(... we could not download all the pictures by technical problems ... I'll post them on the next blog .).... imshaala !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
... and finally found the means and time to continue our blog. These past weeks were not easy, especially so that we will back at the border of Mauriania, (not to have a valid visa), all and since then we take a lot of philosophy, for a trip to Africa so required, but the plane ticket and visa renewal are unpredictable costs that hurt the pocket. Remains as anecdote and experience to the next. The lot was to have good friends on the palms, which are Corina and Blanqui who have benefited from the Jordan while performing the steps of Mauritania visa on the island. Milllll thanks for your hospitality!
So it was while resting Barto Joses and relaxed on the beautiful beaches of Dakhla eating knives swelling sea, Jordan flew in a ten-seater plane with a mission to get the visas.
So it was while resting Barto Joses and relaxed on the beautiful beaches of Dakhla eating knives swelling sea, Jordan flew in a ten-seater plane with a mission to get the visas.
all goes well, and the return, we have taken back the way already known to no man's land, the 5 km of track potholes and sand, with hundreds of crosses losers that separanla border between Mauritania and Morocco. This time the child has achieved two passengers with whom to share expenses. They are a young French couple have been planted in Dakhla and continue hitchhiking road Burkina Faso. 
This time I passed the border without any problem,
only thing is that we heard just a day ago to have kidnapped a group of three English of Catalan Ong. With the news to the surface, we changed the plan to spend a few days Nouadibou, and decided to cross the country as quickly as possible, taking advantage that there is a French traveler in another van, and we can make a small caravan in which we are somewhat safer. In reality it is still all relative, people crossing in different directions 4x4, trucks equipped to routes in the Sahara .. "paranoia" no longer very personal. It always happens in any country in the world, foreigners about the Basque country. "Some of us have stopped going to Bilbao for fear the ETA? Everything is relative to the actual knowledge of a country and the situation of media in each place, and what happens .. 4 as it could affect us insignificant little characters .. difficult to guess, as always in the hands of fate or destiny.
Thus ráaapido, with prevention and rocket in the ass,
half hitch cross Sahara, stretches of dunes, small villages of fabric stores, small Haima, and desert 
. 
Those places where one finds it difficult to understand how people can live there, why are there. The real torture on this road, which have been about 600 kilometers, have been the roadblocks, sometimes only separated from one another by a few hundred meters. Perhaps we have crossed 20 controls, perhaps 40. Some are gerdarmerie, the other soldiers, the other police, other Duane ... a really crazy, having to give each time data, photocopies of passport and negatives to each of the demands of giving a gift, either a pen, a shirt, a bottle of water, among others. The need when the south is becoming more visible. 
the evening we came to Nouakchott, capital chaotic, strange, but African. Mauritania's population is mixed between Arabs and black Africans, with their dresses in white robes and blue, mixed in a radical Islamic Republic. Here 
even continue with our small caravan, which are the 4 españolitos and three Frenchmen, well good people. Our story begins in an area of \u200b\u200bmosquitoes and so we take a "camping" in the city to prepare the anti fragon mosquitoes, installing three individual nets. The thing is that this van is getting smaller. Could it be that is shrinking?? 
From here, we have taken the route that goes into Mauritania, Mali due to the so-called highway of hope.
say that for many years this road was unpaved and unmarked, so many people got lost and perished, without finding water or the right direction. Today is just impossible to miss, but you do not stop thinking about being in the road, this must have been in the past in order to earn such a name .. 
la route de l espoir. 
Certainly police checks have not fallen to our despair. 
We spent the night at a police checkpoint,
and we are finally in Mali. 
After a thousand papers, visas, car insurance, the lesse passe touristic vehicle, change money again, and pay toll (lots of money in total over the tip of the bad cop) enter the fantastic world Mali. Finally, the sense of us ventured into black Africa, the Africa that all we have ever seen on TV, on film, or maybe we just imagined. Those women carrying bundles on their heads using the pure balance, walking along roads, tracks solitary red, giant baobab trees, donkey carts, large horned cattle, adobe villages with round huts with straw roofs .. We finally reached Africa. Input and decided to leave the main road that goes to the capital, to get into a track of 300 km. The first anecdote is in the first policing of this track. At the commencement there is no problem and everything goes with humor. But to see a baobab giant about 200 meters from the police station, we stopped to enjoy his imposing figure, who surrounded and took some photos, denying climb can not enjoy such beauty giant, for having known that it is a sacred tree. What we did not know beforehand is that the tree is so sacred, to have to have permission to the village chief or authority before taking a snapshot. This very interesting novelty when a cop found those bad, there is wondering what he has given us permission to photograph the baobab. Another interrogatory answer as .. eing?? So without anything stronger than his own authority takes the camera's Jose. We were speechless, and semi-paralyzed, .. What do?. We tried to explain, justify, defend, and of course get the camera, but it's not going well. After our attempts and the small feeling that the cop wants to stay with the camera, he invited Joseph to go with him to his small garrison with passport in hand. One of the Frenchmen who have joined us to interpret it and takes care to talk about football and telling bad jokes, and the good cop loosens the situation, returned the camera and offers guests white tea, while the bad points the name and number passport in a role that probably disappeared instantly. So everything is like learning a scare, and that there remain many things to learn when you get back to a country completely different culture.
This time I passed the border without any problem,
only thing is that we heard just a day ago to have kidnapped a group of three English of Catalan Ong. With the news to the surface, we changed the plan to spend a few days Nouadibou, and decided to cross the country as quickly as possible, taking advantage that there is a French traveler in another van, and we can make a small caravan in which we are somewhat safer. In reality it is still all relative, people crossing in different directions 4x4, trucks equipped to routes in the Sahara .. "paranoia" no longer very personal. It always happens in any country in the world, foreigners about the Basque country. "Some of us have stopped going to Bilbao for fear the ETA? Everything is relative to the actual knowledge of a country and the situation of media in each place, and what happens .. 4 as it could affect us insignificant little characters .. difficult to guess, as always in the hands of fate or destiny. Thus ráaapido, with prevention and rocket in the ass,
half hitch cross Sahara, stretches of dunes, small villages of fabric stores, small Haima, and desert 
. 
Those places where one finds it difficult to understand how people can live there, why are there. The real torture on this road, which have been about 600 kilometers, have been the roadblocks, sometimes only separated from one another by a few hundred meters. Perhaps we have crossed 20 controls, perhaps 40. Some are gerdarmerie, the other soldiers, the other police, other Duane ... a really crazy, having to give each time data, photocopies of passport and negatives to each of the demands of giving a gift, either a pen, a shirt, a bottle of water, among others. The need when the south is becoming more visible. 
the evening we came to Nouakchott, capital chaotic, strange, but African. Mauritania's population is mixed between Arabs and black Africans, with their dresses in white robes and blue, mixed in a radical Islamic Republic. Here 
even continue with our small caravan, which are the 4 españolitos and three Frenchmen, well good people. Our story begins in an area of \u200b\u200bmosquitoes and so we take a "camping" in the city to prepare the anti fragon mosquitoes, installing three individual nets. The thing is that this van is getting smaller. Could it be that is shrinking?? 
From here, we have taken the route that goes into Mauritania, Mali due to the so-called highway of hope.
say that for many years this road was unpaved and unmarked, so many people got lost and perished, without finding water or the right direction. Today is just impossible to miss, but you do not stop thinking about being in the road, this must have been in the past in order to earn such a name .. 
la route de l espoir. 
Certainly police checks have not fallen to our despair. 
We spent the night at a police checkpoint,
and we are finally in Mali. 
After a thousand papers, visas, car insurance, the lesse passe touristic vehicle, change money again, and pay toll (lots of money in total over the tip of the bad cop) enter the fantastic world Mali. Finally, the sense of us ventured into black Africa, the Africa that all we have ever seen on TV, on film, or maybe we just imagined. Those women carrying bundles on their heads using the pure balance, walking along roads, tracks solitary red, giant baobab trees, donkey carts, large horned cattle, adobe villages with round huts with straw roofs .. We finally reached Africa. Input and decided to leave the main road that goes to the capital, to get into a track of 300 km. The first anecdote is in the first policing of this track. At the commencement there is no problem and everything goes with humor. But to see a baobab giant about 200 meters from the police station, we stopped to enjoy his imposing figure, who surrounded and took some photos, denying climb can not enjoy such beauty giant, for having known that it is a sacred tree. What we did not know beforehand is that the tree is so sacred, to have to have permission to the village chief or authority before taking a snapshot. This very interesting novelty when a cop found those bad, there is wondering what he has given us permission to photograph the baobab. Another interrogatory answer as .. eing?? So without anything stronger than his own authority takes the camera's Jose. We were speechless, and semi-paralyzed, .. What do?. We tried to explain, justify, defend, and of course get the camera, but it's not going well. After our attempts and the small feeling that the cop wants to stay with the camera, he invited Joseph to go with him to his small garrison with passport in hand. One of the Frenchmen who have joined us to interpret it and takes care to talk about football and telling bad jokes, and the good cop loosens the situation, returned the camera and offers guests white tea, while the bad points the name and number passport in a role that probably disappeared instantly. So everything is like learning a scare, and that there remain many things to learn when you get back to a country completely different culture. From there we continued our way through the red door, where people have found a pretty, smiling, it is also true that very poor, but a big heart and a big smile on their faces. While camped under a tree, get a guy in his car and brings two watermelons, little by little is drawing people to the people, the more grandparents, many children, a woman, and of course, anyone who was working in Almeria Plastic seas. Just by sharing knowledge, especially the most knowledgeable in agriculture, entering the school, making a small show a recess, concentration and work a little education and village life. It was a real lucky that our first contact with the country has been such. The village is called Kasan.
keep going to Kitta, and then we head to Bamako, the capital of a million and half people. Once inside, the chaos has a completely opposite feeling that we had had so far. Jams, pollution, people everywhere, street vendors, hustlers to everywhere .. ie, stress! but we have no need to stand one day as we have a small problem in the direction that causes it to wear excessively fragon wheels. So after two days to fix supestamente get the new tires to change direction and continue our way. So today we are in a town called Segour, about 200 km from the capital, and quietly enjoying the waters of the Niger. And if it goes well, this will be our road to Timbuktu, Mopti, Dogon pays ...
And here we leave our newsletter, our blog fragonafricano from Malian land, as always handing out hugs and kisses saying goodbye to our beloved, love pa all .. and waiting for you to continue enjoying the fragonafricanussssssss
fragonaventuras 
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