home sick
I've just got back to Mossley after another stint in Guinea. It's funny, the year is flying past but the time in Guinea is so busy that it feels like I've been away for ages. I work about 70 hours a week but there's a lot of socialising and sport as well, so every day is packed.
There are people from all over the world in the camp. Obviously Guineans, but also people from Mali, Ghana, Ivory Coast, Kenya and other African countries, including a strong South African contingent (eg the helicopter pilots). There are Canadians (Quebecois), the drilling company is Brazillian, the catering company half Lebanese and of course there are lots of French, some English and other Europeans. The biggest expat group though is still the Australians, so you have the funny situation of some of local people picking up english with an aussie twang.One Saturday night we decided to have a Brazillian night, or rather South American (recognising our Columbian colleagues). After all, we could put all these guys to better use than running drill rigs! Salsa lessons all round!! (Or maybe samba, I don't know). A great mix of people and a great night.
But a downside to such a multicultural, travelling population - lots of new bugs to pick up. So I've brought home some sort of cold from goodness knows where to infect the english with.
Coming home this time had a few hiccups. We normally take the minibus from the camp to a village called Beyla, where Rio has built an airport. It's about an hour and a half due to the state of the roads and having to slow down for all the chickens, kids and so on in the little villages we go through. This time all the people flying out said goodbye, hopped on the bus for the second flight of the day, got to the airport... to hear that the plane had broken down in Conakry.
Well, better broken on the ground of course. But still, back on the bus it was and back to camp. We'd missed lunch so we decided to stop in Beyla for a quick trip to the local bar and something to eat. No pictures unfortunately, but I went on the food hunting mission, and we ended up with some delicious fresh cooked street meat (beef, I think....). On the way I stopped off with one of my Guinean colleagues at the local orphanage and had a lovely tour of the old colonial (french) buildings.
So back to camp before heading out again Saturday and spending a night in Conakry. Of course, there's no flight out to Paris Saturday so a few of us were forced to spend the Sunday around the pool having a few beers at the hotel. Tough, of course. But you learn to put up with these sorts of things :)
Then out Sunday night and into Manchester Monday morning (5 degrees the pilot kindly informs us) - late because of fog at the airport, onto the train to Manchester, change for Stalybridge, change again for Mossley and finally walk through my door. It was such a suprisingly beautiful day, fresh and clear, that I just dropped my bags and headed out over the hills....
Coming home this time had a few hiccups. We normally take the minibus from the camp to a village called Beyla, where Rio has built an airport. It's about an hour and a half due to the state of the roads and having to slow down for all the chickens, kids and so on in the little villages we go through. This time all the people flying out said goodbye, hopped on the bus for the second flight of the day, got to the airport... to hear that the plane had broken down in Conakry.
Well, better broken on the ground of course. But still, back on the bus it was and back to camp. We'd missed lunch so we decided to stop in Beyla for a quick trip to the local bar and something to eat. No pictures unfortunately, but I went on the food hunting mission, and we ended up with some delicious fresh cooked street meat (beef, I think....). On the way I stopped off with one of my Guinean colleagues at the local orphanage and had a lovely tour of the old colonial (french) buildings.
So back to camp before heading out again Saturday and spending a night in Conakry. Of course, there's no flight out to Paris Saturday so a few of us were forced to spend the Sunday around the pool having a few beers at the hotel. Tough, of course. But you learn to put up with these sorts of things :)
Then out Sunday night and into Manchester Monday morning (5 degrees the pilot kindly informs us) - late because of fog at the airport, onto the train to Manchester, change for Stalybridge, change again for Mossley and finally walk through my door. It was such a suprisingly beautiful day, fresh and clear, that I just dropped my bags and headed out over the hills....
