Djibouti airport. A feeling of familiarity. Not my first
visit to Djibouti. The memories of my last visit in 2004, are a bit blurred.
Africa is not my home but I feel comfortable here. 11 : 30 pm and it is
still hot, very hot. The arrival hall is small and well organized. People are
patient and disciplined. My passeport is scanned, a webcam takes my picture, a
new stamp on my passport and I’m good to go. The next hall is smaller and dark.
Only one carousel. I grab my bag that still needs to go through the X-Ray. A
Djiboutian lady wrapped in a colorful fabric is monitoring the screen. The bag
of the guy before me, will remain at the airport tonight. He seems to carry a dismantled
rifle.
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| Lake Assal |
I’m out again and it is hot. An old guy with a toothless
smile is taking me to my hotel. He says : « No, it is not hot. Wait
until tomorrow ». 34C at night, over 40C during the day with 40% humidity.
The streets of Djibouti are empty, not like the typical sleepless, noisy and
dusty African towns I know. The old man is driving slowly. This is unusual as
well. The hotel is behind a big white wall in a quiet neighborhood. The AC is
on at 17C in my room with a fan spinning full speed. Isn’t it a bit too
much ? No water running in the old shared bathroom. Off to bed for now.
Two homemade rolled crepes for breakfast, a little cup of
hazelnut paste, an apple, and a cup of dark coffee. I’m waiting for my partner
in adventure to come from Cap Town.
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| Lake Assal with my sister |
There, she is. A shower. Maybe the last one before a
while. We get some local currencies, food, water. We fuel the pick up tank and
we are ready to go. Already too late to head to lake Abbe as planed. We take
the direction to lake Assal, 155 meters below sea level, the third-lowest point
on earth after the Sea of Galilee and the Dead Sea.
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| On the way to Lake Assal |
A lot of trucks on the RN1. That road connects the port
of Djibouti and Ethiopia. Crazy truck drivers driving on both sides of the road
to avoid the potholes, as large as volcano craters sometimes. No trucks on RN9.
Much quieter. We are alone with a few locals walking along the road and camels.
No idea where they are coming from or where they are going to. There is nothing
for kilometers. Only rocks and dust.
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| On the way to Lake Assal |
Eventually we made it to Lake Assal. Beautiful. Nobody.
No one. Just us. Picnic diner and a new plan for the next day. Too hot to sleep
in a tent so we sleep outside, in the back of the pick up, under the stars. Not
so many stars actually.
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| Lake Assal |
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