G’day folks! Well, today I am continuing with the ‘Dhaka to Dakar’ tale, and well, we are about to hit the FINAL COUNTRY in this adventure, and that is the West African country of Senegal – capital city? Well, Dakar of course!

So, I researched this border crossing quite a bit online, and you know what? Sometimes it’s not advisable because everything written about the Rosso crossing in northern Senegal/Southern Mauritania was clearly put on the internet to worry the heck through me.

I read a couple of blogs claiming it to be the worst, or to be more accurate, most corrupt border crossing in ALL OF AFRICA. Considering all the things I had heard about crossing the Guineas, south of Senegal, this seemed a stretch but the night before heading down Rosso way it was playing on my mind more than a little. But I really didn’t have any option.

I had enquired at my hotel in Nouakchott about an alternative crossing that I had read people took, but I was dissuaded from that option and it didn’t seem easy to get transport to it anyway. So Rosso it was. I had organised through the hotel for a taxi to the main Gare Routiere where the share taxis left from to Rosso and thought it was all sorted.

But at the last minute the guy at reception decided I should go to a different Gare. Although he was swaying from one option to the other. Anyways, he sent me across town in a taxi and I arrived at a little shed/building where mini-buses were leaving from. I had wanted a share taxi because they are generally more comfortable and definitely faster than these mini-buses, but this was where I dropped off and crossing Nouakchott again to a different Gare didn’t appeal, I bought a ticket and waited – I had a wait of around an hour I was told.

It was all pretty quiet because it was a Friday, and a Friday in Ramadan as well. Another concern though I had was that although they tell you ‘1030am’ it is taken as a given that these minibuses only leave when full. And sure enough 1030am came and went without much action. Slowly numbers had built up though, and by 11am or just after we were ready to go. We had piled into the mini-bus and were packed in tight but not too bad.

I was surprised that it wasn’t completely full too, although we would pick people up to fill the final 3-4 seats. It starts rolling out, I am lucky enough to have a window seat, but for the vlogging the window is darkly tinted and you can barely see anything through it and it doesn’t open. BUT – there is a tiny little spot where the tinting has peeled off and I can shoot through that!

It’s around three hours to Rosso in this minibus, past little villages and empty dry spaces. I made a friend in the minibus who was crossing to Senegal, and it turned out of all the people on the bus I think we were the only ones who were crossing borders today.

It was into the thirties by the time we exited the minibus, with the sun  beating down and taxi drivers demanding something ridiculous for the 800 metre walk to the border. We walked it and my new friend showed me where to change money into the CFA (Central African Franc). That done we headed to the border. It’s a dusty little town and because of the Ramadan/Friday situation it was basically dead.

We went through a gate and gave our passports to the official in a small booth. He only had them for a few minutes and we got them back and that was that. Where was the corruption? Ten metres away is the river. You have this small ferry that goes from one side to the other. There were also a few pirogues – African fishing boats – demanding we get on and they would take us for a fee. It seemed we had no options because the ‘ferry’ (more a small barge?) wasn’t going anywhere it seemed as we were the only ones.

It’s kinda cool I guess crossing into Senegal on this small fishing boat, and managing not to fall in when transferring was also pretty impressive I should think! However the fee of 5000cfa for the foreigner was a bummer. It’s less than $10USD but it is for a five minute or less ride, you’re going maybe 200 – 300 metres at a guess. Maybe I’m being generous.

I hopped off onto the land of Senegal, and an official took my passport, although he didn’t look super official and I wondered if the bribing was about to start. He said he though I needed a visa, I insisted I did not – I had checked everything carefully just before leaving Australia nearly three months earlier. He went away and came back, gave me my passport back and motioned for me to go to the immigration building.

This looked a lot more official than anything on the Mauritanian side. I went to the little window and the official there took my passport, walked away for a few minutes, came back, stamped it and said ‘Welcome to Senegal’. NOW – it turns out I DID require a visa for Senegal, the rules had changed since I had departed Australia, and I was unaware. So were the guys at Rosso it turned out!

My friend helped me onto a moto to go to the local Gare Routiere from where I would take a ‘sept-place’ (seven places bush taxi) to St Louis. I think that was 100CFA to highlight the fact that 5000CFA is not a fair price for the pirogue. But I had read of people getting fleeced so much on either side of the crossing, I was not complaining. In fact I almost felt a bit disappointed. Everything I read made it seem super busy and confusing. I can only presume that everyone was with their families on a Friday in Ramadan. There is a bridge getting built just up from the crossing and that will become the official crossing I was told. Maybe it’s already up? That’s going to stop the pirogue trade I would think. Completely!

It was a wait for the seven places to fill up. The car honestly was started with two wires and didn’t look like it could go anywhere. BUT it did go just fine all the way to my final destination of Saint Louis, Senegal. It didn’t go fast I should say, I don’t think it could much more than 60km/h at its maximum. So it took another 3 hours from there to Saint Louis.

Northern Senegal was very different from anything I had seen in Mauritania. There was a lot of farming and green lands from the border to Saint Louis. China has poured a lot of money into Senegal, converting these lands into organised farm lands. Growing rice I think.

I got to Saint Louis before the sun fully went down. The taxi had a little trouble finding my guesthouse, and the day had been another hot one of adventure! But here I was, finally in the 17^th and final country of the Dhaka to Dakar adventure! From here it was a few days in St Louis, then to a place called Saly for three nights before hitting Dakar and completing my trek!

Thanks for popping by today! Take care wherever you are in the world! May the Journey Never End!