On the road

We set off from the hotel in our flash bus weaving our way through the rush hour traffic which included the very colourful and half wrecked taxi busses. The local cabs, yellow and black were like the blue and white wrecks of Addis. Apparently the cars have to adhere to ‘standards’. They must be pretty basic ‘standards’ as the majority wouldn’t be allowed on the road back home. 

Driving through the suburbs we see some nice looking low rise apartments and even the poor suburbs looked more modern than other places I have been recently. 
We head off northwards and turn off towards Lac Retba (Rose Lake) along unpaved roads and golden sand.  Closer to the lake the sand changes colour to a red and the roads improve, being built from  proceeds of the Paris-Dakar rally in its day. 
The Rose lake defintely has a coloured tinge, but rose?? Hmm not so sure, more like a rusty brown. The lake is a source of salt and its concentration of salt:water is higher than the Dead Sea, so that’s pretty salty. 

Boarding rather rickety 4WD’s we set off on a drive round the lake at times following along  the route of the rally. Dobbo would be green with envy; it was on his ‘list’.   
We stopped to stretch our legs and like a mirage in the desert a pile of women appeared from nowhere to repeat the same old, same old “you took my photo, you must buy” story. Yawn. I’m over that but got conned into buying some bangles which I later found didnt have a chance of getting over my hands. I managed to fob them off to one of the girls who had a hand the size that mine was 30 years ago. 

We carried on over the dunes till be arrived at the village of Buenoba where the village elder took us on a tour showing us how they lived.  Compared to the Omo Valley it was very very modern. on over the dunes to the villages. The tour ended at their nice wee market where they had the lovely wooden statues I would love to buy. But they are wooden and NZ biosecurity would probably take them off me. 

Carrying on to shores of the Pacific Ocean we soon stopped to take photos. Soon the sellers, this time men, appeared from no where to lay out their wooden treasures for sale. We are learning and ignored them.  

Back at the resort from where we had started our drive we had a delicious lunch; prawns gumbo in a mouthwatering sauce and fries. I resisted the urge to suck my way through the prawn heads and crunch on the tails when I saw the look of horror when I started to eat with my hands. I know it is rude to lick your fingers in these countries, but there was no way that the sauce was going to be discarded. 
My fellow travellers convinced me to give my hands a good dip in the lake. The deet burns are still peeling and hurting so I figured I should give it a go. Getting up close to the water and realising it looked like rusty water I wasn’t convinced but gave it a try anyway. A really quick try, as it stung like hell.
I was pleased to have some free time after that excitement and spent it chatting with some of the others whilst I was sprawled across a deck chair sitting alongside the pool. Life is pretty good especially when a good  espresso is thrown in. 

And so we set off to the ‘little Sahara’, the Lompoul Desert, an area of around 18sq km that in some small way resembles the Sahara Desert.  On the way we pass rose hued villages in the distance and think it is something from Lawrence in Arabia with minarets and huge walls towering in the distance. We get close and the mystique disappears when we realise its just a group of half finished buildings made of breeze block from the red sand. 

Briefly we stop to watch ladies smashing dried beans to separate the pods from the beans, the beans for their families consumption and the pods for the animals. 
A little later we wandered through one of the ugliest towns I have seen. Its unusual not to find some quaint little aspect in any place but this was devoid of any such thing, 100% unattractive, but typical of so many others. 

We stopped in the town of Limpoul where we said good bye to our bus, grabbed our overnight bags and loaded in 4wds for a short trip over the golden sand dunes till we arrived at our Oasis. The Limpoul Eco-resort, a magical bar surrounded by sand dunes dotted with East African en suite tents. Mine was stunning with a massive bed, a single plus room for another. The roof was held up by two poles and the ceiling a beautifully patterened fabric. 
One part of the tent was sectioned off as the bathroom. A ‘real’ flushing toilet which was mounted on a wooden base which hid the long drop underneath. The shower was a raised wooden square with a drainage hole in the centre and a vinyl type covering. The drainage hole was a bit like the toilet and went straight down. I guess the hand basin was much the same.  Quaint, totally functional and in keeping with the surroundings. 

Before dinner we were treated to local music and dancing. One of the women in our group made it look so easy and put the rest of them to same. Boy I wish I could still move like that. Fire eating followed and still I cannot comprehend how they do that without getting burned. 

Having said that there is a woman on our trip that has broken her back and walks with a cane. What an inspiration she is. Nothing has stopped her and although some of what we have done has been difficult terrain she has been in their boots and all. 

Dinner was a simple affair with us all housed in our group tent but by 9:00pm we had all retired to the comfort of our tents. No electricity and no wifi here so we all had a device free evening and I for one slept like a baby.