Open Journal Montreal

by Michael (no longer) in Mali

I awoke this morning to the sound of children playing, light snow falling slowly from the sky. I looked out my second story residence window onto the park next to my building and saw little kids running around in their snowsuits yelling in Norwegian. I smiled. With my jet lag, and the sun rising so late here at the 60th parallel, I had greatly overslept. I left Mali one month ago, but I feel as though it is only now that my trip is coming to an end, or at least coming full circle.

Step back eight months.

I left Oslo on June 1st last year. My adventures took me through major cities in Europe: Copenhagen, Prague, Budapest, Vienna, Berlin and Paris. I then ventured into Northern Italy to play in the Dolomites with Greg, a righteous dude and steadfast climbing partner. I then continued on to the beauties of Verona and Venice before heading westward to France where I took the time to indulge in the wines of Bordeaux and the surf on the Atlantic. I jumped on the high-speed train to Paris to admire the romance of la vie en rose before finally taking a sketchy flight to Bamako for my first experience in Africa.

I fell in love with Mali and its people. Caring, beautiful, simple, non-confrontational, genuine, kind people. I will miss them dearly. Their culture, their thoughts, and their smiles. My last month in Mali was amazing. Joined by Dave, yet another epic dude and travelling partner, I embarked on an adventure I will never forget. I saw the heartland of a country I was beginning to call home; the Niger that nourished the land and the people; the infamous Timbukto, gateway to the Sahara; the stunning Hombori Tondo, a towering splendor amidst desert wasteland; and the mysterious Dogon Country with its rugged escarpments and beautiful sunsets.

My final night in Bamako was a sad one. I had not become extremely attached to any one person, but that made it worse; the many wonderful people I had met and befriended I would probably never speak to or see again.

So, I said goodbye to Bamako. I went out for a final spin on my motorbike and crossed the old bridge that takes you out of the city. I stopped halfway. I looked out over the last sunset I would see in Mali, took off my straw cowboy hat that I had been wearing since Oslo, now tattered beyond recognition, and threw it out into the Fleuve. It floated down like a light snowflake and landed softly on the Niger.

My return to the West was as chaotic as it could possibly have been. Bamako-Casablanca-Paris-Montreal-Charlottetown-Moncton-Hamilton-Waterloo-Toronto-Montreal-Vermont-Montreal-Orlando-Montreal-Paris-Oslo. If ever you think it might be fun to try to get in 10 flights in 30 days, take my advice: DON’T DO IT.

But I am finally feeling a little settled again. It’s strange. I had been expecting my return to Montreal to feel like a return home. I did after all spend 6 of my adult years living there and some of the people I hold dearest to me are in or around that city. However, in contrast to my expectations and despite how amazing it was to be back in my old hood, in the end it was my arrival in Oslo that really made me feel as though I was “back”. I suppose it makes sense. This was the starting point for this little adventure, and I knew it would also be the end. Then again, one ending is also some other beginning.

Regardless. I am back in a tiny residence room at the northern outskirts of the city. Excited about getting in some cross-country skiing as a break from sifting through interview transcripts and Malian documents, writing and re-writing. I am anxious about returning to Africa as soon as possible though. Perhaps Mali, perhaps somewhere new. There is still a good chance that I will be heading to Kenya in March for an internship with the UNDP. I’ll certainly keep you updated. For the next while though, I will be taking in the luxuries of Oslo and the abundance of snow. Enjoying the contrasts that make up life.

I hope you are all doing well and have been able to get at least a little enjoyment out of my ranting and raving from the developing world. Keep in touch. And in the mean time, live and love life.

Epic.
Michael

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[ originally posted on Tuesday, January 24th, 2006 at 10:24 am and is filed under Everything, Letters, On Places and Identities. ]