30.03.2021
ca. 95 km from Tiouilit/Trarza to Nouakchott
Don’t you feel you get value for your day
if you’ve actually watched the sunrise?
AJ Vosse
Tearing away from the activities on the beach I followed Ely’s call for breakfast. I would have preferred to have it outside, but they had prepared it in our hut. A couple of curious locals came to keep us company. Of course, they were invited for breakfast and tea. Ely and Sahar chatted away, while I watched intendedly – not understanding a word for sure – and munched away on my bread. I would have liked to get the last of my Salami and cheese out, but did not dare with the locals around.
Then it was time to pack. I had already gotten my stuff together quickly before breakfast to make space. Now Ely and Sahar were packing up the truck one last time. They had to do it properly, because once they would drop me off at the hotel in Nouakchott they would be on their way home to Atar. But there was not that much to pack today anyway.
By 08:30 we were all ready to go on the last leg of our road trip back to Nouakchott. Waving the locals farewell, we got in the truck and left the village. Just a few hundred meters behind the village we passed a huge open space covered in the empty shells of giant sea snails … I had to get out to have a closer look … Those were shells of Cymbium – also known as Elephant’s Snout Volute Snail or Volute Trompe de Couchon – a species of sea snail, a marine gastropod mollusk in the family Volutidae.
The gastropods – snails & slugs – were a group of molluscs that occupy marine, freshwater and terrestrial environments. Most gastropods have a calcareous external shell – the snails. Some lack a shell completely or have reduced internal shells – the slugs & sea slugs & pteropods. Most members of the Gastropoda are marine. The Elephant’s Snout Volute snail was common in the warms waters of the West African coast of the Atlantic – extending from Morocco to Angola with habitats varying from muddy sand flats to stretches of black basalt rock. People in this area use mollusks extensively for food.
This up to 25 cm long Volute was also called Yet in Wolof – a language of Senegal, Mauritania and the Gambia and the native language of the Wolof people. Its scientific name was Cymbium Cymbium. It is one of the ingredients of Senegalese cuisine. So it was not too surprising to find this graveyard of shells here … since most of the people living in this fishing village were of Senegalese origin, I had been told.
The Volute was dried on the beaches – it had quite a strong smell. I had diligently ignored the fishy smell wafting over the village … Our hut had been close to the beach and the breeze blowing off the ocean had actually dispersed of it. But around this part here … it was … strong! After the meat was taking out of the shell, the mollusk was buried in the sand for several days, then washed 4-5 times in water, then cut into slices and left to dry in the sun. Eventually it acquired a very strong scent which explained its nickname of sea camembert or Senegalese camembert … It was used in Thiéboudiène and other Senegalese dishes frequently.
But also the fish that had been brought in by the fishermen was processed around this part of the village. Most of it was dried in the sun and then brought to a factory to be processed into fishmeal. Some workers were busy offloading a pick up full of smelly fish …
Sahar found an empty turtle shell … it had probably ended up in a fishing net accidentally. He liked the shell and put it in the truck to take home … it was very smelly, too … I though briefly if I should take one of the snail shells home … but they were so big and I was not sure if it would go through customs … but … hey … they were just discarded there … online you could buy shells like that for a fortune … nevermind … Being a good girl I left them there and took only photos …
It was only a couple of kilometers east of the coast along a dirt track until we reached the main N2 highway – from now on it was asphalted road and many … many … checkpoints to reach the city of Nouakchott. The highway paralleled the coast at a maybe 3-5 km distance. The last time we were driving through the Sahara desert …
Sooner than expected we reached the city outskirts … passing the International Airport meant even more check points … At one point I was worried we would arrive at the hotel earlier than expected … Imoudou had hurried up my program of the last 2 days, because I had a zoom meeting at 15:00 … reaching the second year of the world standing still … the boss had only started to do zoom meetings recently and this one had actually been scheduled before I had left Germany … I had moved my departure so I could attend it while still in Germany … a few days before that it had been postponed twice … messing up my schedule in Mauritania … But me being a responsible person … had asked to adjust the plan to be in Nouakchott to … maybe … have reliable internet connection to at least listen what they had to tell us … But it was only later this afternoon … it was fine to arrive by 14:00 in the hotel … If not for that zoom meeting we would have been fine to arrive tonight in the city and I would have had more time on the Banc d’Arguin National Park …
Before dropping me off at the hotel however, we went to the Port de Pêche – the fishing port of the capital city – located 6 km west of the city center. Actually the Plage des Pêcheurs – the beach of the fishermen – because Nouakchott did not have a fishing port properly speaking and the industrial port was situated just south of it. There was also a large fish market attached to it.
Sahar parked the truck and commissioned somebody to wash it while we went for a look around. Ely was soon off to buy fish to take home … he appointed Sahar to be my shadow walking through the maze of boats crammed like sardines on the beach … it was pretty safe walking around – as usually being vigilant and sensible with my possessions – but people were very sensitive about photography here as well … While he was only tagging along Sahar’s presence made it somewhat easier, still there were the familiar shouts of … No No No photo … regularly …
We arrived there around 11:00 … not the best time for a visit, though. The boats would have gone out early morning just like I watched them doing in the village earlier … and they would only return in the late afternoon. Then it would get busy on the beach and on the fish market … the midday light was not ideal either … nevermind … it was still OK …
Countless pirogues were pulled up side by side on the sandy beach in a line a good kilometer long at least. There was no pier on the unprotected straight coast. The fishermen were mostly Wolof – a West African ethnic group found largely in northwestern Senegal, the Gambia and southwestern coastal Mauritania – and Fula – one of the largest ethnic groups in the Sahel – others came also from neighboring countries like Guinea. The catches were brought ashore mainly in the late afternoon and then off in a fish hall.
The Port de Pêche was apparently Nouakchott’s star attraction … lively and colourful … at the right time hundreds of teams of men would be dragging in heavy fishing nets. Small boys would hurry back and forth with trays of fish, which they would sort, gut, filet and lay out on large trestles to dry in the sun … The best time to visit was indeed in the late afternoon … also concerning the light … still … it was fascinating to watch the more quiet time now …
Nets were being repaired right on the beach … boats were mended while being on dry land … the hottest time of the day was of course also used to have a siesta … or contemplate live while staring out at sea …
While it was the calm time of the daily activity … there was still much going on apart from siesta … The cacophony of colours, smells and sounds … the incoming tide and big waves washing up to the resting pirogues … people were resting oblivious to the surroundings … women were selling snacks … people were chatting and catching up with the latest news …
A simple fishing boat in the midst of the rippling waters
is enough to awaken in the mind of the beholder
a sense of vastness of the sea
and at the same time of peace and contentment
– the Zen sense of the alone.
D.T. Suzuki
Thinking of Mauritania it was likely to imagine the burning sands of the Sahara, nomads swathed in wind-blown traditional robes and camel trains moving through the heat haze of the desert … I would not have thought of a fishing fleet with brightly painted pirogues as far as I could see … Already this morning had been an eye opener … but here were even more boats … row after row of colourful pirogues lined the shore here at the Port de Pêche …
These flat-bottomed, shallow boats were each unique – with custom-cuts and hand-painted with bright drawings of animals, people, patterns and symbols … gaudy flags adorned the boats as well … I was particularly intrigued by that of a spirited Che Guevara – the Argentine Marxist revolutionary, physician, author, guerrilla leader, diplomat and military theorist, who was a major figure of the Cuban Revolution and who’s stylized visage has become a ubiquitous countercultural symbol of rebellion and global insignia in popular culture.
Nature had left Mauritania with barren lands but with particularly fertile waters. A cold ocean current brings up plankton – therefore the waters off the coast of the desert country were some of the richest fishing grounds in the world and a vital source of income for the region. There was a huge local economy playing out around the fishing port and market here.
Some of the catch was sold to the nearby fishing market. Most however was loaded onto trucks and delivered to processing factories. Some fish would be frozen and exported while others would reach factories that produced fishmeal and oil to be exported to Asia and Europe as a component of feed for fish farms. In recent years, the fishmeal industry had been growing fast in Morocco, Mauritania, Senegal and the Gambia, along the migratory routes of Sardinella. In 2019 Greenpeace counted 50 fishmeal and fish oil factories operating primarily in Mauritania and more recently also in Senegal and the Gambia. Originally the fishmeal industries had the function of taking fishing waste and manufacturing it. But today there are no more wastes to exploit, because the fish resource was scarce. Consequently, the industry no longer used waste, but was fed with small pelagic fish. In Mauritania fishmeal was almost entirely produced from small pelagics – like Sardinella and Bonga – that were usually considered the main and cheaper source of animal protein for thousands of people in the region.
You did not kill the fish only to keep alive and to sell for food, he thought.
You killed him for pride and because you are a fisherman.
You loved him when he was alive and you loved him after.
If you love him, it is not a sin to kill him.
Or is it more?
Ernest Hemingway – The Old Man and the Sea
Despite the unfavourable time for a visit here, there was still much going on off the beach and in the market. I like people watching … and that was possible while waiting for the car to be finished and the shopping done …
As always I was fascinated by the battered old cars … a patched-up crowd of beat-up survivors … Mercedes-Benz along with Peugeots and what else … still surviving in the harsh desert climate … seemingly indestructible … some obviously held together by no more than trust and rusty wire … but still earning their keep being in taxi service …
The drive to Hotel Sunset was quick and we reached there shortly before 12:30. Idoumou was already waiting for us to take over from Ely and Sahar. Those 2 were straight away off to go home back to Atar. No time to waste. So it was a quick wave of farewell … I happily handed of a small bonus … it had been a fantastic tour! There was no time to be sad it was over … I gifted my solar powerbank to Ely as well … I did not have much use of it if not being in the desert anymore and he had eyed it curiously … he could probably make use of it better than I did … before I could blink Sahar had pulled out of the parking lot and they were off …
Check-in was quick since I had been here before. This time I got room #109 towards the street. It was identical to the other rooms and this time there was no problem with cleaning or electricity or such like on my first arrival. Imoudou made sure I settled it – he would pick me upt at 07:30 tomorrow morning to start the long departure procedure … with the PCR test …
I did not do much the rest of the afternoon … I just hung out … sorting photos … posting and networking … shower … tried to figure out how to pack for the flight home … skipped lunch all together … 15:00 it was time to log on to zoom … I figured I got the room right above the reception to have the best WIFI connection … it was sure smooth today … The meeting was … insignificant … to say the least … there was no new information … the world was still closed … if I had missed the meeting it would have been no loss … but so I did my duty … I was logged on … I was sure there was somebody who took note if everybody was attending …
That over and done with and already forgotten, I got to beaming photos of the cameras to various external hard discs. The small camera was basically basura … the Sahara sand of the last 2 weeks had not done it any good and the iron ore had given it the final death blow … dust was everywhere and the lens was basically stuck … oh well … the card was OK and all the photos came off without a problem … I also eventually finished writing my stash of postcards I had started a couple of days ago. A mission for tomorrow was to find the post office …
In the cooler time of the day – around 16:30 – I went for a walk. I wandered around the stadium and to the supermarket. It would have maybe a good time to take a trip to the fishing port again … but I could not be bothered. I stocked up on water, juice, fresh dates and crème fraîche – or something like it. I had read somewhere Mauritanians eat dates with a local cheese … that tub of crème had an all Arabic label … but a picture of a date dipped in the crème … that was good enough for me … I would try it later.
For now I continued my walk … I learnt, today was a soccer game on – Central African Republic vice Mauritania in the Group E qualification for the 2021 Africa Cup of Nations qualification – and therefore plenty flag sellers were parading the streets in hope of business … Mauritania won the game, by the way …
Dropping my shopping at the hotel I went off again in search of bread or baguette. Walking down the avenue from the hotel, I did pass a couple of boulangeries, but none had bread at this time o the day … only sweet stuff left … So I kept waking and ended up in another supermarket … no baguette here either … but I found Zwieback which would do the deed … and I also splurged in a 0.0 alcohol free beer thing …
I made it back to the hotel right in time for sunset and even had a nice enough view from my balcony. Dinner was Zwieback with Salami and cheese and then dates with crème for desert. The Zwieback was too sweet for the salami and cheese, though … the dates and crème made up for it … Dates and dairy were apparently ancient staples of the Middle East. Dates were said to be one of the best sweet and tasty foods that could regulate the process of digestion. They had iron, fiber, magnesium and potassium and were rich in fiber, vitamins include Vitamins B1, B2, A, Biotin, Folic Acid and Vitamin C. Eating dates with milk or cream cheese was said to be a healthy food that benefited the human body. I have to say, this was actually very tasty …
Once the sun was down, it was too fresh on the balcony, so I lounged in bed beaming more photos … chatting online … generally marveling about the fantastic voyage I had … and being sad that it was all over too soon … I was so hyped, I slept very late …
At the end of the day,
if I can say I had fun,
it was a good day.
Simone Biles
31.03.2021
The last day in Mauritania
Despite sleeping late, I was up early as usual. Maybe I was a tiny bit nervous about that necessary PCR test. There was only one test center in Mauritania at all and they only did 300 tests per day between 08:00 and 10:00 in the morning. A negative test was necessary to actually leave the country … I knew that from my Uganda tour in February … but I also needed it to enter Germany … Mauritania was enlisted as high risk area by the RKI Health Ministry of Germany … Those tests in Nouakchott were free of charge. But since there were only 300 per day … the line up would start very early … if the 300 tests were finished …. then … Hasta la vista, baby! … So I had to pay US$ 30 to my fixer Imoudou to make sure I did not have to stand in line for hours … and to make sure the result would be negative … It was still cheaper than a test in Germany …
Imoudou picked me up at 07:30 and we reached the official test center just before 08:00. The line was already long … quite a few Westerners were there … locals as well … but there was a man with a list … he was obviously the man in charge of the line-up … and he did have a list with my name at #5! Quickly I was ushered to the front of the line … That was good … the first hurdle cleared!
It was quite a procedure to get this done … I had to hand over a passport copy, a cop of my flight details and my passport … Imoudou had prepared all the copies for me … I would not even have thought about it. But considering the tests were free and mainly only used to leave the country … not surprising. I was handed back my passport with a code sticker and a test set with the same code …
Then it was waiting … It was pretty much the first time in 2 weeks that I had to wear a mask again … if it was only for the duration of the test ceremony … It was weird … Something I had to get used to again from tomorrow on … it had been a great 2 weeks of freedom in the Sahara Desert … Europe was way more strict in the new normality … quite frankly … personally I believe, western society had become way too effeminate … no wonder the shit hit the fan … The wait was not long and as fast as I was in the tiny office, I was out again. A quick throat swap and it was one. I watched the guy put the thing in the kit with my code on … all would be good … Inshallah … as Idoumou would say …
Before taking me back to the hotel for breakfast, Idoumou helped me with my postcard mission and took me to the main post office. It was open this early and while the clerk there was rather perplexed by me wanting to get 10 stamps for Europe … he caught his breath quickly and had me hand over a load of cash … mail was always expensive … this load came to approx US$ 15 … but it always was a traditional ritual for me …
The most adventurous part was to find the actual mailbox … No! The clerk would not take the postcards directly … he said to go around the building … there would be a letterbox … drop it there … Ooooookkkkaaaayyyy … Imoudou ushered me along and pointingly said he would wait by the car … The post office building was also some kind of other administrative whatever and there were several people waiting … when I waved with my postcards they all pointed me along to the wall where there were 2 nondescript slots … only one was marked with Interieur … but everybody pointed to the upper one … I suppose the Exterieur sign had disappeared or never been there … Should I really drop my postcards in there? … Well … I had no choice … and off they went …
Against all odds … I can happily report … all of those postcards have arrived in Europe by the end of June! Believe it! 3 months … but they made it safe and sound! I do believe, it made some people happy … little joys in strange and uncertain times …
We went back to the hotel after the post office visit to have breakfast together. Then I got the cameras and we were off to the Camel Market. I had told Idoumou yesterday, that I wanted to visit it and could take a taxi. But he would not have it. He said he would take me there as it was far out of the city. On the way Idoumou had to run some errands … we stopped several times for whatever … I was not bothered … people watching was one of my favourite past times …
The Marché aux Chameaux – the camel Market – of Nouakchott was located on the outskirts of town on the road east to Boutilimit … some 20 km away from my hotel. It was quite a drive … out of the city and into the desert …
Soon enough we reached the said to be largest Camel Market on the West Coast of Africa. Tinweich Camel Market was apparently where all of the local camel traders gather with many buyers turning up from across Mauritania and also other neighbouring countries … it was indeed a busy place … And as we got out of the car I immediately understood why Imoudou had accompanied me here. He pretended to being interested in buying a camel … so I just had to tag along and nobody bothered me while I could take numerous photos …
It was very amusing to watch him haggling with different sellers … not that I understood a word … he could have told them anything … but he was leading them all over and around the huge place were more camels than I had ever seen … or imagined in one place … where gathered. A camel price started from approx US$ 450 …
In between the camels of all ages and sizes, there were almost as many goats rummaging about … It was a constant medley of animal sounds … Camels grunting, maning and groaning … protesting loudly when being made to move or being inspected by potential buyers. Goats and donkeys in between had their own say in between … Donkey carts were shuttling water barrels through the maze of animals and old bathtubs and such were fill up for the animals.
The camel caravans which crossed the great dunes of the Sahara desert began in antiquity but reached their golden period from the 9th century onwards. In their heyday caravans consisted of thousands of camels travelling from North Africa, across the desert to the savannah region in the south and back again, in a hazardous journey that could take several months. Caravans were largely controlled by the Berbers who acted as middlemen in the trans-Saharan trade of such desired commodities as salt, gold, copper, hides, horses, slaves and luxury goods.
The Dromedary Camel – Camelus Dromedarius – the one with a single hump – was perhaps introduced from Arabia into Egypt. From the 8th century, the Moroccans were successfully breeding camels on a huge scale and they even created a cross-breed between the Dromedary and the two-humped Bactrian Camel of Asia. The result of these experiments produced 2 variants of Dromedaries – a sleek, fast-running camel useful for messenger services and a heavier, slower camel that could carry more weight than the pure Dromedary.
No committee could ever come up with anything as revolutionary as a camel
– anything as practical and as perfectly designed
to perform effectively under such difficult condition.
Laurence J. Peter
Owning a camel used to be like a mutual agreement – the owners provided the animals with food, water and shelter – in return they received transportation, food and garments. Camels today were still raised for food – namely meat and milk, though they are less important for transport in the face of more competitive cars and trucks nowadays.
We stayed at the Camel Market for a good half an hour or so. Most of the creatures were largely still and focused on using as little physical energy as possible. Allegedly, the final destination of most of the camels was clear … The cuisine of Mauritania was not very expansive – partly as a function of its geography, resources and the lifestyle of the inhabitants. With a large proportion of its land area being arid and people having been nomadic, the cuisine in the north especially, had been adapted to dishes that travelled well and did not rely on lots of fresh ingredients … camel meat was one of the main sources of protein.
While Idoumou slowly wiggled his way out of the camel price negotiation, camels were being bought by other people. I had already seen camels transported on pick up trucks … but they were even loaded onto rusty Renault Kangoos … adapted to camel transport … the back doors removed … That camel did not look amused …
Quickly we now left the sea of camels and their tenders behind and were back on the road into the city. Nouakchott was a sprawl of low-rise candy-coloured buildings that seemed to grow haphazardly out of the desert. Traffic … traffic was … fun … slow moving and colourful. As always I was fascinated by the array of rusty cars … most did not even have any functional lights …
Bumpers were pretty much optional … as often windows, too. Doors, hoods and trunks had clearly found a 7th or even 10th live long after their original source vehicles had … retired … Mirrors hung limply by a thread .. if they were present at all … Interiors seemed gutted, suspensions crushed and all in all being held together by often not more than rusty spots, duct tape and chicken wire … Any hardy Mercedes-Benz – built between the mid-1970s and mid-1990 – be it the w201 or 240D or whatever – was unexpectedly ubiquitous in Mauritania. Allegedly they were just tough enough to withstand the heat and dryness of the Sahara – and Germany had exported them en masse once newer models began to win favor. Undoubtedly, the old Mercedes was the most common taxi in Africa … and the most sustainable car on earth … Built to last 30 years and 600000 km, those vehicles now have most often more than 2 mio km on the clock and 45 years under their belts and were nevertheless tirelessly on duty on the dusty roads of Africa.
Classic Mercedes-Benz’s were commonly associated not only with luxury but also with being extremely tough … and they prove it here every day. But do not get fooled by the story … sometimes … not often, but often enough to notice … in this crowd of beat-up survivors a classic – in almost mint showroom condition – appeared out of the desert haze!
I had asked Idoumou to drop me off near the Musée National de Nouakchott … His daughters school was near there and he had to pick her up anyway … I wanted to give the geocache there at the gate of the museum another try … I had seen online last night that some other crazy person had found it a week ago and had posted a spoiler photo … I had to give it another shot … and … I WAS SUCCESSFUL! … Finally a real box and logbook to sign in Mauritania! Maybe on my first day in the country I just had not been bold enough to search … or maybe I was just being more confident and blending in slightly better than after just having arrived … Nobody noticed the stranger rummaging throught the bushes this time …
That accomplished I felt very elated and had almost forgotten to worry about the test result … it would only be available in the evening, though. For now I was going for a walk through the market district again and not worry about it any more … Again I noticed … I was bolder this time than on the first day.
I just walked purposefully along and even had the big camera out to take some photos. I even fixed the GoPro on the straps of my camera bag and set it on time-lapse while walking. In the beginning it was in wrong position … filming the sandy street … so I adjusted it later and it was actually cool when walking through the market.
Most people wore what was considered the Mauritanian traditional dress. Mauritania’s culture was a mixture of many influences – both indigenous and external from the ancient Berber people, the Moors and the French. The Mauritanian traditional dress consisted of light clothing to protect against the sun and as well as the sand storms. Arid climate, hot winds and cold nights – everyday life in the desert needed adaptation – in order to protect themselves, Mauritanians wore a well-reasoned traditional suit – for men the Daraa or Boubou and Turban. They were very attached to their traditional Boubou … I had noticed that during this tour through the country … even if they lived in the city. In no way they would give up their Boubou!
The womens traditional dress in Mauritania was called Melahfa. Most of the Mauritania women used it not only as a traditional dress – they also used it to cover their hair, because of religious reasons. The Melahfa was a 6 m long piece of fabric that was wrapped around the body and then around again to cover the head. Generally women did not cover their faces, unless it was very windy when it was best to cover up to avoid getting sand everywhere. Underneath the women would traditionally wear a full-length skirt as well to make sure their legs could not be seen.
Mauritania’s official religion is Islam and almost 100% of the country is Muslim, with most inhabitants adhering to the Sunni denomination. One of the country’s largest ethnic groups is the Bidhan – or so-called white moors. The Bidhan make up 30% of the population. Another of the largest groups is the Haratin – or so-called black moors. The Haratin make up 40% of the population. The Roman Catholic Diocese of Nouakchott, founded in 1965, serves the approx 4500 Catholics in Mauritania – mostly foreign residents from West Africa and Europe. The rest of the inhabitants, for the most part, belong to sub-Saharan ethnic groups. There are extreme restrictions on freedom of religion and belief in Mauritania – it is one of thirteen countries in the world that punish atheism by death.
I walked through one of the large market hall of the Marché Capitale which was tightly packed with stalls of textiles, household items, toys, jewelry … I fixed the GoPro on the strap of my backpack again while squeezing through the maze of alleys packed with goods and people. Photos were almost impossible to take … But the GoPro was not so obvious.
To travel is to discover that
everyone is wrong about other countries.
Aldous Huxley
At one of the stalls with local souvenirs I bought 2 decorated tea glasses. A little bargaining in French got me the 2 beautifully painted glasses for MRU 90. They would go nicely with the blue enamel tea pot I acquired in Ouadane the other day!
Then I climbed the stairs to the first floor of the Marché Capitale to have an overview of the market stalls below. The market was not too busy this time of the day, though. Colourful fabrics were draped over high wooden frames. The vivid blue of the turban fabrics tempted me to buy another one of those as souvenir. Also called cheche or haouli, the turban was a long rectangular sheet of 3.5 to 5 m length. It was, without a doubt, an important piece of the traditional Mauritanian suit and essential for protection from the sun’s heat and sand storms.
Coming out of the Marché Capitale, I reached the Avenue Kennedy and briefly contemplated to continue south to have a look at the Mosque Marocaine … but it was already very hot and I would probably not been able to go inside anyway … so instead I turned north and wandered through the market stalls lining the wide side walk. It was very busy … fabrics, handbags, shoes … everything was piled up high …
At a street seller I bargained hard for a new pair of cheap sunglasses since mine were all scratched from Sahara sand and iron ore … it was hard going … I think it was the problem with the redenomination from 2018 and most Mauritanians still thinking in the old ways … By now I got kind of used to think around the corner when bargaining … but still it was hard and I walked away from it when they kept asking way too much … but they did call me back and I got the pair of cheapies for MRU 100 after all.
I wandered crisscross some side streets but always keeping a northerly direction towards my hotel. It was around midday and it was blasting hot …
Traffic was intense – the wide boulevards and junctions were jam packed with legions of the to me now so familiar ancients cars, donkey carts navigating between them and an armada of bright yellow Tuk-Tuks. The Indian-madeTuk-Tuk – ubiquitous in Asia – continued its inexorable advance in Africa … it was called Bajaj in Tanzania and Ethiopia, Toktok in Egypt, Raksha in Sudan, Keke-marwa in Nigeria, Kekeh in Liberia …
Meandering through the city I roughly followed the lead of Avenue Kennedy and I was always on the lookout for a café to have a break of the midday heat. I was not hungry yet, but I could use a cold drink. I had noticed Café Tunisie before, but on the first day here I had not been bold enough to sit in a roadside café with only men … Today I was not bothered at all! The place was well visited – a couple of Westerners even were there. I found a table outside on the side walk and ordered some tea and fresh Mango juice. The local tea was expertely made and very good. Not to talk about the Mango juice … I am a sucker for anything Mango …
It made for a good people-watching spot – I sat and enjoyed the fact of sitting in a café in a big city … just contemplated the fact that I had to leave tomorrow to go home where everything was in lockdown again … Mandatory quarantine was awaiting me … So I had another juice – Avocado juice for a change – and tried not to think about it too much.
Having finished the delicious juices and the tea, I paid MRU 220 at the cashier and walked the rest of the way back to Hotel Sunset. I reached there around 16:00 and it was right in time for an afternoon siesta … there were many photos to check and some to post as well … Around 19:00 I went back to the same restaurant – Tafarit Sunrise House – near the stadium where I had dinner the first day. I could not be bothered to experiment with another one tonight … And the Carpaccio de Capitaine had been exceptionally good, so I wanted to have it again.
The restaurant was not very busy this early in the evening. I placed my order – just the Carpaccio and no main course today – and water. Again like French style – fresh baguette bread and butter were being served with it. So this was more than enough for dinner today after the 2 large juices before. And it was as delicious as I remembered it!
Back at the hotel I waited impatiently for Idoumou to arrive with the PCR test result. He had told me he would be here after 20:00 … I do admit I was a bit nervous … The last thing I needed was a positive result … not that I had any suspicions … but nowadays you never knew … however somehow I had the feeling that it would be negative in any case … after all I paid a bribe to be on the list #5 … and probably that included the green stamp …
By 21:00 Idoumou arrived … finally … and YES … a big NEGATIVE adorned the official looking certificate which did not have an QR code! I was somewhat relieved. That meant I was allowed to leave the country tomorrow and that I was allowed to enter Germany as well … hopefully … They requested a PCR test 48 hrs before arrival in Germany … luckily there was indeed no test time written on the result certificate … Happily I handed over the US$ 30 to Idoumou plus another US$ 70 for an extra night at the hotel – this last night had not been included in the tour price … I bargained a bit and also gave him the air mattress – I had only bought it for this trip and I did not like it anyway. Might as well donate it … whatever he will do with it … I did not have to carry it home. My luggage was probably at the weight limit with the Sahara sand and iron ore already …
I celebrated the end of this tour and the negative result with my last bit of medicinal Vodka before I slept late and sound.
01.04. 2021
Nouakchott
Waking up early, the first thing I did, I filled in the mandatory online Einreiseformular … it had been relatively newly invented for entry to Germany and was surprisingly easy to complete. I could obviously not print out the form, but hoped a screen shot would do.
There was much to pack as well. I had given away some stuff, but still I had also acquired some souvenirs. At 09:00 I went down to the hotel restaurant. Idoumou had come by and we chatted over breakfast, then he waved me farewell.
I still had all morning to hang about. At 09:30 I set out on a walk. There was one more secret box to be found and some money to be spent … I strolled along the wide Boulevard Moctar Ould Daddah for a while and turned into a side street where eventually I had to wander into a residential area. The hiding location was in the outside wall of a private property … Only very few people were around as I walked confidently toward it … nobody really cared … I found the right spot quickly, but unfortunately it was empty … no small container or anything remotely resembling a geocache was there … so once more I had to photolog … oh well … I was here!
On the way back to the hotel I visited several supermarkets. I like supermarkets … I find it meditatively interesting to browse through grocery stores in different countries … sometimes I just go to look at the different local products and packaging … most often I find something I can take home as souvenir as well … Today I still had some cash to spent and wanted to take some Mauritanian Dates home. Of course I found plenty of Dates … and more tea glasses. This time the regular once without fancy decoration … a pack of 6 was really cheap! Those would make for great giveaways for the family at home! More Dates I bought as well in the next supermarket … I was on a shopping spree … I was not in the mood of taking many photos today …
I hate that feeling you get on the last day of a vacation.
from unknown
Indeed I was not in the mood for anything today really … Soon I wandered back to the hotel and hung out … finished packing … munched on the last Salami and cheese I had … could not really leave it behind, could I not? … in a Muslim country … By 13:45 Idoumou’s son came to pick me up and drove me to the airport. He was a regular Speedy Gonzales … He drove so fast … reminded me of The Fast and The Furious … we covered the 32 km to L’aéroport International de Nouakchott-Oumtounsy in a blink … in less than half an hour …
He had to drop me off well outside the Terminal. The Airport was really empty … He excorted me to the entrance but could not go any further … access was only allowed with a negative PCR Test … Good thing I had that!
The security check was next. The Terminal was totally empty … there was nobody around and the security guys were clearly bored … they x-rayed all my bags … of course, they saw something … not in the camera back, though … they saw something in the big backpack … hmm … after I had unpacked some stuff, I made them show me on the x-ray screen what they were talking about … I was not sure what it was … I could have been the bag full of iron ore … I unpacked more … carefully avoiding the sand and iron ore and then just chatted them to the ground in a mix of French, English and German … told them that maybe it was the block of rock salt … so they finally gave up and waved me though …
Check-in was long from being open and I was the only passenger in the Terminal. I settled on one of the benches to repack my bags. All this digging in them at security check had messed up my properly packed backpack … at least they had not taken away anything …
I just hung out in the terminal and eventually check-in opened. There were not many people around. Before the check-in counter there was a check for COVID requirements of the country of destination. When I told the officer there I was going to Germany, he had to check his massive folder first … flipping through he found Germany and a sample print out of the Einreiseformular. I suppose since nowadays the rules change basically daily, that folder would have to be updated daily … but … hey … I had the exact Einreiseformular as a screen shot on my mobile! And since it matched his sample print out, he waved me through smiling …
Check-in was easy. But the luggage belt was broken. So I was told to follow the porter who carried my luggage over to the police check. First I did not understand what they wanted from me … because I also had not received a boarding pass yet … so I just tottered behind my bag desperately holding on to the rest of my shit …. I mean … Why do I always lug so much junk around? …
Well, I did not lose anything and finally waved my bag farewell. The porter dropped it at the police check … the officer there only checked the flight label and then carried it off into the abyss of the airport …
I was escorted back to the check-in desk and they handed me my boarding pass to Istanbul … Excuse me? Can you not issue the second boarding pass as well? The one from Istanbul to Berlin? I mean, the bag got checked through …?
Obviously this was not possible and I had to follow yet another guy to the airline office at the other end of the hall. Apparently there was yet another new rule … They had to submit the number of the Einreiseformular online to be able to print the second boarding pass … And that guy had never done it before nor did he knew how to do it … not surprising … there were not many flights out of here and for sure not many tourists travelling at the moment either …
Eventually he got an answer via e-mail from his superior who most probably sat in Istanbul and it finally worked. I got my second boarding pass! It was indeed a relief. Not taking any chances I directly made my way to passport control. I happened to be the only one there … still I had to wait … the only officer on duty was busy with playing on his mobile phone … he did take my passport … but then got distracted with his messaging again … I could even see his phone screen … well, I guess he did not have that much to do all day in those weird times … Finally he stamped my passport out of the country … Merci beaucoup, monsieur!
The transit area was literally totally empty … there was one duty free shop with perfumes only … and a lone snack bar … I still had some local Mauritanian money … might as well spend it … So I got a 0.0% Bavaria Ginger and a bag of Madeleines and settled in to wait …
The left over money I happily kept as a souvenir … pristine notes of MRU 50, 100 and 200 as well as an assortment of coins I had now left as souvenir.
The incoming plane was arriving on time … that was a good sign … also boarding started on time … it turned out to be an Istanbul – Nouakchott – Dakar – Istanbul round flight … still the big plane was really empty … only a few people were on it … I had 3 seats to myself … I was happy … for now …
Take-off was in the end 50 min late … boarding was long finished … everybody ready … but apparently there were some papers missing … or paperwork not being done properly and in time … not surprising … maybe they had similar issues like I had at check-in? … It was only 1 hr to Dakar, though.
At the stop-over in Dakar my worst nightmare came true … the plane filled up quickly and I had to take my aisle seat. So far that was not a problem … but I got a family with 2 very active and screaming toddlers next to me … the kids did not have their own seats but jumped around on their parents laps … There was no way to sleep … I put the headphone in and watched 2 movies back to back … Dinner was OK … it was the same meal as on the flight here … no alcohol … and I would have needed it badly with this nightmare … Later I slept a little, but not really …
02.04.2022
The flight home
Around 06:00 we arrived in Istanbul. And it was cold here! Good thing I had not used the warmer jacket on the iron ore train and it was not as dirty, so I could wear it now along with all still wearable T-shirts …
I had to hurry this morning … I remembered it being a long way through security and the original transfer time of 2 hrs 15 min had shrunk with the delay … so I did hurry and luckily breezed through security. The IST Airport was as packed as last time, but I even stopped to quickly pull an internet code ticket before almost running to the gate which could not have been further away … probably … but I arrived in time to even have a quick pit stop before boarding started.
Surprisingly when they checked my passport at the gate, they neither wanted to see the PCR Test result nor the Einreiseformular … they did check it with everybody else … but I had not seen any German or even European passports being handed over ahead of me either … In any case, I was not questioning it and was happy enough to board the bus again that would bring us to the plane that was not full and I had a window seat with the middle seat empty.
The flight left on time and I settled in for the 3 hrs to Berlin. I started watching a movie, but fatigue caught up with me and I slept most of the time. Woke up for breakfast, which was again the same as on the flight to Istanbul but good enough. It was sunny in Berlin as the plane landed around 09:45 an passed an armada of parkd airplanes.
Disembarking was quick and BER Airport was empty. At passport control they only had a fleeting glance at the PCR Test result … I was happy about it, because they had not put a test time on it other than the date. And the rules stated 48 hrs before arrival had the test to be done … technically … taking into account the time change … The test had been more or less exactly 48.5 hrs ago … But since they only test in the morning in Mauritania with results coming in in the evening there had not been another chance. So I was happy they did not care. Also the Einreiseformular seemed not too important and was looked at only briefly … clearly the rules were not being as strictly followed as supposed to me or in Africa …
While waiting at the luggage belt, I noticed the ticket machine for the train and used the time to get my ticket home to save time at the station. In no time I had my € 17.10 ticket and knew I had to hurry once more to catch the next train if I did not want to wait another hour.
Lucky I was that my bag arrived quickly and I made my way out of the terminal to the train station. I did take a quick detour to the minimarket to get some juice and one of my favourite Piccolos before heading to the platform below right in time for the S-Bahn to arrive.
It was a short 15 min or so hop to Königswusterhause where I had to transfer again. Even on Good Friday the snack shop at the station was open and I got a Prezel and a large Coffee to pass the 20 min until my next train arrived. Fortunately I did not have to change the platform but just had to wait on the spot. It was sunny but cold …
The onwards train was of course on time as well … the local trains are pretty much always on time, while the ICE high speed trains are pretty much always delayed … Well, I finished my coffee and had the Piccolo and then napped a bit more before I arrived almost 1.5 hrs later where I got picked up by Mom once more.
The current rules dictated a 5 day mandatory quarantine for me after I arrived back home. Well, and me being mostly a good citizen, I dutifully e-mailed the health authorities declaring my return and asking about the procedure. I got a quick answer despite it being the Easter weekend, stating that I just have to stay home for 5 days and then go for the free Antigen Test. If that one was negative I was free to roam and I did not even have to submit the test result … Hmm … strange procedure. Nobody checked if I stayed in quarantine either … But I obeyed and just baked the cake for the family who would have a Easter get-together at my sister’s garden … I had plenty of photos to sort and equipment to clean and to catch up on sleep anyway. The Wednesday after Easter I went for the free test and … surprise! … It was negative!
It had been another fantastic voyager … I had been camping in the Sahara Desert and rode the famous Iron Ore Train! Bucket list items … oops … I do not even have a bucket list … but sometimes I just come up with crazy ideas …
I travel because it makes me realize
how much I haven’t seen,
how much I’m not going to see
and how much I still need to see.
Carew Papritz
