Mali just couldn't bear to have us leave!

Our neighborhood in Bamako

Yesterday afternoon (Friday), we went to the airport, bags packed, ready for the next adventure. Sadly there was an intermediary step that we had yet to discover. After going through two security/passport checks, we stepped up to the Ethiopian Airlines counter. Just as we were feeling triumphant (sometimes every minute detail feels like a victory), the man at the counter dropped the news: we had no ticket. We questioned him, argued with him, showed him how we made it here (to Bamako) from Accra on the same bits of paper, but he was staunch, showing us his passenger list (27 people), and pointing out the severe lack of Witulskis.

Thus began the afternoon. Annie fought with the main Ethiopian Airlines desk while I waited with the bags. We needed to buy a new one. Nope, no credit, only cash. Well fine. Somehow, who knows why, both ATMs at the airport are down. Seriously? A woman at the airport bank offers her a ride to the nearest ATM. No, there isn't room for the bags. Chris continues to wait (this time outside, where he is covered with 15-30 flies at a time, it seems).

While describing the ordeal to the woman from the bank in her red station wagon, her tire blows. Yes, that's right, a flat. "Madame, vous n'avez pas de la chance!" Our flight is leaving soon, and we still have no ticket. PS: Annie's phone has no more battery. Some fella on a scooter offers his help. Chris is still waiting. Flies. Everywhere. ATM #1, nope. ATM #2, also doesn't work. ATM #3, no luck. Back to the airport...

Meanwhile, the woman at the bank returns to the airport, asks me where Annie is. Eh? She was with you! Amidst the confusion here she comes, rolling in on the back of a half-scooter half-BMX bike.

Ethiopian Airlines flight to Dakar takes off. We're in the parking lot.

Time to find a new flight. Air Mali's office is here, there are people inside... What time's the flight? They don't know. They don't know?? We have to wait for the woman who knows. Where is she? No idea. Ok, we'll wait. We wait. Still waiting. Sitting with the flies. Still waiting. Finally, a phone call. Later tonight. What time? Tonight. Ok. Je comprends. C'est bon.

The man Annie's been working with throughout the trip arrives, jolly as always, and whisks us away from the insanity of the airport! We go to a travel agent, get a ticket, he takes us to a great hotel restaurant to get some lunch, we eat, sit in the air conditioning, have a beer, drink some coffee, watch an American movie on TV. We rest, recoup from the afternoon, and prepare ourselves for the second try, which works without a hitch.

Air Mali treats us well, we get the first row, plenty of space, a meal (on a flight that was only an hour and a half!), and some sleep.

Our taximan pontificates about the virtues of women and how men must treat them well, we arrive at our hotel, the Djoloff, which is perfect in every way. (Hot shower with water pressure!!!) This morning we sat on the terrace, overlooking the ocean. Dakar is the Westernmost point of the African continent, and we're only a few streets from the ocean. The air feels like it should, sitting, watching the small fishing boats. A new day, in a new place.

So far, the only picture of us together! On the terrace of the Hotel Mirabeau in Bamako. (The new terrace, at Hotel Djoloff, makes this one look like just a bunch of useless empty space, which it was.)