Into Africa - 20th August 2007

I'd never been to Africa before. I didn't know what to expect. After a long, delayed flight with two stops and quite a bit of daytime wine, I was knackered and dozing as we landed on the dark, rainy runway. The airport was bustling and confusing, with men jostling to ask if they could take my bags. But the first things that struck me were that it was warm (I feel the cold badly, and hadn't experienced properly warm rain before), and the air smelled wonderful, of woodsmoke, charcoal and soap.

Luckily, my dad knows the place. He knew which guys were genuine luggage handlers, and our bags disappeared to be taken separately to the hovercraft. I was wide awake by now, and sucked up the atmosphere and sights, as we bumped along in a bus, with stalls and people and palm trees lit up by strings of lights and the bus headlights. A few potholes and a sand dune later, and we were dropped at the beach, to await the hovercraft. It had stopped raining, and there was a brightly painted, scruffy beach bar, which sold cold beer. The beer was served, as is the custom, with a tissue wrapped around it. It was my first taste of the local beer, Star, which would become my main fluid intake over the next few weeks. I felt very lucky and alive, as I gulped my beer, whilst watching the hovercraft's lights get closer to the beach, drinking in the palm trees, people and the bar, and enjoying the warm breeze.

Beach Life – Shacks & Seafood - 25th August 2007

Waking up in my own mouldy beach shack was idyllic. After a strange breakfast of delicious char-toasted baguette and butter, with disgusting tea made from mildewy teabags and powdered milk (They had no jam. Or fruit. Or real coffee. Or milk.), my dad came to pick me up.



Another jolting trip along a non-road, further down the coast, and I got my first glimpse of the white sand and aqua water of No2 River Beach. This beach is like a Bounty Bar advert, with mountains and rain forest stretching down to the white sand, and hardly anyone about.

There’s a couple of stalls selling nice souvenirs, like jewelery and sculptures. You can also order clothes, which are made while you wait, from locally dyed material. There’s a large kitchen in a building next to the stalls, from which food is served to customers in thatched shelters on the beach. Deliciously fresh pompano fish in a herb and tomato sauce, came with yummy, starchy sweet potato chips, and was washed down with Star. A very thin mummy dog and a scrawny chicken became our friends as they gobbled up scraps of leftover chips.





Then heavy clouds rolled over, and a downpour started. The downpour kept going, so we decided to leave, and headed back towards Lakka, stopping at the Italian-owned restaurant at Sussex Beach for tea. I never got to see the actual beach here, because the restaurant overlooks a tidal lagoon, with the sandbank beach on the other side. The tide was low, but I still didn’t want to wade through seawater with my camera. I’m told it’s another gorgeous stretch of peopleless sand (yellow this time) and palm trees.



If you go to Sussex, you’ll meet the soppy little dog, who tempts visitors to tickle it’s tummy by walking up to them and flopping on its back at their feet, tail wagging furiously.

Tonight we had a second date with Paul, which was pretty similar to the previous evening, except that I had freshly caught crab (y.u.m.), and pa had prawns. It was also my second and last night at the beach hut.

Saying Goodbye - 3rd September 2007

My last morning! My dad went into the office, while I went to the bar/shack/drop-in centre round the corner from the hotel to say ‘bye’ to the locals. One bloke, a Rasta who offered me some of his sandwich, said “Ah Miss Gemma – How di body? I hear you leavin today?” I hadn’t recognized him, but it turned out he had introduced himself to me as a beach boy on my first walk down the beach. I instantly remembered him when he reminded me of his name; Ruby. Then he wished me “safe journeys and happy life”.

Abu and Foday had got me two more mix CDs, and we went on a mission to find a CD player, so that we could check that they worked. We ended up going back to the hotel to use the hi-fi there, and found that both the CDs worked and had loads of good tracks on them.

After saying goodbye, I sat and waited for my dad, with a tuna sandwich (could have done with more tomato or some salad, but was enjoyable nonetheless), and drank a Star. Not my last one, though, which I had at the airport!

We left the hotel, waved goodbye, and caught the hovercraft, followed by the dune-dodging bus, past palms and people, to the airport.

I struggled with leaving this country, which had made such a big impression on me. I felt like I'd been there for months rather than a couple of weeks. How would I deal with my ‘normal’ life now?...