The Douala airport was everything we had expected it to be — both better and worse. Passport and health check controls went fine, but it was sheer pandemonium once we got to the baggage area: the nearly three hundred passengers from the flight were all tussling to get their luggage from two conveyers squeezed into a tiny, jam-packed, room. Meanwhile, porters kept trying to grab bags (so they can collect/extort tips) and security personel randomly accosted passengers about what they had with them.

All this bumping, jostling, and cacaphony voices in a multitude of languages within the most sweltering heat and humidity imaginable. Welcome to Cameroon!

Still, the plus side was that we managed to keep our self-possession and people left us alone when we gave a firm, resolute, "Non, merci" and soldiered on.

Trying to get through the single-door exit was awful, though — everyone was trying to funnel themselves through this bottleneck all at once. The customs officers also took special interest in Gill's bicycle box. We were asked serveral times what it was.

 "Un vélo", we'd reply.

 "Neuf?"

 "Non!"

As we were on the cusp of airport freedom, one of the guards started to insist we leave our heard-earned place in the crush pushing its way out of the door to have the box inspected. We worked the chaos to our advantage and we were able to sneak out by feigning not to hear or understand.

Of course, outside the airport we were then accosted by people offering rides. I followed the first taxi driver to approach me.

I had been so good at keeping the porters away until that point but as we neared the taxi with my large suitcase (containing my folding bike) and Gill's big bicycle box we were overwhelmed by a swarm of unofficial porters who manhandled our gear into the cab despite my protests.

I hurried into the car as the crowd of faces pressed outside my taxi window asking for payment for the unrequested service. Thankfully the driver pulled away.

I was so relieved to be out of the airport I wasn't even too upset when the driver told us the cost would be 10,000 CFA (~$20) for the ride — it should have cost 3000, but I had been so desperate to get away from the porters I neglected to have negotiated before getting in. Still, he was friendly enough and actually knew our Prime Minister's name was Stephen Harper. (He listens to CBC Radio here.) I ended up giving him 7,000 CFA and he was content enough with that.

Il Kim, the other tour participant who arrived the previous evening, met us as the cab was dropping us off at the hotel — it was nice to finally meet her. This will be her 6th tour with Bicycle Africa. Il is a 28-year-old self-described "professional student" and big Rush fan.

We checked in to the Hotel Ndé (which seems safe and clean enough by African standards) without issue. We then took a few minutes to collect ourselves before we stepped outside together into the Douala night to find a place for dinner.

Personally, I was nervous. The unlit streets were dark and people milled everywhere in the shadows. Il was pretty fearless, though — and had even gone out alone the previous night — so we hailed a taxi and asked him to take us to a decent local restaurant.

Gill writes in her journal at the Hotel Ndé.

We chatted during the meal and then back at the hotel before retiring to our room. During the taxi ride the driver rolled up his window and had me do the same. Methinks Douala isn't the safest city in West Africa.

We organized ourselves for the night (our bikes are still boxed) and filtered some water. I turned on what is traditionally the hot water tap in other countries but apparently it was the brown water tap here.

Tomorrow night David, our leader, arrives and the tour officially begins.

David says:

Pictures of the city ... are few because urban Cameroonians seem to love to make issues of picture taking. On the one hand they want you to praise the country and say what a beautiful and wonderful place it is, but if you try to take a picture of something be prepared for someone to come out of nowhere and make an issue of it.

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