Places that don't exist: Narnia, Atlantis, Terabithia (and the bridge that connects it with everywhere else), Waterworld, The Sandlot, Timbuktu, Mordor, The Big Bamboo (R.I.P.), Gotham City. Wait a second, hold the phone Commissioner Gordon! Timbuktu actually exists? C'est vrai, it's a real place and we'd be damned if we didn't pay it a visit.
The timely arrival of rivets from the coast, coupled with the confirmation of the Northward flow of the Niger River (thanks Mungo Park) from the town of Mopti (Mali), put us in good stead for a smooth journey down the lazy river. Our charge, the Tombouctou, was a fine vessel indeed. Showing only slight flakings of rust and equipped with eight cabins, a full galley, and a bar stocked with gin and tonic, she was the embodiment of riverine luxury. With an able crew such as ourselves, rounded out with fine officers from Finland and Germany, and a contingent of Malian seamen (well, rivermen) all that was left was to sit back and let the land slip by under static skies.
We steamed two nights and three days with minor ports of call to offload produce, ale, and the latest technology from China. It was a fantastic journey, one of the highlights of the trip both in the setting and the context. We were on a boat to Timbuktu!
Disembarking at the edge of the Sahara, we expected nothingness. A vast landscape filled only with sand, al-Qaeda, and wandering Touaregs. We found sand, mostly in our spaghetti. We found Touaregs at the internet café. But we never found al-Qaeda, praise be to Allah. We also found tourist passport stamps and altogether more hassle than we were expecting from this famed desert outpost. Aside from some turban purchases and mosque viewings, it was mostly too hot to do anything. Finally, something we'd expected.
The place itself is no longer an isolated desert community, sealed off from the outside world by one of the most forbidding ecosystems on the planet. The last remaining hurdle to reaching Timbuktu is getting past the contemporary notion of perpetual terrorism and abstract al-Qaeda threats. There's an airport, two internet cafés, dozens of hotels, and tourist hassle is through the Saharan night sky. Don't get us wrong though, there is still something magical about sleeping under the stars at the edge of the Sahara and interacting with Touareg that have a legitimate claim to a unique desert lifestyle.
The thing about Timbuktu is that it now seems like more of an idea than a place. But what a romantic idea.
The timely arrival of rivets from the coast, coupled with the confirmation of the Northward flow of the Niger River (thanks Mungo Park) from the town of Mopti (Mali), put us in good stead for a smooth journey down the lazy river. Our charge, the Tombouctou, was a fine vessel indeed. Showing only slight flakings of rust and equipped with eight cabins, a full galley, and a bar stocked with gin and tonic, she was the embodiment of riverine luxury. With an able crew such as ourselves, rounded out with fine officers from Finland and Germany, and a contingent of Malian seamen (well, rivermen) all that was left was to sit back and let the land slip by under static skies.
We steamed two nights and three days with minor ports of call to offload produce, ale, and the latest technology from China. It was a fantastic journey, one of the highlights of the trip both in the setting and the context. We were on a boat to Timbuktu!
Disembarking at the edge of the Sahara, we expected nothingness. A vast landscape filled only with sand, al-Qaeda, and wandering Touaregs. We found sand, mostly in our spaghetti. We found Touaregs at the internet café. But we never found al-Qaeda, praise be to Allah. We also found tourist passport stamps and altogether more hassle than we were expecting from this famed desert outpost. Aside from some turban purchases and mosque viewings, it was mostly too hot to do anything. Finally, something we'd expected.
The place itself is no longer an isolated desert community, sealed off from the outside world by one of the most forbidding ecosystems on the planet. The last remaining hurdle to reaching Timbuktu is getting past the contemporary notion of perpetual terrorism and abstract al-Qaeda threats. There's an airport, two internet cafés, dozens of hotels, and tourist hassle is through the Saharan night sky. Don't get us wrong though, there is still something magical about sleeping under the stars at the edge of the Sahara and interacting with Touareg that have a legitimate claim to a unique desert lifestyle.
The thing about Timbuktu is that it now seems like more of an idea than a place. But what a romantic idea.
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