Internet's tough to come by now, and expensive as all get outm plus it's really really hot, so I'm gonna keep this way brief even though this has been the best part of the trip.
After Bamako, I went to Mopti - the hub for the Northern part of the country. It's a really neat city, all made of mud including a multi-story mosque. It's near the edge of the desert, melds many different ethenic groups.
From Mopti I took a 4 day trip to Dogon country. A beautiful set of settlements running for miles along an escarpment the Dogon cities are untouched in some ways by modernity and in other ways, untouched even by the 5000 year old advancements of agriculture. Climbing through what looked like a seizure of the earth was a lot of fun and not enough people have passed through here yet to make it seem like a tourist trap.
After I returned, I went to Djenne a city dominated by the Puel ethnicity. The Peul have tattoos on their lips, mohawks, hanging earlobes and interesting jewerly. The city has the largest mud structure in the world - it beautiful mosque. On Monday there was an enormous market that brought people in from the surrounding desert/Sahel plains. The most interesting by far were the Tuaregs. Blacks with Arabic or European features, they wore indigo, purple or blue turbans that are never removed. They walk around with cockiness despite their title as "The Devil's Muslims", probably because of their scabarded swords strapped across their middles. They get my vote for collest people on earth.

Okay - I know this was the lamest entry of all time, but it's dying of sweat in here. Yikes!
I'm off to Tiimbuktu, then Burkina Faso, which should be colder. Burkina - not Timbuktu.

5/4/02 - The Markets

I hooked up with another tout-type guide thing today after vowing not to. We walked all around Bamako, a vibrant, none-too-poor-despite-expectations, African style city that seemed like one big market. Not too much French influence here and a much chiller pace thatr Dakar. I saw the rose walled Grande Marche' and traipsed through the fetish market. Parrot and shrunken money heads, rabbit's feet, piles of herbs and cotton, and metal plaques for writing the name of someone you want dead all available and really for sale to the 20 percent of the population that didn't practice Islam.
Afterwards, we went to a peak on the outskirts of the city and gazed down on the partly pastoral city of Bamako, caough between the bend of River Niger and some hills.
But boy is it hot here. I think we were tipping mercury at around 104 degrees without air conditioning anywhere. I don't know about the humidity thing, but I was certainly making my own clothes humid.

5/5/02 - Mo' Bamako
Last night, a fierce wind brought in a fast, hard rain that cooled the city. I checked out the museum today a pleasant walk up town. Then Mami and I walked around the mud covered streets (the rain) I saw more of the winding markets that started reminding me of the Jerusalem Souks. In the afternoonm the sun burned of the clouds and it got hot. I hung out by some outdoor street music that was for a wedding. Malian music seems more sensual that the dance focused Senegalese variey. More intricate guitar lines, more singingm less layers of percussion. It was a really good show. At night I met Carter, my pervious day's guide, for a goosechase for some live music ending in a fwe drinks at an outdoor place with a radio.

5/6/02 - Bye bye Bamako

Today I'm off to Mopti for hopefully the highlighs of my trip (the Angkor if you will). I have to figure out how I'm gonna work the guide thing, so we'll see how I negotiate that tricky slope of thorns as a guide is necessary for Dogon country.

A few general impressions of Africa I might not have already revealed:
The dress is great - Islamic robes, but with the colorful vibrancy of African patterns punctuated by the occasional all white or all Black burka and topped with tall twisting hats. The streets are a painting.
The music is great - No bad music, except for the occassional Western import. It's all over the place, as it should be when music's fun like this.
The people are tough to deal with - I'm tired of saying No, and negotiating the tricky territory of knowing who's a frined and who's after my cash, but every time I'm about to give up on talking, I meet one good person.

5/1-3/02 - God Laughs When Man Plans Especialy When Said Man is in Africa

The train, the train. This magical mystery train that was to whisk me off effortless across 500 miles of countryside was not to be. The Magal festival was so widespread that all trains were rerouted to Touba I found out late in the day. And rerouted they would be for 2 weeks until after the elections. (I have this incredible ability to be in these 3rd world countries for their elections, no?). The choice before me: fly to Ouagadougou in Burkina Faso and back track or try to string together my own route. I chose the later and this began my many-stepped journey from Thies to Bamako:

Stage 1: Thies to Kalok
I booked over to the "bus" station to see what I could find, hoping to get as far East as possible or even going to Dakar and flying. Nothing doing to Tamabaconda, a major Eastern thoroughfare, but a seat in a Peugot 405 to Kaolak was mine for the taking. Grabbed it, I did, on the word of a tout who promised that I could connect to Tamaba from there.

Stage 2: Kaolak to Tambaconda
Without leaving the station, I purchased a seat in a Mercedes van bound for Tamba. A few hours passed painfully as the sun dipped out of site... the van filling up slowly. I ate some eggs, some bread, whatever there was around till the van filled at 10 PM and off we went. The journey wasn't too bad aside from the large stuffed dog on my lap and the passengers were nice - although at this point, right now, it's more of a blur of nice, curious, fellow passengers wondering what I was doing in these random towns.

Stage 3: Tambaconda - Kidira
Needless to say, I'm in Tamba late and take a cab to a hostel called Chez Mama Dessert. Greating me at the door was a large shirtless woman (Mama Dessert?), knockers swaying side to side. I got my sweltering concrete box for the nightand slept a few hours. The morning I grabbed another 405 Station Wagon to Kidira at the Senegal border. I was last there, and had last choice of seats - in the back with 2 black woman with perfectly hips for bearing many large children. My pelvis crushed between Nene and the side of the Peugot, we arrive in Kidira and Nene introduces herself and invites me to join her on the journey to Bamako - her destination as well.

Stage 4: Kidira - frontier
Nene, Nene's mom, daughter and I pile into a 60s model Renault where I get my passport stamped, but not before a slight repair to some hose with my trusty swiss army knife. It looked like but 2 or so people passed through this border crossing each month - a passport photo glued next to each line in the log book.

Stage 5: Border - Kayes
I thought things had been tough and inconvenient, but today was killer. We waited for hours and hours on tyhe other side of the border for 22 people to collect to that the small minibus to Kayes. It was sweltering (How hot is hot? When Africans complain, when passports melt, when my bottle of water becomes perfect for making tea.) but finally we're off. It think I had the worst seat on this Cambodian-bumpy ride in a sun-warmed steel box that didn't seem to end. And hey, don't forget the crying kids. But the landscape began to change - splashes of greem interspersed the lush yellow (lush yellow?) countryside. The flatness of Senegal began to show some curves and the Baobab trees, the stocky lone trees that dotted the Senegalese landscape, disappeared. We winded around dried river beds with its interesting organic twists. We finally arrived at 8 but the last train was gone.

Stage 6: Kayes - Bamako
Kayes was a very neat little town and I finally had a decent meal after subsisting on bus station nuriture: eggs, bissap juice and bread. At night, I slept on the on a straw mat on the roff of a locals-filled hostel. Thie birds and sun woke me and I went to buy my ticket for Bamako, knowing this was finally the last leg, but expecting disappointment. After a breakfast of an... EGG sandwhich and Nescafe with consdensed sweetened milk (yum, but you should see the bad teeth here because of all the sugar these Africans eat) I go to the station. Rumors abound of the train benig full, but Hark, another car was added. A crush of people, I squirm may hand through the ticket window, hoping it was a ticket for Bamako I was getting - even if it was 2nd class. The train came! And apparently I was lucky because it was supposed to have left late night after I arrived and the next one wasn't leaving for another few days! I grabbed my seat (reserved!) for the beautful ride South-East. Stark rock hills, wacky vegitation; lively discussions gonig on all around me about I-don't-know-what and though it was hot, it was fun. Villages of clay of mud brick houses withe straw thatched rooves which we stopped at often to buy food and fans through the train windows from villagers streaming railside. This was Mali and this was finally fun.

And so I wrote in my journal about 4 hours into my trip thinking it was to end in 2 more arrival time, dinner. But 2 turned into 3,4,5. Dinner was a half-hour stop where everyone swarmed out of the train to the anticipatory locals. Shouts and burning fires and food being gulped down, I thought it was going to be hopeless for me - I'd settled on maybe some bread as the seats were all taken and everyone else seemed to know that they should take a plastic baggie with them to filled with rice, fish and/or meat. A good idea struck. I bought a hunk of bread and had a woman pile in a load of fishballs! A real dinner.
I was hoping now for a 9 PM arrival when I finally asked someone who actually knew. 19 hours of travel - arrival time, 6 AM. Whew. I tried to sleep or I sat at the back of train watching the big dipper point to the North star as we cut south. A shooting star even! I hung out wordlessly with Mami, a Malian with bad French a voice like Bootsy Collins. And finally we arrived, people swarming off in cacophony. I caught site of Nene and said goodbye. I cabbed it to my hotel and crashed.

500 miles, 9 purifying water tabs and 6 stages later I was in Bamako.

4/29/02 - Food with Friends

Last night, after writing my webblog to the sound of Senegalese James Brown impersonqtors on TV, I met up with YakhYa, the most wonderful person I've met so far. He asks me for nothing and last night, he invited me over for tyea that turned into dniner. We (his family and I) all gathered around a plastic mat on the floor and dug our right hand into a big bowl of fish, roots and rice. It was great, and afterwards I spent a few hours discussing religion and African politics with his Mauritanian uncle and devout sister, then had a quick drink at a bar called the Blue Note. YakhYa is the only person thus far whom I believe completely; everyone else has lied at least a little bit.
Today, I had lunch with Oumar as he tried to sell me a mask one last time, then headed to the gare routiere to catch an old Peugot 405 station wagon to Thies. 7 of us piled in and through most of the 3 hour trip the driver played a monotone voice saying things in Arabic over and over on the radio. The only variation was whether it was the man saying allahamdoulilahi or the woman.
I got to Thies, a seemingly small town that is actually the second biggest in Senegal.
I had Senegalese couscous for dinner - I can't reccommend it like I'd reccommend thiuoudibjan or yassa; The couscous looked liked doody and tasted like mud. Unfortunately I met yet someone else trying to scam me. I hate to stop speaknig to strangers, especiqlly at bars, but I really should. Maybe a languyage barrier isn't such a bad thing sometimes.
Note: to add to my collection of ways to say cheers I now have:
Nan Adjam - Wolof for Drink in Peace
Kindning Kandang - Wolof for ching ching

4/30/02 - Waiting for the Train to come

Thies seems like a railroad town with all the bustle surrounjding the train station. There are lots of shoe and cloth vendors here and I like the vibe - noone seems to care that I'm here.
I started the day in a foul mood, but things started getting funny as the electricity went out over and over. The 100 degree heat sweltered out any other anger I had and by the late afternoon I was playing foosball with some kids. During the day I stopped by a world famous tapestry factory that had beautiful huge tapestries for a few grand. They're made from designs sent in by artists from around the country.
At night, after some good chwarma, I started walking back to my hotel. The lights went out again, but this time it was night. It was pretty freaky with horse drawn carriages still barrelling down the street, but I made it back, trying to find streets lit by places that had their own generators. After dropping off my stuff I decide to try out the dive bar on my street next to the movie theater(a theater like this you've never seen). I walked in ordered a beer and waited for something to happen. A drunk stumbled in, then stumbled out. Phil Collins was bizarrely playing on the stereo and nothing really went down - not even when In The Air Tonight came on. I left to the strains of Sususudio.

5/1/02 - Bamako Bound

The train station was packed. Lines streemed everywhere for this week was a relgious holiday and people were making the pilgramage to Touba. It was more crowded than the Star Wars reopening at the Zigfeld and aside from those waiting to buy tickets were Police men brandishing belts to scare people back, scalpers, food vendors and people just watching. I stood on line for an hour defending line cuts fervently and when I finally made it to the front I was told to come back in the afternoon. So it goes.