solo travel Archives - Page 10 of 30

Africa Mauritania Mauritania Senegal Trip 2021

Nouakchott to Atâr

After a very full day in Nouakchott, I was ready to leave the city and head west to Atâr, a small city that is the gateway to the Adrar region of Mauritania and the Sahara. Atâr is about 6 hours from Nouakchott by mini bus, which is the usual way to get there if you are not driving. Sebastian from the Auberge Triskell drove me and two other guests to the bus stops for various regions. These are mini buses that will be full of people and piled high with baggage. They have approximate times that they leave, but nothing is guaranteed. My bus left about an hour and a half late, which was at least a few hours earlier than I expected.

Through a lot of persistent loitering, I secured the passenger seat in the front, so i had a view of the scenery. (The back windows are all blacked out.)

The landscape became increasingly rocky and then sandy as we moved west.

I snapped a few pictures from the moving van’s windows. And a few when we made brief stops for people to pray or pee.

Along the way we had various police stops. Nine, to be precise. Each time the driver handed the police a list of the names and identification card numbers of the locals on board and fiches for any foreigners. I don’t know what ‘fiche’ translates to, but it is a photocopy of your passport with various pertinent details written down (contact info, parents’ names, travel info, etc). If you don’t have this ready, you will have to wait while they copy your passport or photograph it and write down all the info. This will delay the trip a lot, and everyone will hate you, so you want to be prepared. I brought 40 of them with me. (You might actually be fine with just a passport photocopy, but I had all the extra information written down as well.) I did notice that each time the driver handed this over, he included a 50UM note with the paperwork. (That’s about $1.60 CDN.)

Six hours after we left, we arrived in Atâr at a busy intersection, complete with people milling about, mobile fruit carts, food being cooked street side, wheelbarrows full of baguettes, and a camel sitting in the street. I liked it instantly.

To be clear, there is nothing to see in Atâr, though a spin on foot around the city centre in pleasant, but it has a pleasant vibe for a short stay.

I took a taxi to the place I was staying at: Inimi. Inimi is a campsite / collection of cabins around a central open area of dirt and one big tree. It is pretty basic, but has (or is meant to have) the key amenities.

I was greeted by the host, who speaks very good French and a few words of English. He was seated on a mat under the tree and invited me to sit and have a plate of rice and then joined me for some Mauritanian tea. (He soon gave me a nickname: Saddam Hussein. This was on account of my cigar smoking and, apparently, when he thinks cigars, he thinks Saddam Hussein.)

Mauritanian tea is Chinese black tea and sugar in what I would say tastes like equal parts, and a few mint leaves, boiled over a fire in a metal tea pot and then poured from pot to thimble sized cups, and then from cup to cup at a great height, over and over again, until the cups are half foam and half tea. Then it is ready to drink. And for those of you who are imagining cups like you might have had in Jordan or Turkey, think again. These cups are even smaller. Not much bigger than a shot. And often it seems that you take the tiniest sip and pass it to the next person. (Yes, even during covid.)

Over that tea I arranged for a driver to take me to Chinguetti the next day.

My room was a cabin. Just a box with a door and two beds, really, though it did have AC when the electricity worked, which it seldom did. Toilet and shower stalls were in a separate building, with water that ran when there was electricity (ha) to operate the pump.

I walked into town and looked around the streets and stalls before it got dark.

I had dinner at an outdoor eatery that had none of the food pictured on their awning (I admit it was naive/hopeful to believe they would). They didn’t even have water, but they prepared a salad of lettuce, cucumbers, tomatoes, and onion and served it with French fries, mayonnaise, and a baguette. At least it was vegetarian. The other thing on the menu was the same meal but with grilled chicken. I picked up some fruits for breakfast.

I walked back to Inimi (maybe 2 km from the town centre) to find that the power was out. That meant it was pitch black and nothing worked. Not super convenient, but I am adaptable. (And it hardly matters that there is no water to flush the toilets when the toilets are just holes in the ground – How’s that for a positive spin?) I had my headlamp (which I never travel without) and instead of sleeping in my boiling hot (and now airless) cabin, I slept on a hard metal bed outside with a mat and my big scarf to cover me, reading until I fell asleep under the stars, which were incredible.

I had pleasant day of travel and a visit to Chinguetti ahead of me.

Africa Mauritania Mauritania Senegal Trip 2021

Nouakchott, Mauritania

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

A bit about Mauritania

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

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

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

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

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

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

Arrival

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

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

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

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

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

The First Day in Nouakchott

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Europe France Mauritania Senegal Trip 2021

Paris Layover: Overnight en route to Mauritania

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*Everything looks so lovely in the early morning light*

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

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

Europe Sweden

A Morning in Malmö

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Denmark Europe

Copenhagen Long Weekend: Sunday

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Denmark Europe

Copenhagen Long Weekend: A pleasantly surprising start

Arrival

Copenhagen is far from Vancouver. About 11 and a half hours if you get a direct flight. However, in the spring of 2020 I had planned to take a four-day weekend trip to see the Danish capital. Of course, that trip was cancelled due to covid. Flash forward to October 2021 and a four-day weekend coupled with a complete lack of covid restrictions in Denmark made the trip seem like a very good idea. I booked it within a week of leaving, but the planning was easy, as I had done it all the previous year.

I flew to London, enjoyed a brief layover and flew to Copenhagen, arriving at about 6pm. Because Denmark had dropped its covid restrictions, as long as you are vaccinated, you don’t even need a test to go there. And once I left the airport, I got to ditch my mask for the weekend. It was like it was 2019 all over again.

That said, Canada has not dropped its covid restrictions, so the first thing I did was get a PCR test at the airport, since I would need it for my return to Canada. Unlike in every other country I have been to since the pandemic started, covid tests in Denmark are free.

I took the train to the central station and walked the few blocks to my hostel. I was staying at the Steel House hostel, in a dorm. I don’t often stay in dorms. As much as I love the hostel vibes and amenities, I do prefer having my own bedroom. But Copenhagen is really expensive and if you are going to splurge on a weekend trip to Europe, you have to cut corners somewhere. The Steel House hostel is quite fancy and has a ton of amenities. The dorms are space age situations with gleaming white bunks and chrome touches. Not pods, but they had that feel. Fortunately, my dorm mates were a very friendly group of girls from Germany and Taiwan and I enjoyed their company when we swapped stories at the end of the day.

As soon as I found my bunk, I ditched my backpack and hit the streets. It was dark, but not late, and there were people out everywhere. I didn’t have a plan, but ended up meandering over to Nyhaven, because that’s the place that you see in all the travel pictures. Nyhaven was … fine. At night anyway, it was nice in an “I’m really in Copenhagen” way, but wasn’t my scene. I did love walking through the city though. Lovely streets, glittering canals, appealing cafés with warm lights, and glimpses of things I would see properly the next day. There is nothing like that first walk in a new city, when you are finding your way and just discovering where you are.

I walked and walked before settling at a restaurant, outside, by one of the canals. All of the outdoor eateries were packed, even though it was October. After dinner I slept soundly, excited to wake up and start the day.

Exploring Copenhagen

Saturday morning I got up ridiculously early. I only had two full days in Copenhagen, I wasn’t going to spend them sleeping in.

The day was clear and crisp. Perfect for walking. And did I walk. First I walked a similar route to that which I taken the night before, enjoying seeing everything in the light of day. The dumb thing about getting up so early was that nothing was open for coffee. I ended up getting a coffee from a convenience store (I know…) and sitting outside in a square near the statue of Hans Christian Anderson. I little while later I had a proper coffee at a café and had a pastry. They aren’t messing around when it comes to coffee and bread products there. Every single thing I had to eat was excellent.

I walked over to Christiansborg Palace (a palace, the house of Parliament, Prime Minister’s office and Supreme Court) on a little island and watched them exercising the horses and wandered over to the gardens in front of the Queen’s library. I had forgotten, until I saw the palace, that Denmark still has a monarchy. Speaking of islands, Copenhagen has 1,419* of them. A fact I find stunning. Like, if someone told you the tiny country of Copenhagen had “a lot of islands” you would probably think that number to be around 50, maybe 70; but 1,419 seems impossible. I think I only set foot on four of them. (*only about 443 have been named and only 78 are populated.)

I walked over to a large waterway where people were walking the sea wall, sitting with coffee, rowing on the water, having a morning cigarette. This was also my first glimpse of the modern architecture in the city and have to say, it is a bit disappointing. Not bad, but not great. I preferred the historic buildings.

crossing over to the islet of Slotsholmen

At this point I decided to go to a museum. On the way there, I visit the Danish Pipe Shop for a browse and to pick up some cigars (and get tips of where to smoke from the proprietor). Just around the corner was a small square, where there was a very unusual statue. Terrifying pigs in overcoats, men with screaming faces and a giant hand giving the middle finger. By Jens Galschiøt, it is a temporary installation celebrating the 700^th anniversary of Dante’s death and some commentary on modern city life. I couldn’t find much about the sculpture in English, but the artist is pretty interesting and I like anything that disrupts the flow of city life, which this sculpture definitely does.

I went to the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek, a fine arts (mostly sculpture) museum. It is a good size and has a pretty little tropical courtyard. I found it very pleasant and particularly liked the Egyptian mummies and – most of all – the nasotheque. The museum has a small and unusual collection of noses that have fallen off ancient sculptures. (Nasotheque, like bibliotheque or discotheque – not my invention. It’s what the museum called it.) I can’t explain the ears included.

I walked back to Nyhaven to see all of the colorful buildings in the daylight. Along the way I passed by Tivoli Gardens (actually for like the 4^th time; it’s right in the centre of town). I was sad that the park was closed that weekend to set up for Halloween and each time I saw the rides and decorations peeking out from above the barriers, I was a bit wistful, but I can always come back some day to ride the rides. If you don’t know, Tivoli is the second oldest theme park in the world and is said to be the inspiration for Disneyland. And looking at what I could see, the similarities are apparent, right down to a Matterhorn type rollercoaster.

The entrance to Tivoli Gardens, halloween style

Nyhaven is lovely a strip of colorful buildings along a canal just off of the sea port. Tall ships docked and canal-side eateries full to the brim. Set against a blue sky it is perfect. I still didn’t have much desire to hang out or eat there (it is a bit crowded) but it is pleasant to see.

I walked over the round tower and, feeling peckish, stopped for a hot dog. Copenhagen is lousy with hot dog carts or pølsevogn, as they call them. (Actually, it was the only street food I saw in Copenhagen other than warm nuts.) They seem to be sort of a fancier version than in North America and have different toppings and better quality ingredients. I had read that Copenhagen was the ‘hot dog capital of the world’ so I had to have one. After several failed attempts, I found one sausage wagon that had a vegetarian option. At the foot of the round tower. Mine came with mustard, remoulade, onions, and pickles. It was good and one of the least expensive meals in had in the pricy city.

I then walked over to Rosenborg Castle (or Rosenborg Slot, in Danish), a Renaissance castle from 1606, now a museum and tourist attraction. The castle is pretty and pleasant, and has a treasury with weapons, wine, and impressive jewels. It is set in a lovely park and guarded by ever-marching, armed soldiers.

Freetown Christiania

I decided to walk from Rosenbourg Castle, lap of monarchial luxury, to the other extreme: Freetown Christiania. (Note that this required walking back past Nyhaven. I really did not plan an orderly walking route.) To get to Freetown Christiania, I walked across two bridges, past crowds of people at beer gardens and out on small boats with bottles of wine and picnics, or on bicycles.

I haven’t even mentioned the bicycles. Copenhagen is a bicycle city, with dedicated lanes everywhere and masses of bikes parked – many not even locked up, because Copenhagen is just that safe. Unlike in some biking cities, where the cyclists seem aggressive, here, everyone just seemed so calm and happy, as they peddled along. And it is totally flat, so the cycling is nearly effortless.

Anyway: Freetown Christiania. It is a self-declared micro state and commune set on an island in Copenhagen. It was founded by squatters in the early 1970s and is home to about 1000 residents. It has its own flag and laws (sort of – its legal status is constantly in flux). It is a real hippie place with no cars, colorful art works, and a big meditation and yoga scene. Danish law is not really enforced there and cannabis is sold and consumed openly (it is illegal in Denmark; something that seems so weird coming from Canada).

It is worth visiting, though I have to say it wasn’t my cup of tea. It’s interesting (the day I was there, there were many police standing at the entrance but not entering) and there are some cute, colorful buildings and whimsical art, but it didn’t keep me entertained for long. There are a lot of cannabis sellers there, but, again, this is legal in Canada, so it didn’t have that exciting appeal of the illicit.

After a bit of a look around, I returned to the mainland. (Note that there are rules in Freetown Christiania, which includes no running [it makes people think there is a police raid] and no photos of people [which makes taking pictures of anything a challenge]).

Smørrebrød, cigars, and my assessment of Copenhagen so far

At this point, I decided to go for a quick bite: some amazing smørrebrød. The famous, Danish open faced sandwich. I don’t know how such a simple dish can be so delicious, but…wow. So happy to find vegetarian options. It would never have occurred to me to put pickled onions and hazelnuts on a sandwich. My horizons have been expanded.

While sitting there eating, I took some time to assess my experience so far. A day in and I was surprisingly smitten with Copenhagen. Honestly, I expected it to be a bit dull, which was part of the reason I picked it for my weekend city break. But I didn’t find it dull. I loved it. I loved the food and the coffee. I loved the pretty, but understated historical architecture. I loved the canals and the squares and the bike paths. I loved that people were out eating and drinking on patios in the chilly night air, cozied up under blankets. I loved that there were more museums and art galleries than I could visit in a month, let alone a weekend. I loved the way everyone was dressed. They seemed both dressier and more casual than in Vancouver. Like, people in Copenhagen are dressed for comfort, but in a way that doesn’t look like they are headed to the gym or bed. Smart sneakers, over-sized cozy knitwear, big wool coats, loose jeans, turtlenecks…I don’t know, they looked effortlessly cool. And everyone looked very attractive, in a really natural, healthy sort of way. Copenhagen didn’t remind me of any place I had been before. It just seemed specific to itself. This all came as a pleasant surprise to me.

I popped back to the hostel for about an hour and chatted with my dorm mates, who had also migrated back for a bit of a rest. We had all done similar things during the day and it was fun to compare notes and swap recommendations.

I ended my long day at the Musen & Elefanten (mouse & elephant) bar, recommended to me by the guy at the Danish Pipe Shop. It was a tiny, slightly sub-terranean watering hole. Super cozy. The best thing about it was that they allowed cigar smoking indoors (possibly the only place in the city that does). I sat at the bar and enjoyed a Partagas Serie D No.2 and a Hoyo Epicure No.2 along with a cocktail or two made by the extremely affable bartender, with whom I chatted. It was a very nice end to the day.

I returned to my hostel and got cozy in my bunk, later than all my dorm mates and fell asleep immediately, unsurprisingly after ~25 km of walking. I still had one more day ahead of me and much more to see.

Asia Jordan

Jerash, Jordan

The final day in Amman I spent mostly not in Amman. I had seen and done what I had wanted so I decided to visit Jerash, about an hour outside the city. Honestly, I was ok with skipping Jerash because, I figured, did I need to see more Roman ruins? Thankfully, I did not skip it; and the answer is, yes, I needed to see more Roman ruins.

I did not travel alone that day. The night before I met a guy who had newly checked in to my hotel and I spoke to him immediately out of a need to mock his t-shirt, which branded him as a recent law school grad. The next morning, I ran into him again and we went for breakfast at Hashem, which is probably the most famous restaurant in the city. It has been open since 1952 and has established itself as the best felafel joint in town. Its modest walls are adorned with pictures of the royalty, politicians, and celebrities who have eaten there. It’s fine. You have to eat there at some point (and there is no excuse not to, since it is open 24 hours) and I am glad I did, but I didn’t notice any difference in quality between the falafel and hummus there and every other place in Amman.

Anyway, my new law school graduate friend, let’s call him Bob, was happy to join me on my trip to Jerash. We hired a driver and proceeded inch through the traffic getting out of Amman. Eventually we got to Jerash. Wow. Probably the best Roman ruins I have seen since…Ephesus.

The area of Jerash has been inhabited by humans since about 7500 BC, but the city of Jerash and the ruins remaining today are Roman.

It’s pretty amazing. Structures, a theatre, temples, streets lined by columns, and amazingly preserved and huge gates, amongst other tidbits. We spent over two hours there and it did not seem too long. It was nice to have a buddy for the day and Bob is the reason that I have some pictures of myself from Jerash that are not selfies.

Back in Amman, Bob and I went for a meal and some shisha and just hung out until it was time for him to leave and time for me to prepare for the airport.

Jordan was fabulous. So full of amazing sights, and so easy to travel. The people were great, the transportation and planning were easy, and the experiences felt very special. I was glad I finally got there, after 25 years or so of wanting to go. I am not likely to return, but the memories are not likely to fade any time soon, particularly that day in Petra. Who knew pandemic travel could be so great?

Asia Jordan

Return to Amman

I returned from Wadi Rum in the evening and mostly I just went for a walk and smoked shisha before bed. The next day I roughed out a bit of a walking route for myself to see some of the things I hadn’t seen on my first day in Jordan. I walked from my hotel (the Jordan Tower Hotel) to the Jordan Museum, past shops and traffic, cages of scraggy birds for sale, and men having tea.

*my new lodgings* – *designed for ‘chillaxing’*

The museum didn’t seem to be fully open; it was just the first floor, but I was a bit grateful for that. I didn’t really want to feel obligated to spend hours there; I just wanted to get a bit of a taste, which this was. And it was good. Especially the creepy ~6000 year old mannequin type statues and clay pots used to bury children’s bones.

From the museum I was going to walk to this area around the Paris circle. It didn’t look far, but I was, as before, stymied by Amman’s dramatic hills. The route I needed to go involved an endless looking flight of stairs. I would have needed a lot more energy – or a grappling hook – and I wasn’t in the mood, so I took a taxi (cheap and plentiful.)

I decided to go to Paris Circle mostly because there were supposed to be a bunch of excellent cafés and art galleries there. I didn’t see much in the way of art galleries, but I can vouch for the cafes. There are less traditional Jordanian and more European or fancy North American style. Lovely though. And I was thankful for the leafy patio, strong americano and cardamom rose cake I enjoyed at Café Rumi.

From there I walked to the Jordan National Gallery of Fine Arts. A pleasant stroll.

The gallery is actually in three buildings around a small park. I had planned to visit all three, but I went to one building (the first I came upon) and visited just that one. It was excellent. It was small and just a few floors and filled with modern art by artists from countries mostly in the middle east – countries that I don’t usually see art from. Yemen, Palestine, Saudi Arabia, Bangladesh, Sudan, etc. It was just excellent.

*Jordan National Gallery of Fine Arts* – building 2

Almost as good, is that on the roof of this gallery building is a lovely café (the Jungle Fever coffee and tea house). I know, I was just at a café, but it was very hot, and I had walked a lot already. The rooftop patio has wonderful views over the city and colorful cushions. It was a nice place. The sort of café filled with young people on laptops. I had two iced teas and chatted with a college girl studying for a biology exam who told me how she wants tattoos. I also dozed off momentarily in the comfortable seats.

I left my new wishfully tattooed friend and walked over to the King Abdullah I Mosque, the huge, blue-domed mosque that is a landmark in Amman. Honestly, it isn’t much on the inside, but it is nice to see up close from the outside and appreciate the tiles and design.

Back to my neighbourhood around the Jordan Tower hotel, I chatted with one of the guys working there – a super pleasant fellow with a fascination with serial killers – and then spontaneously ended up joining a free walking tour of the market area around the hotel.

I had already been to the markets, but it was nice to be able to go with this guide and his two other guests (from Colombia) as I could ask questions and take more photos that I had felt comfortable doing on my own. I also got tips on where the best shisha was in the area, and we got to try the kunafeh (a delicate pastry with white cheese and rose water) from Habibah that every night I saw people queuing up down the street and around the block to get. I had wanted to try it, but was dead set against the queue.

I finished the night with some of that recommended shisha and slept happily. I really like Amman, but after my second, very full day there I was satisfied. I had one day left in Jordan and my sights were set on Jerash.

Asia Jordan

A few hours in Aqaba

I left Wadi Rum in the morning after saying goodbye to the friends made over the past two days, never to be seen again. My taxi driver was awesome – actually, all the taxi drivers I had in Jordan were awesome. They all went out of their way to be hospitable and helpful, from going shopping with me, to sending follow up WhatsApp messages to see how I was doing, to helping me buy bus tickets.

He drove me to Aqaba, where I was going for the sole purpose of catching the bus to Amman. (There is no bus from Wadi Rum.) I could have just taken a taxi back to Aqaba, but that seemed unnecessary, plus, I thought it was a good opportunity to see something of Aqaba.

Aqaba was not otherwise on my itinerary as it is a beach destination and the beach is not my preferred environment. But a layover sounded perfect.

My taxi driver took me to the Jett bus station so I could buy a ticket. I expected he would drop me off, but he came in and made sure there was a bus for me to get on. The next bus was leaving right away, which I didn’t want, but there was another leaving in about 5 hours, which was perfect. The ticket was 10 dinars (~$17 can) for the 4ish hour journey. I bought the ticket and was going to go on my way, but the driver said he would show me a round a bit. So he did a little loop, so I could get the lay of the land, before dropping me off at the beach.

*First view of Aqaba*. *That’s Isreal in the background*

The beach was very busy with locals. It isn’t too much to look at. A narrow strip of sand along the gulf of Aqaba, with Eilat, Israel in the background. The diving there is known to be excellent, but I was happy to just sit and walk ad take in the views.

What I did not enjoy was the weather. It had been 40+ Celsius in Wadi Rum, but here it was hotter AND there was oppressive humidity. I realized very quickly that my idea of exploring for several hours with my backpack in town was not ideal. It’s not a big backpack, but after only 30 minutes or so I was drenched in sweat.

I sat to have breakfast at a sidewalk café (foul, pita, pickles, hot sauces, and a cigarillo) and through about how I was going to endure this layover, when I had a brilliant idea. There were a lot of dingy hotels around; how much could a room be? So I walked into and side street and went to the Amer Hotel. A room for 1 night was about $15 can. Sold.

I checked in, ditched my bag, modified my clothing, and was free to wander in comfort. Even better, before leaving for the bus, I was able to have a shower. Best. Idea. Ever.

And so I walked around Aqaba. Honestly, it’s not that exciting; unless you are going there for the diving, you could skip it. But I was still happy to look around for a few hours, taking in the street art, the beautiful main mosque, the ‘castle’, and streets. I also stopped at cafés and smoked shisha and watched everything pass me by. By the time came for me to go to the bus station, I was happy to do so.

My bus trip was delightful. A very comfortable ride on the top level of a big coach, complete with a woman offering tea and cake. Masks were meant to be worn for covid reasons, and many people did (including me), but not everyone, and one person towards the back kept smoking cigarettes until the tea and cakes lady told him off for it. even still, a relaxing ride. Not much to look at, but pleasant all the same.

When we got to Amman, I made the small mistake of getting off at the second of the two stops, which was not a formal stop, but just a place on a busy street that seemed to me to be far from everything. Fortunately, I was able to flag a taxi to take me to my hotel, just as art got dark. I had two more nights in Amman ahead of me.

Asia Jordan

Wadi Rum

I left Wadi Musa early the morning after my amazing day in Petra, bound for Wadi Rum. I opted to take a taxi for the two hour drive. The same taxi driver that had taken me shoe shopping the day before. We had a good rapport. We left Wadi Musa, passing patches of pomegranate trees, stopped for water, and hit the highway.

The drive wasn’t too remarkable. Lightly colored rocky desert punctuated by the odd town or flock of windmills. (Do we still call them windmills when they are those tall, white modern ones? I still imagine windmills as something out of a fairy tale book or a postcard of historic Netherlands.) Anyway, we arrived in Wadi Rum and I was deposited at the ‘visitors centre’ to await pickup. Nothing was open and there was no wifi, but sure enough, soon a pickup truck approached, and I hopped in the back…and we went about 1 minute away to a house. I had no idea what was happening. It was, as it turned out, the house of one of the brothers who operated the camp at which I was staying.

I was ushered into a room without furniture, and sat on the heavily carpeted floor and leaned against cushions. I was immediately offered sweet mint tea (refusing it was futile) and sat and talked with the host (whose name I have now forgotten) while his two young children played with iPhones – not as phones, but as, cars, I guess; zooming them around on the floor and crashing them into each other, before their father sent them out of the room. We chatted for a while and then three more guys, all in traditional Bedouin garb, joined us: the host’s brother, a guy named Omar, and a guy who said nothing, but sat there being quietly handsome. We drank tea and smoked. I still wasn’t sure why I was there.

After about 45 minutes, I realized that we were waiting for two other people who were to arrive and go to the camp and the three of us would travel there together. The people arrived – a mother/daughter duo – from Germany who had been staying at the same guest house as me in Petra. As well, two Spanish girls who were leaving the camp appeared and we all sat on the floor and ate out from communal plates: hummus, labneh, bread, cucumbers, potatoes, chicken, and tuna, though the vegetarians amongst us abstained from the latter two. It felt so normal to be sitting and sharing a meal in that way, I almost forgot about Covid.

The German mother/daughter duo and I sat in the back of a pickup truck, outfitted with two bench seats and a fabric awning, and set out into the desert.

It was immediately overwhelming in the best possible way. Aside from the odd circle of Bedouin tents, there is nothing there. Just vast expanses of sand in shades of red and ochre and beige, and dramatic rock formations and mountains. It really does look like Mars, or what we imagine Mars to be. And it is huge.

We arrived at the camp: Arabian Nights. It looks pretty much like the others: boxy, black striped Bedouin tents, a main, large tent for meals and hanging out, and a fire pit.

I splurged on one of the deluxe tents, which meant I had my own bathroom. The water same from some metal boxes outside and had to be brought in from the town. No AC. Ironically, I did not sleep a night in my lovely tent. It was so hot that it would have been unbearable. Instead, I slept both nights outside, on a mat under the stars, which I highly recommend. It was still too hot for a blanket, but the breeze was wonderful, and the stars were spectacular.

That first day in Wadi Rum, we (the German mother/daughter duo, and I) just hung out in the main tent, reading, napping, and (me) smoking cigars. There were a lot of guys working at the camp, all local Bedouins, and they were great company as well. At night we all say around the fire talking.

Both nights, dinner was cooked in the traditional Bedouin style of digging a pit in the sand and lowering a tiered, metal … thing … into the pit on top of a fire, after loading the thing up with chicken and vegetables. The pit is then covered with a board, blanket, and a mound of sand and is left to cook. When the oxygen runs out, the fire dies, but the heat remains to cook everything. There was also a big pot of rice and the usual dips and breads. We were well fed.

On the second day, the German mother/daughter duo and I took an all-day trip into the desert. Omar was our driver for the day, and we took the aforementioned truck into the unknown.

The day was a series of drives through the sand to various points of interest and places for hikes. It was all terrific. Even just driving and looking and the awesome scenery was great. But then we would stop at a narrow cave, for example, and venture in to look at ancient carvings and paintings of people, horned beasts, and whatnot.

We climbed up a sand dune and sand boarded or tobogganed down. It was amazing, though hiking up a sand dune is challenging; it feels like you slide back farther with every step forward, but out of breath at the top, it doesn’t seem to matter.

We visited what remained of T. E. Lawrence (of Arabia)’s house where he allegedly slept, a rare spring of water, a large rock resembling a mushroom, and a couple of amazing natural rock bridges.

Whenever possible, Omar parked the truck and told us to hike over a small mountain or through a canyon and he would pick us up on the other side. The scenery was outstanding. Much of it didn’t even seem real, like a scene out of a movie.

All of this was great fun, albeit rather exhausting, made more so by the heat. Thankfully, we stopped in a narrow cave for a couple hours and laid on thin mats on the sane while Omar cooked us a hot lunch over a fire and another man who showed up out of nowhere played songs on the oud.

We also had opportunities at various points to stop at open air tents operating as tea houses – literally in the middle of nowhere – to have a glass of tea, a chat with whoever was there, and, if we were lucky, hear a bit more of the oud being played.

We finished the day by hiking up a small mountain to watch the sunset over the desert, where, on that mountain I ran into the Czech doctor who I had previously met in Petra. I ran into him again later that night when I discovered he was staying at the same camp and joined us or dinner and fireside chats.

It was really nice on this trip to Jordan that, even though the tourist numbers are abysmal, there were still people traveling and all of them seemed eager to talk and hang out. Just like old times.

I slept under the stars, looking up at the milky way, until I dozed off. Wadi Rum really exceeded my expectations. There were iterations of this trip, in the planning stages, where I had thought about skipping it. I am so glad I didn’t.

The next morning after breakfast, I left the camp and caught a taxi to Aqaba before bussing back to Amman.

Wandering North

Tag: solo travel

Nouakchott to Atâr

Nouakchott, Mauritania

A bit about Mauritania

Arrival

The First Day in Nouakchott

Paris Layover: Overnight en route to Mauritania

A Morning in Malmö

Copenhagen Long Weekend: Sunday

Copenhagen Long Weekend: A pleasantly surprising start

Arrival

Exploring Copenhagen

Freetown Christiania

Smørrebrød, cigars, and my assessment of Copenhagen so far

Jerash, Jordan

Return to Amman

A few hours in Aqaba

Wadi Rum