..and my NIKON recorded these thoughts on its travels..

Don't you just love border towns? Must have been what the Wild West was like? OK, perhaps not. But border towns have their own feel; money-changers..Arab?; more wheeling/dealing than you'd see elsewhere ; and dirty, dusty, everything coated with red sandstone dust...awful roads; swarms of humanity, women all laden down with huge bundles on their heads, men- eyes going from left to right, looking for an angle, trying to make a buck...or a cedi or a franc.

It finally appears that if one 'looks' West African, then one doesn't even need to show any form of ID..just follow the swarm through the gates. For 'foreigners', visas, clearances are a major source of income and so there are controls to pass through for the exit part and the entry part and they all 'seem' to have their hands out.

Interesting, the capital city extends right up to the border..and it's not so big. One could just keep on walking after 'crossing' the border, all the way to the city centre.

Lovely wide boulevard sweeps along the Gulf..beach on one side, remnants of colonial glories on the other...lots of palm trees swaying in the breeze.

Moto's are preferred form of transportation...anything with two wheels and some space on the back is for hire..and there are probably thousands of them.

I search for the right words to describe what i see...a fallen colonial charm, a very definite French colonial feel. Poorer than i've seen before with more people living in the streets..families, or at least women with young children, and lots of squatters in abandoned buildings. Views are not helped by the fact that most of the streets are torn up..for 'road strengthening, putting in drainage system?

The world has moved on and left peeling posters, faded signs..having moved on does it ever come back? How could it...but maybe why should it anyway?

..triste, mais encore exotique..

But then you come across a real 'Patisserie' that could have been transplanted from any French suburban ville.

A line of huge container ships parked out at sea, reminds me of the mouth of the Bosphorus..waiting for space to unload?, more likely load..someone's minerals. I guess that there are very many deep-water ports in this Gulf...and the rusting piers jutting out from the beach are way past their sail-by date.

A French restaurant...seafood...trop cher, but interesting senior staff and clientele..faded colonials, young African women. Worth it for the bread alone..and du vin rouge, s'il vous plait!

Night in a West African city is always exotic and slightly dangerous (or more than slightly?).

There isn't a lot of light but there is a lot of life. After night falls the streets are much busier than before..maybe the heat? but more that people eat outside, sidewalk vendors so there is smoke (..with fire) and sizzling smells and lots of curious stuff in pots and pans and on grills.

There is probably more traffic on the roads then in the daytime but it is crawling along and nobody minds.

So there are lights from the cars and the motos and there is some light from shopfronts or bars/restaurants but in the huge space between the roads and the shopfronts there is little light..except from cooking. Everyone is sitting around eating...brochettes, meat, fish, i really want what he has but somehow it doesn't materialise. It's a bit of a shambles but no-one seems upset. The 'space"..hard to call it a restaurant with only alfresco dining ..seems to be 'served' by two or three different food vendors so what you get depends on the affiliation of the person that takes your order? Separately there is a long table with bottles of wine...wander over, make your choice. Great music too, loud, pulsating.

So it is all pretty much how it is supposed to be here!

....and in the morn ...pain au chocolat ...but no cafe au lait! quelle domage...but i can get a quiche to go (ouf..why not) and a few loaves of french bread..will that be smuggling?

...a la frontiere, s'il vous plait. Mais vite, vite!