rootsinafrica's blog

Limbe and surrounds

               

Limbe Botancal Gardens Guesthouse  in the light of day proved to be run down, dirty and a close cousin to the cramped quarters we had experienced in Matadi, despite the fact that it was situated on the beach..

From the border to Limbe

 

We were adamant to stick to our plan to get to Limbe by sunset, so as soon as we could, we got moving.  Unfortunately the plan didn’t quite work out as, we reached to border at 7 o’clock, only to be told it didn’t open until 8, However, the crossing was very quick once the officials had turned up.

 

Lope to Oyem

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 We left Lope Hotel  just after 9am, after  a leisurely stroll next to the river , a clean up and breakfast. 

From the border to Lope

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Stats and Helpful Info

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The following are some stats as well as some info that might be helpful to future travelers:

 

Stats and Helpful Info

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The following are some stats as well as some info that might be helpful to future travelers:

 

Brazzaville : The final Goodbye

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We have been absent for a while and believe us, not due to anything but panic stations! We have learnt a few lessons in the time we were here……Africa teaches you not to make plans, and if you do, make sure you have at least 4 more back-up plans and be prepared to deviate from those at least a dozen times. We also realized that we have changed from tourists to true travelers. A 3 days break for a traveler is heaven, 4 days are nice and 5 days break is pushing it….needless to say, 20

Hippocampe and the Good Samaritans

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Brazzaville the second time

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Ayman had arranged for us to stay at a local hotel owned by someone in his family (as he spoke no English, and us no French, communication was very difficult), at the time any place would seem like a palace, but at daylight we realized that it was one of Brazzaville’s notorious “Love Hotels” It seems that the well to do Congo gentlemen frequent these hotels during the day (Lunch here is from 12.30 to 3 ) to court the ladies that they are not married to!! Hence there is no breakfast

Brazzaville to Ponte Noir (or NOT?)

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TWENTY or so pairs of eyes peered   constantly into the interior of the car, as we sat locked inside, desperately holding on to our sanity. The darkness was filled with the sounds of unintelligible lingo, made more   sinister by the fact that we could not always see who was talking, and to whom. Clouds of mosquitoes filled what parts of the air was not filled by the smoke of the Ninja’s fire.

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