There is one in the morning, when the loud drumming and somewhat hysterical songs break us on feet. I do not quite know what's going on. Camped on a plantation near a small village, which previously seemed to us to be very quiet, Meanwhile, coming from the wild sounds on our skin caused goosebumps. Sleepy wygrzebaliśmy out of the tent, to see what is happening. Above the village rose a huge glow emanating from the fire. Do not dared to come closer. He was the middle of the night and we snatched from sleep imagination dictated to us incredible scenarios of what is around the campfire just might happen. When two nights later and almost 200 kilometers away again woke us monotonous drumming, which this time did not allow us to sleep 5 morning, the subject began to be not only interesting, but also annoying. It's time, to explore it. Not easy to be drawn from the people an explanation of the rite, which took place under cover of night in the village. In part because, that the country, where religious divisions led to almost a decade of civil war are reluctant to discuss the topics of faith, and partly because, Ivorańczycy that were more interested in us and whether we will invite them to Polish than a story about their culture. However, one thing we were able to determine: it was for rain. The upcoming rainy season around the corner this time in Africa so as in Poland awaited spring after a long winter. Scorched earth sun finally comes to life, water in the rivers swell, and the temperature drops a few degrees, allowing a break after months of hot weather. However, the rainy season can be successful or not, Rain may be more or less generous, often deciding between life and death. These are usually short, but heavy rainfall occurring several times a day. However, too rare or short does not allow the land to regenerate, on the other hand, too large cause flooding which in either case could end famine. Despite, rains that for us is a big obstacle, solidarity with Ivorańczykami and upaprani foot in red mud with delight seeing as Africa comes to life.
Almost at the same time as our Sigma show 6 000 kilometers on the horizon emerges exhausting view our attention from the lush greenery. Abidjan. Three and a half million-metropolis, miasto legendary, overshadows its reputation as Dakar. Most ominęlibyśmy them a wide berth, but craving the ocean decided to cheer him up a little in Ghana and we have to get connected with the visa formalities.
After an incredibly difficult (and dangerous) for cyclists entering the city welcomed us with a glass skyscrapers, Chryslery, Bentleye, Advertising western brands, grandmother in garsonkach and guys with iPhones. With gaping buziami drove next to the chic boutiques, fine dining, hotels with rooms on the 300 bucks and people busy as New York's Wall Street. We could not believe, that tens of miles away, people live in mud huts, handled by the forest and the fire pray for rain!
Sweating, grimy and burnt sun looked in your next hotel with hope, that we can find the, from which we immediately did not throw for mud on the marble floor. Finally, someone directed us to a place within our budget. The hotel looked clean and safe so you do not zraziliśmy the receptionist asked "how many hours we want peace," and calmly explained to, we're looking at a couple of nights. „Aha, I call the manager ". Well, yes, atypical customers ;) Fortunately for us, he was cool "apartment" on the roof away from the other guests and their companions. A few hours after we went to the Hotel Frank - German globetrotter of Rostock. Unfortunately there was not so lucky and his rather dingy mink have to wait until 21 because only then be released ...
Morning with Frank went to the Embassy of Ghana. Been repelled by the secretariat. Lady receptionist at the sight of us reluctantly pulled away are reading the morning newspaper and was asked to produce standard documents and invitations to the country and to confirm residency / citizenship in Côte d'Ivoire (which of course we did not have). We tried to explain to her why do not we arranged a visa before departure, but our stories of several months of cycling trip, the diversion of the war in Mali, fatigue wade through tropical forest were clearly uninteresting . Baba just read on a newspaper without paying for us and our story any attention. Outraged by the behavior demanded of her conversation with her supervisor. He came to us smart boy and twenty years can very politely explained to us, that we can get a tourist visa at the embassy only in our own country. This time, the story of our adventures were met with a whole series of "outrage" and "Italians", but a summary of our half-hour monologue was short. "I'm sorry, but nothing I can do for you. "So we demanded the visa interview, but again, nothing wskóraliśmy beyond the promise of attempts to contact the minister of tourism and sport in Accra, which could possibly allow us to issue visas. The decision we had to wait up to a month ... Until so we did not care! No it is not! Therefore we go north to Burkina Faso. Maybe there is no ocean, but at least Consul welcomed us with open arms and gave us a visa on the same day. Sharp wit Consul persuaded Frank even accompanying us to visit Burkina although after crossing the Embassy of Ghana said, he has had enough of West Africa and back to Germany. Official celebrated the successes and failures delicious access with goat stew and lemon juice in a jar elegantly stated the jam ;)
On the next day, Frank got on a train to Banfory, the first major city in Burkina and we landed to plan further route map. We had to break back to the north of the country. When podliczyliśmy, to the border that we have over 600 km (of which the vast majority of the abomination we already rainforest) in the country, which we did not like, and in which the already spent a month and a half we decided to follow in the footsteps of Frank. For this fervent prayers for rain brought a spectacular effect and the rainy season began in earnest. Breaking the train station through the city rushing streams flowing garbage (Abidjan is located in the hills) we could not be happier, we leave this city.