When we finally did get to Benin, it was an eye-opening experience, and I couldn't help thinking how much easier it is to live in a place like that (as compared to Niger). First of all, things actually grow there. Imagine palm trees and broad, leafy plants. Even more exciting: fruits. A whole world of vitamins awaits the visitor to Benin who feasts upon its pineapples, papayas, and avocados. Also, the country is on the coast, which means not only fish to eat but also tourism and trade to enhance its economic prospects. Thoguh it is not a wealthy nation, Benin's standard of living was notably high to my eyes, accustomed as they are to the Sahel. The people are bigger, the children have more energy, and the livestock isn't so boney.

I'd thought that living in Niamey had acclimated me to West African cities, but Cotonou was bigger and busier that I could have imagined. It took us a full hour to drive our bus from one end of the city to the other. In fact, the only way to really travel efficiently is by motorcycle (your own or a moto-taxi), but we poor students are forbidden by International Programs from riding such things. The market too was enormous and chaotic; you could wander around for hours without seeing everything. I would definitely like to spend more time in Cotonou. It has a certain beachy charm, and four days was not enough to see everything the city has to offer.

We did get to see some pretty great signs while we were there:

We also took a day trip to Ganvier, the so-called Venice of Africa. It's really not like Venice at all except that both cities have a lot of water and a lot of gift shops. Otherwise, Ganvier is just a town on stilts.

After Cotonou, we spent two-and-a-half glorious days on the beach in Grand Popo. We slept in bungalows, ate coconuts, and frolicked in the waves.

A bunch of people lived on the beach near our hotel, and we watched them bring in their boats and fishing nets each day. And it just wouldn't be Africa without a gaggle of adorable children:

All good things must come to an end, and we got back to Niamey last night after a long busride punctuated by an infuriating number of stops. As much as I liked traveling, it's good to be back "home" again.

written by  The Boston Wanderer on November 9, 2008 from Cotonou, Benin
from the travel blog: Sandstorms
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Two weekends ago, we visited Parc W, a huge wildlife reserve that stretches across three countries. Unfortunately, Niger is the least-appealing of those countries from the animals' perspective, so we didn't see more than a few antelope, some crocodiles, and a couple of baboons. It was still really fun to ride around the park on top of the SUVs, though. I'd love to post some pictures, but my sort-of-broken camera was completely broken by a child last week, so those will have to wait.

I spent the last week living with a Nigerian family in a suburb just off the main road out of the city, which was cool. They have three kids and are wealthy in the sense that their home has electricity and running water. They fed me crazy amounts of food and helped me practice my French and Zarma.

We were with our homestay families for Thanksgiving, but everyone worked really hard yesterday to cook a belated Thanksgiving dinner. There were yams, chicken (no turkeys here), stuffing, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, mac and cheese, sangria, and two kinds of pie. Of course, Thanksgiving has always marked the beginning of Christmas for me, and my roommate and I have been taking advantage of the opportunity to sing Christmas carols at the top of our lungs. Did I mention the sangria?

Three weeks from today, I'll be in a plane somewhere over the Atlantic. I'm not at all ready for this to end.

written by  The Boston Wanderer on December 1, 2008 from Niamey, Niger
from the travel blog: Sandstorms
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Classes were cancelled Monday for the fete of Tabaski, in which everyone kills a bunch of sheep to commemorate the moment in which Abraham sacrificed a sheep instead of his son Ishmael. ("But wait!" say the Biblical scholars. "Wasn't that Isaac?" Alas, you've obviously been reading the wrong holy book.) The holiday starts early in the morning when the sheep are killed, there heads and skins removed. Then they are slit down the middle and strung up over a fire for roasting. Not to worry, this all takes place on the side of the road so that everyone might enjoy the festive sight of entrails! My homestay family invited me back to their house, which was nice, although they also sort of kidnapped me and forced me to spend the night. I did eventually make it back to the CFCA, where I am now busy living out my final nine days in Niger.

written by  The Boston Wanderer on December 12, 2008 from Niamey, Niger
from the travel blog: Sandstorms
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