Invasion

Cotonou has been invaded by people with money. There are many huge buildings with shiny windows and flashy exteriors. There are cash machines on every corner and the streets are filled with Land Rovers.

I returned to Cotonou after two weeks in the village. The newly paved road between Azowlisse and Porto Novo prevented me from becoming covered in red dirt like before but an hour motorcycle ride didn't exactly make me feel fresh.

I was in serious need of a shower yet I had no idea where to stay. I decided to try Hotel Concord, I never actually stayed there but remembered it as a popular place and it was at least in the neighborhood close to all of the places I used to visit.

When I pulled up on the zemi, I was surprised to see that it was closed for business. A man standing outside recommended a place around the corner uncreatively called "The Prince Hotel."

I didn't have another option so I decided to try it. I was delighted to discover that it was directly next door to the Indian grocery store. This is another Cotonou landmark that I had been dreaming about. I happily purchased McVities hobnobs and current shortcakes, in addition to a mint Ritter sport and a bottle of soymilk!

I returned to my room an watched CNN (it's only redeeming quality being that it is in English!), read some emails with the functioning wifi, and took a long, very hot shower.

Later that night I went downstairs to buy some credit for my cellphone. I ended up talking far too long to all of the characters in the lobby. One man could not guess what country I was from, despite many helpful hints. He must of gone through a list of 30 countries but just could not get it right. I thought he may have been pulling my leg but don't think so. Perhaps he was drunk or taking drugs. Or maybe he is just a bit slow.

After a long talk about the perils of immigration to the states, especially without having the correct documents to work, our conversation led to a crowning story I have been waiting to share with someone since 2005 when I visited Belize, a country who's only thing in common with Benin is a similarly sounding name (more than one letter addressed to Benin was sent first to Belize by the U.S. Postal Service). I explained my surprise when I arrived at the airport and saw a large photograph of the small nation's President, who happened to be Lebanese. This story was well-received by my audience, who could never fathom this happening in their own country, despite the large control the group has over the local economy.

The reception worker surprised me the next morning by sending up breakfast to my room. It is always nice to make friends with people and those late night conversations with strangers are often the most memorable.

Before leaving Cotonou again to visit Grand Popo and Come, I took another walk around the neighborhood. I decided to treat myself to the purchase of super cute fabric at the Vlisco store and asked the fabulously dressed sales clerks for a recommendation of a good tailor.

They sent me on a zemi to a shop a few minutes away. The tailor looked at me with hungry eyes. He spoke of love and sat too close to me as I perused the fashion magazines. I  made sure to keep the door open and kept to the topic of the outfit I wanted. He told me I looked like a model and that he would follow me to Mauritania.

When I went to pick it up a week later I brought a friend with me. At first fitting, the outfit was terrible but I made him fix it and the result is very lovely.  Evidently Cotonou has also been invaded by sketchy tailors. I will avoid them in the future.