When I was first nominated to Sub Saharan Africa, I imagined no toilet paper. I believe it was my biggest fear. My American friends where horrified . . . asking if surely I couldn't improvise . . . maybe leaves and grass? Indeed, I was fully prepared for leaves and grass . . . hoping for the ability to astutely avoid any kin to poison ivy or sumac. Totally prepared for it . . . except for the 15 pounds of baby wipes that I packed. It was probably that last pack of -WetOnes that put me over the luggage weight limit.
Right. Happily, we have the ubiquitous
Lotus, hawked by every child in every
gare in
The B.F.
So, how familiar does this picture look? Right?! Don't look at me . . . you ate it. You were expecting . . .
what? Ever heard the expression
in on schedule, out on schedule ?
Non? Well, now
you're gonna poop in a hole . . . though I'll concede that not all holes are created equally. I highly recommend the hole at the Bon Bonnerie. Paradisio has a decent hole. I prefer to avoid the facilities in any
gare . . .
Gare Routier being the absolute worst. But, hey, it's
The B.F., and when called upon to do so, I can
suck it up and deal!
No comments:
Post a Comment