On Google maps it’s clear that there is one real hotel on the beach in this area: Hotel Bel Air. Yesterday, on my way from Boffa I called the number on Google maps to ask the price. The guy who answered told me that the hotel was under construction and closed. Ok bummer.

So I settled for a “rustic” little bungalow in the nearby town of Sabané. It was awful. Extremely hot in the room to the point that I was actively sweating, and no mosquito net, yet lots and lots of mosquitos buzzing in my ears. All night. In the morning I staggered out of bed, hungry, thirsty, and sleep deprived, and asked the reception if there was anything to eat or drink at the hotel. He looked at me, bewildered by the request, and said, solemnly, that there was nothing. Ok brilliant.

I went ahead and packed up my bike real quick and took off. In the village of Sabane I managed to find bread, mayonnaise, and sardines— a sandwich I have been eating a lot of in recent days— and a a Nescafé coffee.

I decided I’d like to see the other town on the beach nearby with resorts, where the Bel Air is located, even if it is closed. To get there I took some bush paths that intersected with another Chinese bauxite haul road. I also passed by some big logistics/housing facilities. Hard to tell what is what. Half the guards didn’t care at all that I was taking pictures and one even gave me the thumbs up, but then some others came by and gave me a hard time. But no real issue.

Got to the town just inland from hotel bel air, and there is a paved road leading all the way to the beach here. This is astounding. I roll all the way down it and arrive at the end of the long driveway leading to the hotel bel air. This is the one of the most 3rd world situations I’ve ever seen. A grand, ambitious building, surrounded by coconut palms, and the echos of pristine groundskeeping. Yet everything is in disrepair. There are broken and missing windows. I greet the guard and ask if the hotel is open. The hotel is open!(?) The guard then points me in the direction of the reception. The lobby is vast and gorgeous. Intricate bamboo paneling on the walls, tile floors, ornate ceiling with little chandeliers, and beautiful European art and African figurines adorning the whole place. But it’s abandoned, nobody home. So I walk around admiring the place. It’s truly immaculate. The lobby leads through to the beach side of the building, where a dining room, also immaculate, looks out at the sea. I wander outside. A few people say hi but no one seems to be a hotel employee. I ask around and find Bilali Diallo, who does work here, and is helpful and professional, and agrees to show me a room. Half the rooms in the main building are operational, he tells me. The other half, and all the freestanding bungalows are under construction.

The room is really rather nice. Second floor right on the beach. The power/ AC work after 7. PM. Bed is comfortable. Water works. Wooden desk and built in furniture. Lovely little balcony. How much? I ask. Normally 700 000 GNF he tells me, sheepishly, but we can do 600 000 ($77.77 and $66.66 respectively). Hmm that feels like a lot, I tell him. We negotiate and settle in 400 000/ night ($44.44). Still feels like a *lot* for Guinea, even considering the relative luxury of this half derelict hotel. But I’m ok with it. Unless something proves to be surprisingly unpleasant about staying here I’ll probably even spend a second night, and try to enjoy the pleasant monotony of the Guinean coast. Hopefully I can scrounge up some papayas.