Traveling Blahs

Bientôt, I'll be in Cameroon for two years. I've seen and experienced so much over the past two years that it now takes a lot for me to freak out about something - mice, bugs, obnoxiousness, strange animals being held on the road for sale - you name it, I've probably seen it. The one thing, however, that still gets my blood pressure up through the roof is traveling in Cameroon. The bush taxi and bus rides somehow still make me want to punch people in the faces. What are the problems exactly? On a recent trip home from Yaoundé, I decided to document this.

Overcrowding: In Cameroon, the number of passengers is always the suggested number plus 1. A row for 4 people, there will be 5. That's not too much of a problem until when you get two or three largely built Bamiléké mamas that are twice as big as me in there. On top of that, when the weather is hot, everyone is sweating on top of each other. Imagine the comfort.

State of Vehicle: Being crowded in a plush vehicle may not be so bad, but when the buses or cars have been mended in all the ways imaginable, and the seats are paper thin, the metal bars are digging into whatever body part is now twisted to be in contact, having that one extra person makes all the difference. I have to give it to the Cameroonian mechanics though, they make the most impossible cars run.

Window Closing: I don't live in a very hot region of Cameroon and the weather for the most part are pretty mild. However, there are still hot days and usually when there are 8 people in a small car, the body heat increases the temperature. The same applies in all vehicles. The easiest way to resolve this problem is simply let the windows open in a moving vehicle. However, Cameroonians have some serious issue against opened windows. There have been times when a baby is dripping in sweat and the mother is wiping it off with cloth, yet the window is STILL closed. They tell me it's the dust. But that logic makes no sense on a paved road. 

The Medicine Man: On bigger buses, there are also men who are medicine sellers that are giving their speech about the miracle drugs that they are selling. This can go on forever - hours upon hours. Think infomercial, but forced upon you while you are sitting in the aforementioned conditions. I learned my lesson the hard way by sitting in the front of the bus once. Now I always sit toward the back of the bus, and when the medicine man starts yapping, I turn up the iPod and do my best to ignore it.

The Waiting: This, above all else, is what drives me mad every time. When you need to be somewhere at a certain time, this aspect of Cameroonian travel is extremely frustrating. With the exception of a few bus companies, most of the time, the system is "first come first serve" and "we go when it's full". If I need a car to Bafoussam from my village, I simply wait by the side of the road until a taxi comes by. If I'm lucky, there could be a taxi there already, but I have waited up to an hour for a taxi to come by. The trip to Bafoussam only takes 45 minutes. Longer travel works the same, you get to the bus station whenever and it's all luck. The bus leaves when there are enough passenger to fill all the seats - filled in their definition, meaning when all the rows of 4 people are filled with 5 passengers each. Depending on the time of the day and the day of the week, this can take HOURS. I'd love to see a study on the amount of time an average Cameroonian spend just waiting. What a waste of productivity.

 Important to always having reading materials to pass the waiting!

The Stopping:  Taxis stop often to let people off and picking people up, that's understandable. But when it's a bus full of people, and when nearing destination, everyone wants to get off at a place more convenient for them, you have the situation of the bus stopping every 5 minutes. Or, people want to stop to buy food, go to the bathroom, etc. All of these stops add to the travel time.

Every time the bus stops, vendors crowd to the window

For two years, I've told myself that at least traveling here is cheap. Yes, I may have to put up with these conditions, but an one-way ticket to Yaoundé, that's a 5 hour trip, only costs $5. This has eased putting up with Cameroonian travel until a few weeks ago when I was planning summer travel in the US with my sister. I was booking bus tickets with MegaBus and realized that if you book well in advance, it's possible to have tickets for $1 - that's 500 CFA!

This fact blew my mind. Yes, there are certain stipulations to this fare and tickets get more expensive as the time gets closer. However, the fact that this option is available at all is incredible. The three bus tickets I booked for my East Coast travel this summer didn't exceed $5 each and that guarantees me a bus that leaves on time, a whole seat to myself in an air-conditioned bus that won't stop all the time, and get this - Wifi Internet connection on the bus!!! This is blowing my mind and I am an American, imagine letting a Cameroonian experience this. Wild.

Understanding Big Chairs

Laura:  What are we going to do when it's not socially acceptable to drink a cold Castel on the beach at 10 in the morning?

I have been back in village for a week now after the whirlwind of COS conference, and I have never missed Americans this much in my entire life. My fortunate circumstances that have allowed me to live in different places also at times gives me severe identity crisis. The first 12 years of my life, I was a Taiwanese. No doubt about it. The 6 years that followed, I successfully transformed myself into an American. I did such a stellar job that in college, my Asian friends were surprised when they found out I spoke fluent Chinese and grew up in Taiwan. Talk about being bien intégré. For the past 6 years, however, I've traveled. I've utilized that integration skills to put myself in the life of an English, a Cameroonian, a French. I avoided hanging out with Americans too much to get the full experience. However, my time with my fellow volunteers last week made me realize that I am in fact, American, and I miss them.

After our conference in Yaoundé, a group of us took vacation and went to Kribi, one of the popular beach towns. One evening, we were out in a very chic pizzeria that is designed for expats. The restaurant had these really wide and comfortable chairs. Being the luxury starved volunteers that we are, a conversation went on for a good 10-15 minutes about how big and comfortable those chairs were. Then it occurred to us that once back in the States, people will look at us strangely if we ever went on a rant about how big chairs are.

Several times throughout the week, we went dancing in clubs and had a fantastic time when American music came on. That kind of bond and excitement won't exist Stateside when all the music played are, well, American. I will miss a group of 15 Americans going bunkers on the dance floor to Lady Gaga's Bad Romance while Cameroonians are trying to figure out what is going on with us.

Our bus ride back from Kribi was bizarrely hot. All of us were packed in a bus like sardines, which is normal, but the humidity was unusually high that all of us were literally sweating bullets. I did not know my body was capable of sweating this way. We would all sit in the most relaxed manner possible, and there would be sweat dripping down our bodies as if someone was spreading water on us. It was pretty disgusting. To make matters worse, Cameroonians hate having wind blowing on them during bus rides, so even though we are all dying of heat, they would try to close the windows. You throw in the crying babies, or loud mamas who break out in songs because they wanted, then you have yourself a fantastic ride. I decided in that moment in time, amidst all the sweat, that I will NEED people in my life who can understand this.

During our COS conference, we had a RPCV panel who talked to us about life after the Peace Corps. The recurring theme was that people will not really be interested in your experience. They won't care. I got a glimpse of that this summer while I traveled back to Taiwan. I carried a photo album with me to show people my life here, and with few exceptions, most people really just aren't that interested. I am terrified of going back to a place where no one can understand the intense two years that I've just experienced. But when I looked around my beloved friends who were on that hot bus, I felt more at ease. At least, they will.

Over the week, there were several conversations among us discussing our plans for the summer and trying to find a way to meet up. We then pointed out how we are so eager to see each other Stateside even though we have all just spend two years together. We came to the conclusion that we need to talk to each other about the big chairs that we will be sitting in, and freak out about other minute details of American life together. I will miss these amazing people who are likely to be lifelong friends. Nothing bonds you more than being tossed in a strange place together for two years.

O.M.G. WHAT?!

To you, the above picture is just a normal gas station that you stop in all day long to pick up a soda, a cup of coffee, some snacks. For me, I almost fainted when I walked into this fancy gas station in the town of Mbouda.

Mbouda is a town 30 minutes car ride from Bafoussam - the provincial capital here in the West region. I have never seen a gas station like that in Bafoussam, or even in major cities like Douala or Yaoundé. But of course, I am not usually on a hunt for fancy gas stations.

Anyway, yes Mbouda is a happening place, but nothing like a major city, not even close. By happening, I mean there is a market, a bakery, gas stations, bars, etc. Not New York City. You can imagine my surprise when I walked in. Okay, maybe you can't imagine. Let's just say I was completely caught off guard with this fancy set-up and was freaking out for at least 10 minutes, and then spent the next 15 just wandering around in this well-lit, organized place that has actually cold drinks in the fridges and also air conditioning?!?

The workers were really amused by my reaction. I kept saying, "c'est comme chez nous!" (it's like where I'm from!)

American Girl in Paris – Part I

Due to flight schedule to reunite with my family in Taipei, I ended up with a three-day layover in Paris. I know, life is tough. Thanks to my French connection, Gary arranged for me to stay with his friends in the center of Paris for the two nights that I was passing through. When he said the center of Paris, I thought it would simply be Paris proper. But center is quite literally the center. His friends live in a fabulous top floor flat in the 1st arrondissement next to the métro station Les Halles.

Since the flight arrives at some absurd hour of 6am, I told Gary that I'll just find my own way into Paris and I'll call him to meet up when I arrive. I took my time going through customs, picking up the luggage, and finally bought a RER métro ticket into Paris. I was really nervous and greatly overwhelmed when I was on the train. While looking out of the window, I was unknowingly digging my nail into my hand with nervous force. I didn't realize I was doing this until I looked down on my hand and saw fingernail print all over the hand from my thumb.

The buildings overwhelmed me, all the white people, and my heart would jump a bit when a train would pass from the opposite direction – I forget it does that. When I got off the train, the busy Parisians were rushing to work. Since it's a busy station, people were coming and going from all directions. I was walking at turtle speed and with a big bag on the back, I was quite like a turtle. Relieved to get out of the busy station, and then I was hit by a bigger shock – the shopping mall connected to the station; shiny marble floors, merchandises galore, etc. Since the time was still early, there were only a few people meandering about the space.

After a few unsuccessful try of finding a reloadable SIM card for my phone, I saw a Starbucks and it was quite like seeing a refuge. I decided to go in and order my Grande Skim Caramel Macchiato before thinking of the next step. Once I sat down, with latte in hand, I decided to try calling from the Cameroonian MTN phone. Miraculously, it worked and Gary said he would come find me. Just as I was trying to digest all the strangeness, I get a call from a villager. I didn't answer at first out of sheer weirdness, but then he called again. I answered, and he wanted to drop off some proposal for me to look at, and I had to explain that I am in France but that he can drop it off at the Bank and I'll look at it upon my return. That few minutes of conversation took the idea strange and weird to a whole other level. The mixture of the two worlds was too much.

After meeting up with Gary for a while, we stepped out into the streets and I was faced with another shock. WHY IS IT SO COLD IN PARIS IN MAY?! I was absolutely not prepared and was sporting my sandal and light jacket. On top of the cold, I was still freaking out by the modern world. Thankfully Gary had also spent time in Cameroon and therefore did not look at me as though I was crazy when I commented on all the clean people and such! The transition into the "real world", albeit temporarily, was certainly made easier with someone who "gets it".

Airport Delight

A little over a week back in the "real world" and already, life in Cameroon feels like a dream, and not even a vivid one. This trip so far has helped me realize the incredible ability to compartmentalize life according to its experiences. This is not to say I did not experience all kinds of culture shock trotting the globe between three countries in less than one week.

I have a sick liking for airports and airplanes. World travelers are common in today's ever-shrinking world, but most people I know still hate the part of reaching the destination – the grueling process of getting to the airport, check-in, waiting, boarding, being squeezed in a tiny economy class seat, eating not-so-stellar food and breathing pressurized air for hours, etc. I, on the other hand, enjoy putting a different spin on the process.

When was standing in line to check in for my flight out of Cameroon, which by the way, I don't remember the last time I ever had to stand in line for check in, I almost cried from excitement. Boarding for a flight poses all sorts of interesting possibilities. I love people watching in an airport: the excited vacationer, the stressed business traveler, those excited to return to familiarity, and those nervous to embark upon new possibility.

Boarding the plane a week or so ago was my first flight in nearly one year. That's the longest consecutive period I had gone without flying since after high school. Having lived without high technology for so long, I was quite out of practice with airport procedures. Thankfully, the Yaoundé airport in Cameroon is not at all complicated. It was the only flight leaving the airport at the time of departure or thereabouts, thus posing no risk of going to the wrong place.
Once I got to my seat, many little things surprised me. The seats were so clean, and I get my very own. Then I remembered the wonder that is individual screens in front of the seats. But I was reminded being still kind of in Cameroon when the Air France magazine in the seat in front of me is old and the movies in the back did not correspond to the movies showing. :) However, minor detail and I was very okay with it. I must also note how wonderful that airplane meal tasted. I ate every block of that Camembert cheese and every bite of everything else included. I am also embarrassed to admit that I had a little trouble releasing the tray table… I forgot how it's done. Let's just say, all in all, I was way more villageoise than the Cameroonian gentleman sitting next to me.

Petit à petit, I was finding my way back into the real world.