Abidjan is actually quite nice. Perhaps I compensate slightly in my mind, having braced myself to deal with complete disorder and dilapidation. The airport is calm, and it is smooth sailing on the road of the large capital. There are palm trees, a wide expanse of water, and slightly dirty and sandy roads. I see ad-hoc flower nurseries in the green spaces next to the roads, tended by poor gardeners. I feel like I'm in West Africa again. There are not as many goats as in Ethiopia, but a few cows, and a number of horses with sharp, jutting ribcages. I don't recall seeing horses in Senegal, and I can only guess that they are remnants of the French's passion for horse-back riding.
That day, we make the 4-hour drive to Bouake, passing by Yamassoukro.