Ȋle de Gorée Port

Jan's visa never did arrive in Rabat so we caught the train to Casablanca, after a two hour wait and a chat a the Kiwi who was cycling to New Zealand from Scotland via Morocco! Then a bus to the airport because Casablanca seemed such a hole. Killed time at the airport which is uncomfy and very expensive. Eventually flew via Teneriffe to Dakar. Bus to the town centre and was variously hassled by jokers. Having had a coke we went to the French embassy and applied for our Burkina Faso visas. We were shown to a nearby to a real brothel by a matey who seemed very helpful but was just as sharp as the rest and sucked us in the little. Having had a siesta and collected our Burkina Faso visas and avoided a couple of pickpockets, we crashed out fairly early and spent an uncomfy night. Three of us on one mattress on the floor, amidst cockroaches, but I still couldn't sleep till very late. (This place was a brothel - Literally. The girls were very friendly and there was no hassle. And there will always be a room free at some point, but you might have to wait 40 minutes).

Rose early the next morning and went to the Mali embassy for our visas, 10 pounds each come back tonight at about 5:00 o'clock. Down to the ferry ramp in time to see the ferry pulling away. Decided to stay in collect the visas while the others went to Goree island to sort out a room excetera. Flopped around, walked miles, went to the British embassy, the museum, and various other places. Found one little matey with his hand in my pocket. They don't give up.

Killed time until 3:30, and went to the Mali embassy. They don't work in the afternoons, and as it was Friday tomorrow come back on Monday. Caught the ferry and met Seb and Jan near the ferry ramp.Read more