Day 2 - Monday, July 19th, 2004

A day of a few disappointments and a lot of exhaustion but in the end we have a plan for getting to Mali!

The night was not all that pleasant with my not getting any sleep due to the heat and noisy fan though I was up early for breakfast, having had a shower I waited for the others to arrive. Eventually they emerged and we had our rather spartan breakfast of bread, butter and jam along with the hot drink of our choice (mine being hot chocolate that was a powder that I poured into hot milk that they supplied).

After breakfast I spent a bit of time sitting on the end of the pier looking down into the clear waters of the harbour. I really like Gorée – it has to be one of my most favourite places to visit. Eventually Sue and Chris walked around to join me with the promise that tomorrow we would go in for a swim as the waters look so inviting though Chris seems to have forgotten his swimsuit so will have to use his underwear. I have suggested that we all pitch in a bit of money to avoid this situation and buy him a swimsuit. I was pleased to hear that Sue and Chris seem to be loving Gorée. This is their first visit to the island having visited Dakar previously they never got to the island itself.

We caught the 10:00 ferry to Dakar then immediately headed over to the train station since we had read earlier that the tickets for Wednesday's train to Mali go on sale on Monday mornings. Having arrived at the station there were no schedules posted nor any information of any kind around (as normal) so we asked a porter who told us that the Wednesday train was not running though the Saturday train was running. Anne came back from talking to the station manager with the same information. Oh dear. We had been planning on catching that train to Bamako having been told it is one of the last great train journeys in Africa but it seems that this will have to wait since none of us can really afford to stay in Dakar until Saturday. Our alternatives to the train include taking a bus or flying (though flying is so expensive this is really a last resort).

Well, having found out about the train, we wandered across Dakar to visit the Malian embassy our guidebook indicated was opposite the cathedral. To visit Mali every visitor must have a Visa. Visas are issued in only a few places, those being a Malian embassy (like the one in Dakar) or, if you arrive by plane, at the Bamako airport. The fee is quite high and the Visa is good for a month.

Dakar is much as I remember it – busy and crowded though with less of the hassle on the street than I remember from my last visit. I was thankful to find that the bank machines accepted my Visa as I had not been able to get as much cash (local currency being the CFA) before I left The Gambia as I would have wanted. Eventually we wound our way through the streets to the cathedral only to learn that the Malian embassy has moved. A friendly gendarme informed us that it was now located near to the university – a number of miles away. None of us really knew were this was so we got a taxi trip to the embassy which turned out to be quite some distance up the road that runs along the top of the cliff on the west coast of Dakar. The taxi driver was quite good and charged us the flat rate that seems to be the norm here in Dakar now (much different from the free-for-all rates I was charged the last time I tried to get a taxi in Dakar).

The Malian embassy is a rather modern building with the unfortunate attribute of not having an obvious entrance. Eventually we took a chance on a mirrored door (the only obvious one) in what looked like a car park that turns out was the correct decision. Asking a guard we were directed down a stark white corridor to where we were told we could get our Visas. Assuming that the door marked “Secretarial Pool” (or some such) was the correct place (there being no other alternatives) we poked our heads in to find two people sat behind desks busy going through various paperwork: this was the right place. Getting the application forms we set about attempting to fill them in. The funny thing was, this being a country where French is the official language (Senegal) and the fact that we were going to yet another French country (Mali) the application form was completely written in French! Oh dear. Through a serious of good guesses and group consensus we were able to complete the forms though by the end we were making some pretty shaky guesses…Oh well, I am sure they will get the idea. We returned to the room to submit our applications along with the requisite photos (2), our passports and fee (22,500 CFA) after which we were told to come back tomorrow to pick them up. I never like to leave my passport somewhere but we were not really given too much of a choice. Anne and Chris had a bit of trouble since their photos were computer printed which the receptionist did not seem to appreciate (she seemed to like the feel of the paper of Sue and my “real” photos). After assurances that we would return tomorrow with “proper” photos for Anne and Chris we asked about the bus to Mali that we had been hearing about, we were given a phone number, street name and told the office was located “somewhere near Sandaga” (well, we assume that is what was said). Sandaga being a bit area of the city this was going to be a challenge.

Always up for a bit of adventure, we set out to Sandaga in search of this mysterious bus company. It was going to be an interesting search. Beginning first at the Sandaga “Gare Routière” (the obvious place to start, it being the place where the bush taxis and various buses leave from) we found a helpful gentleman who pointed us in a general direction which we followed passing by various factories making clothing (bringing a bit of recollection from me from my adventures in this area with Ben and Kate during my first visit). We attracted a fair amount of interest as we tried to quickly out-distance our followers as they attempted to attract us into their fantastic shops and see their fantastic goods. Eventually we had to ask directions from various individuals along the way who, slowly but surely, got us to where we needed to be, correct road, no sign of any bus company. Walking along we were discouraged to find that the road ended in a rather busy intersection of a number of other roads. Never ones to give up we visited a telecentre to make a telephone call, one that I got nominated to make despite my assurances that my French was not something that could adequately order a Coke never mind find directions to a bus company in a city where none of us had any amount of real knowledge of and one in which building numbers are a rarity. Nonetheless after dragging Anne into the telephone booth with me and puzzling over what was being said on the phone with her for a few minutes we managed to figure out a street number the gentleman on the phone assured us would be the correct place (23). Of course, it took a good number of minutes to get that far after “Quelle numero notre bureau?” and “L'autobus pour Mali?” evoked responses of “Huh?” or “Je n'comprende pas”. I didn't think my French was THAT bad.

Down the street which was full of traders – large open-front rooms with goods piled to the ceiling and small rooms leading here and there visible at the back – we eventually found were we had been directed where we were then directed to somewhere else just down the way (after another hurried conversation in rather broken French/English/arm-waving/impressions of buses). Eventually we found a man who looked rather stunned that we were asking such questions but nonetheless went towards the back of his shop/warehouse (past the rather large bags full of something quite aromatic and quite obviously dead) to pull out a book of tickets where the blessed words “Dakar - Kayes” were written. We had found it. Of course, this being a bit of a comic opera, fate would have that we either left tomorrow (obviously, leaving no time to pick up our visas), Wednesday or on Friday (which was quite a few days away). We agreed that we wanted to leave Dakar as soon as possible since it is so expensive so we said to the gentleman that we would think about it as we headed off down the road to get something to eat. All this exploring had made us quite hungry (and tired).

After winding our way through the confusing mess of streets and avoiding the traffic who seemed to be oblivious to our presence though studiously avoiding the rubbish, and other vehicles that blocked their paths at most opportunities we made it to Ali Baba's which is my favourite Chawarma (quick definition: middle east pita sandwich containing shaved meat, sauce, onions, various spices and chips/French fries) place in Dakar. We managed to grab a waiter in the very busy (non-air conditioned) restaurant and placed our order and drinks (gingembre which turned out to be a very hot ginger drink – quite tasty actually). It was 1:50 and we were already getting quite hot and exhausted after our morning adventures through the streets of Dakar.

We agreed that the next plan of action in our search for Malian transport would be to check out the plane prices and to get the photos the Malian embassy seemed determined to acquire. Walking along the street we eventually found a “Kodak” photo place that was able to do the photos as myself and Sue waited. Eventually after returning from their foray to the back room (actually up a spiral staircase) Anne and Chris returned displaying the fruits of their purchase with my commenting that Chris looked something like a fugitive having not shaved today. We headed out and slowly walked back down Avenue Pompidou towards Place de L'Independance where there are a large number of travel agents (along with banks). The cheapest we could find was 71,500 CFA to Bamako that is a bit expensive and not quite where we would have liked to have flown. We were hoping to have flown to Mopti in an attempt to avoid problems we had heard from other volunteers about transport between Bamako and Mopti. We agreed we would have to think a bit more about this and returned by the ferry to Gorée.

Gorée was a relief as we split up to collapse and relax for the rest of the afternoon. The combination of a lot of walking and the lack of sleep was enough to make me pass out for a good portion of the early evening.

Anne came and got me just before 8:00 (of course she would have to seeing as I had no watch…) as the four of us walked along the alleys on the far side of the island to see the lights of Dakar. We eventually ate at a small restaurant near to the Post Office which had food no where near as good as last night which also had the disadvantage of being patronised by a number of very noisy tourists who were playing cards at a table nearby taking a bit away from the tranquillity that is Gorée at night. My fish brochette was quite good, if you must know.

We slowly made our way from the restaurant back to the hotel along the beach. It has been a long day.

Tonight the fan and windows (well, not the shutters but the glass itself) will be open in an attempt to get a proper night sleep. We shall see.

⇒ Continue to Day 3 - Tuesday, July 20th, 2004