Montreal to Bamako

I have safely arrived here in Bamako where we will begin our course on Monday. We left Montreal on Tuesday night and had an uneventful flight to Paris. On arrival we discovered that a two-day taxi strike was underway. We should have checked one of the several websites that provide updates on looming strikes, but as it turned out we weren’t to severely effected. We had arranged an airport shuttle to take us downtown and all went well. After checking in and having lunch I took one of our team members who had never visited Paris on a walking tour/death march of the essential sights. We spent five hours walking from Place St Augustin, la Madeleine, Place de la Concord, Les Invalides, the Eiffel Tower, the Trocodero, the Arc de Triomphe, Champs Elyssee, the Louvre, Notre Dame, Opera Garnier, and Galeries Lafayette. I’m tired just typing that! After a game attempt to reduce the Paris duck population at dinner, I retired to 11 hours of blissful rack.

A shot of me at the Grand Battery outside Les Invalides. These guns are fired to celebrate great French military victories. They have not been fired for a long time.

The next morning we tussled with our shuttle driver, who drove off while were loading the van; driving over one backpack, which suffered a bad case of road rash. After that bit of excitement we made it to Chuck de Gaulle airport in record time (in a second shuttle driven by a less psychotic driver). Our flight to Bamako was full and included either two handcuff models, or two gents being repatriated to Mali by the Paris gendarmes.

The first thing that always hits you on arrival is the heat. It is a palpable wall that physically assaults you. After going through customs and the baggage check (Note: if you want a business idea, start a luggage buggy export company and ship them to Africa, there are very few in the airport!) we met our drivers and headed for the hotel. It is a nice place, one of three owned by Moammar Ghadaffi in Mali. I think he looked on Mali as a sort of coup refuge/resort and as a result bought up a lot of land. On the way to the hotel we crossed the mighty Niger River, and it is mighty mighty - wider than the St Lawrence at Montreal, but not quite a Wolfe Island ferry ride across.

Bamako is like many African cities, but seems cleaner and friendlier than most. Our two Canadian colleagues who live here report that they feel very safe when travelling around the city, even at night.

We had our first lunch in Bamako at this Vietnamese restaurant. It came highly recomended by the Canadian staff and was quite good.

So after learning, and putting to good use, my first two words in the local tongue – cold beer – we settled in for the duration.