Fish market, Nouakchott, Day 230

I don’t know why I’m continually surprised to find an abundance of mosquitoes in these desert environs. Quite whether they are the death-dealing kind, I don’t know, but either way I don’t like them. The buzz of a single mosquito around my ears sends me into a panicked frenzy and I know I will not be able to sleep until one of us is dead. Consequently, I dueled with the insect world for most of last night; only it’s impossible to kill all the mosquitoes. You kill one and two more spring from god knows where. While I duel, Christi tries to block the access points of which there are many in this room. And I don’t want to hear a squeak about bringing your own mosquito net next time, because that is not going to help us now. Because of our nefarious nocturnal activities last night, we postpone our early morning visit to the fish market. I suppose it would have been fun to watch the fisherman launching their small boats into the Atlantic, but it will be equally fun I’m sure to watch them land their catches this afternoon.

Christi and I emerge from our room at mid-morning bearing an abundance of itchy welts on our skin, so I guess we didn’t win after all. The hotel manager, Isaac, is sympathetic and offers us a better room with a mosquito net – for an extra US$1o per night. I decline (Note looking back on these diaries, it is hard to escape the conclusion that sometimes I can be a little too stubborn. Don’t mention anything to Christi, though, because I’ve always denied this. Wait…what did I just say?).

We enjoy a fast-food schwarma lunch at a nearby restaurant that comes with a blindingly bright orange soft drink. Goodness knows what the locals add to their drinks to make them glow so orange, but whatever it is, I’m not drinking it. Later as the temperatures begin to dip from excruciatingly hot to simply unbearable we decide to visit the fish market. Finding a taxi that will take us there is another matter. None of them can believe we would want to go there and we receive yet more odd looks. Still, the Lonely Planet guide says it is one of the few interesting things to do in this desert city by the sea. And keeping busy stops us from thinking what we are going to do if Ahmed and Sheldon Cooper do not appear tomorrow.

The fish market is probably only a mile from our hotel, but already there is a sense of leaving the city behind. An impressive aircraft hangar-like building houses the market itself and there are some mighty fine, if completely unfamiliar fish, on display and there is much haggling over the catch. The fish market is located literally on the beach and when we can no longer bear the pungent aroma of entrails, we wander outside. The beach is frantic with activity as pirogues land their catch and the fish are quickly hauled away either on donkey and cart or by hand. There is a feeling of excitement and of community coming together. The people work hard, but they do so with a smile and the onshore breeze is divine. Away from the main action is a collection of huge creatures in shells squirming about in their death-throws. As much as we can figure they have been caught accidently and then discarded. I have no idea what they are – perhaps giant sea snails? It’s sad to see them struggling, but they are a little too creepy to touch.

Speaking of food, on our return to town we eat dinner at an authentic Chinese restaurant (although I keep away from the shell fish options). It never ceases to amaze me that you can find a Chinese restaurant in every city in the world. It wouldn’t surprise me if the first restaurant on the moon served Chinese food. We eat heartily in preparation for another vicious battle with the mosquito hordes tonight.