the apartment

Apologies for the recent delays. For the next two months, I'll be in London/LA/SF/NY, but will continue to blog about our travels. For now, I owe you all some pictures of our apartment.

Here's our kitchen. Later, we'll be posting tales about the challenges of cooking here.




On a clear, sunny day, the view from our balcony is beautiful.





So, as you see, it's pretty sweet...or embarrassingly ostentatious. In a country where millions of families are sleeping on mud floors, or can't afford to let their children go to school because they have to work, or have nothing to eat but rice - on a good day - well, let's just say I'm feeling conflicted.

oops

Correction to our earlier post about Zwedru: It's the hometown of the late President Samuel Doe, not Charles Taylor. Thanks to a careful reader for the correction. Point still stands though- it has paved roads, unlike the surrounding towns.

hm

I actually said these words today:

"That looks pretty good, now that you've cut the maggots off."

What can I say? The papaya is excellent here, and sometimes you get one home and find that it has a big gaping hole surrounded by little...friends.

harper

Harper is a pretty little town. In part, its remote location allowed it to escape from the war relatively unscathed. For five nights, we stayed in what could be the choicest real estate in the entire country. Steps away from a dramatic lighthouse, overlooking the Atlantic Ocean, we had a clear view of the stunning sunset -

from a trailer.





Charming, no? Actually, it wasn't that bad. We had running water (some of the time), working toilets (most of the time) and air conditioning/lights/power (24 hours!)

We did get to walk around town a bit and enjoy being outside crowded Monrovia.

"bridges"

Day 2


By 8 AM, we're on the road again. None of us - men, women, cars - had time to wash up. Our first adventure of the morning involved waiting for yet another truck to be dug out.





Some of the passengers from the truck were walking past us, and we spoke with a woman who had bought some large snails for dinner. Don't know if the French are interested in larger escargots, but I'm sure China is...


But of course, the day couldn't have ended without some drama. We were driving along when suddenly the lead car zoomed across a small "bridge." As it did, parts of the bridge fell off. Or, fell...to the side. We pulled over to investigate.





We spent 20 minutes reconstructing the bridge ourselves, and then we all got out of the car, to watch from behind as he crossed. Our driver slowly positioned his wheels so that they'd be applying pressure on the actual logs themselves. He started moving across the bridge, and the two front wheels were across, when one of the logs on his left side flew out from under the car- leaving the left rear tire resting on nothing!! The back end of the truck started to drop, Bill stepped on the gas, and with a huge blast of black exhaust, he managed to get the last two wheels onto the ground.

Yikes.

"roads"

So. I was way off the mark with that whole "fourteen hours" thing. You know me - I was being ridiculous. In fact, it took us TWENTY-FIVE HOURS. And since I adore SUVs, traffic, and potholes, having so much time to enjoy them was extra special for me.

Day 1
Since we didn't make the flight, our group decided to rent a second vehicle. By noon, we were finally leaving "Redlight", a bustling, muddy neighborhood so named for being one of the few in Monrovia with a traffic light.



The first nine hours passed mostly without event. But then at about 8 pm, we stopped just before a hill, where at least three trucks were trapped in the mud. On a side road that had just been cut through the brush, a jeep was being dug out by at least a dozen boys and men using their hands and a couple shovels. One actually sported a reflective vest, as though he worked at the Ministry of Public Works, or maybe was about to go for a jog. For the next three hours, we waited while the jeep moved a few feet, and then had to be dug out. A few feet, and then more digging. Wheels spinning, men digging.

While we waited Bill, our driver, pulled a machete out of the storage compartment of our Nissan Patrol, "because we're in unfamiliar territory."

?!?!?!

Three hours later, it was our turn. With much revving, some leaning forward, and a bit of praying, we made it!

Here are the boys and men digging us out:


As we pulled out of the bush, we passed a couple huts and then suddenly pulled up to a makeshift gate in the road. A few of the boys stood guard. Bill rolled down the window and started shouting, "We all the same team. Boss man behind us! Two cars, all together!" Pee We [sic] our Liberian finance guy, had been supervising the digging and had then been obligated to negotiate with the workers.

We had already been planning to pay them something for their efforts, but hadn't realized that it would be quite so...formal.

The rest of the night was long, but uneventful. Astonishingly, as soon as we reached Zwedru, we found paved, concrete roads. Apparently, ex-President Charles Taylor (now on trial in The Hague for his role in Sierra Leone's civil war) had made sure his hometown had it real good. At 3 AM, we were finally in bed, at a run down guest house.