abidjan after midnight (and i'm covered in spray paint)
i landed in abidjan with a backpack full of caps and a wallet full of dust. the air hit me first-this isn't the humid soup you get in Bangkok, it's a dry, *35.6 celsius furnace that feels like 37.12 in your bones. someone on the tarmac mumbled ‘feels like a furnace,’ and yeah, they weren’t wrong. i just checked and it's…that exact number right now, hope you like that kind of thing. ">map of abidjan ">unsplash image of abidjan street art ">unsplash image of abidjan lagoon ">unsplash image of abidjan market
my hostel is in treichville, or what i can see of it through the mosquito netting. the guy at reception, kouadio, told me ‘the concrete sweats here, not you.’ he’s not wrong. the pressure is 1009, which means the sky is a bleached-out bowl, and humidity at 36% makes your throat feel like sandpaper. i tried to sketch a fisherman by the lagoon and my charcoal just crumbled.プロフェッショナルな chef would say the sea level pressure is fighting the ground level of 973, and the city’s just holding its breath.
if you get bored, libreville is just a short drive away, but it’s a whole other universe of bikutsi beats and slower palm wine. i heard from a tuk-tuk driver that you can catch a ferry to assinie for a beach that doesn’t smell like diesel. maybe later.
graffiti here is a language. i spent all night tagging a derelict cinema off Boulevard de la République. a security guard with a flashlight told me ‘this wall remembers the coups.’ i just nodded and kept spraying. someone told me the cops here hate wheatpaste but tolerate aerosol if it’s ‘artistic.’ i’ll test that theory tomorrow.
overheard at a cold drink stall: ‘the light at 5 pm is perfect for photos but your lens will fog.’ i’ve already killed one point-and-shoot. local boards say the best studio is hidden behind the market in marcory-you need a password from the plantain lady. i tried ‘akwaba’ and got a smile and a cold bic beer. win.
drunk advice from a belgian expat at le maquis: ‘don’t eat the sauce if it’s orange.’ i did. still paying for it. tripadvisor has a thread about this exact thing-someone reviewed the place and called the attaya tea ‘liquid sunset.’ accurate.
my feet are killing me. walked from cofir to adjame looking for vintage pagnes. found a tailor who’ll turn secondhand jeans into art for 2000 fcfa. yelp doesn’t have him, but the street gossip is solid. this forum post warned me about the pickpockets near cco-i’ve got my bag on my front now.
i’m exhausted. the heat hasn’t let up. it’s 35.6 outside still, like a fever that won’t break. ground level pressure feels like a weight. i’m going to sleep with the fan on high and dream of blue ocean water that’s actually cool. tomorrow, i find the password lady. maybe she’ll have ice*.
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