My last morning in Abidjan, I
packed up and got a F2500 taxi (For reference: F600 is about $1) to the busy and crowded bus rank. As we pulled
into the series of small streets, lined with vendors, the taxi almost pushing
through waves of people, the driver was asking people the way to the bus to
Man. Man is a town in the northwest of Côte d’Ivoire within shooting distance
of Liberia. My plan was to find a cheap hotel on arrival, then the next day
continue to Danane, an even closer town to Liberia, then cross into Liberia. The only thing that stood in between me and my
friend Milea was two travel days.
Our trusty bus
The
taxi took me to the bus going to Man, and we were led to said bus by a guy
running alongside our taxi who never let go of the open passenger window as he
ran with us. I bought my F8000 ticket, and while I was loading my backpack
under the bus, a guy approached me and asked me to keep an eye on this girl for
him. Turns out he worked at the Liberian embassy, and after I said that I was
just there a few days ago to get a visa, he said that it was his signature that
was on my visa sticker. Pretty cool! He was with a 19 year old Liberian girl
who had been robbed of everything in Abidjan, so the embassy was helping her
out and sending her back to Liberia. I was tasked with keeping an eye on her
and helping her continue to the terminus of the bus, even though I’d be getting
off early in Man. So we both got on the bus, in different sections of it due to
our seat assignments, but every once in a while I’d glance back and make sure
she was still ok.
How high can you pile stuff on your head? The limit does not exist.
The
bus finally started snailing out of town. There were ladies selling food and
snake oil salesmen selling little bottles of miracle pills and serums for all
kinds of aches and pains that one may encounter on a long bus ride. I was
assigned to a middle seat, wedged next to a lady with a butt that took up 1.5
seats. So this other guy and I were sharing the other 1.5 seats. The bus did
have air conditioning, though, which was lovely. After being in Lesotho, I was
definitely not used to this heat and humidity yet. Pretty soon into the trip, a
guy started (from what I understood) half preaching, half selling some of the
same old snake oil pills. He even tried to win over the bus by handing out
little candies with shrimps on the wrapper. Were they shrimp flavored? I
declined to eat mine in any case. Then he went on and on about how he only got
one “merci” from the whole bus, and used that to continue his sermon. I just
popped in my headphones, leaned my forehead forward against the seat in front
of me, and tried to sleep. It ended up taking 11 hours to get to Man, including
a long stop in a line of cars where a truck had somehow gotten sideways across
the road and spilled its load of giant tree trunks.
People selling all kinds of food as we stopped for a break
At
dusk, we arrived in Man, and it took a good while for the bus guys to dig
through all the stuff and find my backpack. I bought two baguettes from a lady
selling them next to the bus and walked to the CAA hotel. Once again, maps.me
saved my butt for both finding a hotel and providing a map to it. I walked in
and got a room for F5000. The F10,000 room included air conditioning, but I
thought I’d be fine with just a fan. The hotel was totally falling apart, but
it was somewhere to sleep (without any pillows and one thin sheet) and take a
shower (before the water ran out).
I
got up early the next day and walked to the Man rank, where I was the first
person on a sprinter taxi going to Danane. Milea and I had coordinated to meet
at the border that day. She only lived a short motorbike ride on the other side
of the border, so it was easy for her to come and meet me. I told her that I
hoped to make it to the border by around 10am, but the taxi didn’t leave until
almost 11. Hopefully she’d been in Liberia long enough to get used to African
time. While I waited, I had an awesome and cheap street meat and avocado
sandwich and, my new favorite thing, some bagged water from the kids chanting “de
l’eau, de l’eau, bien glacée” “water, water, well chilled” as they carried
piles of them in coolers on their heads. These water bags cost mere pennies and
each one is half a liter of water in a clear plastic bag. You just bite off the
corner and squeeze. So convenient!
The street meat lady making her sweet, sweet sandwiches. Also, please notice the white jelly sandals this guy is wearing. What was an elementary school fashion statement for me is now choice footwear for West African men. I saw so many guys wearing these!
I
was smushed up in the front seat with like three other people as we bumped
along a super potholey road to Danane. When we arrived, I got out and asked
around for how to get to the border. Some market ladies called their motorbike
driver friend, I hopped on, and off we went. I probably should have taken off
my big backpack and strapped it on the back, because wearing a huge, heavy
backpack while riding a motorbike is really hard, especially uphill when the
backpack is trying to pull you off the bike. We were stopped several times on
the road at checkpoints where my passport was scrutinized (probably just out of
curiosity), and we finally arrived in Gbenta, the border town. I saw a white
girl walking toward me, with a small backpack on and a motorbike helmet under
her arm. Was this a dream? No, I had finally made contact with the famed Milea!
I was totally covered in red dust by this point thanks to the motorbike ride.
Milea pointed out that I even had dust in my eyelashes. This dry-season dust
doesn’t kid around! I was so happy to finally see her, though! Almost a year
earlier, when I found out that she was doing PC in Liberia, I committed to
coming to see her, and it was finally happening. It was the start of a month of
great adventuring with her and her PC friends in Liberia!
Up next: I cross into Liberia and, as per
usual, quickly get into some crazy antics. Stay posted!
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