I woke early the next morning and had a delicious breakfast in the hotel shaded garden. The staff are very friendly and the atmosphere was very relaxed and civilized. With the exception of local fruit juices, the cuisine for breakfast and meals is decidedly french, nothing african to see here. So it was croissants, real coffee, and fruit juice, which suited me just fine. With the exception of the glaring german couple, everyone seemed very content and it was like a Parisien breakfast in a shady setting. Now dont get me wrong, the germans are a wonderful people. The only real complaint I would have, and its a minor one, is the tendency to try to take over the world every 30 years or so. Thats understandable, and I myself sometimes leave the lid off the toothpaste. But I think its best if we dont mention the war.
According to Wikipedia, the catalyst for World War 1 was the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand of Austria on June 28, 1914. Following that…Sorry everyone, its like trying to not think of an elephant. Lets just let it go.
I studied and STUDIED the Lonely Planet map of the city over breakfast. There were a couple of things to throw you; one was that only every fourth street was named, although all the major avenues were, and there were a couple of typos. There were 2 maps in the book and they differed in a couple of places. Anyway, i decided to succeed in the walk I attempted yesterday. I walked along my hotel street, Rue Joseph Bouard, and went north to the next intersection, Rue Patrice Lumumba. The street sign said it was the corner of Avenue Mobo Naba Koom I and the Rue du Travail. Uh huh. Yesterday I realized I had done a slow clockwise circle and had tried to pick up the top of my street by crossing it, but I never found it. I kept walking and with the exception of the major avenues, found that the street names as signed were all different from that of the maps.
I returned to the hotel and asked the desk for the name of the street the hotel was on. Rue Joseph Badoua monsieur. That sounded right and its what I told the taxi driver, although he may have known the hotel by name. The desk had no idea what I meant by the street sign problems.
Next walk I ran into countless street hawkers who, I must say, are very polite. And ‘Bonjour Monsieur’ has a nicer ring to it than ‘Hey white man, buy something.’ One ran through a list of things I didnt have any need for, before saying ‘Plan de Ville?’, which is a street map of the city. I bought it then sat down to compare maps. The street map in my hand and the Lonely Plant map agreed on avenues, but not streets. Most of the french street names had been replaced by arabic and african sounding ones.
You would have thought that would explain things, but it didnt end there. Acting on a hunch I asked a second guy at the hotel for the name of the street the hotel was on. Avenue Mogho Naba Koom, monsieur. Had he heard of Rue Joseph Badoua? Puzzled look, non. I checked again at the desk; was there a story to the street names, recent changes? Puzzled look, non. To complicate things just a little more, about 12 different streets around me were named Rue Mogho Naba <something>. And often the street sign did not reflect either the street map, or the Lonely Planet one. That explained the disorientation. Thgere are 2 guys working at the same hotel who think the hotel is on a different street.
I still find it hard to navigate here but I have just gone blonde. I use the Places and Boulevards as a baseline, and memorize the pretty mailboxes and shoe shops for the streets. I just hope I dont need to reverse a trailer while I’m here.