Into the city of Lome, where we parked the truck outside two cassette shops competing with each other for the loudest music. Could hardly hear each other yelling from one end of the truck to the other arranging the guard roster.
Today challenged Algiers for frustrating bureaucracy. The four of us who needed to extend our Togo visas - why issue a two-day visa at the border when it takes that long just to reach Lome? grrr - were sent from pillar to post, finding every office about to shut or just closed. Each extension required four photos, three forms, 500 Central African Francs and passport space - why does it require a whole, precious blank passport page for a three-day extension? grrr. Vicki and Ben dashed off into the heat and across railway lines to sticky tape a blank page in her passport. The nonsensical process left us hot and bothered. I can only assume that shuffling papers and duplicating work is a way to keep people employed.
Calmed down in front of the air-conditioned supermarket eating ice cream, apple juice, bread, cheese and pate, the crumbs of which we rinsed off under a sprinkler.
Back at the truck there, we asked if everyone would mind waiting until 3 PM for Nikki, Myrta, Marcus and I to collect our documents. Several didn't want to, including Bill who just wanted Kel to drive him to his hotel. Helping out a few of us was obviously too much to ask. So, leaving Marcus and Myrta in town to pick up our passports and find their own way to camp, we headed to the beach, driving from overcrowded to rubbish-strewn camp sites before settling on a spot about 3pm. Adding to her day's frustrations, Vicki discovered she had picked up a tick - safely removed.
There was a natural sea swimming pool within the reef but an undertow, so I stayed alert. I took a long, hot shower after my swim, and headed to the bar, where I wrote this while Geoff sampled the local beer. Lovely to be stationary, clean, relaxed, listening to the rolling waves and the music - feels like a holiday within a holiday. If only the countless mosquito bites would stop itching! A legacy of my drunken night of oblivion and tangled mozzie net, my hands, arms and buttocks are a mess of red lumps.
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