I went to Freetown, Sierra Leone the first week of February, and it was probably my most interesting trip to date. And I'm pleased to report that none of my previous predictions came true (except the one about mosquitoes--more about that later). We brought a consultant with us, and when I first met him (waiting for our plane at Dulles), he said he was sure his cooler of sample bottles would get left on a runway somewhere; my mind automatically said "That's okay, you're the one who gets eaten by a shark."
The flights were pretty uneventful. I found that there's some good shopping in Heathrow while on layover--it's kinda like a mall. I went in a souvenir shop and was this close to buying a Princess Diana commemorative book and some humorous British underwear, but I was able to contain myself. When we finally landed in Freetown, we were greeted with the Africa smell. I don't know what it is or how to describe it; I really can't even remember what the smell is like until I get there and think "oh yeah, there it is". It's like a subtle aroma of earth, mildew, and open sewers. We stayed at the
airport hotel for one night since the night's last ferry left before our plane landed. It wasn't great. The AC worked really well. Too well, in fact, and I couldn't get the remote control to turn it down or off, even when I replaced the batteries. At least mosquitoes tend find other lodgings in the face of cold AC. Continuing the theme of cold, the next morning I let the hot water in the shower run for about ten minutes before I figured out that there would be no hot water. It was a very brief shower.
Our expediter met us with a cab to the ferry that would take us to Freetown. On the way there, we came across a mob of about 20 or so young men walking in the road, waving sticks and branches, and yelling about something. The cab driver slowed way down and put up all the windows, but was able to pass. We asked what it was, but the expediter just said "African culture". I'm not sure if it was a demonstration or not! When we got to the ferry, tickets for the "first class" lounge were about $1.50. The lounge was stuffy, though, so we chose to stand on the deck the whole time. My gigantically heavy suitcase was carried up the two flights of stairs to the lounge by a local man...on his head. Zach had complained the day before about how heavy it was, but we'll talk when he runs up the stairs with it on his head. Also, I'm pleased to announce that we have a new winner of Stephanie's "World's Worst Bathroom" award. The Juba International Airport ladies' room, the incumbent since 2006, was narrowly ousted by the Great Scarcies Lungi-Freetown ferry
ladies' room. Naturally, it was a squat toilet (virtually a prerequisite to earn the title). Not only did it completely lack privacy (I looked in the open doorway from the deck and straight into the face of a woman using the facilities), but the clincher was that apparently there wasn't running water for the sink, so there was instead a
big vat of water for hand washing. Seeing all this convinced me that I could hold it until we got to the hotel.
Despite the
Hotel Cabenda's logo looking an awful lot like
Sheraton's, it was not the Sheraton (but at least they have a website!). Unfortunately, the AC didn't work very well at all, and there was no adjustment that I could find. Although I never saw or heard them, there must have been mosquitoes in my room because I would wake up with more mosquito bites than I went to bed with. That is, until I wised up and started applying Deep Woods Cutter before going to bed. Plenty of hot water though! I used my own sleep sack, towel, and showered in flip flops. I can't say I was disappointed though, because I expected it (otherwise, why would I have been traveling with a sleep sack, towel, and flip flops?).
We managed to fit a little recreation into the trip. We spent the Sunday of our arrival at Beach Number Two (named after River Number Two), courtesy of a local construction contractor who invites all his various expat friends out to his beach house every Sunday for food and drink. We met some friendly Brits, Aussies, and Lebanese folks, and I actually swam in the ocean (no obvious sanitary sewer outfalls). I practiced my French on the French Charge d'affaires, and while I think he appreciated my enthusiasm, I don't think I impressed him with my mastery of the language! On the way back into town from the beach, we encountered several instances of the Sierra Leone version of a kids' lemonade stand--young boys erect a crude drop-arm across the road and demand money to let cars pass.
One night
we ran with the local
Hash House Harriers through alleys, backyards, between clotheslines, and past feral dogs. I guess we went around 4 miles. It was a side of Freetown I wouldn't have otherwise seen. My newish and very white running shoes look a little more broken-in now that they have a permanent rusty color from running through the dirt roads. I felt a little strange running past women and kids carrying water to their houses...like my life isn't difficult enough, so I have to run around in the heat to increase the difficulty level. As I was running past a couple women sitting near the road, I heard one of them say "white people", but didn't catch the context. It wasn't said in a derogatory way--it sounded matter-of-fact. Maybe she was saying "These white people run past here every Monday. Don't they have anything better to do?"
The food was pretty good at the various hotels and reputable beach restaurants. I ate macaroni and cheese for dinner two nights in a row, but by choice, not out of fear of food-borne illness (I love mac & cheese only slightly less than Old English Sheepdogs). One night we ate with
a couple recent college grad Peace Corps volunteers who knew one of our Freetown colleagues. I likened them to puppies--by which I mean that they were altruistic and friendly and loyal to each other the way puppies are (and yes, cute too, but too young for this old lady).
What surprised me most about Freetown was that it was in such better shape than Monrovia. There was more electricity, more running water, and fewer burned-out buildings. I just got the sense that things are on an upswing after the civil war, rather than still stalled in misery. Our work involved understanding the regional water supply by visiting the various dams, reservoirs, and treatment works. Visiting one catchment involved a 2 hour (round trip) hike through the jungle! I was glad for my hiking boots...but of course the water authority employee who guided us wore plastic sandals. I added another large souvenir mask to my small collection; Zach is thrilled. Like so many trips before this one, I came down with a cold a couple days into it. I didn't feel too bad, I just had a really annoying cough (annoying for me, and everyone on the return flight around me).
Leaving Freetown was not quick or easy. We started for the airport 7 hours before our flight time. We thought the ferry left town at 3:00PM, so we didn't leave the office until 1:00. Unfortunately, it was actually a 2:00 ferry, and traffic ensured that we didn't get there in time. But I doubt we would have been able to get our vehicle on the ship anyway. The next ferry was scheduled for 5:00, and by getting in line at 2:05, we were already near the end of the queue. We ended up sitting in the car (with the AC) for another hour and half waiting for the ferry to load. The ferry was totally full by 4:15, so the 5:00 ferry left at 4:30--probably the only thing that actually happens ahead of schedule in Freetown. At least this time, our luggage stayed in the vehicle while we went up on deck--so nobody had to carry my suitcase on their head. At the airport, while our expediter was working on things, we briefly saw our Peace Corps friends one last time in the cafe (they were done in Freetown and heading to Europe to backpack around for a while). Then we went through security and my tweezers and teensy manicure scissors were confiscated. I argued with security, unsuccessfully, that I've been able to carry them throughout the US and also Frankfurt and Paris. They almost took one of my hairbrushes because the end was pointy. Who knew they were more restrictive than the TSA? Actually, I think they're just overly cautious because Air Brussels has its own people do a second check of your luggage right before you get on the plane, and they get mad when the airport people haven't been thorough enough. 30 hours later (and one successful upgrade to business class), I arrived home. I'll post my pictures tomorrow or the next day--I want to put a couple of my coworkers' pictures in there first.
