Togo-riffic

The joys of Togo start with the border crossing. Having used my talent for tracking down obscure crossing points, I hopped from Ghana to Togo in the extreme north of both countries, not far from the Burkinabé border. The Togolese border post? A rather jolly little man sitting under a tree. He had the requisite stamps, though, and with zero muss, I was through.

After a night in the pleasant town of Daopong where I discovered that: a) There are mangoes in Togo, with not a sight of them in Ghana, and b) that Togolese beer is incredibly good, I puttered off my way through some gorgeous savannah and mountains down to the the Tamberma Valley.

What a place. For once on this trip I felt like I had stepped into National Geographic. The Tamberma build amazing fortified castle-houses out of mud, using no tools. Unlike most groups, they live amongst their fields, so most of the "villages" are more a collection of farms. Although there is one actual town, with electricity and all the rest, I jumped at the chance to spend a couple nights staying in the compound of the chief of one of the small villages. I paid for the privelege - the chief hosts tourists from time to time, and charged me 4 bucks a night to sleep on his roof. Well worth it, to sleep on top of one of the amazing homes, watching everything glow in the sunset, the stars come out, and the sun come up. In all respects it was a fairly traditional place - lots of topless women pounding millet in the yard, goats running everywhere, all surrounded by gorgeous mountains, maize fields, and enormous baobab trees. It would be wise not to overstate the case though! Although the chief spent the day sitting on a bench in traditional robes gabbing with the villagers, he (like every Togolese person over 15) had a mobile phone with him constantly. His son went to school in town, had a motorbike, and toured me around the other villages. Magic and a half.

From there it was off to Atakpame, the edge of coffee country, where cobbled streets and gorgeous views were found. That, though, was just a quick stop on the way to coffee country itself, the green hills around Kpalime. They bore a lot of similarity to the hills in the east of Ghana, unsurprising given that they are the same hills. Atop them, I could pretty much see the Ghanaian towns that I had been hanging out in. This particular border makes even less sense than most, dating to WWI when the British and the French invaded the then-German colony of Togoland and divided it between them. The French part became Togo, while the British part got tacked onto Ghana, which irks locals to this day, with the territory of the Ewe divided neatly in half.

Although Kpalime was good fun, the real joy was spending a couple days a few hundred metres up in the village of Klouto. The forests there are extremely dense with butterflies; and you can wander off on guided butterfly safaris. I spent a couple days there hiking to discover not only the butterflies, but also all sorts of medicinal plants and the various ways of making natural paints and dyes that get used for fabric paintings all over the region. Really neat. As a solo traveller, experiences with guides are often a mixed bag, but this one was phenomenal.

Equally good was relaxing in the garden of the little place I was staying, drinking endless cups of fresh-brewed coffee that had been grown and dried within a kilometre of me. Mmm! I'm well used to Nescafe by now, but I couldn't help sighing pretty loudly when I tasted the first cup. Even better - it was free!

Fully caffeinated, I spent a couple days lounging in Lome, which has to be the most pleasantly chilled out of all the big cities I've been to so far. Very French - lots of tree-lined avenues and bougainvilleas everywhere, a nice beach and tons of good food. My hotel there was one of those weird pieces of the expat bubble, a little piece of southern France exported wholesale, right down to the greyhaired French guys with mustaches propping up the bar.

The next week was spent doing what I do best - taking it slow! With things to see that I could have done in a day or two, I decided to meander my way for 7. First a few nights on the beach outside Lome, which was my last chance for seaside-ing until April, then off into a sailed pirogue across Lac Togo to Togoville, on to the intense Friday market in the small town of Vogan, and finishing in Aneho, the intensely sleepy old capital.

In a bobble that Douglas Adams would love, on the way to Vogan - or Vogon - I managed to lose my towel! Thankfully no interstellar bypasses or bad poetry came my way over the next few days until I staged a daring rescue mission that took me back to the beach for one last night. Towel recovered, Togo completed.

You don't see too many tourists in Togo, which in many ways is a mighty puzzle. I guess it lacks the Voodoo calling cards of Benin and the English appeal of Ghana; perhaps people are also still scared of a reputation for political instability that is years out of date. It's still a repressive government, and the place is still a bit disconnected from the outside world, but I'm well glad I made it.

Peace