Finally – after having spent several days waiting in Djibouti City – I receive a positive answer when I visit the port office in the morning: there is a boat to Yemen, and it will depart that very evening.

I’m told to come back at 3 pm with bike and bags – apart from me, a Japanese couple, a few Somalians, a Djiboutian and a drunken Ethiopian also arrive. Two hours later, we’re let inside the port area for immigrations control, customs check and boarding.
The small open, wooden boat lies tightly squeezed in the harbor, in-between huge container ships – more resembling one of the cargo ships’ lifeboats. I and the Japanese spread out our brought with mattresses on the upper deck – a simple platform of boards stretching across the stern with the helmsman on a small stool at its very back. The cargo is made out of ”sim sim” – sesame seeds – and to no surprise the cockroaches are both fat and plenty. By the look of the boat, it appears that we are the pirates!

When the Ethiopian man climbs on-board, he positions himself by the gunwale, exultantly un-zips his jacket and shows off the three bottles of St George beer which he’ve fit tightly into his jacket’s inner pockets. A fourth bottle is in his fist, half empty. ”Fuck the Arabs!”, he proclaims loudly, and like the other passengers I ignore him as best I can – better be-friend the Yemeni and moreover Arab chef on-board, I thought, even though the offer of a shared beer felt pretty attractive too.

We depart soon after sun set.

The actual trip between the two continents take longer time than expected. Pretty rough sea, a few seasickness pills and 24 hours later, we reach Aden harbor, but are forced to sleep another night on-board as it is Friday and weekend for the immigration officials on land. I dream myself forward along the road in Yemen – desolate, chalk white beaches, villages that by themselves nearly define the word ‘calm’, and a terrible amount of police escorts as protection against the country’s few but dangerous lunatics.

A little more from Djibouti City now after I’ve spent a few days. Maybe the most quiet capital city I’ve ever visited in Africa, it’s yet a wonderful mix of people and cultures thanks of it’s place right on the crossroads between Asia, Middle East and its own continent. Yemen, Somaliland and Ethiopia are the most evident contributors to the melting pot. A recent, less pleasant reason for its multi-culture is the conflict in nearby Somalia and the not-yet great security in neighboring Somaliland. In fact while I visited the Internet café today, three Somalia passport holders sat outside in the shadow, filling in the forms for entering Egypt. That’s where the UN has a large refugee centre, and that’s from where they will eventually – Insha’Allah – be able to enter Europe. They where all from the vicinity of Mogadishu.

A man at an internet café arranges an interview with national TV RTD for me. It’s my first ever, and it’s in French which isn’t my strongest side (I just picked up a little of it in West Africa two years ago, and hasn’t practiced since). The most amusing though is that the interview is broadcasted in four versions – one in each national language: French, Somali, Afari and Issa – with my voice dubbed. I enjoyed watching myself speaking Afari. The boys in the local convenience store asked me for my autograph the next day.

Of the many things Djibouti has to offer – mostly dramatic desert landscapes, beaches and diving – I didn’t experience much due to the high price tag on activities here. But one thing will inevitably be there to enjoy – the mixed melting pot that this country and especially Djibouti City is. I’ve eaten bananas from Somalia, drunk coffee from Ethiopia and spiced a delicious Yemeni oven-baked fish. On Rue d’Ethiopia, nightclubs are as plenty as in the very country its name refers to; the girls just as business minded, too. On the streets of Quartier Heron, where I’ve stayed, you’d often see a stationed French soldier on his way to the supermarket. The Americans have their base a bit outside the city though, so they’d rarely be seen. In the supermarket, typical French goods dominate the shelves: chocolate, petit yoghurts, pâté de foie gras (goose liver pâté) and bathroom perfume sprays. All but the latter is delicious, of course.

The weather forecast map on TV yesterday: five suns spread across the country, and four arrows pointing inland to mark the direction of the wind. I can imagine the map being the same 90% of the year.

Leaving Sudan through the East was quite non interesting – flat savanna and acacia bush land with the usual villages every now and then – but as peaceful and relaxing as only the Sudanese can make it. The fact that Ethiopia followed therefore made the border-crossing unusually much of an event; rather hectic. From a culture that embodies peace, and a religion that forbids alcohol, to one of the noisiest (for good and bad) cultures I’ve ever met.

The music (buses regularly have their speakers on the OUTSIDE of the bus instead of inside) to the spicy food, the drinking and prostitution. A whole book could probably be written about that simple border – in itself just a small concrete bridge over a dry, rocky river bed between two small towns, but with a much greater impact on those who cross it. Anyway – most of the change was welcomed: beer, cheap hotels and restaurants, great coffee in the country which is home to the very region ‘kaffa’, cheerful music and in towns also wonderful cafés with delicious pastries/cakes and fresh fruit juices of mango, papaya, guava and my favorite avocado. And although crossing the country from West to East meant some steep, winding roads taking me from about 500 to 3000 meters and back down again – most of them terrible, rocky gravel – it also meant breathtaking views and landscapes.

The one problem with this country – very well known in-fact – is its children. Although the people are generally polite and nice talking to once you sit down with them, they will without exception treat you as a donkey if you only pass by. The children sometimes run after you for miles, screaming ‘you, you, YOU’ or ‘Give me’, ‘Pen’, ‘Book’ or ‘Money’, and occasionally end up throwing stones at you. And for sure those kids, who start herding cattle at age five or so, are excellent throwers. I couldn’t even throw half the distance they could. Adults usually act bystanders, silently approving their kids’ misbehavior, and if asked only explain it with ‘they’re just kids’ or ‘this is a poor country’. I’ve seen many poor kids, but never had stones hailing above my head (fortunately none hit me badly). Now I shouldn’t waste your time describing the bad kids though – the highlands where just beautiful to the contrary. And what a perfect place to celebrate Christmas with chilly nights and cool days, which make a Swede feel at home, and excellent food and beer.

To the East, the country offered some desert landscapes before the road entered Djibouti. There, too, a barren landscape lasted all the way until Djibouti City by the coast. I’m now waiting for my visa to Yemen and the ferry to its major port Aden. Back to Asia. Meanwhile, wonderful French teacher Francine – a friend of a friend – lets me camp on her backyard in this quiet city. Couldn’t be much better!

After two days of cycling in the bare desert landscapes – not sand, but instead stones of all shapes and colors – I finally reach Djibouti City by the sea. I hitchhiked some 40 kilometers because of a bad stomach. I’ll stay in Djibouti City for a few days to rest up, treat my belly (fifth time on this trip) and obtain the visa to Yemen before I finally hike with one of the dhows across the sea.

I stay with French Francine who works here as a teacher – I got in touch with her via another Swedish cyclist. Her kids are on a visit, too, so I camp in the garden right next to the apartment building in which she stays.

Information on Visa to Yemen
I applied for visa at Yemen Embassy (tel 352975/356680) in Djibouti . 08.30-11.30 Sunday-Thursday. One photo, one passport copy and 7150 DF (about 35 euro). Got it the next day, but might be possible to receive same day.

Information on Boat to Yemen
Started asking for boat at Port International on the 4th of January and finally got it on the 8th. Just before the main gate, to the left is the so called Surveyors Office, with the boss Abdul Karim(tel 870284), who is very friendly. Office is officially open 08.00-14:30.
On the 8th, I paid 7,000 Djibouti Franc (DJF) (bicycle was free of charge), received a ticket in the morning and was asked to come back at 15:00 to board the boat. It was said to depart at 16:00 and if the weather was good reach Aden 14 hours later. Destination Aden is unusual though – a friend of mine got to the more usual Al Mokha last March (reached within 16 hours). My friend had to wait ten (!) days to find a boat. I’ve been told that there are only some 5-6 boats that accept passengers.

Revalues my (short-lived) depression on the lack of juices and cakes. Now when I’ve had my first self-cooked spaghetti with olive oil and a few roughly chopped red onions, and I’ve slept outside again under the stars on a reed-carpet, it doesn’t feel that bad any more. No door to lock when I go for the loo – I can see my bike by the road from the bushes a few meters away.

Besides, I can dream again of a really good meal, further up the road, instead of actually eating it. As King said (based on a Charles A. Beard quote):
”Only when it’s dark enough, can you see the stars.”