After the waterfall hike I backtrack to the village of Ditinn. I was going to go back into the main village to find some lunch, but there was a lady posted up by the side of the road. I decided to give her a shot. This was an excellent decision. She had rice with sauce and beans at the same spot, which I mixed together for a wonderful result. And the whole thing was about 40% less expensive than most rice shacks for some reason.

Ride after Ditinn is beautiful and hilly. I want to have time to do a couple things around Dalaba, so I don't stop much, just a few breathers.

My first destination around Dalaba is somewhere I’ve been fascinated with for a while. In the 20s and 30s a French guy named August Chevalier started a garden just north of town where he tried to see what temperate climate plants would grow here, given the elevation of 1200m (~3800 ft), which creates a consistently mild climate. In fact, Dalaba was a “therapeutic center” for French colonial administrators needing a break from the heat elsewhere in West Africa, according to Lonely Planet.

So I get to the outskirts of Dalaba around 2:45, and go straight to the Jardin Auguste Chevalier. Or at least this is my intention. It was hard to figure out where things are, even with Google Maps and screenshots of Lonely Planet. There is a large stand of pines, probably almost 100 hectares, and on the map the garden is somewhere in the middle of this forest. The pine trees are absolutely beautiful. Dense, shady stands. I learn they are in fact Lobloly pines, and it does feel like, say, North Carolina during the summer. But the gardens… there is no one around to ask, and I ride all around the pine forest trying to find them.

I come across a few ruins that look like French colonial relics, some concrete benches and gazebos. But I’m expecting some remnant of the botanical gardens that once existed here. Finally, I speak to an old man and learn that in fact I haven’t missed anything. The ruins, and the pine forest-- that’s basically it. The other species that were introduced are pretty much all gone. Bit of a letdown, but the pines, and the cool, forested atmosphere they create, are truly beautiful.

I have some daylight left, so when I get into Dalaba proper I swing by the old “residence de governor,” It’s after 6, so I’m not sure if I’ll be able to check it out, but in fact I am greeted by two old men, brothers, who are the guides. They were about to leave, but I tell them that this is my only night in town. They agree to give me a tour. One will show me the “Case à Palabras,” and the other will show me the residence.

The “Case à Palabras” is a big round meeting room meant to host conferences of tribal representatives. It was built in 1936. There are 12 different designs on the wall, each designating the spot for a different chief/tribe for the conference.

The french knew how to pick spots for colonial buildings. The “Residence” is perched on the edge of an endless landscape of green mountains and valleys. One of the best views ive seen in guinea. It gets chilly enough here that they put in a fireplace. My guide said on multiple occasions that it used to be colder in Dalaba before they cut down all the trees. Other than that the guides were hard to understand, sometimes outright confusing. There are plenty of people who speak good French in Guinea, but for some reason they rarely seem to become guides.

After the French moved out, Seckou Touré, Guinea’s infamous first president/dictator moved in. But everything in the residence is still the original French construction. They built in stone— the dining room table, shelving built into the walls, elevated block for the bed, benches: all still strong and ornate.

After this I found a hotel and some dinner. Good, but nothing to write home about. There is no bankin Dalaba. I thought there would be. I’m short on cash, but I’llget to Mamou where there are ATMs tomorrow