Trains, Planes, Automobiles...but actually.

The last few weeks were quite busy, and I spent the last few days digesting all of the activity and movement that they brought. As many of you are probably aware, my parents came out for a visit at the end of February. It was an incredible trip for all of us and I’m beyond grateful that they were able to come and get a glimpse of my life here. They deserve some serious props for making the trip-Cameroon can hardly be called “tourist-friendly”. My friend Anna’s mom (a journalist) coined the phrase “do-it-yourself-tourism” to describe her trip, which seems as accurate description as any.

            I spent much of the week before their arrival trying to make as many reservations as possible. The lack of a widespread credit card system lends itself to a more informal attitude, with a verbal commitment taking the place of a more binding deposit. Factor in the language barriers and questionable phone service, and it’s a wonder that anyone ever knew we were coming. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

            The obvious exception to the lack of credit card policy is the Yaoundé Hilton, where we booked a room for my parents’ night of arrival. I took advantage of the pool in the afternoon before they arrived and reveled in what may be the closest that Cameroon comes to American-style accommodations.

            Their flight arrived in customary Cameroonian style-in the middle of the night-so I hired a taxi to take me from the hotel to meet them. We arrived at the airport just before their flight was scheduled to land, and I was able to walk into the baggage claim area to greet them after they cleared customs. Soon enough I spotted a telltale bald head from across the room-they had arrived!

            Given the nearly 24-hour duration of their flight, both of my parents were in great spirits and we were quickly ready to head back to the hotel. I distinctly remember the drive from the airport to the rest of the city as being quite harrowing the first time I arrived, (18 months ago today!) but they took it in stride and remarked on the number of people still out and about so late in the evening. I think the comfort and appeal of Hilton came as a surprise to both my parents; I had spent so much time warning them to anticipate something of a challenge that the Hilton was completely unexpected.

            The next day we hit Yaoundé hard. After breakfast at the best bakery in Yaoundé (or maybe the country-I know what is important to my mom…) we reserved our train reservations for that night, ate Lebanese food, shopped at the artisanal market, and even found the South African wine store. I try to spend as little time in Yaoundé as possible, so we effectively maxed out my list of known activities. It’s an exhausting sprawling city filled with street vendors, too many taxis, and an often-oppressive heat.

             Luckily, we were off to Yaoundé’s Cameroonian opposite: N’Gaoundaba Ranch in the Adamawa region. In order to get there we had to take an overnight train to N’Gaoundere, the capital of the region. I had never taken the train before and was glad to be able to take my parents to part of the country that I had not yet explored. The train was pleasant enough: we had our own little stateroom with two sets of bunk beds and an attendant who came around to take our meal orders. It felt a little bit like how I’ve always imagined the cross-country train in America to be, although with more men praying outside before we took off.

            The Adamawa region is one of the three regions that make up the “Grand North” of Cameroon, and they apparently have a distinctly different feel than the rest of the country. This is only fitting, as the climate, culture, and primary religion are all different from those of “Grand South”, where I live. I would recommend against trying to apply logic to the fact that the Northwest Region (where I live) is distinctly in the Grand South-that will get you nowhere here.

            For all of you out there planning a trip to Cameroon in the coming months, I would highly recommend a few days at N’Gaoundaba Ranch. It is set a few kilometers off the main road, and is the ideal location for a relaxing few days. We went kayaking in the lake, rode horses (one of the more amusing hours of their entire stay), and played with the “guard dogs”. Our room was in a traditional “boukarou”, a thatched house.  There were few other guests-apparently business has dropped off with growing fear over Boko Haram. But we felt perfectly safe and enjoyed our time at the ranch immensely. One highlight came when we trekked over to the nearby village that used to host a PCV. We heard nothing but wonderful stories about this girl, and were even able to visit the “soy restaurant” that she had started with a few local women.

            My dad took our stay at the ranch as an opportunity to practice his French, and struck up a conversation with another guest during our first day there. His new friend was a resident of N’Gaoundere (the regional capital-the names can be a bit confusing) and invited us to come for a tour of the city as his guests. At this point I want to reiterate that I have been the recipient of incredible generosity during my time in Cameroon. People have shared their time, their homes, and their meals with me. But this man and his family took their role as hosts to an unbelievable level, starting with the car he sent for us in the morning, to the tour they gave us of their city, the meal they shared with us, but most significantly, the attitude they had to our presence. We could not have felt more welcome or made to feel more comfortable, and to that I am extremely grateful. There we were, in a city that none of us had ever been to, and we were lucky enough to find a family that wanted nothing but to show it off to us and make us feel at home. It was truly incredible. One of the stops on our tour was the “Laminou’s Palace”, the home of the traditional religious ruler. That too was a complex of thatched buildings and we were permitted inside for an informative tour.     

            After another overnight train ride, we were back in Yaoundé and set to head up to Bamenda to see my post. Despite the relative proximity between the two, there is no shortcut between N’Gaoundere and Bamenda-traveling between them requires going all the way back to Yaoundé.

In the style of apparently all major movies these days, I’m breaking our adventures into two parts. But you won’t have to wait until the next holiday season for Part II-I’ll try to have it up next week!