After enjoying a cooked breakfast to use the last of our eggs before they went off, we got stuck into our chores for the day, including getting the laundry done.
By late morning we received notification that our PCR test results were negative; surprise, surprise, given that we hadn’t interacted with anyone for 14 days, but, as a result, we’d received our clearance into Djibouti. The only outstanding matter was to obtain our visas from Immigration. So, after waiting a good few hours, the agent eventually arrived to take one person from each yacht to the Immigration Office in his boat. As they set off, Elaine couldn’t help but think of the nursery rhyme, “Rub a Dub Dub”, but with “7 Men in a Tub”, not 3!
However, this was the start of what became a very unpleasant and disappointing day, but more so for Roy. Firstly he was astonished at the filth of the Immigration Office and then the Immigration Officer’s refusal to process any visas until he had received a “baksheesh” of $20USD from each yacht. That’s on top of a $30USD fee for each visa issued.
Delighted that we could now head ashore, though, and explore the area, ourselves and everyone off Talulah Ruby III dinghied ashore in our respective dinghies, looking forward to stretching our legs and having a first glimpse of a new country, as well as to confirm another shocking revelation; the agent had indicated that there was a required payment for each dinghy, in order to use the only access to shore, the harbour / “marina” for the local boats, a nominal fee all cruisers are familiar with, but not one of $200USD per dinghy. After an initial backlash from the men in the tub, the agent agreed to negotiate a reduced price, but, as we discovered ourselves after visiting the “marina“ office, this was not negotiable under any circumstances. The last straw was a man asking for “baksheesh” when all he had done was take our dinghy painter when we arrived at the dock. Apparently, even if someone holds a door open for you, they want “baksheesh”.
By now, blood was boiling, but there was absolutely no way around the “marina” access fee, since we couldn’t even get out of the security gates without the relevant pass. After returning to the yachts, where Elaine enjoyed a far more pleasant afternoon on Talulah Ruby III with Andy, the men returned to the “marina” office and after a lot of back and forth, it was eventually agreed that Roy and Paul, plus one of their crew, could leave the “marina” in order to access an ATM at the closest mall to get local currency to settle the “marina” fee. Fortunately this fee included a service to collect and fill all the empty jerry cans and deliver the diesel back to the yachts at a reduced price per litre; a service more convenient than working through the agent, making the astronomical fee somewhat palatable.
While the walk to the ATM revealed filthy streets, littered with garbage as well as building rubble strewn everywhere and being constantly harassed by taxi drivers in filthy taxis, muslim women approaching them to say they were hungry, men offering services of various descriptions , etc, it also afforded the “reconnaissance group” the opportunity to visit the local mall, which was later described as “stepping into another dimension” and they could have been in any western country. With additional SIM cards in hand and some fresh produce from a very well stocked supermarket, everyone returned to Talulah Ruby III for a quick sundowner, while sitting in disbelief at what had unfolded. One thing was clear, we weren’t clearing in to another country until we reached the Mediterranean.
What Elaine saw at the “marina”, including all the loitering and being “scanned”, certainly brought back unpleasant memories of South Africa and she was relieved to learn that Andy too was unimpressed and didn’t feel safe at all. It’s fair to say that even eating ashore was out of the question, given the initial survey of the restaurants on the waterfront by the crew of Talulah Ruby III, particularly the state of the kitchens. So much for somewhere decent to enjoy a celebratory dinner and, although we’re sure there must be nicer restaurants somewhere, there’s no way of getting Elaine there safely, given the state of the taxis. It’s definitely a health hazard even for those with a robust immune system!
Dinner onboard was an improvised salad that went down like a treat, although the fillet steaks Roy had purchased were more akin to boot leather. It seemed everything in Djibouti was a rip off, including the labels on food and we thought Thailand was bad!
By then we were both too fed up and exhausted to be bothered and went to bed, ready to tackle the rest of our stay with eyes wide open!
