bastos

i am living in the Bastos neighborhood of Yaounde, Cameroon. Yaounde is the capital of Cameroon though is smaller in size than the economic capital: Douala. The former is called the city that sleeps (with people going to bed on average rather early, and the latter the city that never sleeps. Yaounde has thousands of stalls along most streets with people selling anything from tissue paper to phone credit to cigarettes (they cost between one and two dollars a pack.) to food. Cameroonian food, by the way, is just fine and rather similar to Indian restaurant food. When not buying food from reputable food vendors, I go to a boulangerie for delicious bread products and juice. Meat, rice, and bread are the most commonly consumed food items in my household and apparently in the households of my peers as well. fresh fruit, aside from bananas, plantains, and pineapples are not commonly eaten.

anyway, Bastos is the upper class neighborhood in Yaounde. this is where many of the government ministers live, as well as foreigners and wealthy hommes d'affaire. that said, it is a bit different from wealthy neighborhoods in the US. In Bastos, there are many of the stalls populated by informal sector entrepeneurs and salespeople running along the sidewalks. The roads still require great attention by the driver to avoid potholes. Some of the homes are very small and built of found materials while others are truly huge and made of fancy stones. There is apparently hot water in some homes, but this is considered an incredible luxury. However, for a sunburnt red man from the US, a cold shower is great. On a somewhat similar note, I have learned how to handwash my clothes which apparently is a skill not acquired by the former students living with my host family. so, to "josh" from massachusets: looks like minnesota wins again.
Due to the large number of embassies in Bastos, there are also many private and public security forces around town. They, of all people, have been among the most friendly people I randomly talk to.

Today as I was walking to a cybercafe, one of the security men, Ernest, stopped me to ask for my phone number so that he might show me the fine bars of Yaounde. going to a bar in a new town while being very much an outsider is rather intimidating, so being accompanied by a big friendly giant on my trip sounds just fine.