We made a U-turn back onto asphalt and drove fast to the metropolis of Mopti and back into tourism hustle. Nikki and I had to fight off salesmen in the bargain souvenir market, with articles and hands thrust at us from every angle. Our parked truck was the focus for roving salesmen and we soon had six woven hats on board, and men rushing off for more because we were buying. Pineapples were everywhere around us and I can't wait until I have enough money to buy some - Saturday is not a good day to seek funds.
Mopti is a larger town with an intricate mosque that sits between the Niger River and swamplands with the first irrigation we've seen. A fish market and spice stalls surround a longboat port. We saw people collecting something from the murky, grassy swamp water but could not work out what, although a girl with a tray of round fruit on her head walked the water’s edge.
When we stopped for fuel, Bill, who was very sick, rushed out to squat in a field between buildings. He instantly gathered a crowd of onlookers - probably more interested in his very white skin and bottom than his being sick or squatting in front of them, being something they do all the time. Felt sorry for him being ill but couldn't not laugh at the bizarre scene.
Camped with mozzies behind a natural step pyramid.
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