Ouagadougou

I ended my day in Casablanca by returning the airport to catch my flight to Ouagadougou. I was excited, feeling buoyed by my successful day, but as it grew closer to boarding, i started to get nervous. This happens sometimes, when i am about to go somewhere strange and i am happy about it but also apprehensive. Like, "What am i doing? Why didn't i just go to [insert pleasant and easy to visit country]?" I remember having that feeling on the flight to Tel Aviv, the bus to Cairo, the flights to Moscow and Addis Ababa. It happens at times when i realize or believe that i am the only traveler on board, that no one speaks English and my words learned in the local language are totally inadequate. It always turns out great, but in those moments i do feel a bit nervous. I wanted to mention that because sometimes i feel like my travel accounts neglect to mention the hard parts about traveling. 

But, as i said, it always turns out well.

I arrived in Ouagadougou at 1:30am, shuffled off the plane, onto the tarmac and into an airport that was on par with a small town 1980s bus station. Got my backpack and spotted a guy with my name scrawled on a piece of paper (i try not to mess around with hailing cabs in the middle of the night) and was at my guesthouse shortly thereafter. Sleep.

The next morning i was able to take in the overwhelming charm that is my accommodations - Chez Giuliana - a guesthouse owned by a friendly, older Italian lady. It is a riot of color, with nooks and crannies housing welcoming seating areas and African art. And there is an excellent rooftop patio for breakfasts and cigars. 

At breakfast i chatted with a young woman here from New York doing research for her PhD in theatre (with a special interest in puppetry, which is right up my alley). We commiserated about the Trump election victory.

I then took a taxi downtown to explore on foot. 

Ouagadougou is busy, dusty, underdeveloped, and fascinating. The streets are often unpaved and are without sidewalks. Motorcycles, bicycles, and beat-up green taxis are everywhere. Lots of roadside markets, hair salons, cell phone stations, gas stations (read: petrol sold from wine & soda bottles at wooden tables), open fires for cooking chicken, fish being gutted, coffee being sold. Women walk in that eternal magic trick of being able to carry huge bundles or baskets of papaya or carafes of water on their heads. People speak French and Moore, very little English. 

I definitely stand out, but there is little of the hassle of other places where everyone wants to sell me souvenirs or act as a guide or ask for money. There just isn't much of a tourist trade here. In the sprawling market there were some craft and jewelry stalls which i was invited to look at, but there wasn't too much pressure to buy. There were some nice carvings and textiles. As i left, men had put out carpets and were facing east to pray. 

I visited le Grande Mosque, a few street side cafes, a closed museum, and found some salvation from the blazing heat at a leafy, courtyard restaurant where i bravely (stupidly?) ate a salad (stupidly because lettuce is almost certain to make me sick, but there was little else vegetarian).

I took a taxi back to the suburb where i am staying. Ice cream for dinner (again, a serious lack of vegetarian food, or even restaurants in this neighbourhood). It is dark now and still very warm. I can't believe that just yesterday i was cursing the cold in Brussels. 

7 Hours in Casablanca

I had two choices when booking my trip to Burkina Faso: a 2 hour layover in Casablanca or a 7 hour layover in Casablanca. The choice seemed obvious. There is a train from the airport and no visa is required, so with a bit of planning i figured i could pull off a quick visit to the city. And so i did.

Everything fell into place. Bag checked straight through, flight on time, no line at immigration, easily found the train which was just pulling into the station. About a half an hour later, past rural areas and industrial zones, i was at Casa Voyageurs Station. Form there i bought a ticket for the tram and took it 5 stops to the old medina, which was the area which most interested me.

The signs were now in French and Arabic. The weather, thankfully, was in the 20s and sunny. Everything was busy. People bustling about dressed in everything from traditional Moroccan clothes, to American outfits. People were selling nuts, water, coconuts, popcorn, balloons, and a collection of odds and ends. And that was even before reaching the medina. Outside the main gate of the medina was a water seller dressed in the traditional costume, offering brass cups of cold water to passersby. I tried to surreptitiously take his picture, but he saw me, smiled, waved me over, posed for a selfie, and then put his hat on my head. He refused to take any money.

Once inside, i was welcomed by every salesman and would-be guide. People were friendly even when i made it clear i was not buying. One fellow walked with me for a while and we chatted about movies and music and he pointed out some historical sights, which was nice, as he did so even after i said i didn't want a guide and wouldn't be paying. A couple of guys weren't so great and there was a bit of 'accidental' groping, but it wasn't the end of the world; i admonished them harshly and they scurried off. I had a good time, wandering the alleys past people selling produce, spices, clothing, house wears, and carpets. People were gutting fish, tending to chickens, cutting hair, smoking, and drinking coffee. Tucked into the commercial enterprises were mosques, cafes, and doors and passageways leading where i know not.

I tried to keep track of where i turned so i could find my way out of the labyrinth. That was a folly, but eventually (through nothing but luck) i made my way outside the wall and back to where i started. I thought about taking a taxi to see the big mosque but i was mindful of the time, so instead i just wandered around some more and then sat down on the patio of a nice cafe, where i smoked a Bolivar Belicoso Fino and watched the sun set and the rise of what i understand to be some sort of super moon.

Back at the airport, via the same route in reverse, through customs and awaiting my flight. From Brussels to Morocco and now to Burkina Faso. Big day. Posts to follow from Ouagadougou (internet permitting).

Brussels

I arrived in Brussels at 8:30 pm with my backpack and handwritten directions which were to lead me from the central train station to my hotel, but something went askew (i think a street disappeared. It couldn't be that my directions were flawed.) so i spent the next 45 minutes making false starts and returning to station to set off again. Finally two young men unloading an art exhibit into a car (or stealing art, i can't be sure) offered to help and pointed me in the right direction. 

First impressions of Brussels. It looks properly European. Cobblestones, old churches, bicycles, men in scarves, accordion players, cigarettes, pretty buildings, and squares centred around statues of men posing nobly. The area my hotel is in (which is about a 5 minute walk from the train station, notwithstanding the 45 minutes it took me to find it) is great. It is lined with waffle shops, cafes, and chocolatiers. The streets actually smell like chocolate in spots. Plus, my hotel is also about 5 minutes from La Grand Place and walking distance to everything else.  

The downside to my hotel (le hotel madeleine) is that it is almost sleazy. It's fine, really. Clean and cheap and the staff are good, but my room is literally an old bed, a wardrobe, which i can't open due to the proximity to the bed, and a sink. I am sharing a toilet. There is no shower or bath - not even a shared one - there just isn't one. But there is the sink, so sponge baths it is. As a bonus, under the circumstances, it is freezing in Brussels; it was minus 1 when i arrived, so i can get away without bathing for a couple, days.

I had only two nights and a day in Brussels, so i set off that first night to get the lay of the land. I walked the streets which were busy with young people drinking, smoking, and eating sweet treats. I easily found La Grand Place, which was a glow in warm floodlights, but freezing in every other respect. The square was crammed with people posing with selfie sticks and waffle props. 

I kept wandering around and finally gave in to hunger and cold and had a waffle with nutella, which was good, but i couldn't finish it and i think it literally killed off my craving for anything sweet. There really are waffle shops everywhere. Although apparently proper waffles are served only with powdered sugar, the ones in the tourist area are piled high with whipped cream, chocolate, and fruit. I'm pretty sure you would have to be high to eat one. I have been informed that a proper waffle is 10 squares by 10 squares (someone should tell the people at eggo). 

The next morning, i rose early, had a coffee, and took a stroll through a local super market, picking up a small baguette and a small round of cheese for a breakfast. I picked the cheese wanting something i didn't recognize and something local. It turned out i picked the world's stinkiest cheese. It was alternately amazing and gag inducing (but mostly good). Unfortunately, despite multiple hand washings, i smelled like that cheese for the rest of the day. Maybe i still do and have just been desensitized to it.

I don't have a ton of revelations about Brussels.  It's nice. It's Europe. The coffee is good, the architecture is pretty and impressive. The cafes are historic and beautiful. But i wasn't in love with it. It isn't on par with cities like Rome or Paris, Lisbon, or London. But there is enough to see. I went to the comic strip museum, which i very much enjoyed. Interesting, fun, and not too big. I learned a lot about Tin Tin and saw Smurfs represented. 

I visited a Catholic church, i bought a ridiculous but adorable toque to protect myself from the cold, and i rode the subway. 

The subway ride was specifically to visit  Brussels' local La Casa Del Habano (cigar shop), which was in a posh shopping area of the city where the streets were patrolled by soldiers carrying machine guns and pistols and wearing very snug camouflage trousers and jaunty berets. I half expected that at any moment they would drop their weapons and break into some sort of choreographed dance routine.

Anyway, i made it to La Casa, picked a couple of cigars from their excellent humidor and settled into the comfy smoking lounge. The lounge was busy and every time a man entered, he went around the room and shook each person's hand and said bonjour individually (those people who were known to him got a kiss on the cheek). I am not accustomed to this level of formal politeness. I must say though, my "bonjours" are exceptional now.

Donald Trump's recent election victory is the #1 news story. People bring it up when when they hear me speak and assume i am American. They share my disappointment and disbelief. 

In the evening, i wandered more, had dinner at a nice Thai restaurant (Belgian food is not so veg-friendly - even the frites are cooked in lard) and then i went to a bar. Not just any bar, but a goth type bar called The Coffin (en Francais). It has a cool decor that is right up my alley. Black and graffitied with red or uv lighting, skeletons, bats, and coffins decorate the place and they play rock and metal music. It is almost perfect. As i walked in, dressed in my usual cold weather traveling outfit (all black with army type boots, leather jacket with metal studs, black hair and eyeliner), i felt right at home...except that the place has become something of a tourist attraction and most of the people in there had blue jeans and polar fleece jumpers or khakis and ball caps. So that was a bit disappointing, but it's still a nifty bar. How often can you sit at a coffin and drink from a skull? Not often enough.

This morning i had coffee on the square. Cold and rainy now. Then i swiftly made it back to the airport for my flight to Casablanca. I passed the time having coffee with a lady from rural Belgium who is traveling to Morocco for a week exploring on horseback with a tour. 

Right now i am on board a Royal Air Maroc flight to Casablanca. From there i will fly to Ouagadougou, but first: a 7 hour long layover in Casablanca, during which i hope i will be able to take the train into the city for a quick walk around the old medina and whatever else i have time for. But it isn't certain. I'll assess the situation at the airport and make sure i have enough time to get through customs and back without missing my connecting flight. Even if i don't get to leave the airport...i'm still that much closer to Burkina Faso!

Onwards.

The Journey Begins to Burkina Faso

On board a flight to Brussels, via London. Neither one of these is my final destination, of course. London is just a brief layover. Brussels was to be the same, but having never been there, i decided to turn it into a two night/one day visit on each end of the trip. Just a brief stop to enjoy a bit of Europe before i carry on to the focus of my holiday: Burkina Faso. Since everyone keeps asking me why Burkina Faso (and where it is), i'll start there.

I don't have a really good reason for choosing Burkina Faso. I wanted to go somewhere in West Africa and Burkina Faso caught my attention. It is small, off the radar of most tourists, and is known for being a friendly country with a good arts and music scene. Plus, in what really was the deciding factor, the capital is Ouagadougou ("wa-ga-doo-goo" go on, say it. It's most enjoyable). How could i not go to a place called Ouagadougou? Right? And so off i go.

Burkina Faso is located just under Mali and next to Niger in West Africa. It was called Upper Volta until the 1980s, at which time it received its new name, which means "land of upright men" or "land of honest men" in the local language. It is usually ranked as one of the poorest counties in the world. Low literacy rates, frequent coups, occasional kidnappings, and in January of this year a particularly bad terrorist attack, so these things might keep the tourists at bay. Plus, there really aren't any sites of note in the country. Some mud mosques i am interested in, sprawling markets, wildlife, and some hiking, but there is nothing famous. Everything i have read about it from past visitors has been positive. I don't know exactly what i'll see or do, but i am excited to find out. 

But first, a day or so in Brussels, and then i am hoping to make the most of a layover in Casablanca and get to see something of the city, but we'll see how things go at the airport.

I am so delighted to be off. As i write this i am flying to London. The guy in front of me has his seat all the way back and the girl next to me has thrown up twice, but i am happy just to be here. I shall report again from Brussels.

Shanghai

One of the things i was delighted about in terms of my flights on this trip was that i had a 12 hour, daytime layover in Shanghai. For some reason i've never been that excited about visiting China but the pictures of Shanghai that i had seen all looked very nice and i seemed like an ideal spot for a long layover.  The really great thing is that China has a 144 hour layover thing where if you have a long layover on the same ticket you can enter the country without a visa.  I expected to be hassled at the border, but i was not; i only had to show my ticket onwards. The other really great thing is that the airport is connected to the city by the Maglev train - the world's fastest train, topping out at 301km per hour.

It is more expensive than the slower means of reaching the city, but when time is short, why would you not ride the world's fastest train?  Finding my way and getting tickets was a breeze and before i knew it my train ride was over.

I switched from the Maglev at the end stop to the subway and got off a stop 2 blocks from the Bund in central Shanghai. Success!

The weather in Shanghai was a bit of a shock after blisteringly hot and oppressively humid Delhi. It was cool and raining and the clouds were socked in. It felt like...Vancouver. My first order of business was to get an umbrella. Fortunately the subway ejected me on a decidedly commercial street - high-rises, neon signs, familiar retailers, and less familiar shops all unpleasantly (but interestingly) crowded with shoppers.

Armed with my cartoonishly tiny (child's?) umbrella i walked to the Bund to get the postcard view of the Pudong district across the river. The Bund is a stately strip along the river, lined with a pleasant pedestrian walk and large, European looking buildings. Across the river is Pudong, which is notable for its conglomeration of modern, almost futuristic looking buildings. Unfortnately, my view was obscured by the clouds, but it still was a pleasant sight.

On a nicer day i might have walked longer along the Bund, but in the rain i decided to take my pictures and head elsewhere. Following my now-soggy map, i easily found my way to Yu Gardens and the surrounding neighbourhood. It was a good walk. I passed through a park, past a bamboo 'forrest', past small shops, down narrow lanes which were not picturesque, but were filled with interesting dingy eateries and lines of street vendors grilling up meat, fish, tentacles, and tofu.

Right next to Yu Gardens was a large complex of temples. I did no reading about it so i'm not sure if it was a palace or if it is more like a museum, but there were things on display but also areas where people were praying and lighting incense.  I didn't find it super interesting, but there was a nice bit of traditional music played in an elaborately decorated room with buddhas. It was worth visiting, but i didn't stay long.

Exiting the temple complex i found my way to Yu Gardens. At this point it was still raining and everything was so crowded that the gardens didn't have the serenity i imagined, but they were very beautiful, even as i was constantly assaulted by umbrellas.

From the gardens i was ejected into a super busy area filled with shops and restaurants, super crowded, and surrounded by traditional style buildings. It was a fun area to wander around in. I was starving at this point though so i didn't linger too long in any shops, but tried to find a place to eat. This proved difficult, as i speak no Mandarin or Cantonese (and for the layover i hadn't learned anything aside from hello and thank you) and i could not determine what, if anything was vegetarian. Almost every place i went into sold dumplings, which are a vegetarian's nightmare - doughy mystery bags of (likely) meat. Or there were vendors selling things on sticks that might have been fish, meat, tofu, or gluten, but i couldn't tell.

Finally i found a place that was buffet style, not as in 'all you can eat' but as in i could walk around from station to station and help myself to plates of pre-made food, so i could select identifiable tofu cubes, broccoli, and mushrooms. None of it was particularly good or cheap, but it was filling.

After that i wandered aimlessly. Had i had more time there were other areas i would have checked out, but i started to get nervous about missing my flight (and it was getting dark) so i walked a bit (still in the rain) before heading back to the airport. Shanghai didn't strike me as a place i would want to purposely holiday in (it just didn't capture my imagination), but it was a great place for a layover and i would love to have another there (hopefully with better weather). I am aware that some of my lack of enthusiasm for Shanghai was likely due to the weather and the fact that prior to arriving i had gone without sleep for a night, so i was exhausted. A rested me on a sunny day might have had a more favourable account of the same visit.

And with that, another trip concluded and planning for the next to begin.

Viva Nepal!

I arrived back in Kathmandu from Nagarkot mid-afternoon and felt pretty pleased with myself because while the first time i arrived in Kathmandu it was just a confounding tangle of streets and tributaries, this time i was able to give directions to the taxi driver to find my hotel.

I spent the majority of that day in my hotel, partly due to a thunderstorm but mostly due to the hotel i was staying at. As has become my habit, i booked my last two nights in a fabulous hotel. This time is is the Hotel Dalai La. It is gorgeous. Fancy and with a terrific courtyard restaurant. I felt so sloppy on arrival with my dirty clothes and my dirty self, as i had not showered for six days, but not only were they polite to me, but they upgraded me to a superior room. I spent the evening luxuriating in a needed hot shower and watching movies.

This morning, after breakfast, i taxied to Swayambhunath, aka "The Monkey Temple" a hilltop collection of Buddhist and Hindu temples surrounded by trees and countless, curious monkeys. Arriving at the temple involves climbing up 365 steep stairs, flanked by Buddhas and frequented by those ubiquitous monkeys. 

The temples at the top are similar to others i have seen on this trip, but it was splendid how crammed together they all were and how busy they were with pilgrims, people praying, and making offerings.

I walked around for quite some time, watching monkeys steal food from people and visiting craft shops (me, not the monkeys). One man, attempted to open my chakras by hitting a large healing bowl with a mallet and moving it about my head, chest, and back. I felt vaguely uncomfortable, which may or may not be the feeling of open chakras. 

I descended the mountain, wandered around a few more stupas, spinning prayer wheels as a went, then taxied back to Thamel.  

From there i just walked aimlessly for a few hours, weaving with the traffic, declining offers of of guides, rickshaws, taxis, and pashminas. I walked through an area that sold nothing by dentures, then another that sold only textiles. It is all endlessly fascinating.

But come to an end it must. I am now in the excellent courtyard of my hotel having a cigar and dinner and that will be it for me for Nepal. I fly back to New Delhi in the morning. Nepal has been amazing and i have seen only a sliver of it. The takeaway from this is: selecting vacation destinations based on Eddie Murphy movies is an excellent idea.