Brazaville, Congo.
After a long and extensive bus journey through the vast green Congo, my bus reached the city center of Brazzaville at 4 o'clock in the morning. It was already bright; the crowds streamed out of the bus, each heading towards their luggage. With tired eyes, we looked at each other; some were picked up directly by family with a car, while others stood wearily by the roadside with their phones. I said goodbye to my acquaintances and first asked the bus driver for a restroom. After the bus toilet had malfunctioned, and that with a crew of 50 people, it had been quite a wild ride. He mumbled something quietly, then directed me to a nearby building with a large gate and a dirty wall – presumably the bus office. In the backyard, I found a hole in the ground, even with a sink, a luxury.
Continuing on, I tried to find my host. The nice woman lived a bit outside the center, 15 minutes away, no problem by taxi. Taxis have fixed prices, and at around €1 per ride, they are affordable. I quickly found a taxi driver, already awake and alert. He looked at me and was relatively quickly overwhelmed after realizing that my French was limited and his English was close to zero. A speedy ride through the city, and we made it. I stood in front of the house, called my host, and indeed, at 5 o'clock in the morning, she was still awake. She welcomed me with open arms, a happy face, and warm words. Into the living room, two small rooms: the first room filled with two sofas facing a television. On the other side, a large table covered with plates, cups, and pots. Numerous water containers on the floor, two chairs, and clothes stacked up. And then, amidst all of this, a small gas stove – the kitchen. The second room was filled with a bunk bed. She slept on the lower level, and the upper one was also filled with clothes. It quickly became apparent that she loved to go shopping!
We both decided that it was wise to go back to sleep and recover. What started as a short nap turned into 5 hours, and I woke up surprised at noon. My host was a super sweet, kind, and interesting person. After many conversations, we decided to go into the city. In short, we had a long day of walking and good food: oily spaghetti that we couldn't finish, carrying it around all day in a plastic bag that leaked, leaving traces on someone's pants or seat in every shared taxi we took. Shared taxis are always an adventure - packed with 15 people in a small van, everything smells like spaghetti. Fortunately, I was already unwashed, fitting right in with everyone else.
However, it seemed that my host had also eaten something bad before, and she spent the next three days bedridden, barely able to move. Suddenly, I was on my own again, which was not a problem for me but unfortunate for her. One evening, her friend came by, a tall and nice man. The three of us sat in front of the TV, listening to numerous political programs about the Congo. Cockroaches watched us with interest from the floor, observing everything we did. So the next few days were a little quieter. She relaxed in bed during the day, I went outside and came back in between. She introduced me to her neighbors, nice families and children who live next door, everyone knows each other and does stuff together every day. Even if it's just hanging out the laundry.
In general there is not much to explore in Brazaville. But what is highly recommended is a bar and a large restaurant, which is located directly on the river and the tables and chairs are even in the water. So you sit directly in the water, have cool feet and are perhaps even more in the mood to party. There was plenty of alcohol, we scurried past the entrance without having to pay and were surrounded by numerous dancing, singing, good-humored crowds of people. What a special place. If you're interested, here's the name: Restaurant Bord du Fleuve.
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