Watermelons at market.

We went back to the same restaurant for breakfast — omelet and Nescafé for me, of course. By the time we were ready to hit the road the rain had stopped but the streets and roads were muddy; soon we had our backs, legs and bicycles covered in red mud as we cycled out of town.

I'm impressed at how my body has adapted—I think it's changed the way it uses fuel. I'm also amazed at how much repair a night of sleep can do: sore muscles are gone and I can feel my strength renewed.

Peppers at market.

David says:
A lot of the way is dotted with homesteads and various kinds of agriculture: coco yams, casava, sweet potatoes, onions, cabbage, bananas and other crops. Every few miles there is a cluster of homesteads that are concentrated enough to constitute a village. Along the road, itself, people sell things like wood and fresh farm produce. And fresh farm produce, like cows, are walked to market.

We came upon a checkpoint nearing the town and, for the first time, the guards asked us to stop. It turns out they were simply curious about what we were doing and were surprised we could handle the hills on our bicycles — they were very friendly and let us on our way without any requests from us.

Our friendly market lady.

David found the hotel — the first time we've actually stayed in what he had planned. While David checked the rooms and a few other hotels (hopefully not for something cheaper) we stood idly by and got mud everywhere. We were so filthy we couldn't even sit down in the plastic chairs outside.

The moment of glory had arrived, though: our hotel had hot water! I took a warm shower but Gill put it on full steam and drained the hot water tank. She deserved it, poor girl. I wouldn't say she's hated every minute of the trip, but she's been a trooper through some pretty rough spots.

Celebrating the death of a man in town by singing and dancing. He died months ago but it takes time to get everyone together for this type of ceremony.

After resting a bit we walked around the town but for not very long: we both always feel overly conspicuous. Il, meanwhile, walks everywhere by herself. (Someone tried to steal her camera in the market but wasn't very clever about it. She didn't say anything, but the market ladies are known to beat thieves — so she may have done him a favour by keeping quiet.)

Think I'm dirty now? Just wait.

We went to a nearby restaurant for dinner where I had a local Castel beer and fish with fried plantain. There were two other white men in the restaurant — wow, what a tourist town this is!

After some conversation about language, ethnic relations, etc. we went back to the hotel and cut up the watermelon for dessert. We chatted a bit before retiring for bed—we're tired and it's a downright chilly evening.

Sometimes when someone dies it takes a while to get everything they knew together, including the presider of the ceremony. Here's a clip of the singing and dancing.

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