Trying to get started when I cannot understand a word of the French instructions!

I am so sorry that I cannot use this machine any better. But the fear of loosing everything I laboriously type is ever-present. And the first thing I have had stolen from me has been my dictionary! The people in charge cannot change the instructions to English.

I was going to type a lot of stuff about the thoughts and other things related to this trip, but feel completely defeated at present, so here is a brief picture of life so far....

Like a dose of salts!!! Through Morocco (which I can always explore more in greater comfort another day) and then Mauritania, which is mainly desert or Sahel (the change from desert to tundra). Enjoyed the very friendly and open hospitality of a few families and managed to survive the incrediuble iron-ore train ride from the West Coast to middle of desert. OK, Michael Palin did it too........but in ther same discomfort, I ask?

A ride through the desert as the sun was setting in the golden disk that it is, was worth the discomfort of a crowded truck on desert tracks. It was followed shortly by a rather subdued sliver of silver moon; as though it was ashamed at the affrontery it had displayed a few days before, when people from miles away had come to clap and chear as it eclipsed the sun.

Life really is ruled by public 'bush taxis' and they seem to get worse by the day. The main detrius along the desert roads/tracks is the pieces of tyre lining both sides.

But I had 4 nights in Nouakchott, back on the West Coast, in my own apartment. Well, not that it is anything to imagine in your dreams....no cooking facility, refrigeration, working waterworks and so on. And we do not talk about bugs and dirt as options any more; they are part of the daily fabric of life.

But at least I could replenish my books as I had not had a chance to speak English for ten days.

The over 1100 km dash over two days got me comfortably 'in the middle of nowhere'. Sleeping under the stars is still a great thrill and when I then decided to go South into Mali, the journey through the desert where the driver picks the best option out of a vast selection of tracks which one assumes will all end up in the same place, was punctuated by two 2-hour sleeps as we awaited new, but totally worse vehicles, to be loaded. One just curls up in the sand. For one 4-hour trip I opted to go outside. I was meant to share the driver's cabin with two ladies of African proportions (Alexander McCall-Smith readers will appreciate what I mean) and their two todlers. So I chose to sit on top of all the luggage on the truck with 7 men and a woman (same proportions) and 4 goats. Good to go through the night like that, and we only had 2 break-downs in which we got more raggedy than ever.

The last ride into Bamako, the capital of Mali, was with a truck which had to be pushed to start and then for the next ten hours, kept alive with a plastic bottle on the accelerator whenever we stopped for food or prayers.

Well, you can see that I am obsessed with my transport! Tomorrow I shall try the Malian equivalent after spending 4 nights here in a modest Auberge. No prizes for guessing that it lacks basic facilities; and I was a bit annoyed last night to return to my room and find that the local rat had decided that my mangoes were worth eating.

The river Niger is an incredible site of green, calm pollution through this frenetic city, but I hope that it will be a bit less so when I get a local boat in about 10 days' time to Timbuktu. Before that, hope to survive a 6-day hike with a guide in what is known as Dogon Country. The distances are not great, but the heat is intense and we will e.g. leave at 5.30 when the faithful are called to prayer and have lazy pants for a few hours during the middle of the day. Here in the Auberge they are used to seeing me walk into the shower, get clothes and hair properly wet and then return to my bed and book. Luxury!