Discovering Mikonos Hiddens Wonders
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An adventurous moment, mixed with utter excitement; after 25 years of having the infamous Iron Ore Train on my bucket list, I finally parked my car in front of one of the sheds in a dusty side street in the outskirts of Nouadhibou, where the responsible officials spend their working hours. So here I was, walking into the shed of the Mauritanian Railway Authorities to enquire about the possibility to transport my car and myself to Choum, approximately 500 km east of Nouadhibou.
I actually found the place by luck, I didn’t ask anyone for directions, I just drove my car up and down the peninsula of Nouadhibou.
I wanted to get an overview of one of the most dilapidated cities I had ever seen. This is where Iron Ore Train ends, one of the longest trains in the world, which makes Nouadhibou the most important area in poor Mauritania.
The Office Of The Mauritanian Railway
When A White Western Woman Enters The Office Of The Mauritanian Railway Authorities. The deal was done in the blink of an eye. With one place still available, I could put my car on the train. I only had to decide immediately, since the train was about to leave. I quickly checked my water and food supply, which would last for some days and gave it a go. 120 Euros for the car plus myself was a fair price and within the next couple of minutes, my car was loaded and tied to a platform for vehicles. My ticket said no passengers in the car, but nobody obliged when I asked if I could spend the journey in or on the car. I started making arrangements for the coming 30 hours: water, food, snacks were all at hand, towel, toothbrush and toilet paper on the dashboard, cameras and mobile phone as well within easy reach. Check, check, double check. It took hours of turning switches, pulling the wagons and platforms up and down the tracks, back and forth to have them all in right position ready for the long journey East. Finally, around 8pm, after seven hours of waiting (talk about an immediate decision making), everything was set and the train took off honking repeatedly, taking the endless semicircle track out of Nouadhibou.
The White Western Woman
When A White Western Woman Enters The Office Of The Mauritanian
Railway Authorities. So here I was, walking into the shed of the
Mauritanian Railway Authorities to enquire about the possibility to
transport my car and myself to Choum, approximately 500 km east of
Nouadhibou. The deal was done in the blink of an eye. With one place
still available, I could put my car on the train. I only had to
decide immediately, since the train was about to leave. I quickly
checked my water and food supply, which would last for some days and
gave it a go. 120 Euros for the car plus myself was a fair price and
within the next couple of minutes, my car was loaded and tied to a
platform for vehicles. My ticket said no passengers in the car, but
nobody obliged when I asked if I could spend the journey in or on
the car. I started making arrangements for the coming 30 hours:
water, food, snacks were all at hand, towel, toothbrush and toilet
paper on the dashboard, cameras and mobile phone as well within easy
reach. Check, check, double check.
It took hours of turning switches, pulling the wagons and platforms
up and down the tracks, back and forth to have them all in right
position ready for the long journey East. Finally, around 8pm, after
seven hours of waiting (talk about an immediate decision making),
everything was set and the train took off honking repeatedly, taking
the endless semicircle track out of Nouadhibou.