Bliss in the Bijagos

I just returned from a week in the Bijagos Archipelago in Guinea-Bissau. Ever heard of it? Haha, that sounds cocky, but honestly, before I came to Africa, I don't know if I could have told you where to find Guinea-Bissau. Is it Guinea, Equatorial Guinea, Guinea-Bissau, French Guyana, or Papua New Guinea? They're spread out from South America to the Pacific Islands, and no one knows anyone who's been to any of these places.

Well, now you do.

But, after a week away with a friend who I've met on the road, I almost feel as if it never happened. As if the whole thing was a dream, and if I look back at my camera or my journals, I'll find them blank, the memories existing only in my mind.

It isn't so much that the place is so extraordinarily beautiful, which it is, or that it's so little-known and visited that it's difficult to find anyone else who's even heard of this dreamscape, which is also true. No, this particular dream seems unreal because of all the events that seemed to come together from outside our ken to give us an unbelievable experience. Everyone, I hope, has had a moment like this, where forces just seem to align in all the right ways to give you personally, you and only you, one week of true happiness. I fear even mentioning any specifics of this trip as it might mar or change the dream in some irreparable way. There are some things that we have to hold within ourselves to preserve them and keep them pure. If I were to write down all the complexities and adventures, I fear that they would leave me and never return. I can, however, say that the islands are a totally unique, amazing destination: white powder beaches washed by an azure sea, the people of the islands a community isolated by shallow waters littered with rocks and sandbars, dangerous currents, and extreme tides. A place where it's quite easy to spend the entire day on a completely isolated beach with nothing but your thoughts and a bottle of cana, a sweet, spiced liqueur reminiscent of a light Irish Cream. It's also possible to strike inland, as we did, and explore the villages, pick cashew apples under the watchful gaze of women roasting the nuts and making cashew wine, and meet people who are so unused to tourists that they never think of calling you toubab, obroni, annasara, opporto, yovo, or any other of the dozens of names for white people in West Africa.

I can't say enough about this place, but again, I'm conflicted because I feel by speaking it aloud, this gem might lose some of its luster. I can condense it though. We avoided a coup the day we arrived, found a boat that had already boarded all its passengers and took us along anyway, heard about a festival on a nearby island for the Easter weekend, and met the organizers and several of the musicians, one of whom is even a prince whose kingdom extends over 90 villages in eastern Guinea-Bissau. First prince I'd ever met, and truly, a fascinating guy. And perhaps the best thing about the entire trip is that now I share memories with someone who I barely knew before we traveled together. It may seem paradoxical, but I've found traveling with someone you barely know to be the best experience. After one week together,we have a bond that will forever link us in friendship, and a dream that we may never be sure actually occurred.

Rockin' those Freetown Streets

This entry will have almost nothing to do with Freetown, but I liked the title. Deal with it. While I haven't been rockin' the city, I have had an amazing time traveling around provincial Sierra Leone and visiting the variety of landscapes it offers.

I started down south near Sulima, on the coast, about as Liberian a city as you can get in Sierra Leone. It's one of those places I went to because it was out of the way, only to discover that there was very little I could actually do there. I wanted to sleep on the beach and just enjoy the ocean. The village chief didn't have any problems with it. Neither did the police or a village council. However, once the Navy got involved, my plans were quickly derailed. I ended up hanging out with Staff Sergeant Davis for the night and left early the next morning. No worries, for those who fear my current legal status after Côté d'Ivoire, they just told me it was too dangerous to sleep on the beach, and I ended up just hanging out with the Navy guys, listening to stories about the war. Not exactly a cheery subject, but of all the ways to understand a country, war stories are the some of the most interesting in a country like Sierra Leone.

The next morning, I jetted out of Sulima on a motorbike early enough to get the first bush taxi to Poturu, the jumping off point for Tiwai Island. Tiwai Island is a 12 square kilometer island in the middle of the Moa River, which flows through the Gola National Wildlife Reserve. The area is some of the most pristine in the Lower Guinea Rainforest, which stretches through Sierra Leone, Liberia, Côté d'Ivoire, and Ghana. Here, however, is one of the densest concentrations of primates in the entire region, eleven different species including the endangered diana monkey and red colobus. The island also hosts the very rare pygmy hippo, of which there are less than 2000 left in the wild. However, they're very shy, so our chances of seeing them were slim. But then we did! Ha, nope, they were just rocks. They didn't even look all that much like hippos.

I spent a bit more time than I'd originally planned in Tiwai in part because the jungle is just so beautiful: towering cotton trees with buttress roots you literally have to climb over, the gentle night noises which lull you to sleep, and some great swimming in the river (if the oyster shells imbedded in the rock don't tear you to shreds). But I also met some other white people! This was a real shock, as I hadn't really seen all that many who were traveling since I was in Mali, over a month ago. I stayed an extra night to hang out with my new friends and before I knew it I was pulled along for the beaches on Freetown Peninsula.

Now, if you've been a longtime reader (and why would you be, this is a pretty shoddy operation I'm running here), you may remember me gushing about the beaches of Busua/Dixcove. The best beaches I'd ever been to. Well no more. I've found a beach which knocks any Ghanaian beach out of the water. Freetown Peninsula has 40km of pristine beaches. Pristine mostly because of a war, but who's keeping score there? The beaches stretch the entire length of the peninsula, which is itself dominated by a mountainous green landscape. Because there are so few tourists in Sierra Leone (the war's over, I swear!), it's easy to have a beach entirely to yourself, which is exactly what we had at Bureh Beach. I could go on and on describing this paradise to those of you who are suffering in winter right now, but I'll break it down like this: fine ochre sand backed by green mountains, falling into a beautiful turquoise sea. Maroon Island, which is just a tiny little thing, is a fifteen minute swim from shore and seems to perfectly complete the image of an island paradise as an aesthetic point to the curve of the bay.

Did I mention that the only food you can get on the beaches is lobster and barracuda? Often I've faced the dilemma: Do I really want to have sweet, succulent lobster for the third time in two days? Wait, being from Indiana, I've never faced that dilemma. But I had no problem answering with an ecstatic YES.

See, now the problem with this description is that I keep wanting to say, "But the best thing was..." as if there is any one thing that could be described as "the best" in Paradise. Like there's one thing better than all the rest. However, my favorite thing I feel as if I have to describe in detail here. At night, after the moon had set, which was around midnight this night, if you braved the cold air and swam out past the breakers, you were rewarded not only by the warm water but by thousands of tiny lights which sparked with every movement you made. The scientific explanation came from one of my fellow travelers, Dave. The spot is a breeding ground for a specific species of zooplankton, which lights up as a defense mechanism when it senses another body in the water. Whatever. The explanation is fascinating, but only secondary to the wonder of thousands of tiny blue-green lights, like the stars reflected in the ocean, swarming over your entire body. Whenever we thrashed, it sparked a reaction among the plankon like a pale green aura that encompassed you like a sea spirit. As we marveled at the sight, one of the guys shouted over the roar of the surf, "I'm 30, and I feel like a kid! This is amazing!" It really was, like nothing I'd ever seen before. Exhausted after 30 minutes of swimming and trying to take in this unique experience, we returned to the shore and curled up on blankets around the fire, only a thin layer of cloth between us and the sand, nothing between us and the stars.

I'll leave it at that. My love song for Sierra Leone beaches. Tomorrow I head up to Outamba-Kilimi National Park, hopefully for some close encounters with the animal kind: hippos, elephants, leopards, etc. Don't know what we'll find, but I'll definitely write more soon.