Most Ivorians mention Assinie Beach when they talk about places to see in Côte d’Ivoire. It’s been on my list of places to visit, but it’s not easy to get there without a personal car. Yango will not take you there, and if you find yourself a ride out there, you may not find a ride back unless you pay a driver to spend the day waiting around for you for the return trip.

When I found out the students from my tourism class were planning a trip/tour, I jumped in on the opportunity to finally make it to that beach. The trip included transportation, a tour of the lagoon, a museum tour, and lunch. The drive to the beach would be a little more than an hour. Without hesitation, I reserved a seat. I was told that only 10 people were going on the trip (including my buddy, Adi) because it was a bit expensive by student standards.

The plan was to meet at the US Embassy at 6:30am to load into our Ivorian minibus van with a departure time of 7am. Of course, I was there at 6:30, as was the other American on the trip (the other English Language Fellow). The Ivorians started to roll in at 7, and by 8am, we still did not have the entire group who had signed up for the trip. I have learned that there is a name for this concept. It’s called TIA – “This is Africa.” This phrase describes when things don’t make sense, they don’t go as planned, or you need to accept that unpredictability is part of life on this continent. It’s comforting to know there is an acronym I can rely on to describe my life, even if it stands for the opposite of predictability.

At about 8:30am, we finally gave up on the last person in the group who had not shown up, and we started driving. A few minutes later, the straggler called the group leader and was trying to find us as we were moving since she did not want to miss out on the trip she had paid for. As I may have mentioned, the streets here have no names, so as we were driving, the group leader was trying to tell the straggler where we were by using landmarks rather than streets. Here is what I heard, “We just drove by the dumpster. Now we are near a tree next to the big hole by the building with windows…..” TIA, people.

By 9 a.m., we were finally on the road for real, with 10 people in a van that could fit 15.
Another thing to mention is that to maximize space, every minibus (and even some small SUV-type cars used as transport) has at least one or two more rows of seats than they should. For context, imagine a Subaru Outback with four rows of seating. Legroom? Nah. TIA, baby.

We stopped at the grocery store about halfway to Assinie, and when we reloaded the van, somehow, we had acquired 5 more people. Although the space was cramped, we had the benefit of having a decent amount of A/C coming to the back so we could keep heatstroke at bay.

The day unfolded in both predictable and unpredictable ways. We expected to take a boat tour of the lagoon, and we did. What I did not expect was that the boat tour guide would spend the trip systematically pointing out the houses of all of the corrupt politicians and ranting about their misdeeds instead of talking about the mangroves through which we toured.

When we arrived at our designed lunch spot, it was right on the beach, and it was great. However, when the food arrived (family-style), it became clear that the extra 5 people who loaded into the van at the supermarket were an unexpected addition to a lunch provided for 10 people. Question: How do you cut one fish 15 ways? Answer: You don’t. TIA, my dude.

Somehow, the trip to the museum never happened, but it had been a long day, and as we headed back to the van for the drive home, I was not sad about it. I really did not think the ride home would be the most eventful part of the trip, but I have learned not to underestimate the most mundane moments here.

We started driving, and as we passed some fruit vendors, people wanted to stop to buy fruit, so everyone was jumping in and out of the van, sometimes as it was rolling. This made the van driver mad. At one stop, he started ranting about getting on the road, and as we were waiting for the fruit buyers, he went through the van, opening all the windows and turning off the A/C, screaming about preserving gas. Quickly I would come to understand why.

After about 10 fruit stops, we finally seemed to be headed back for good when we encountered a GIANT traffic jam into Abidjan. At that point, Adi said, “It will take at least 4 hours to get back to the city from here.” Note: Hyperbole is not an Ivorian trait.

With the A/C off, stopped traffic, and 90+ degree nighttime heat, the van quickly turned into an easy-bake oven, cooking our 15 cramped bodies into little human pastries. As my knees were smashed into the seat in front of me, I began to wonder what the first signs of heatstroke were. How long does it take to lose consciousness? Can you sweat out more water than your body holds? Obviously not, but rational thought was a luxury of the past. TIA, dying white girl.

About halfway back to Abidjan (two hours into the traffic jam), suddenly, somebody opened the van door, and 6 people unexpectedly got out on the highway in the dark. While this was another confusing moment, I would not have been concerned if Adi had not been one of them. I was sure that we were nowhere near Adi’s house. Were they going to pee? Were they going to get a coffee from the many coffee vendors set up on the side of the road to take advantage of the traffic jam? Again, no idea. They all seemed to vanish into the night with no word.

I decided the only way to survive this adventure was to suppress my rising confusion/desperation, pull out my portable speaker, and start playing music. Of course, the first song was “Hot in Herre.” Luckily, the Ivorians know Nelly and were more than happy to sing along:

It’s gettin’ hot in here (so hot)
So take off all your clothes
I am gettin’ so hot, I wanna take my clothes off

More fitting words were likely never uttered, but not in a sexy way. At that point it was about living long enough to die another day.

About an hour and a half later, the van pulled over, as we were just on the outskirts of Abidjan. In jumped Adi and the other five missing people. Apparently, they decided to walk because it was too hot in the van. They had been ahead of us for most of the journey home.

As evidenced by this narrative, I recovered from the trip to Assinie, but wow. It was unforgettable. TIA, my friends