Have you ever totaled up the number of countries that you have visited in your lifetime? Furthermore, how many times have you traveled to each particular country? Breaking it down even further, what places/cities have you visited (with at least one overnight stay) in each destination/country? If you answer all these questions carefully, you’ll have put together your own TRAVELER’S RESUME.

Let’s start out with yours truly. My inaugural trip as a traveler happened in Dec. 1973 when I went to Mexico for 3 weeks. Over the ensuing 35 years, I have traveled to 25 different countries. If you look at my RESUME, you will see that I’m very partial to the tropics. Call me the tropical traveler if you may.

NORTH AMERICA:

• Mexico (18)

Puerto Vallarta (3), Mexico City (3), Guadalajara, Villahermosa, Merida,
Mexican Caribbean – Cancun (4), Playa del Carmen (2) and Tulum; Oaxaca (5),
Puerto Escondido (5), San Blas(2) Ixtapa/Zihuatanejo,
Baja California - Cabo San Lucas (4), La Paz and Loreto,
Costa Alegre - La Manzanilla (2) and Bahia de Navidad

CARIBBEAN:

• Jamaica (30+)

Kingston, Blue Mountains, Port Antonio, Montego Bay, Ocho Rios, Negril,
South Coast - Black River, Treasure Beach and Milk River Bath; Cockpit Country,
Mandeville and Christiana

• Barbados (6)
• St. Lucia (2)
• Antigua
• Dominican Republic

Santo Domingo and Sosua Beach

• Cuba

Havana and Varadero Beach

• St. Vincent
• Trinidad
• St. Maarten/St. Marten
• Bahamas

Nassau and Eleuthera

• Caribbean/Panama Canal Cruise

SOUTH AMERICA:

• Colombia

Bogota, Cartagena and San Andres Island

• Peru

Lima, Cusco, Sacred Valley including Machu Picchu, Amazon basin

• Ecuador

Quito, Otavalo and Mindo

CENTRAL AMERICA:

• Costa Rica (6)

San Jose (6), Heredia (2), Sarapiqui (2), Manuel Antonio (3), Dominical,
Pacific Lowlands – Carara ; Guanacaste – Canas and Palo Verdes NP (2), Tamarindo Beach (2), Ocotal and Los Innocentes; Jaco, Tortugero, Monteverde (2), Osa Peninsula, La Fortuna and Arenal (4),
Caribbean Coast- Cahuita (2) and Puerto Viejo; Wilson Botanical Gardens
(San Vito), San Gerardo de Dota and Nicoya Peninsula - Playa Samara

• Guatemala (2)

Guatemala City (2), Antigua (2) and Lake Atitlan

WEST AFRICA:

• Ghana

Accra, Gold Coast, Kumasi

• Togo

Lome

• Mali

Bamako and Mopti

• Ivory Coast

Abidjan

SOUTHEAST ASIA:

• Thailand (7)

Bangkok (7), Chiang Mai (5), Mae Sa Valley (2), Phuket (3), Koh Lanta, Koh Jum,
Koh Samui (2), Koh Chang (5), Pattaya (3), Khao Sok National Park, Chiang Rai Province – Doi Tung (2), Mae Salong (2) and Chiang Kong; Kanchanaburi (2),
Sangkhlaburi, Sakaeo, Sukhothai (2), Ayutthaya and Mae Hong Son Province-Pai (2), Soppong and Mae Hong Son (2)

• Laos

Vientiane, Luang Prabang, Mekong River Cruise

• Cambodia

Siem Reap(Angkor Wat)

EUROPE

• England

London Area

Please note: Number in Parentheses () indicates the number of visits

Feel free to submit your Travel Resume here!

For me, Mali in West Africa is by far the most exotic place I have been to. The subtropical landscape of this landlocked country is eerily beautiful - strung along the banks of the Niger River that traverses Mali from north to south are small villages and towns surrounded by date palms and lush greenery. The capital city of Bamako, located in the southern part of the country reminds me superficially of Palm Springs, a popular resort in Southern California. The country is primarily Muslim and the official language is French but the majority of the people speak Bambara, one of the many African tribal languages spoken in Mali.

Walking through Bamako and the Tourist Mecca of Mopti, I saw many people (especially the ladies) adorned in some very colorful African cloth - the outfits worn by the men and the women are known as boubous and dashikis. The people here move so gracefully and effortlessly unlike people in the Western World – it is as if they are being carried by the rhythms of their ancestral tribal music.

I could never get a grip on the culture of Mali - a unique synthesis of African, Western and Muslim traditions and beliefs - but I did sense a certain degree of tolerance among the people, who for the most part are very friendly and very poor. The strange indigenous mud walled architecture, the ornate and peculiar looking mosques, the diverse mix of peoples and cultures – including the nomadic Tuaregs, rulers of the desert and the Dogons, an animist tribal group (farmers by occupation) whose settlements are in the rugged cliffs of the interior – and the sinuous, rhythmic qualities of modern Malian pop music all add to the exotic, spellbinding appeal which is Mali.

Ghana, Costa Rica and Thailand are my honorable mentions.

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If you’ve followed my African Follies series, I’m sure you’re ready for RETURN FROM AFRICA, a unique musical travelogue that celebrates a memorable 6-week adventure to West Africa that I embarked on in December 1995. I distinctly remember landing at the airport in Accra, Ghana sometime after midnight - stepping out into the arrival area, I was greeted by a rousing reception of Ghanaians who were stationed behind the chain linked fence, then whisked off to my hotel by my friend. It was the start of a very momentous journey!

Although I had experienced African culture in the Diaspora while traveling extensively in the Caribbean, nothing in my past experience really prepared me for this trip. My eyes (and my mind) were wide open as I traveled to metropolitan cities and out into the African bush passing thru colorful marketplaces, artisan villages and dirt poor rural villages. On this journey, I learned a lot more about the history and diversity of cultures in West Africa than I had in my studies at the University. Traveling is definitely the highest form of education - you learn so much about yourself, the world and about different cultures and peoples.

Of the four countries that I visited, Ghana by far was the friendliest and most westernized and Mali was the most exotic and intriguing. My only regret was lacking sufficient funds and time to make it to legendary Timbuktu in Mali.

I have so many wonderful memories from this trip - of the people that I met and of the many exotic places that I visited. I will never forget this journey - someday soon I will Return to Africa!

African Follies chronicles some of the most unusual experiences and misadventures of my two-month journey to West Africa in December 1995. Below is the complete 10 part anthology.

Nigerian Two-Step A shady con man tries to “get over on me” in Abidjan

Passport Capers A night on the town in Abidjan

The black market welcoming committee Trying to change monies in Abidjan

Touts and mosquitoes My first night in Bamako

A fishy tale about human sacrifice A comedic story of betrayal in Ghana

Abducted by rogue taxi
Frightening story of being abducted at the airport in Bamako

Stranded in the middle of nowhere Journey to Mopti turns into an ordeal

Bush taxi adventure in Mali The incredible completion of my journey to Mopti

Tout Central My hotel in Bamako is popular hangout for touts

Dealing with touts Tactics used by touts to gain your confidence

January 1996, Bamako, Mali I took a stroll through the crafts market in Bamako just checking to see what types of crafts are available. It seems that every 15 minutes or so, a young man would approach me inquiring whether I needed a tour guide to show me around the crafts market. All of the guys insist that they can get me the best prices. I tell him NO, I can manage by myself. Walking away, he would typically follow me and continue his hustle but I am insistent that I do not need his services. He implores me to look at the identification card that he wears around his neck; supposedly the card is issued by the tourist office and states that he’s a registered tour guide. I tell him thanks but no thanks and walk away.

Hanging around my hotel are a number of touts who want to organize a city highlights tour for me. I tell them no, I’m fine on my own. When they find out that I’m leaving Bamako shortly, their eyes light up and they propose to be my tour escort/guide for the popular 3 day/2 night expedition to the Dogon Country. I tell them NO again, but they don’t take no for an answer. It seems that each young guy who solicits me employs the same strategy - in order to convince me of his legitimacy, he pulls out a letter of recommendation from some an oversea tourist he did business with and a little makeshift photo album. After realizing I am not in the market for their services as tour guides, they are quick to offer me drugs and young girls for sex. Of course, I decline their offer and continue walking…

This actually happened to me in Mali, but the strategies employed by touts are similar in popular tourists areas around the world. If you’re a traveler, I’m sure you have had a similar experience.

I had just checked into my hotel located in the heart of the downtown Bamako after a late night flight from Abidjan. Sauntering out into the balmy desert night, I decided to get something to eat and drink in the hotel’s small garden café before going to bed. Sitting at the large dining table were at least six young gentlemen from Bamako and a hippiesh white lady from New York. The white lady had a real horror story to tell. They were enjoying a round of beers and welcomed me with smiling faces as I joined them at the table. After making some introductory chitchat, I had a hunch that most of these guys were local touts but they seemed harmless enough. After finishing my late night dinner and beer, I excused myself and went to bed.

Unfortunately, I didn’t get too much rest that first night in Bamako as the cavernous room was occupied by some mosquitoes that pestered me the whole night. In the morning, I walked outside the hotel to be greeted by some of the same gentlemen that I met the night before in the garden cafe. It was then that it dawned on me that this hotel was Tout Central. As this hotel was infested by both mosquitoes and touts, I made a decision to relocate to a more secluded (and better) hotel for the balance of my brief stay in Bamako.

(Continued from Part I) January 1996, Mali, West Africa After the minibus broke down about 2/3 into the journey from Bamako to Mopti, I was stranded with 15 other passengers along the roadside somewhere in the boonies of the Upper Niger Delta of Mali. Looking into the darkness surrounding me, I could see nothing but silhouettes in the distance of what could pass as primitive huts and the scrubby vegetation of the African desert. At least I wasn’t alone.

About 90 minutes later, the bus driver was able to flag down a large dilapidated sedan that was headed to Mopti. Opening the door, the driver motioned for me to get into the cab. Looking inside the cavernous rear compartment, I was shocked at what I saw – squished together on three narrow planks of wood were at least 17-18 passengers, packed as tightly as a can of sardines. Like many bush taxis in Africa, the upholstery had been removed as the back of the car had been retrofitted to accommodate as many people as possible.

After a moment of hesitation, I stepped into the car, laid my one piece of luggage on the floor and squished myself between two bodies. I had placed myself in a very precarious situation by riding in this ramshackle vehicle with so many passengers - the alternative however was to sleep outside in the desert until daybreak. Enduring the extreme discomfort of the seating arrangements and the various body odors that permeated the air, I gritted my teeth as the bush taxi slowly proceeded towards Mopti. At about 3:00AM (4 hours later) the bush taxi arrived in New Mopti. As the passengers unraveled their bodies and got out of the car, they made a prayer to Allah for their safe deliverance. Thank G_D - the ordeal was over!

Old town Mopti - my destination - was about another 30 minutes away across the bridge. Due to a recent series of armed robberies on the bridge it was too dangerous to cross at this late hour. Apparently I would have to complete my journey to my destination in the morning. Fortunately, I was able to find a comfortable room at a fairly modern hotel and slept like a log until about 11:00AM at which time I caught the scheduled bus to old town.

On my return from Mopti to Bamako, I rode the first class bus. The seats were comfortable and the trip took only 9 hours. Viva la differencia!

One of the most harrowing travel experiences that I have ever had took place in Mali in January 1996. Leading up to this, I had to deal with a rogue taxi at the Bamako airport who tried to hijack me (and gave me a good scare), and during my stay in Bamako I had to shake off some very persistent touts who were trying to attach themselves to me. Read on for my riveting story…..

From Bamako, the next stop on my itinerary was Mopti, an important port town and tourist center located on the upper Niger River delta. Upon the recommendation of the man who owned a crafts concession at the hotel, I decided to make this trip by minibus rather than the large motorcoach. It was a decision that I lived to regret. After being dropped off at the transportation center in Bamako, I boarded a large minibus with a capacity of 25 passengers. The bus delayed its departure for about 1 1/2 hours until it had a full load. Fortunately I arrived early enough to get a seat towards the front of the bus; as we left the terminal at approximately 11:30AM, I braced myself for the long 12 hour journey to Mopti. Hallelujah, at last I was on my way! Keep in mind, I was the only tourist on the bus - the rest of the passengers were Malians. Even though the official language in Mali is French, most of the passengers talked in their native African tongue which was completely incomprehensible to me

About 4 hours into the trip, we pulled into another large town where I had to board another minibus. Continuing the journey, the day soon became night and gazing out the window, the stark desert landscape of the African Sahel appeared very surreal in the darkness. The ride was somewhat uncomfortable but bearable, and throughout the journey the bus’s engine was making some unusual noises. At about 9:30PM, the driver made an announcement in French that I didn’t quite understand, but from all the commotion and groaning from the other passengers, I surmised that there was something wrong with the bus. Sure enough, the driver pulled the bus over to the side of the road and had all the passengers get off into the darkness of the warm desert night. As far as I could tell, we were in the middle of nowhere. To be continued….

Dec. 23, 1995 Kumasi, Ghana A ladyfriend from Accra accompanied me to Kumasi, Ghana’s 2nd largest city of and spiritual home of the ancient Ashanti empire. Located in the hilly central region about 3 1/2 hours by car from the capital of Accra, Kumasi is now a thriving tourist mecca with a variety of attractions and places of historical interest. Note: The Ashanti King and his royal court still reside here. About a half hour drive from this royal city is Lake Bosumtwi, Ghana’s only natural lake. Surrounded by verdant green hills, this lake is home to several small fishing villages and is considered sacred by the Ashanti people. The lake is very important to the well being of these communities as it provides them with an abundance of fish. Understandably, fish is the staple of people’s diet and fishing is the primary source of income. Christianity and Western culture hasn’t had a tremendous impact here as the people maintain the ways of their Ashanti ancestors and they still pay homage to their African Gods.

Curious about the folklore and mythology of these fishing villages, my friend and I took a taxi to Bosumtwi where we hired a boat for a scenic tour of the lake. The Boat Captain, who was an Ashanti and lived in one of the lakeside villages, recited a very interesting story which was an integral part of Ashanti folklore.

At 16-year intervals, in order to ensure that the lake continues to be abundant with fish, it is customary that the Ashanti people of Bosumtwi district make a sacrificial offering of a human being to the God who resides in the lake. Traditionally, the local people would capture an outsider for this very important ritual as the Gods were most pleased if the sacrificial victim was of European ancestry, and would reward the small fishing villages as such with a superabundance of protein rich fish for the next 16 years.

I asked the boat captain nervously, exactly when does this sacrifice take place? Looking at me with cold steely black eyes, he said that the sacrifice must take place sometime before Christ’s birthday, in other words before Christmas. Hmm, upon hearing this, I gulped, lost all my color and turned a ghostly white. Today was Dec. 22, 1995 - nothing like being in the wrong place at the right time! I could see where this was going. Before I could blink an eye, the captain and my turncoat friend shoved me overboard into the lake. Although I am good swimmer, for some reason the water lacked any buoyancy as I felt myself being dragged below the surface by forces unseen. The rest is history – the local communities were blessed with another 16 years of tremendous fishing!

January 1996 Bamako, Mali While I was in Abidjan, I met this businessman from Mali at my hotel. I told him I was planning on visiting his country and asked him if he could recommend a reasonably priced hotel for me in Bamako. He highly recommended this hotel located directly across from the outdoors crafts market. I made a quick mental note of the hotel.

The rogue taxi that abducted me at the Bamako airport delivered me to this hotel safe and sound albeit for an exorbitant fare. Basically I was ripped off. After dumping my bags in my cavernous and musty room, I went downstairs to get something to eat and drink after my perilous journey. Walking outside to the small dining area, I sat myself at a large table which was already occupied by at least 10 young Malian guys who were enjoying a round of beers and a hippiesh white lady. As I ordered my meal, the entire delegation quickly welcomed me to Bamako. It was apparent to me right away, that the young men were all touts. They seemed relatively harmless enough as they were laughing and smiling. Chatting with them, I was keenly aware that I was being sized up. A couple of the touts inquired whether I was going to visit the Dogon country and Timbuktu, and tried to pitch their services as tour guides. In addition, I was offered a bedwench for the night and some marijuana but I let them know that I really wasn’t too keen on any of their propositions.

The white lady had some real horror stories to share about her travel odyssey; apparently she was raped and robbed of her monies and passport while staying with some Nigerian prostitutes at a Catholic mission. Now she was biding her time while the US Embassy in Bamako was trying to facilitate her departure so she could return home. After finishing my dinner, I excused myself and I retired to my hotel room. I really didn’t get much sleep that first night as there were more than several mosquitoes in the room, and they kept whizzing over my head. During my brief stay in Mali, mosquitoes and touts turned out to be a recurrent theme. C’est La Vie!