I'm in Bamako, where are you?

One of the best pieces of advice I can give to anyone seeking to do a bit globetrotting is to find ways to travel (at least for part of your trip) with a friend.  As I planned my travels in West Africa I kept up with my friend Damini who was in Mali for your a year on a fellowship.  It took a bit of coordination--which is not all that easy when hopping from internet cafe to internet cafe--but we eventually figured out that I would make the short trip from Dakar to Bamako (capital city of Mali) where Dam would meet me and we would travel overland to Timboctou (aka Timbuktu--more on that later).  

Plans made, I woke up in darkness on the morning of February 28th, took a quick bucket shower and headed to the airport with Sam.  I was coming back in a little over a week, so this was not the emotional goodbye that I was sure to come later.  In fact, I was quite excited and looking forward to getting out on my own.  As great as it was to spend time with Sam and his family in Senegal, I felt as if my newly discovered independence was being encroached upon.  I spent a great deal of my time with Sam and his family, largely out of necessity (my French/Wolof has a long way to go) and I could sense that this was wearing on Sam a bit as well.

As the plane took off I couldn't help but notice my excitement to see a new place and meet up with a good friend.  It seemed only a brief moment between settling in my seat and the plane touching down and as I unbuckled my seatbelt I realized that I didn't have Dam's address.  A couple notes.  When you get into the rhythm of traveling a bunch you can take on a "what will be will be" attitude which greatly reduces the stress.  I would recommend everyone who travels try to take that to heart as at a certain point you realize that you cannot be in full control of your movements 100% of the time.  In the same breath, I would strongly recommend doing the little and important things that make traveling a lot easier.  One of these things is writing down the address of wherever you will be staying in your arrival country.

I figured that not knowing Dam's address wouldn't be too much of a problem because I could get it from him as soon as I exited the airport.  I accepted the fact that I would have to let the customs agent hold my passport until I got the address, but I had been through this enough to know that if I was quick, I shouldn't have too much trouble.  I stepped out into the dry Bamako afternoon to a crowd of people, most of whom were cabdrivers trying be the first to nab a customer.  As I scanned the crowd once, then again, but Dam was nowhere to be found.  I sat down on a nearby bench and waited, well-accustomed to the mob of cab drivers trying to get me to the destination I did not yet know for "the lowest price. Guaranteed."  Fifteen, then twenty minutes passed with no sign of Dam.  I called the number he gave me, but to no avail.  I hoped that Dam was alright, though once thirty minutes had passed I knew that I had to look out for myself and my passport.  Taking a quick look around, I noted a well-known hotel and its address, headed inside, filled out the immigration form and collected my passport.  I knew that I could buy some time at a major hotel, hopefully without paying for a room.  I left a message with a security guard at the airport (in case Dam showed up after I left), haggled with a waiting taxi driver until I reached a price which was "completely unreasonable" and headed to the Sofitel hotel, one of the largest and most Western in the city.

Bamako bore some resemblance to Dakar, though a bit more developed (I was informed that Libya's Qaddafi was involved with quite a bit of the development) and a whole lot less dusty.  The Niger river was low, though crossing over it I could easily imagine what it would look like during the rainy season.  I arrived at the Sofitel Hotel in my khakis and beat-up $1 foam sandals looking more than a little out of place.  In the main lobby there was an international conference going on and on more than a couple of occasions I was asked my business.  I had to do a bit of stalling, and verbally commit to staying a night (about $120/night).  Finally, after about an hour of stalling and placing a couple more calls to Dam's number, I began to accept that perhaps I would have to take the L and stay a night in the hotel.  As I gathered my belongings I took one last look towards the entrance.  No Dam.  I walked up to the front desk.  As I got ready to sign the billing statement I heard a voice call my name.  I turned around to see Dam, a sheepish grin on his face.