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Stow that bike!
Getting 60 people on a little boat may take a while. The next stop was Tamale, but we had quite a journey ahead of us to get there. For starters we were on the wrong side of the lake, and our choices were a car ferry at 9pm, or a people boat at 7am. We were strongly advised to get the earlier one, and I guess that was the best choice. Earlier start = sooner to town. Most of the germans had come to the hotel too, but they all had an early night, not like us party animals! But we saw them all at breakfast, which was a greasy omlette on half a baguette with tea, coffee or milo. What, no rice crispies!?! There were a few unhappy faces on the guests, but, what you gonna do? This might also have been due to failed attempts at having a shower in the morning too, but there were buckets and scoops, stop moaning!
The owner ferried us all to the ferry in his car, 4 people at a time, getting us all there far too early, but then early enough to shove us all up to the front so we could watch everyone else arrive and get on. It was a pretty
Mark Towner BSC
Bronze Swimming Certificate, thank god.... large open top wooden boat, about 40' by 6', and they packed a lot of people on it, along with god knows what else, bikes and chickens.... At least we all got seats, they put all the kids on the floor under the seats. Poor little buggers. After an eternity of loading, they fired up the engine and we were off! Or... not. We went about 10 meters out, they cut the engine, drifted over to another part of the shore and loaded up some more people. The sun was getting hot now, lets go! Another 10 minutes of faffing around and we left, the other side was about an hour or so away, the lake was pretty calm so it was a pleasant enough trip across. Not much to see apart from groups of dead tree trunks from the flooding to make the worlds largest artifical lake, but I now know these can be very dangerous, run over one just below the surface in a crowded boat and you can capsize.
Happily there was bus waiting for us on the other side, get your wooden chit giving you a seat, pile your bags on the roof and get
Africa shock!
Anna and Tua emerge emotionally scarred from sleeping in the Al Hassan on board. I got in, realised I was missing 2 inches for my knees and got out again. Thinking I'd snagged the best seat in the front I was quite happy, until I realised I had to share it with another guy and the kid who helps the driver, Still, I had some leg room, and I even had the chance to hop out whenever the bus stopped. The extra guy got off soon enough anyway so I was sitting pretty.... right next to the engine! Couldn't sit next to the window, I had leg room but my leg were being baked! Oh well, I just grinned and bore it for the couple of hours it took to get there, the roads being dirt tracks we didn't make the best of time, but it wasn't too bad. At least we didn't break down, or crash, which is always nice.
Tamale is a city, but you wouldn't guess it from walking around the place, more like a largish town. The American girls had recommended the Catholic Guesthouse as the place to stay, however the girls wanted to go Muslim so we walked the short distance to the Alhassan hotel. Even after viewing the rooms I dont know why we stayed there. Maybe we were tired, but it stands out as one of the worst places I had stayed, ever. The guidebooks give it a real pasting in the reviews and even mention the 'hot box rooms on the ground floor', guess where we were staying.... Still, location, location, locations eh! I had a shower in the bath from the pipe sticking out of the wall triying to avoid being slimed from the rampant fungi growing up the wall, the toilet flush was a wire sticking out of the top with a chipboard wooden seat. No mirror or sink. I had to swap out the lightbulb in the bathroom so I could see in my room. The beds sunk in the middle, with bed sheets that didn't fit (always a favourite to find yourself sleeping on a filthy matress in the morning), there was lino on the floor but full of large holes and really dirty. I wasn't even cheap!! It was like one of the worse rooms from the Paper Street house in Fight Club. What a shithole....
I asked the girls why were were staying there, and didn't get a good answer, but still, it was only for one night. We went out to explore the town, find some food and sort out our bus for the morning. After checking in at the STC bus station we were given some vague instrustions for finding the other bus station to Mole, then we wandered around there for 10 minutes trying to work out where the bus departed from. We had some vague idea about it at the end, we had to come back the next day atfer 8am to buy a ticket from someone in the station, and then the bus would leave at 2.30pm. Clear as mud. We walked around the market and found an internet cafe which was pretty fast, just a quick check on the mail and then off to a little restaraunt for some food. We had the usual fun with the lack of service, I asked the waiter what time it was and he said 'oh yes!' and ran off! huh? Seems like his watch was broken so he had to go check a clock. The place also had the usual stupidity of having the bar seperate from the food, so ordering drinks means they have to pass the information on.... but the food was ok, which is good after waiting so long since the greasy omlette in the morning.
Anna had to call her brother back home on his birthday, she didn't get long for her money, but at least she go through. We bought a few things and went back on the internet for another hour before heading back to the shitty hotel for a nap. There wasn't much else to do in town, I had a wander around and saw a few people from the boat/bus. I was still looking for a charger as my mp3 player wasn't being charged by the one I bought in Accra. I also managed to do some laundry which was long overdue while I had the chance. Later on when the girls woke up we went back to the same restaraunt we had lunch and sat on the roof drinking beer, shooting the shit and trying in vain to get some food from the chef, there was no water so this was a problem, and he kept coming up to us to as since the waiters were so totally useless. We eventually got some food and inevitably attracted the attention of the local male population, two guys came over to talk to us, but they were ok. One left after a while and despite stealing all of the girls cigarettes we agreed to let him show us one of the local bars.
Ah, what a silly night, we sat outside one of the bars by the Cultural Exchange Center on plastic chairs getting drunk, salsa dancing, refusing to talk about our broken hearts, finishing off all the beer in the place, racing each other around the CEC (sprinting when drunk is not a good idea), talking about music, thinking but never managing to get up to dance to the cool African music playing, finding the only non-homophobic man in Africa, drinking baileys and eventually completely emptying the chest fridge of all liquid. The bar wasn't even that busy, but popular with the expats, of which Tamale has its fair share and more so in the case of the Dutch. We staggered off to find some water, which is a challenge when drunk in a tiny town in west africa at 1am, but we managed it in the end and got back to the hotel. I was really looking forward to a night in that scrotty bed!
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