Nov
24th,
2010 – Rolling into Nouadhibou under
the afternoon sun felt a little like entering the set of Black
Hawk Down and
might as well have been a billion miles from population centers like
Casablanca and Rabat in Morocco. A dusty desert road lined either
with half-finished or half-collapsed concrete buildings, broken down
vehicles strewn about haphazardly, piles of rubbish on every corner,
and a distinct forlornness welcomed us to Mauritania.
Just
to punctuate the mood we saw a young half-naked boy on the side of
the road executing what appeared to be a quasi-downward
facing dog while
spraying diarrhea into the air like he was practicing for a
competition based on distance. Awesome. Although I've been to some
extremely poor countries in the past there is something about the
desert setting that intensifies the desolation and sense of
desperation. And the contrast between Nouadhibou and the Moroccan
cities we'd just visited was stark in the extreme.
After
some signature indecisiveness on our part we finally settled on an
Auberge (French for 'inn') but not before our driver ferried us
around town longer then he might have hoped. My sympathy evaporated
when I discovered he screwed us bounteously before parting. He was
kind enough to exchange our dirhams (Morocco) for ouguiya
(Mauritania) at, unbeknownst to me at the time, a preposterously low
rate. I suppose that is to be expected when you change money with a
taxi driver. Not knowing the exchange rate and arriving on a weekend
did nothing to assist our cause. The fact the driver had full
knowledge of our monetary pickle sealed our fate. After spending a
few minutes telling us how money was of little importance to him he
then asked for an additional 2000 ouguiya for carting us around town
in search of lodging. Like a douche I gave it to him not knowing at
that time he'd bent us over sideways on the exchange rate. Thank you
sir, may I have another? Please?
The
morning after our arrival we went exploring. We'd read about a ship
graveyard near the port (where, as a result of nonexistent
regulations, ships from all over the globe go to disintegrate) and
went for a stroll in that direction. The area we visited did have a
few derelict vessels but recent construction (in the form of
new jetties)
appears to have lead to a bit of clean up (certainly a good thing). I
do believe there are still a significant number ships rotting a bit
farther offshore if satellite photos are recent. So much for the
graveyard.
Our
next objective involved a trip out to Cap Blanc located at the tip of
the peninsula where Nouadhibou is situated. In addition to the
possibility of seeing the highly endangered and extremely rare monk
seal it
is supposedly a fairly picturesque place. We wouldn't know. After a
few failed attempts at hailing a taxi (exorbitant rates) a gentleman
working at Societe Nationale Industrielles Miniere (mining and
minerals) kindly stopped and offered us a ride. We accepted and were
off.......somewhere.
Our
conversation was a bit strained as my French is abysmal but I did
manage to ascertain his marital status and number of children. He
also said something about his job, made a comment about doing
something around noon, pointed in the direction of the road to Cap
Blanc, and then continued on to the mineral plant. Yes, we were
confused. At the gate he instructed us to get out while he continued
on through. I thought he was dropping off the company vehicle and
returning to pick us up in order to finish the journey. Nuh-uh. He
was merely on his lunch break and had to return to work….at noon.
Why exactly he would pick us up and bring us there is beyond me but I
am certain his heart was in the right place. I'm just not sure how he
thought he was helping.
So the
guard and various other gentlemen standing outside the gate seemed a
bit wary of our presence. I tried to communicate our intent (Cap
Blanc) and think I managed to ask if our driver was returning. He
wasn't and they were all a bit confused as to why we'd be standing
outside the gate when we were trying to get to Cap Blanc. A man
appearing to be an employee exited the gate, had a short conversation
with the guard, and then offered to give us a lift to Cap Blanc…..for
200 Euros (apparently for the damage his car might incur during the
ride). I thought he was he jesting. He was not. We declined. Silly
bastard.
We
then started walking back in the direction of Nouadhibou trying to
figure out what the hell just happened. As we did so another car
pulled up beside us and inquired as to our destination. He offered to
bring us to his friend who would then give us a lift to Cap
Blanc....probably. Although hitchhiking is precarious in any country
my instincts told me we were in no danger. What's the worse that
could happen?
He
brought us to the area where all the employees of the mining and
minerals operation live, flagged down his friend, and inquired as to
price. By this time we bagged the Cap Blanc idea and just wanted his
friend to get us back to Nouadhibou. Apparently, his friend had to
bring the children in his car somewhere first and then would return
to bring us somewhere else…probably. But in the meantime our
current driver had an idea and instead brought us back to his place
where another friend hopped in the front seat so we could have high
level discussions about the possibility of going to Cap Blanc. His
friend, an avid fisherman and frequent visitor to the Cap, told us
the road is not so good and that in addition to the taxi fare it is
also necessary to bribe the Mauritanian security personnel stationed
there for protection. Uh-huh. Protection from who? We really wanted
to see Cap Blanc but decided to draw the line when we realized it
might cost us a fortune. Maybe next time.
So our
driver gave us a lift to town refusing to take a dime. He was happy
to help us out and practice a bit of English. Score one for my
instincts. Frankly, it was all worth it just for that experience.
Still would've been nice to see a f@#$ing monk seal though.
|
Finally, a chance to whip my flabby ass into shape. |
|
If this photo does not epitomize every Western stereotype I'm not sure what does. He's planning a suicide attack right now. I just know it. |
|
The 'burbs of Nouadhibou |
|
Translation: We gratuitously and with malice aforethought threw landmines everywhere. Try not to get your ass blown off. |
|
I'm gonna do a poo poo in my front yard and there ain't a f***in thing anyone can do about it.....ya heard!! |
|
Notice the napping donkey. Ahhhhhh... |
|
Probably not what I'm thinking. |
Sad its not filled with reefer (last photo)... But the town is having a bright future!
ReplyDelete