Gone was the comfortable bus and train rides of Morocco and even to a degree Egypt. We were now in the land of trying to see how many people you can fit into small spaces. Our travels to Nouakchott was in two Mercedes-Benz taxi's. We would now complete the journey from the capital to the Senegalese border in one Renault station wagon! Including all our bags.
Somehow they convinced us it was an 8 seater. And it really was, just for very tiny people. Two or three bags fit in the back (of course the door had to be tied with ropes to keep it shut) and the rest of the bags were on the roof. There were 3 rows of seats. Which meant 3 people in the back row, 3 in the middle row and then 2 of us in front next to the driver. The problem in front was that it was a single seat. Wayne and I had the privilege of occupying this space with Wayne in the middle. Which basically meant half of him was on top of me and the other half on the handbrake. Sardines have no idea.
Luckily it was only a 2 and a half hour drive (200km's good road) to the border. Unlike the 14 hours or so the previous day. Stretched and bruised we got out when we arrived at the border post, Rosso.
After finally finding the immigration office and exiting Mauritania we had to use a ferry to cross the big Senegal river into Senegal. It was a little bit crazy since there were hundreds of people trying to get onto the ferry at the same time. Once on the other side it was supposed to be straightforward. But it wasn't.
The immigration office was a tiny space behind burglar bars. With all the people going for it at once it felt like I was trying to buy a pie at a High School tuck shop during first break. When I finally pushed myself through to the front I had to patiently wait for someone to give me some attention. I quickly figured out that me being white skinned basically meant that a few dollars wedged between the passports would accelerate the process considerably. Not doing that, as I found out, basically meant that I was virtually invisible to them.
The ferry was almost back again with another load of people before the immigration officer reluctantly took our passports and stamped them.
Now we had to figure out what to do next.
Below: The Renault “8 seater” with Detlef (left) and HP (right).
(photo by Wayne)
Below: the ferry ride to across the Senegal river. From front to back: Madeleen, Johan, Tinet and HP.
(photo by Wayne)
Below: always space for more (photo by Willem).
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