I don't know why, but this morning I woke up with this picture in my head: Niamey ' 90, at camp we meet the Dakar bivouac. Gigi Algiers, Fabio Marcaccini, Max Malik, I, a young tourist travelling around Africa with father, and the great lone Luigi Sala (about BMW) serving spaghetti with Italian Dakariani.
Picture taken by my great friend Gianni Lolli (hole of the bells… who can remember?). That mythical journey! Two months of reading total improvising an itinerary day by day between Tunisia, Algeria, Niger and Mali and back. We left in 2, me in motion, On an old Land SWB overloaded with food (that Cook). A couple cannot everyone said, Instead he was one of the most beautiful travel. A leisurely pace, with long stretches alone and he comes along, my track.
Zero gps, map that bought at newsstands, broke the impossible in the Land, but always repaired.
Gathered down the street from the ferry, many tourists loners and small groups of desperate. All fed by the great chef. No a problem in customs, no mention of politics or local with fundamentalism, only nice people, serene and welcoming everywhere… What has changed? That nostalgia… He wants to redo the same path. They tell me: “at least you did these things”… MAh, I don't know if it was a good thing or a bad thing, now who's the lever from the head? I'm going to go back to hidden.