zagora I visited the taxi stand but ofcourse no hat. If by any chance one of you sees a Moroccan wearing a big blue Nepalese hat, my hat, please retrieve it for me and I will be in your debt forever.

In MHamid we soon found our man and after handing over the Dirhams we were set to go. The dromedars were waiting, only our guide could not be found. After a lot of calling a little kid was found to lead us into the desert. We mounted the ships of the desert and followed the guide who was on foot. (My first disapointment) We first walked through a wasteland of sand and plastic bags (second disappointment) before we reached someting that resembled anything that I imagined to be desert. After an hour and a half we reached our final destination (third disappointment) and from here you could still see the village (fourth disappointment). Our little guide set up camp while we disapointedly climbed the highest dune in the neighbourhood to have a good look around us. While our little guide was busy, the dromedars were eating bread, which should have been served with our tajine. To illustrate how far we were from the inhabitated world, the kid used my phone to call a little friend to bring some new food. The desert bread delivery guy came within the hour and left, propably to visit some other clowns in the desert who also lost their meal to the dromedars. After watching a beautiful sunset and a good meal we went to sleep in the tent. At 6 (holiday is worse than working, I usually never get up so early let alone 2 days in a row) we got up to watch the sunrise. We were way to early and the horizon was cloudy anyway so I slept for 2 hours at the top of the dune. Had breakfast and then went back in a sandstorm to MHamid. Although my companion did not like it, I enjoyed the fact that you hardly could see anything and that finally the feeling came that I was in the middle of nowhere. After a long bus ride we came back to Ouarzazate, where still not much was happening. Some famous movies have been shot here though (viewers question nr1, name 3?)

The next morning, again early, we went to nearby Ait Ibn Hadou to watch a beatiful old village with kasbah. Although a bit polluted by a busload of tourists arriving just ahead of us, it was very nice and at the top of the hill quiet as the elder people, who seem to populate those busses did not have the stamina to climb up that far. Later that day we returned to Marrakech through the high Atlas which was hard enough because of the snow that had fallen during the night.
Essaouira was our next destination and the place were Fede and I would part (snif). He had to go back to Holland and I had to stay in Morocco, as I had burdened myself with this dreadful journey to Indonesia. I had hoped it would be possible to go east through Africa and then north to Turkey. This seems to be nearly next to impossible and it seems I have to go back to Europe first before I can head east. If anyone has a better solution please let me know. I prefer not to go back to Europe but stay in Africa.

After 2 nights in the relaxed beach town Essaouira (viewers question nr 2 name the famous movie shot here?) with its beautiful bastion facing sea, I have gone south again this time to the town Tiznit, which I most likely will change for Mirleft tomorrow, about 40 km away from here.

The people who answer both questions correctly before March 1, I will honour by sending them a postcard (If I know the address) Isnt that a great price?

Puke, prostitutes and diarrhoea

After Fes I took the train to Meknes, also one of the imperial cities, but not as large as Fes. In the train I met Fedde, an Argentine, who currently works in The Hague. We got along quite well so we decided to travel together for a while. We found a nice hotel in the Medina after which we started to wander through the little streets, after a couple of hours we stumbled into a kid with a ball and we played football with him. Soon another joined and another. At first we were just passing the ball to each other, later 1 was in the middle to capture the ball after more people were joining, also adults 2 were to capture the ball. We decided to play a game of 4 against 4. The team who scored remained on the pitch, the losers were replaced. Fede and I played together with the é kids we originally started playing with. And we seemed to be an unbeatable combination. At first the teams were not to good, but as they failed to score against us they gathered better players to beat us. After 1 hour they succeeded, but I like to blame it on our fatigue. After 1 game we had to play again, which we did, but our fire was gone and we quit after half an hour. We made a photo of our team, then the father of the youngest came to me with his address to send the picture to. He was very proud his kid had done so well. I have some problems with getting the pictures out of my camera though so it might take a while before he gets it.

In the evening we had a wonderful meal in a restaurant, which really was some ones home, it tasted good, and the atmosphere was nice as well. After that went to bed as we both were very tired.

Feb-18 my plan was to go to Volubulis an old roman city in ruins. However Fede did not feel like it and as I always can go to it later I decided to join him on his trip to Marrakech by train, which took 7 hours. Here most tourists can be found, but still it is worthwhile to go here, as it is really a live place and lots to see. Although we have not succeeded in discovering a proper nightlife. Saturday night we made an attempt to find any nightlife (girls) and went to a nightclub. We were early so the club was a bit empty. There was alcohol, which we ordered in the form of caiperinas, which cost more than one night in our hotel, but so often we are not to enjoy the Marrakech nightlife. Then it struck us that all the people around were very beautiful women, hmmm. Normally not a problem, on the contrary, but this could mean only one thing, they were at work. The place we were had apart from a bar also a room where you could dance, but it opened only later. We decided to leave the place for a teahouse (best alternative) nearby to return when the dancing opened, to hopefully find some normal women. Alas, when we returned, also there the only women present had to be paid for, although now much more men were present. By the way some of the girls really knew how to dance. So after a while of watching I decided I had been idle enough and entered the dance floor. Usually I get some female attention (I did not say positive:-), but now I did not get any, probably it was quite clear I was not to spend any on them. We went back to the hotel quite early that night.

The next day we stayed in Marrakech and did not much but being lazy and sitting on terraces. Apparently this is not good for me as I got a stomachache and went to bed early. Unfortunately I could not stay there for long as I had to run to the nearest (I could have chosen a different one as well of course) toilet to start a waterfall from my behind. This activity repeated itself about every 15 to 30 minutes. Much of sleep I did not get. In the middle of the night I also had to throw up and the only appropriate place to drop it was the sink. This of course was not ideal, as the chunks tend to block the holes. So I had to stir my own puke to let it walk away. I had hoped I would feel better afterwards, who would not, but I did not. I was a bit worried because we would take a bus at 8:30 in the morning. I decided to take some diarrhoea blockers and they worked wonder well. I had no problem for the whole trip to Ourzazate.

I am still lagging but will update soon.

In god he trusts

In the evening I met Adam again on the top of the hotel, I had spoken with him before I went on my little trekking. He invited me to come along with him, to visit some fellow Quebecians in restaurant nearby. The food was excellent and the company as well. Played a game that very much looked like ‘mens erger je niet’, but was slightly more complicated, but not less frustrating. We played one game until 2, but did not finish it. Funny that I now never drink alcohol as the restaurants do not serve it. Lots of hasj though, but I do not smoke.

Next day I went with the bus to Fes. This is the cultural capital of Morocco. The medina is gigantic. Actually it is a bit to big for me, you have to walk such distances.When you get lost it takes so long before you know again where you are, that easily an hour has passed. Luckily I brought my compass. The tip I got from Adam to always walk up, when lost also works well, as at that end are the most ports.

Something really unexpected happened last night. Someone tried to convert me. That in itself is not so strange in a land of muslims, but someone, my roommate, tried to convert me to Christianity. I had told him that I did not believe in a god, although I was raised as Christian. He showed me parts from the bible to give proof of gods existence and to show why I need him. My opinion is that I can do without him, his was that I could not. We discussed about 2 hours, but he would not stop. The problem was that he was lying in the bed next to me. Even when I wished him good night he came with questions to prove me wrong. Eventually he shut up. He is not unfriendly guy though, but he is a professional converter and that prohibits him to talk about other things longer than 10 minutes.

hasj and hassle

After Malaga I tried to visit an uncle who lives in Fuengirola just south of Malaga. Unfortunately he just had moved within the same city. Both my brother and my father sent me his latest address unfortunately it was not exact equal but good enough to go with I thought. First setback was that the street did not exist only a name of builing in a newly developed area had close resemblance. I decided to go there but when I arrived the building was not even there. At the bottom of the hill they told me it is at the top, at the bottom they said the opposit. As it was very hot and I was carrying all my stuff up and down the mountain I decided to go to the beach instead. After some time I had enough of that and headed for the centre to catch a bus to Algeciras, the port to Marocco. The bus was about to leave when I arrived, but I did not yet have a ticket, I asked them to wait which they did to my surprise as my ticket acquisition did not go very fast. In Algeciras there were lots of cheap hotels and easy to find too. So I quickly could check out the centre. It was quite nice and lots of people in the street as it was friday evening. I sat on a plaza till 10 while I updated my logbook (this azerty keyboard in combination with arabic settings wont let me write all the symbols I want and once in a while it shifts to arabic I write this in wordpad by the way, no word on this machine) Sometimes I find a symbol by accident eg the ( is the symbol you get by pressing the 5 key at the top of the keyboard.

Ok after the short intermezzo I continue. The next morning I took the boat to Tanger, it was scheduled to leave at 11, but left at 12, was ok for me, but an American guy who just went on a day trip to Tanger was less happy with it. Then it also took 3 quarters of an hour to pass passport control, so he had to go back in just 2 hours to catch his 9 oclock train to Sevilla. I did not have that problem. As I bought a lonely planet of Morocco I did not even have difficulties in finding a good place to stay, a youth hostel this time. What they warn you for when you arrive in Tanger is people who want to guide you through the city for a certain fee of course. I met my guide right in front of the hostel, he said he was not guide, but wanted to offer me a good impression of Tanger as so many people where hassleing and giving a negative view on Morocco and Tanger. I was his student he said, a friend. Fine with me, but I told him that when we were done I would not give him money, he agreed. Of course 1 hour later when I had enough of it and said I would start exploring on my own, he asked for money. Then I reminded him what I had said earlier. Because he really had shown me stuff I would not have on my own I gave him something. This happens all the time in Morocco, people give you something that you do not want (usually a service) you do not ask for and then charge you money, very annoying. Apart from that, in Tanger I was asked every 50 meter if I wanted hasj, I felt like being back in Amsterdam. When I walked back after an excellent dinner for just 46 dirham (about 4.60 E) I was caught up by a very friendly guy, we talked a little and had a moroccan tea, which is very very sweet and has the leafs floating in the glass. He then told me he was a drugstrafficker and that his family had a hasj farm. He invited me to his farm to see what it looks like and maybe I could find some customers in Holland for him for a couple of kilos. I decided not to go although the offer obviously was tempting.

Instead I took the bus to Chefchaouen. This also was great fun. In Tetouan a man entered the bus with a huge bag full of Kif, I learned when he opened it to put it under the seats, also under mine as I was in the last row and in the overhead storage. When he just finished stowing it out of sight an other guy entered with even more stuff, this time in boxes. They could not really hide it but they put in on the bus anyway. They were a bit nervous and sweating but all went well. The moneycollector of the bus, wanted to be compensated naturally, which happened as with a man siiting next to me who had to hide a box between his legs. When we finally started moving again a girl in front of me was having problems with travel sickness. She asked for a bag which she filled in due course. However she threw away the sack, when she thought she was done. Unfortunately she did not ask for a new empty one, when the second delivery came all was spilled on the floor. No problem, the bus boy put a paper over it stepped a few times on it, no more problem, luckily I was at my destination in 10km.

In Chefchaoun I found a nice hotel in the middle of the medina. The first few times I had a lot of trouble finding it back. First time I wandered around for 3 quarters of an hour, before finding it. Now I know my way (a bit) in the Medina and it does not take me that long anymore, when I start at the Kasbah. Yesterday and today I did a trekking through the mountains. Was very nice again an uninvited guide walking with me for the whole trek, obviously he wanted money for his services. I did not want to upset him to much as I walked through the regions of his family and amigos. The first 4 hours of the trek were the hardest as I had to climb from 200m to 1800m, the last bit even through the snow. What was funny was that my wannebee guide was only wearing showering slippers on his feet, chilly. Going down was even worse as that side of the mountain is always in the shade, so much more snow. At 2 we reached at nice gite where I stayed and my wannebee guide aswell. The owner was very friendly and we spoke the rest of the day with hand and feet, in spanish, french and english. Good fun. Food was excellent as well. Next day no big climbs, mainly down. At one point I was scared shitless as I had to descend on a 20 cm wide ridge with next to me on my right 50m down absolutely nothing, this only tho get a beautifull picture of a natural bridge. After that just strolling to Achour where I shared (with 5 other passengers plus a little child) a grand taxi (old mercedes) to Chefchaouen, where I am now, staying in the same hotel as earlier.

I cheated, I took the train

It has been only a few days since I last reported here, but in a short time a lot can happen. In my case not much happened, but to not give you the feeling I have forgotten about you, here is a small update.

I now am in Malaga and have not much done here, except for searching a proper place to sleep. Taco advised me to go to Picasso´s corner but after a long search I still had not found it. Later it became clear that the hostel was just in a move. Of course I do not carry maps or things like that so Taco´s second pick I could not find. Loads of different hotels in the area, but they were all too expensive in my view. Well I eventually settled for the Hotel Carlos V. Above budget and an awful room, but finally a place to drop my heavier backpack than was intended while it only has room for 35L. Today I searched for a new one, a hotel that is. Taco´s second pick was full, I now have a map, so I am in a dodgy place called Rosa´s Pension, I have not seen Rosa though, but as she is not so big she is of course hard to spot. Today I was at the beach where I met a guy, we spoke for a while and I asked him where he stayed, he told me he is in Rosa´s Pension as well. What is the chance of that? (My econometric friends do not have to answer that).
Today is really a computer day as this is already the second time I am in an internet café, earlier I have worked on correcting an error in my wielerspel tool for paidiagames.com (a little bit of advertisement for our site) . That is all right as I do not think Malaga to be an exiting place, although sitting in the sun with a beer is accommodated in abundance here.

Feb-07 I travelled by train from Barcalona to Cordoba. I took about 10 hours but this was ok as I could recapture some sleep, as I had to get op at 6:30 to catch the train. Also I could finish my just acquired book “The Shadow Of The Wind” by Carlos Ruiz Zafon. A book I really can recommend. It is about a boy whose father lets him chose any one book he likes from a secret library, but he then has to promise to take care of the book for the rest of his life. The boy chooses the book “The Shadow Of The Wind” by Julian Carax. Soon he becomes aware that quite a few people are interested in this book. He wants to know more about the book and its writer and because of this he gets in quite some adventures. So far this week book review.


When I arrived in Cordoba I started to doubt if this city was worth visiting. I thought I recalled that it had a beautiful old city, but I could no where find it. After walking for half an hour I finally caught a glimpse of an old wall. Still I was not impressed, but after a few blocks I was caught in a maze of beautiful streets. It was breath taking. Added to that I bumped into very nice old hostal, “El Portillo” it had only 7 rooms. The owners lived on the ground floor, the guests on the next. On the Feb the 8th before going to Malaga again by train I wandered through the old city and visited the mezquita/cathedral. It was huge! Not high but an enormous floor with I guess about 800 pillars carrying the ceiling. I did not read anything about the building, but I guess it at first was created by the Moors and after that turned into a church. What at first also struck me in Cordoba, were the orange trees. I am not used to seeing oranges just hanging in trees let alone in every street. They also are in Malaga and they may have also been in Barcalona and although I am now quite used to them, they still beats just regular Dutch trees.

Last time I wrote I was in Barcelona, I did not do much there either, visited the regular tourist spots, Parc Guell, Segrada Familia, not to Camp Nou, sounds a bit like treason to my football hobby, but I always can return ofcourse. Like Cordoba Barcelona is so clean and neat, that really impressed me. What I also notice is that the sun makes life so much better and friendlier at least in the places I visited so far. People are just strawling around, drinking something on a terrace. Life looks so much better in the sun. So I suggest instead of raising taxes or medical costs lets raise temperatures in Holland

Off we go

The second time I start now with writing this first post, it will obviously be different and propably be shorter (and I hope better). Previously I was typing directly in the editor of the blog and when I thought I was smart to copy all what I had typed in word to save it, it all disappeared miraculously. So here we go again.

As the above already makes clear I do not always know what I am doing, just hoping everything works out. This is true for this page, I have not practiced with it as for the whole trip, no plan, no preparations. Here come the first few days.

On feb-3 I finally left Holland, much later than promised, but ok I am gone now. My first ride was only from Oosterhout to Breda but it got me on the way and I now was on the road to Antwerpen, my first planned destination, or at least direction, on a petrol station. The advantage of a petrol station is that you can ask people to take you with them and strangely enough you are much faster moving again. The next person who took me on board was an ex army guy who now worked for a company as information security manager. We spoke the whole trip from Breda to Lyon and we even touched upon Sarbane-Oxley and Basel 2, which brought back my ABN-time which looks much longer ago than 2 months. I had decided I would sleep in Lyon, unfortunately I was dropped of 20 km north and was not very successful in getting a ride for the last km to Lyon. Finally 2 Dutch girls and guy would bring me to Lyon, however the girl who was driving, kept following tom-toms instructions and tom-tom did not want to go to Lyon. After missing a couple of exits they dropped me of at the airport and I managed to get a bus to Lyon centre. I text messaged my brother for some advice on cheap hostels, but when he responded I already had chosen another. This strategy helped me enormously the next day in Barcelona, as I then got the info in time.

After a breakfast at the Rhone in freezing conditions I got on my way to Montpellier. Arie, a housemate in Delft, had told me he had friends there and that I should stop by when I was in the neighborhood. It was on my route south so it seemed like a good idea. My French ride, with whom I had a hard time communicating (I should have paid more attention in French class at school), let me out of the car after Montpellier on the autoroute. I now had no chance to go to Montpellier. I decided to try to get a ride to Barcelona with one of the many truckers. I was lucky and a Spanish guy was nuts enough to let me in his truck. He did not speak much other language than Spanish and I hardly speak Spanish, however we managed to have a good time, although 90% of what was said was lost. This propably was the reason why I left the truck on an awful spot. I walked past a dark road for about 5 km before I came in a town, where I met 2 very nice people who showed me the way to metro station with which I got in the centre of Barcelona, where I am now. Today I have walked through the city as I will tomorrow and then I think I will take a train or bus south as I am hardly able to communicate in Spanish. That is all for now. Hope you are not already asleep.