Le Kambary Mopti

<br> After the initial disappointment of not going to Timbuktu as expected, we resolved to try and enjoy the schedule change and hope for the best with respect to the new promises of the river trip to Timbuktu. We were hanging out in the bar/restaurant of the Pas de Problem Hotel enjoying a pretty reasonable facsimile of a cheese omelette and fried potatoes (is it possible that we&#8217;re sick of Couscous already?) and the guide showed up to introduce us to our travel ...

... mob scene has gathered around us and it was difficult to get the photo to right person. The buzz the picture created was fun to watch as it was raced around to all family members- the picture quality itself isn&#8217;t the greatest but it does seem a bit of a fair trade for sticking a camera in someone&#8217;s face. I ended up with some wonderful portrait shots as a result. <br><br>We also saw the other side of tourist photography when a caravan full of tourists ...

... crazy. Clearly ALL TOURISTS are there to do the SAME THING and they ALL want to go to the EXACT SAME VILLAGES and if you don't want to then you are clearly crazy) or to take a ride in their wee boats (nooo, I'm saving that for somewhere else...) or that I am jolie! or that I should buy whatever they are selling (no, seriously - I really, honestly DO NOT LIKE bananas! Why won't anyone believe me?!) or simply that I should come and drink tea with them, or come and meet their family ...

... evidently been recently joined by Obama! Obama belts, Obama tshirts, Obama mugs and plates, Obama KNICKERS. Yes, yes I was just a little bit tempted by the pants - and the Obama jeans, to match my Bob ones from Fiji... but I refrained, you'll be pleased to know. I walked through the <br><br>Bamako was starting to get on my nerves a bit... it's TOO busy and polluted and I was getting sick of talking about my (fictional, obviously) British boyfriend/fianc ...

... I think they collect the deposit, they have even come up with a song they sing to the passing tourists titled give me your water bottle please.<br><br>From Songo we headed to the main supply village in the area, Bandiagara for a short overnight stop before the hike commenced in the early hours of the following morning.<br><br>As we leave the town of Bandiagara the adventure begins. An hour ride in the back of a 1970 Pergeut which has no ...

... their end of millet harvest dance. Where the men drumming were the farmers and the women were thanking them by dancing and singing.<br><br>Dist walked = 15 km<br><br>Day Two - Had a tour of the village in the morning, up to the rock face and exploring where the spirtual Dogon would've lived. Speedy had organised for a cart pulled by a cow to carry our bags, which we were very grateful due to the 40C+ heat at around 9-10am. Walked to Tireli where we had lunch ...

... small** people found their spots digginf the diff out and the rest of us rotated on sand matting, pushing the truck, shovelling sand and some collapsing in any tiny loittle bit of shade that we could find. It was v**y hard work but worthwhile in the sense that we worked in good humour and mostlky worked togeth** to fix each situation. It also was a great exp**ience to get und** the belt and to prepare us for the mud, heat and humidity that we will encount** in Cam**oon. Aft** the ...

... are all from the organisation Jump4Timbuktu, a Trade not Aid business inspired by the twinning of Hay on Wye and Timbuktu. Aft** a 2008 visit to blue-ging** gall**y of three spendidly robed Tuareg artisans, Mohamed Lamine, Mohamed Alh** and Mohamed AgAtta I had expressed an enthusiastic int**est in not only selling their beautiful jewell**y and leath**work, but also in being involved in any future trading visits to Timbuktu ...

... out food, lodging and transport for us. Monsieur Limp revealed his leg injury to us on day 2 and informed us he therefore wasnt able to walk too far everyday....just after we had requested more walking!! The guides of Mali are......well, not always to be trusted! More of this later. We managed anyway to do some extra walking without him, without stumbling across a sacred site or causing offence - v important since ...

... join these trend setters, but to no avail - the pootomouth remained in the shadows, they remained in the toilets. The evening ended with some of the truck enjoying the cheese cake goop concoction (quite nice). While the other truck (who apparently crave pootomouth) reheated the pork (which was in the sun the whole day) to create a sweet and sour meal, which basically amounted to the most ****ed up suicide pact anyone would think of. Thus ending boxing day.