The tourist

Instead of trying to write a deep, insight-filled article about poverty, development or Liberian politics I thought this entry should be a bit on the lighter side. I want to appeal to a broad readership after all (and I think at last count I had almost five regular readers). So, this post will be a variation on the classic primary school essay What I Did on My Holidays. Is that broad enough for the five of you?

Last week I received a much anticipated visit from my fiancée Teresa. Since she was already coming to Africa to hold a series of meetings with the organisation she works for it seemed like a good idea for her to pop over to Liberia and see me. However since her meetings were in Mozambique, on the other side of this rather large continent, ‘popping over’ entailed a 28-hour flight via Johannesburg, Nairobi and Accra.

I had been rather un-subtly trying to dampen Teresa’s expectations before she arrived. Liberia is really not a country that is in any way geared-up for receiving tourists. There’s no tourist-infrastructure to speak of (well, there’s hardly any infrastructure period) aside from the fact that, putting it euphemistically, the lodging provided for me by my employer ‘lacks comfort’. You really don’t want to spend any longer inside it than is absolutely necessary!

Rather unsurprisingly Teresa’s luggage didn’t make it on the same flight as her. It wasn’t all bad news though. Fearing the worst she’d packed the essentials in her carry-on bag. What’s more, one of my new friends here had kindly said I could housesit for her while she was back home (thanks again Roisin!). The house in question is rather more comfortable than my place – spacious, bright, three bedrooms all with a/c, fully-equipped kitchen, TV and DVD player not to mention (almost) 24 hour electricity and running water! Oh the luxury….

So what does one do as a tourist in the glitzy and glamourous city of Monrovia? Since she had her laptop and mobile with here we made the decision that Teresa would just work from my office. This would allow us both to take ‘proper’ holiday time when I come back to visit Sweden (probably in June). Her organisation is involved with drafting disarmament legislation and since a hell of a lot of disarmament has been going on in Liberia she took the opportunity to meet with a few contacts she had. The evenings and weekends were more than enough time to see the ‘sights’.

The hardest part of being a tourist in Monrovia is transportation. The city is pretty spread out (not unlike a sprawling American city). If you’re not lucky enough to catch one of the few buses and don’t want to sit crammed in a far-from-roadworthy shared taxi you’ll need to find yourself a driver. Luckily we had Casey, a friendly Nigerian jack-of-all-trades offering, among other things, a 24-hour call-out taxi service.

To do this place justice though it only seems fair to run through some of the activities that Monrovia can offer the intrepid holidaymaker (or visiting partner of a development professional):

Beaches! We managed to make it to two different beaches on opposite sides of the city. Both are clean and pleasant and even have pretty good restaurants. The first beach (Silver Beach) to the north is calmer offering great views of the Monrovian peninsular. The second one to the south (Thinker’s Beach) backs straight onto the Atlantic so the water is rougher (probably good for surfers) and cooler.

Restaurants! Believe it or not we had some of the best sushi ever (twice) at the Royal Hotel just around the corner from where I live. Thinking about it there’s no reason why it shouldn’t be good considering all the raw materials are here – rice, fish etc. Liberia also has a large Lebanese population and so meze is pretty ubiquitous. And then there’s shellfish of course. I did warn Teresa about eating crab but she went ahead and did it anyway. They may be tasty but it’s pretty hard to break into them without one of those nut-cracker things you normally get.

Clubbing! Oh yes indeedy. Thanks to the thriving ex-pat population there is no shortage of bars and clubs in Monrovia. We enjoyed live music and dancing at the roof-top Bamboo Bar (which affords the visitor an open-air panoramic view over the city centre), cheesy tunes at the ex-pat stronghold New Jacks (complete with beachside bonfire) not to mention the Garden Café, another favourite for live music with an unusually high proportion of female revellers (I’ll leave you to read between the lines there).

Relaxing by the pool? I’m not joking actually. Another new friend of mine (cheers Liam) lives in a compound containing mostly UN staff as well as the biggest swimming pool I’ve seen in Monrovia (I’ve seen three for the record).

So it wasn’t all work-work-work. Before she left we even visited my place for a spot of interior decoration to brighten the place up. It’s still a hole but a slightly more colourful one now, with batiks and photos hanging on the wall. And now the rainy season is creeping up (it officially starts on 15th April - why isn’t everything in Liberia that well planned?) I could be spending a lot more time indoors.