The last stage – 27th January

Next morning we leave for Bamako. A brand new motorway before the town, proudly announcing it was made from EU donations. We reach the town and we head towards the final destination, a hotel.

Apparently Bamako’s air is very polluted. The town can be entered from the North, and the road leads there from a hill. From there nothing can be seen from the town, it’s just a huge smoke cloud. Although when we get out of the car we breathe in and find the air fresh and nice. After breathing dust in and smell the gasoline for two weeks it really is.

Bamako by night

We reach the final destination, the hotel, a laid back hooraying as everyone is dead tired. We go to out accommodation, a neat African hotel, and we chill. The hotel is in a very good location on a quiet side road in the club district called Hippodrome. Opposite to our street the Crazy Horse is located, which is a bar and restaurant with terrace. A real multicultural environment. The owner is an Indian from Burkina Faso. A Tamil is at the cashier, the waiters are local, but with their ‘I don’t care’ attitude they would do just as well on Liszt Ferenc square. African – international menu and African music. Castel, the local beer is good, just like the chicken with walnut sauce.

We go over to the award ceremony. We didn’t win any prize, with out zero point we are the last. But we made it! I’d like to tell that idiot little monkey on Kossuth square that we are here and we made it, and he can suck my dick. The ceremony is in a disco called Ibiza, apparently the largest in whole West Africa. It resembles me to Dexion in Alsoörs, the dance floor is the same size, and there’s fast food and cocktail bar next to it. The music is more or less the same. The security guards are much nicer n the other hand, although they are double the size than those at home.

The party kicks off very slowly, some of us go back to the Crazy horse, as the beer costs much less there and we can talk as well. We go over to the neighbouring place called Terazza, which is a restaurant downstairs, a bar upstairs and a brothel downstairs. The owner is an old guy from Lebanon. We end up in the bar upstairs. At the bar the girls are sitting in a long row. We can’t order a drink without getting a quote. When they finally realize that we are not the sure escorts for that night they stop. The music is good at some points, but sometimes really annoying serving the red headed fat and middle aged Europeans’ taste, who come here only for the hookers.

This is the real third world. The meat market. But it works the way around as well. A barrel like woman in her fifties pulling a tall toned guy behind her. I’m not in the mood to write about the moral side of this, so do it in the comments whoever feels like and have a stong opinion about it.