Burkino Faso – Tena Kourou

6 May: We took motorbikes across the border and were just in time for the bus leaving for the capital of Burkina. Initially, we had 5 seats to ourselves, but the bus filled up along the way. The change in scenery was dramatic and, in my opinion, overgrazing has taken its toll. We saw loads of bicycles, donkeys and even a camel. The people were friendly, offered us their food and even offered us their seats. We took a taxi to another hotel since we arrived at 20h00 and were then told that the hotel we intended to stay in had been demolished (they are rebuilding the capital city). I had lost my sense of humour in the dust covering me but felt so bad when the taxi driver gave me change.

7 May:  I’ve never seen so many bicycles in my life. People put their bicycles on the bus, taxi or motorbikes. Alan decided it was time to splurge on a steak. The motorbike salesmen are big and there’s music everywhere. 

8 May: We hit the jackpot and got the seats next to the bus driver. It was pure heaven and I could put my feet on the dashboard without any complaints. Unfortunately, the bus broke down and we waited patiently while mechanics fixed it. Although I got bit worried when they removed some plugs to solve the problem of the red light that said stop! The drivers face said it all and we were on our way. Unfortunately, his face changed again an hour later when the warning sign would change from Caution to stop, but we made it to Bobo Doulosso, determined not to be harassed by any potential guide. After checking into the hotel, we went to the market to buy tomatoes etc before going to the supermarket where we bought laughing cow cheese and gherkins, and then to the bakery for some bread. It was time for my treat.  

Finally - my favourite food!

9 May:  We arrived in Banfora at 10h00, just in time to get a guide who 'sold' us a 4X4 and driver for R1300. There was no other transport except motorbikes, and considering Alan’s dislike for them, we paid the exorbitant price.

A dusty 90 km followed before we reached the village where we paid the chief dash and were given one of his wives to hike with us.  

All along the way she gave us wild fruit she picked. The Cairn was the biggest I’ve seen. The guides wanted to take us to the waterfalls but we declined, and the dusty 90 km back followed, with a flat tire to make sure life didn't get boring. 

On top of the mountain

The African Roads can be very 
dusty. Beware of the red dust

We only had to wait 20 minutes for a bus back but tickets had been sold as day tickets so the stampeding for seats was hectic. Back in Bobo Dioulasso, the second longest shower in my life followed trying to get rid of the red dust. Hand washing was taking its toll and my trustworthy shirt had torn from all the washing. I feasted once again on the gherkins and cheese we bought the day before. All is well in Africa.

10 May: Waiting at the bus station at 07h00, we were informed that the bus only left at 16h00. Then we were informed that the bus left at 12h00. Luckily, we only went for a short walk because by 11h00, when the bus left for the 4 hour journey to Kouri, we were on it. 

Petrol sold along the road

Once in Kouri, we were told to wait. Since patience was now one of my virtues, we waited. Suddenly, we were asked for money, and I refused, saying we’ve already paid for our luggage. We were then ushered off to the centre of the market and a group of Moslem boys followed. At the bus, we were informed that we would only leave at 19h00.  

I wanted to cry. It was hot. There was no sign of water, food or a toilet. Children had gathered around us, holding their hands out for dash and shouting. I was scared and didn’t understand one word of what they were saying.

The next moment I felt a small hand guiding me to a door. The little boy took money out of my pocket and brought me water and my change, before disappearing.  I was flabbergasted.

17h00: I asked around for a toilet. I was dehydrated and too scared to drink water. I was shown to a residential ablution facility, a piece of earth with a wall surrounding it.

19h00: Everyone was sitting outside the bus while the mechanics fiddled with the engine. Al helped with the loading of the luggage on the roof which turned out to be quite dangerous since they haul motorcycles and other heavy stuff on the roof using ropes. They also thought he knew something about engines so he just nodded when the driver said Allah will get us there.

21h00: We finally left and I caught Alan using my plastic fan, something that turned out invaluable. In Nigeria, I had a guy sitting behind me chewing bubblegum for 12 hours. Today, I had a guy sitting behind me who coughed for 8 hours straight.

I did not see that little boy again that day, but 12 months later, whilst I was busy with a Journey course, he appeared again, and he has been keeping me safe ever since.

Benin – Mt Sokbaro

4 May: I was the unlucky recipient of the worst seat in the taxi. Five agonizing hours later, a passenger disembarked and I could change seats, relief written all over my face. Four hours later, we were in Kara.

It did not take Codliver long to smell a tourist, so whilst Alan and myself were sipping a cold beer, he first tried French, then English. He returned with another local, who could not speak English. The third time, he returned with Amen, who we both liked immediately. Since no one knew where the mountain was, it was going to be quite an adventure.

5 May: I was losing my sense of humour with Codliver but Al gave him some dash and he disappeared. Alan, myself and Amen had some very sweet coffee before deciding that chartering a taxi to Mt Sokboro was our only option. According to Peakbagger, the mountain was only 20 km away, but we had no clue what to expect in terms of roads and transport.

Amen, our guide was a tonic. He jumped out of the car to give a road worker some dash and had everyone in a great mood, stopping at all the villages asking the way. We had to pay dash to the Togo border guys as well as the Benin guys but Amen just told me to relax, which I did. Following the GPS, we entered a village before the heavens opened up with rain. 

Amen just paid the roadworker we passed

Yobara, who had just returned from school and could speak some English, welcomed us into his home. Ten minutes later, he opened an umbrella and we all hiked to the mountain, including the chauffeur. Lots of laughter followed and it didn't take long to reach the top, where, on everyone’s request, I had to climb in a tree for the picture to be taken.

On our way to the top of the mountain

More laughter followed the descent and back at the village, we were offered food. Yabara was so grateful when we gave him some money and a peaceful ride back followed, where no one insisted on getting more dash from us. We couldn't believe how lucky we were to have
found the peak and, since it was a very remote village, we decided that chartering the vehicle
was our only option.  

Back at Kara, we had to try the African gin before going to the market to buy food. Amen promised me a pizza but the cheese was very expensive so we decided on a traditional dish instead. Before heading for his home; we stopped at the shebeen for more gin. 

Codliver was there and told Alan that he liked him very much but that he disliked me. Alan refrained from telling him that the feeling was mutual. When I was kissed by an old lady that’s had been sitting in the shebeen since we arrived, I thought it was time to go to Amen’s home.

Getting ingredients for supper at the market

We all hopped on motorbikes to his home where his daughter Bella cooked a vegetable soup for me before adding the fish for the rest of them and everyone had more gin. Amen gave me mangoes and two of his drawings before taking us back to the hotel. The two of them were still feeling strong and left for more drinks at the shebeen.

 

It is so heartwarming to see how generous he is, especially since he had not had a steady job for over three years. He lives in a tiny room, yet he never demanded anything and just offered us his laughter, food and love. Yet another amazing day in Africa.



Bela, Amen and Alan having supper

6 May: Amen fetched us at 6h00 and I finished packing while they went for their first African gin before going to his house for breakfast (coffee, bread and mayonnaise). By 8h00, we were on our way to Burkina Faso. At one stage, three passengers were ordered to get out and by now, we expected them to join us once we've crossed a police patrol. Problems with the door followed and the helper used the window instead. Then the taxi made a terrible noise and the helper had to push us. Then he had to jump out of the window and run to the police patrol giving the taxi’s official papers, jumped on another taxi and met us at the garage, where the chauffeur had to stop to have the engine seen to.

 We finally took motorbikes across the border to Burkino Faso

Another day in Africa, another interesting vehicle

Ghana – Mt Afodjoto

2 May: We were seasoned travelers (Of course that comes with a price) and we bargained the taxi price down. We also waited patiently for 5 hours whilst the driver performed miracles by putting a pile of luggage exceeding the taxi’s height as well as two helpers on top of the roof. Finally it was our turn to be squashed inside where one glimpse at the roof ended in hysterical laughter. The whole roof was re-enforced but badly burned.

The Ghana immigration officers were very friendly. They were not used to seeing tourists and had to send for the necessary forms and even offered to fill it in on our behalf. 

A motorbike ride to Liati Wote followed, where Kofi, our guide sorted out our accommodation and hike.

3 May: We started hiking at 06h00 and by 07h30 we were standing on top of the highest mountain in Ghana.

The start of the hike

The path was littered with plastic bags and once on top, Kofi phoned his friends who brought several big bags and the big clean-up started. The predominant litter was handkerchiefs and plastic water sachets.  The cleaning team promised to take the litter down before returning with more plastic bags while we bundu bashed to the highest point in Ghana.



The cleaning team

No need for words. It's all about creating environmental
awareness.

Once back at Mt Afodjoto, it was a feast for the eyes to see it clean. We must have picked up at least 30 handkerchiefs and I suggested a second hand handkerchief shop at the bottom.

Looking back - it is a beautiful
mountain

Decending, a big church group from Accra was racing past us to the top. Being me, I could not resist the urge to tell them not to litter. Being himself, Alan could not resist the urge to tell me to mind my own business. Kofi overheard the conversation and gave me the go ahead! Someone has to protect the mountains. 



Another lovely Silk Cotton Tree, We have to work
together to protect our environment.



Three people, two 85 Liter backpacks and two day packs turned out to be too much for one motorbike. I was first taken to the border post before the driver returned for Alan.

Once through the border, Alan's bargaining skills reduced the taxi fair down to a fifth. We traveled through the magnificent forests and there was peace in my heart. What a way to end a day. Mt Afodjoto has shown me her splendor and it was an honor to restore her beauty, even if just for one day.

Togo – Mt Agou

28 April:  My heart went out to our poor Nigerian driver, who looked exhausted and defeated after he was ordered to pay several bribes on the journey from Lagos to Lome. We reached Lome by 06h30 and keeping Rachel’s warning about the dangerous beach in mind, a tired Alan and I dragged ourselves to where we thought we could find a bank and accommodation where we could lay our weary bones.

I was extremely grateful when a lady enticed us into a restaurant before handing us an ice cold fruit juice. After freshening up, we paid the exorbitant price nonchalantly and booked into the hotel next door. We then set off for the banks. It was extremely hot, my legs were past swollen, we got badly sunburned but we did stumble upon a market where we found some food, much needed shampoo (my fancy camping soap did not stand a chance against Africa’s dust) and my sense of humour. Then it was off to the internet café and by 21h30, my batteries have run out.

The market in Lome.

29 April:  It was so hot! At 04h00, I was under a cold shower, washing clothes. After a visit to the Ghanaian embassy, I spent 6 blissful hours in the air conditioned internet café, trying to download pictures and sending e-mails. Then it was off to do some shopping for bread, avocadoes and bananas. Stuck in the room that night, sweating profusely, I visualized myself back in the internet café with the air conditioning.

30 April: I had no more dirty clothes to use as an excuse to be in the shower, so when the internet café opened, I was the first patron. I sat there patiently enjoying the cold air until it was time for us to fetch our visas for Ghana. At the motor park, we had to wait a while for our share taxi to fill up.

Another day, another taxi, all is well in Africa

Our journey to Agou was not uneventful. It involved a motorbike accident and several conversations with musicians and Rasta’s, all asking me if I was married to Alan. After 15 cramped hours in the share taxi, my sense of humour was slipping away. I informed Alan that we were married from that point on in the trip. At the Bafana Bafana guesthouse, Alan enjoyed a local meal while I enjoyed the local beer.

1 May: Joe had declared himself our official guide and by 07h00, we were on our way to Agou in a share taxi. There were four other passengers but after five km, the driver stopped, two passengers got on a motorbike, we traveled one km further, stopped again and the same two passengers got back in.  There is some law and order in Togo and you get a fine for overloading, but looking at some of the other vehicles and luggage, I was determined not to think logically while traveling in Africa.

It could have been the heat, but I watched in amazement as two joggers came past, running slowly for 10 m before stopping and doing some dance movements to the left and then the right before repeating the exercise.

The 12 km hike to Mt Agou turned out to be pure magic. 30 m Silk Cotton trees reminded me of the Avatar movie and I couldn’t stop trying the capture the images on camera. We took shortcuts through the villages and were greeted by everyone. The villages were immaculate and the villagers use everything in nature. They pick leaves to feed the goats and in the one village’ courthouse, they contained the branches to act as umbrellas. According to Joe, petty crime is punishable by a bottle of wine while, more serious crime calls for a goat. Mangoes and avocadoes kept falling off the trees.

We can learn a lot about green living from this village.

Before reaching the top, I received a lecture from Alan about keeping a low profile in the security area and being careful taking  pictures. Lucky for us, just as the security guy was escorting us to the top, two French guys arrived in a taxi, distracting everyone’s attention by taking pictures left right and centre from the communication towers on top. No one, including Alan, said anything when I took a picture of the South African flag next to the Mt Agou sign. We didn’t linger too long and just before we got our passports back, we chucked the rubbish that was lying around the dustbin into the dustbin.

On top of Mt Agou

Descending was just as pleasurable. At the Agblodone village we were invited for lunch by the locals and were given Avocadoes to take with us. Back at the start, Alan and Joe had some home made beer before we got a share taxi back to Kpalima.

Walking down the mountain

After a quick shower, we were on our way to Mt Kloutse. The guide was not the friendliest and once again, a Rasta was lurking in the background. We ended up paying a fee to be on the mountain and hiked to the top before descending to Agome Tomegbe, Joe’s village.

The hike involved some bundu bashing and I thought Joe was wary of snakes, but it turned out to be snares he was wary about. Safely at the village, we went from home to home where he introduced us to all his family. Alan got more chillies (for his garden) from the market and then we headed back through the spectacular road again.

For supper, we had bread with avocadoes, lemon juice and salt. My best meal so far.

Nigeria – on our way from Cameroon to Togo

Once in Calabar, the waiting started again. When I tried to make the Customs queue more efficient (shouting id cards this side, passports this side and questioning everyone that looked like they were pushing in), Alan hissed at me 'mind your own business', so I tried to take a deep breath and be the most patient person in Africa. It was only later that I was informed that people were paying the security guy bribes to be let in by means of phone cards J

The immigration officer was very unhappy that I had been issued another visa. After making a statement about our journey and our religion, our pictures were taken and we given an ultimatum: “One week to get out of Nigeria or you will be arrested”.

People were shouting everywhere. The police demanded money. The union demanded money. After returning from a much needed toilet break, I discovered that our luggage was carried 20 meter to our waiting taxi by two guys, who demanded an exorbitant amount and another fight broke out. I got in the taxi, stuffed toilet paper in my ears and read my book until the fight was resolved. The guys were paid a fifth of what they wanted and we were finally on our way to Uyo. 

We had a very enthusiastic preacher with us who prayed for our safe journey. I joined him and prayed for calmness and the sensibility not to knock someone’s teeth out.

My resolution of not drinking any alcohol whilst on the trip was broken after I was offered an ice, ice cold beer. After watching the Michael Jackson video 4 times, Alan went with the bar tender looking for food.

At the food stall, the bar tender asked Alan if he had any medication on the trip. It was only after answering: “Yes, stuff for headaches and stomach” that he was handed a plate of custard and beans.

27 April: We were picked up by our driver at 06h00. By 08h30, we were still waiting, but luckily Alan and myself, being seasoned African travelers by now, could calm the Cameroonian’s traveling with us.

Our enthusiastic pastor started our journey singing and then prayed, asking God to protect the driver, the engine, the four wheels and us. He took his job seriously and after 4 hrs he asked a passenger to sing hymns, competing with the local radio.

It was a big relief to me since the couple behind me had been chewing bubblegum the past hours and the toilet paper I stuffed in my ears was not effective. It was very touching to see how the Cameroonian couple treated one another and their little boy. I have never seen a happier 5 month old boy.

We finally arrived in a very chaotic Lagos at 18h30. Rachel, a Cameroonian working in Ghana, was also going to Lome and arranged transport to the motor park where the taxis leave for Togo. At the hectic motor park, Alan and Rachel went looking for a money changer whilst I was left behind with the luggage and an extremely irate driver. It felt like ages, in which my imagination ran wild, before they returned.

Lagos was getting to everyone and instead of looking for accommodation for what was left of the evening, we bargained for a share taxi. Spread out on the bonnets of the taxis, Rachel, Alan and the group of young Nigerians talked politics and soccer whilst I was saying one prayer after another, hoping that my poor dad would never find out that his daughter was at that moment, stuck in a motor park in Lagos, surrounded by Nigerians.

28 April: We finally left Lagos at 00h30. The trip was not uneventful and we were stopped several times along the road. At the Benin border, the custom official asked Alan if didn’t have anything for him. Alan gave him N200 and he grabbed the other N200 as well. I felt like punching him.

Cameroon – Mt Cameroon

20 April.  Still not used to all the attention, we sat on our Landlord’s stoep chatting to all the locals and the immigration officer who informed me that my visa had expired. He kept on hinting for a gift. It was not his lucky day. Still unable to exchange any currency, he ended up buying us a coke and bread, which I gratefully gulped down. 

By 10h00, George, our landlord brought his truck around and our baggage was thrown in the back, a gospel tape was put in the tape deck and off we sped on a very dusty road. In the following hour, two snakes sailed across the road.

Finding someone to exchange money was turning into a mission so we gave George $10 to cover his costs before being able to exchange some Euros. Armed with local currency, we took a motorbike to the motor park, got lucky and within 15 minutes, we were on our way to Bimenda. 4 People in the front and 4 in the back.

Colourful plakkies everywhere

The famous Ring Road lay ahead. Unfortunately, all we saw was dust and darkness. The windows were kept open (maybe because the boot was already open) and red dust followed us everywhere. By the time we finally made it to Bimenda at 21h15, we were covered in red dust and the driver took a towel and dusted us and the luggage. Alan, myself and our 4 backpacks shared a motorbike and the driver to the International hotel, who surprisingly offered us accommodation. I took the longest shower of my life, trying in vain to get the red dust off myself and my clothes.

The famous red dust

We were starving. Being in the car with 7 other people made sleeping impossible since falling asleep could mean knocking your fellow passenger unconscious with your head going through the potholes. Since there was no space, drinking and eating was also impossible. 12 hours in a taxi without stopping had taken its toll.

21 April. A visit to the Immigration Office confirmed my suspicion about the immigration officer in Dumbo’s hints for a gift. Al bought tickets for the bus and was chuffed to mention we had booked seats and would be leaving at 13h30. Ye right!

How to capture a tall woman

Comes15h00 and all the passengers booked on 3 busses are put on one bus. Fights were inevitable. The guy who booked seat 11 on one of the three busses looked forlornly at the lady sitting in his seat. She in turn glares at me, since we were both booked on different busses on seat 16. 30 Minutes later the driver hit a speed bump and everyone flew in the air, mobiles and loud verbal abuses included. Luckily for us, we had a mayor or two with us going to a conference and the driver slowed down.

 As we “rescued” more and more people stranded along the road and the breathing space inside the already overloaded bus got less and less, several more fights broke out. Alan and I joined the “you won’t go to heaven” chant if the bus driver refused to rescue any more people.  We finally arrived in Buea at 23h30 where we had to use a 20 liter water drum as a bath plug and the rubbish basket as a table since the only electric plug was above the basin.

We used our 20 liter water can as a bathplug

22 April: The day was spent arranging my visa to Nigeria, the trek to Mt Cameroon and exchanging money. A visit to the internet café also showed me that I was getting very patient. 

23 April: We were slogging down the street by 7h00, big 85l backpacks filled with 6l of water on our backs, small backpacks filled with 3l of water in front, expecting to start the hike by 7h30, as arranged the previous day. By 09h00, our official hike started at upper farm, where were cheered on by prisoners chanting 'put a bit more effort in the hiking'.

The official start of the hike

My bird watching reverie was crushed after Francis gave me the same answer “it’s a bird” twice after I admired the bird calls. Since there was water available at hut 1, we had some snacks and a short rest before pushing on. All along the Guinness Route we encountered empty whisky sachets. Our guide's explanation was: 'It's offerings to Efaso Moto, the owner and protector of Mt Cameroon. He will allow people ot live and visit the mountain as long as nothing is removed. When annoyed, he will shake the ground and when angry, he will spit fire into the air.' I had my doubts about the whisky.

A huge fig tree

Another steep uphill followed the small break at intermediate hut and then we stopped at the magic tree.  According to legend, the tree survived previous volcanic eruptions and special reflecting tape is wrapped around it so people can see if from afar. Pretty soon after, we reached hut 2 where a group of students were already relaxing and admiring the view.

The magic tree

Once the sun sets the temperature drops, so after a quick wash, the thermals were donned. Whilst we were laying snug in our sleeping bags listening to the student group singing, they were sitting outside drinking whisky with the porters and guides.

24 April: We only left the hut by 7h30 and after a steep uphill reached hut 3. The temperature dropped and whilst Alan and I were putting on our layers, the porters decided not to escort us to the summit. Although it was not as steep as the first bit, Alan was starting to show strain. Francis pointed out a rock to me and I was instructed to go ahead, which I did, thinking I could set up the GPS, cameras and flag before they arrive.

Catching my breath

Unfortunately, the wind was howling, my camera got all misted up and my GPS recorded a height of 4075 m and said I was 20 m from the peak mentioned on Peak baggers. It was sad to leave so soon but Francis and Alan were suffering. They raced down the scree and by the time we met up with the porters, it was hot again.

The 1999 crater

Their race continued but William, the porter was kind enough to carry the litter I picked up along the way. I was very tired but felt a bit disappointed after reaching the camp. After fetching some water, picking up the litter around the camp and having a quick wash, I headed for a hill from where I watched the sun set while the guys made a fire, cooked the food, and talked politics and soccer.

25 April: I was not the only one awake by 4h00 and Francis our porter entertained us with his gospel songs while making a fire. After burning the rubbish we picked up, we were off by 7h00. 5 Minutes of forest was followed by Savannah and then the lava field.

Mt Cameroon is a fascinating mountain and forest followed soon after. It became pretty slippery and we all took a tumble or ten. By 11h00, we have reached Bokwaanga, where we took a share taxi to Mt CEO Offices.

Last stretch through a forest

Along the way, I have picked up more litter and by now, my daypack was, amongst other things, really in need of a wash. We took a share taxi to Motor Park 17 in Limbe and then another share taxi to Limbe where Alan took an instant liking in the rustic Bay hotel.

I immediately started washing my day pack and then I had to abandon the mission to go and look for an ATM machine, a trip we repeated three times because I kept on forgetting things at the hotel. Then it was off to the Fako Fast Ferry to buy our tickets. We were pleasantly surprised to see a picture of the boat and to hear it was only CFA 30000 to Calabar and that we had to be there by 3 am.

The rest of the afternoon was spent washing and trying to dry our clothes and recharging everything. I could not stop staring at Malabo Island, tempting to take a boat and see if we might get lucky and be granted permission to visit Equatorial Guinea’s highest mountain.

26 April: Getting to the harbour that time of morning was a bit scary so we didn’t haggle too much about the overpriced motorbike ride to the harbour. The Ferry Service was very efficient. Our passports were taken, our tickets stamped, baggage searched (till they reached all the wet laundry and abandoned any further searches) and chucked in a truck before we were also chucked in busses.

A lack of sleep made everyone grumpy and several arguments broke out. One guy carrying fish was told to get rid of it before entering the bus. Another guy who complained about the delay and mentioned time and money was informed by the wise elderly that he could, since he has the money, take a flight, but that at the last flight, the passengers were stuck on the plane for 10 hours waiting without any water.

Listening to all the bantering, I was happy to be where I was, squashed in or not. Finally the bus moved to the wharf and we waited for another hour listening to some heated conversations before being allowed on the boat.

We finally left Cameroon at 6h00 and the journey was started with a prayer. A video of a gospel concert were played repeatedly for the next three hours. Then a local movie (part 1 and 2) from Nigeria was shown and had everyone in stitches.

Nigeria – Cameroon – The Dumbo Trek

Stops were few and far in between. At our first village, we met a Rastafarian who was kicked out of Cameroon. He believed he was Lucky Dube’s brother and a prophet.

Mountains in Cameroon

Mangoes that fell off the trees kept us hydrated since we sweated like crazy and because of the drought, water was very scarce. Just when I thought I could not lose another drop of sweat, it started raining. We walked in the rain for an hour before the sky was covered with flying ants. Two little boys carrying food to their village, who had joined us walking for the past 10 km, stopped to feast on them while we marched on.

One of the little boys that joined us

When we reached the Sabongido village, Thomas had clearly had enough after a 12 hour hike. Our bags were promptly tied on to a motorbike and after protesting that we didn’t have enough Naira to pay the driver, he insisted on paying for us. He has had it with the crazy tourists that insisted on doing the Dumbo trek, used only by smugglers after a perfectly good road was build between Bissaula and Cameroon.

A steep uphill

Take 1 driver, 2 passengers, 2 85L backpacks, 2 small backpacks; put them on 1 motorbike on 1 extremely bad road and you have an adventure. Alan threatened to get off and walk every time falling seemed inevitable and I giggled nervously, thinking that it’s a miracle that we hadn’t fallen yet.

The arrival of two drenched, shivering and filthy tourists in Dumbo caused quite a stir. The immigration officer bought us a cold drink and because we needed his stamp for our passport, we tried to make small talk ignoring the vision of dry clothes after a nice hot shower.  

Finally we were shown to a room and told we could pay the next day, after exchanging money. Grateful that we had a dry place to sleep, we accepted the bucket of cold water.