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Africa Mauritania Senegal Trip 2021 Senegal

Touching Down in Dakar, Senegal

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was a great first day.

Africa Benin West Africa Trip 2019

Porto Novo

For my final day in Cotonou, having seen what I wanted to see of the city, I decided to visit Porto Novo, the capital city of Benin. By comparison to Cotonou, Porto Novo is a small town. It doesn’t really have any attractions or sights, per se, but it is a lovely place for a wander. And that is pretty much all I did. I walked around and so here are the photos I took while I did so.

There are a couple small museums there but I passed on those. I did, however, take a guided tour of the one time royal palace.

After taking in the markets and the beautiful buildings, I walked down to a hotel on the lake and enjoyed a juice before heading back to Cotonou. No mishaps or odd encounters, just a relaxing day.

The next day I would start my journey home – but first, a long layover in Cote d’Ivoire.

Asia Azerbaijan Azerbaijan trip 2019

Back to Baku

While I took the train from Baku to Sheki and loved it, I didn’t want to do the same on the return journey. I could have taken a minibus, but I really wanted to take a private car so I could have a more comfortable drive and also stop and see some things on the way. Fortunately, Misha, one of my Air bnb hosts, was driving back to Baku and agreed to take me. This turned out to be a great option. He was excited to show me some sights of his country and I had no particular agenda and was just happy to go along with whatever he chose.

But first, the family I was staying with made breakfast and wanted a final picture.

The first stop was in Kiş (Kish), which is just next door to Sheki. It is notable for a church, the Albanian Church, built in the 10th century and may also be the site of much older churches. It is very pretty, set in a rose garden, and gives a view of the hills in the background. I said that it looked like an Armenian church, which, as is turns out, was not the right thing to say. I had forgotten that there had been fairly recent war and hostility between the country.

From there we stopped at a waterfall picnic site popular with locals. There were a couple of small lakes filled with yellow fish, a waterfall, restaurant, and shisha smoking area. Oddly, there were also fiberglass creatures placed around the lake like deer and alligators.

We went for a quick and very expensive coffee in a town with an impressive gondola going up the mountains for views and hiking.

We stopped at a roadside stand and bought a freshly made, buttery flatbread rolled up with 7 fresh green herbs inside.

We stopped at another spot – a roadside cluster of camps for refugees from the war with Armenia – and bought delicious, hot bread fresh from the outdoor clay (?) oven.

We stopped at a lake area where locals picnicked, went out on paddle boats, rode horses, and smoked shisha in little tea houses.

Everywhere we drove we went past roadside stands selling fruit, honey, nuts, and jam.

We stopped for a traditional tea in the forest with all the accompaniments: lemon, sugar, rosewater, cherry jam, and candies. The idea, I discovered, was not to stir the jam into the coffee but to take a spoonful of it as you drink your tea.

*The assortment of jams for tea available at a restaurant in Baku*

The ride was great. I learned a bit about history and culture and saw things I would not have sought out in my own, but I enjoyed seeing.

We arrived back in Baku where I snapped pictures of more random Azerbaijan architecture from the car window.

The next day was my final day in Baku and I really didn’t have anything I was excited to do, so I decided to just go for a meandering walk on the way to the bazaar. As it turned out there are a cluster of cafes with book themes or bookstores with cafes just above Fountain Square (on and around Tolstoy and Gogol streets). I decided to visit as many of them as I could find. I think I had about 5 coffees in about two hours. It was great. I liked the neighbourhood and the cafes, which ranged from cute to divey.

I especially liked the Old School Cafe, which is not book themed, but has a delightful and eclectic atmosphere. And of course, you can smoke inside all of these cafes, which made the even better.

I had a great time wandering the streets.

I make my way up to the bazaar, which I enjoyed, but I felt a bit rushed because people could tell I was a tourist as soon as I took out my camera to take pictures of food, at which point everyone tried to sell me caviar. I had heard this was the place to buy inexpensive caviar, but I wasn’t having any.

The rest of the day was pleasant, but a bit aimless. I walked, I smoked shisha, I ate at a Georgian restaurant, but eventually I was just killing time until my very late flight.

A lot of people who had never been to Azerbaijan said my trip sounded too short, and I had wondered that myself ahead of time. As it turned out, it was just right. A few days in Baku, a day and a night in Sheki, an overnight train trip, and a day driving was exactly the right amount of time. I saw everything I wanted to and left satisfied – and ready for a final night in London.

Asia Azerbaijan Azerbaijan trip 2019

I fell in love with a building in Baku

I enjoyed my first day in Baku, but my second was better. I was rested and having gotten a sense of how compact things were I was freed from any anxiety about seeing everything in the time allotted.

I went for a leisurely breakfast of cucumbers, tomatoes, olives, cheese, and mountains of bread. (I didn’t eat mountains, but they provided it.) They take bread very seriously here. Perfect baguettes, round and sesame simits, long and salty bread that is both flat and fluffy. Apparently bread can never be allowed to touch the ground, even when discarding it. I had a cigar at a leafy cafe.

I walked many of the streets were the same that I saw the day before but it was less hot and I had more energy, so it was better.

But I did have a sort of a plan. I wanted to go see the Heydar Aliyev Centre but it was a bit far from the city centre, so I took the metro. The metro system in Baku isn’t vast, but it’s decent. I went to the station at the old city, bought a BakiKart (plastic metro card, which costs 2 manat) and loaded a couple of rides, which I think were about 30 qəpik each. It’s a regular metro and was easy to use. They even call out stops in English as well as Russian and Azeri. I took a few pictures before I realized that is not allowed.

I got out at the Nariman Narimanov stop, expecting to see the distinctive building I was looking for, but I didn’t, so of the four directions I had available to me, I picked one on instinct and it was the right one. (I assure you, I am not usually so lucky.)

If you are trying to make the same trip, as you exit the metro station you have two directions to choose from. Take the one on the left. When you get to the street walk so that the park and the unsightly McDonalds are at your back. Keep walking for a couple long blocks and you will eventually see the white Heydar Aliyev Centre one block away on your left.

The Heydar Aliyev Centre is magnificent. I had actually debated visiting it at one point, thinking, “Do I really want to go out of my way to see the exterior of a building?” I am so glad I went. It is huge and gleaming and as you walk around it, it reveals itself in various, beautiful forms. It’s like a frozen wave or a perfect cloud.

Baku is fully of varied architecture, from ancient and Islamic, to Soviet, to modern and beyond. But this is, in my opinion, the best of it.

What made visiting it a bit of a challenge was the wind. It was the strongest wind I think I’ve ever experienced. It blew me off my feet, lifted my heavy shoulder bag, and swiped the sunglasses of a woman I asked to take my picture.

On the grounds of the centre are numerous brightly coloured rabbits and snails. I don’t know why.

From there I walked in the hopes of finding the next closest metro station rather than backtracking. I didn’t find it. Rather, i walked for quite a while through an area predominantly populated by garages, whilst getting pelted by gravel and sticks from the wind. I did stumble upon a market, which was nice, but I was tired and that dampened my enthusiasm for watermelons and figs.

So i hopped on a bus. I didn’t know where it was going ultimately but it was heading in the same direction that I was, so…good enough. Of course the bus quickly started turning until I had no idea where I was. Eventually, seeing a bunch of taxis, I hastily got off while the bus driver stopped for shawarma. And where was I? At a metro station! So I was able get myself back, getting off one station early, which allowed me to walk through a new neighbourhood.

I stopped at a cute baklava bakery (one of many) in the old city for a Turkish coffee and a selection of treats. Baklava so sweet my mouth felt like it was vibrating.

I had a bit of a nap and then went out for some shisha and delicious eggplant rolls stuffed with walnut paste and pomegranate arils. I also had tea. They are very big tea drinkers here, but one thing that is unique is that tea with jam is often on the menu; one selects the type of jam and gets a huge bowl of it, which they stir into their tea and eat by the spoonful. I did not have that. It looks appealing, but I don’t really want to eat a bowl of jam.

I went to bed around midnight and dreamed of rabbits.

Central America / Caribbean Cuba

Weekend in Havana

A long weekend in Havana sounded perfect. I had been before, in 2014 I think, and I loved it. Mostly for the cigars, but it is a great destination in its own right – though if it wasn’t for the cigars I wouldn’t have gone back. I had already seen the sights I wanted to see in Havana, so a weekend sounded like a perfect opportunity to just hang out with no pressure to see or do anything in particular.

I left Vancouver on a Thursday evening, changed planes in Mexico City and landed in Havana at about 2:00pm on Friday. I arrived at the airport in Havana and, once through immigration, found myself doing the usual haggling with taxi drivers. They all wanted 40 or 35 CUCs, which I knew was too much. After making my counter offers, I was left rideless. I smoked a cigarillo, deciding how long to wait before upping my offering price, but then a guy who was picking up other passengers and also going to the National Hotel offered to take me for 10 CUC. Bingo.

I held the sign with the name of the family we were waiting for. When the family of four (two older couples) emerged, I suddenly found myself being asked to pose for pictures with them. I get that they were excited to travel to Cuba, but the airport pickup photos seemed excessive. I found out on the ride in that two of them were born in Cuba but left 40 years ago, moved to Puerto Rico and hadn’t seen their families since.

I arrived at the Hotel National giddy. With heat and humidity, with the excitement of being in Havana, and with the sight of that gorgeous patio facing the sea. Before even going to my room I bought a box of 10 Partagas torpedos and smoked a cigar on a wicker sofa outside.

My room was ordinary, but the Hotel Nacionale is a dream. It is this grand historical hotel that has so many stories that they do historical tours everyday of just the hotel.

From the hotel I walked mostly along the Malecon to old Havana, taking detours for street art and architecture. It wasn’t a long walk but I was dripping with sweat by the time I arrived.

I spent the rest of the day time hours walking around the old city revisiting streets and squares I have been to in the past.

Much of it was as I remembered but there were also new and refurbished buildings.

It’s such a touristy city but it still feels authentic. People live there and operate businesses. There was a new cool cafe that had opened, but next to it was still the same shack where locals paid a pittance to shoot bebe guns at beer cans.

I wandered aimlessly over that day and the next, taking time out to smoke cigars at the private room at the Partagas store and in At the La Casa in Miramar.

One of the best things that happened was walking through old Havana I heard loud Duke Ellington music and I thought, “That’s a place I need to be.” I figured it would be a bar or restaurant but when i found the door through which the blared I discovered that I had in fact walked in to a man’s humble living room.

He was older. 70 maybe. Sitting in a wooden chair in a pretty empty room next too a record player and a stack of records. I apologized a d said something about liking the music, but as I went to leave, he beckoned me in and pulled up a chair. He spoke no English and I speak only the most basic of Spanish but we hung out for the better part of an hour. He showed me his records – classic jazz and crooners. I played with his kitten and snapped my fingers along to Dexter Gordon. He played songs and I sung along to Ella Fitzgerald and Frank Sinatra. He put on an old Ray Charles album and got up to dance. He started twisting with enthusiasm. I felt suddenly awkward. Dancing with a stranger in his living room open to a busy pedestrian street is outside of my comfort zone, but I wasn’t going to sit there. That would be more awkward. So I danced. We danced for three songs and then I thanked him and left. It was a great experience. A brief connection.

I didn’t want to invade his hime by taking pictures of him, but I did take one of his kitten…and his foot.

I chilled out at my hotel in the evening, smoking cigars outside and in my room (just because I could). At about 11 pm I walked to the Fox and the Crow, nearby jazz bar and watched amazing jazz until nearly 1 am in an tiny underground bar.

And that was just one day.

The next day I did more of the same. Smoking, walking, reading, listing to buskers, drinking virgin piña coladas. It was perfect. I was actually happy to leave after two full days. I had what I wanted to do, soaked up the sun and the atmosphere; smoked more cigars than I can count. And then I was home.

I think that 2 days would not nearly be enough for a first visit to Havana, but for a second trip, for me, it was perfect. I’m sure I’ll go back for another two days of cuban cigar heaven.

Asia Myanmar (Burma)

Yangon: Arriving in Myanmar

I’ve been thinking about going to Myanmar for a number of years. The first time I looked into going they still didn’t have ATMs and almost no wifi. Things have changed and I am glad that I came here when I did because I can see it is going to get more developed and more touristy, like its South East Asian neighbours. So far (as I write this I have been here 4 days) I love it here. Interesting and beautiful, so far it does not seem as hectic as parts of Vietnam or as poor as parts of Cambodia. And it feels different. From the thanaka with which so many men and women decorate their faces to the wearing of the longyi to the eating of tea leaf salads, Myanmar seems to have its own feel. Again, these are my first impressions after a short time.

But then again, my first impressions may be mistaken. See my attempt to buy ice cream, below.

I arrived in Yangon (formerly Rangoon) via a long flight from Vancouver to Hong Kong. I had gotten an e-visa ahead of time, so i was through immigration in 5 minutes with no questions. Taxis were plentiful and their prices fair (i didn’t even bother to haggle). It was after midnight as we drove through the streets to my hotel: the Chan Myae Guest House.

I was quite happy with my lodgings, even though it was a sharp 8 floor climb to my room. Simple, but clean and with an excellent location. I was able to walk everywhere. And walk I did for my first day in Yangon. The centre is a delight for strolling with faded and mossy colonial buildings, strings of laundry, and endless street side food vendors.

I took a lot of pictures.

The food vendors are wonderful. I haven’t yet had a restaurant meal here. Tables of women mixing up noodle dishes, soups, salads, fried things, curries, yogurt drinks, tea, and juice stalls. Each one seems to have a specialty and everything looks delicious.

I have had really good luck with the soups. They will combine the ingredients as you direct into your bowl and you can just point at what you want. Then, if they see you are low on broth or noodles or onion or whatever, as you are eating, they will offer top ups. Nothing costs more than $1 (cdn). Plus, i have been going to the ones where the monks are eating, so I can just point at their vegetarian dishes and order that.

I have had one odd culinary experience. It was scorching hot and i was on foot and i thought, “Ice cream. Ice cream would revive me.” So I went to a corner store and bought a vanilla ice cream. I unwrapped it and took a bite and very quickly realized that my ice cream was not vanilla, but DURIAN. I cannot express how shocking it is to expect sweet and creamy vanilla and get instead the intense oniony putrescence of durian.

So I walked and I ate. I went in search of coffee, which was a bit of a mission. This is tea country. There are a few “proper” cafés but they are certainly not in abundance. Twice I aksed for coffee and received some sort of international delights french vanilla bullshit. And twice I flet guilty for thinking that it actually tasted pretty good. I’ll have to turn in my coffee snob card upon return to the Pacific Northwest.

I visited the Sule Pagoda, in all of its glittering splendour. It was magnificent, thought i can now say that gold stupas are ubiquitous here. Nevertheless this was Myanmar stupa no.1 for me, so it was special.

I toured around more on foot, past buildings of note. One street (I forget which one) had rows of book stalls and book shops, so I picked up something for the road.

In the afternoon, before taking on my next pagoda complex, I settled in at the bar at the classically colonial Strand Hotel, which was gorgeous and, most importantly, cigar friendly. Thankfully, it was otherwise empty, so i snuck a selfie or two.

My energies restored, I walked to the Shwedagon Pagoda complex. It wasn’t far from where I was but the 37 degree heat made it seem farther. By the time I arrived, I was hot and tired. I was not too tired, however, to have a secret race again a blonde woman across the street from me also walking to the pagoda. I won. Heat or not, I was still able to appreciate the beauty, but even my eyeballs felt burnt as I took in countless, gleaming gold and white stupas. There were so many people there but many appeared to be locals or visitors from nearby. Nothing I saw in Yangon was overrun with, well, people like me. A few backpackers here and there. The odd group of seniors, but they were few. It was nice.

Perhaps because there are not tons of tourists here, local people are not in the habit of hassling them. No one yells out to get a massage or follows you down the street trying to sell you stuff. Everyone is just pleasant. It isn’t too crowded – even the traffic is organized. Surprisingly for a former British colony, they drive on the right hand side of the street, but the steering wheels are on the right. Motorcycles are banned in Yangon, which may be why the traffic is not crazy.

Somehow I had done all of that by 6:00 pm and on 2 hours sleep. I went back to my room with plans of going out again in the evening, but promptly crashed. It was a great first day in Myanmar.

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.

Wandering North

Tag: architechture