Making progress...

Today marks our sixth day in Mali, and our second day of negotiations with the directors of La Direction Nationale du Patrimonie Culturel - or, lovingly, the DNPC. This is basically the cultural ministry of Mali, and they are the people who can grant us permission to do our survey. We need to get an Order du Mission from them before we can pile our stuff into Bou's Land Cruiser and make the day-long trek up to Djenné. Yesterday was extremely promising. We had an appointment in the morning, and we were joined at the DNPC by Monsieur Fané, the director of the Mission Culturel du Djenné. He has worked with many of the archaeologists coming through the Djenné area, and he knows Pete and Doug well, so he came and helped make our case to the powers that be. Amazingly, unbelievably, it appeared as though we were going to be able to pick up the Order du Mission that afternoon! We returned at 3, excited by the possibility of getting started so soon. We met with another one of the directors, and he told us that he wanted us to meet with somebody else tomorrow morning - possibly the Secretary General of Culture, but three beginning French speakers do not a fluent speaker make, therefore many things are lost in translation. Nevertheless, we returned to the DNPC this morning, in hopes that if we made ourselves look as presentable as possible, and sound as competent as possible, we would emerge with a brand spanking new Order du Mission. No such luck. Today they wanted us to bring them more paperwork and documentation of our project goals and funding sources. Apparently we will get the priceless permit tomorrow. Cross your fingers for us.

Apart from dealing with confusing bureaucracy, these past few days have been absurdly fun. The hotel we're staying at, The Sleeping Camel, is run by an Australian guy named Matt and a British guy named Bill. They have a whole bunch of British, French, and German expatriate friends who come here every night to drink Castels and hang out. Our second night here, we started playing guitar with them and singing horrible renditions of John Denver songs. Instant pals. The Germans arranged a "sausage fest"here, to which we were invited, and we spent our first African Saturday ingesting copious amountsof beer and handmade sausages. This was followed by a nap (I could really get used to this lifestyle), and an exciting night at the nearby club, Jet7. During the less insane moments, we've been having a great time lying around reading, and getting to know the Sleeping Camel regulars.

Wade, in repose at The Sleeping Camel.

Our section of the dormitory, completely covered in ten months worth of clothing and supplies.

One of the expats, fortified by many Castels, lovingly gave the hotel a new moniker.

The Fortress (aka the American Embassy), which we visited today in order to register as resident American citizens. It's a gigantic complex - a fact that is not evident here because a burly Malian soldier with a huge machine gun started yelling at me when I took this picture, so I opted to run away rather than take a better one. Apologies.

We've also been making regular expeditions into the heart of the city, exploring and getting a feel for its people and culture. We live across the Niger River from downtown Bamako, so we cross a very long, very busy bridge every day.

On Le Pont des Martyrs, the bridge between downtown Bamako and Badalabougou. At rush hour, this bridge is positively jam packed with cars, vans, bikes, and any other type of vehicle you can think of. One night I almost got knocked off the side into the Niger by a gigantic bag of rice on the back of a motorbike. This picture was taken from inside Bou's car on the way back from one of our many visits to the DNPC.

The view of downtown Bamako from the bridge. The big building is the headquarters of the Central Bank of West African States. 

It's the rainy season here! We're nearing the end of it, but we still got a taste of West African downpour. This is the view from the inner porch at the hotel. The vegetation here is lush and brilliantly green now, but there will be no sign of rain from now until June.

We haven't had the opportunity yet to take many pictures while wandering around the streets of the city. This is mostly because if we paused for a second to get out a camera, we may get run over by a motorbike or a herd of goats. There's no end to the fascinating things to see, smell and taste in Bamako. There are people everywhere, wearing bright, beautiful clothing (that Kirsten and I are very jealous of and are planning to obtain, no matter how ridiculous it makes us look). Children run every which way, trying to sell you bananas and sim cards, or simply wanting to shake your hand. Being white here is bizarre, and unbelievably eye-opening. Your skin defines you as a "toubab", a white foreigner, and you are automatically seen as both a novelty item and a potentially rich customer. There is no blending in here. It is at once terrifying and fascinating to walk down the street and be so obviously an outsider.

Today we met with Dr. Samba Sow, a colleague of Wade's dad's boss, and the director for the Center for Vaccine Development in Mali. He has offered to be our guardian of sorts, somebody to turn to if things get rough. We can't believe our luck. It's nice to have friends here.

All in all, it's been an eventful week here in Bamako. With any luck we will have the Order du Mission by tomorrow, but we probably won't leave for Djenné until Monday. Several more days to prepare and hang out. 

The expats are arriving for another night of revelry. There's talk of karaoke tomorrow night. John Denver is rolling in his grave already.