Libreville (named after Freetown Sierra Leone) was set up as a home for freed slaves, and terrible art.
I walk along Libreville’s coastline as I had done in 2009. The road seems neater and cleaner, the benches painted a lively blue when before they were plain concrete.
Sunday is the day Libreville shuts up shop and heads for the beach, and so do I. I cross the bay with the 10am boat to Point Denis. It sits on a stretch of land holding back the Atlantic from Libreville, eventually leading to Port Gentil.
The Atlantic coast proper reveals untouched beach and scrubland. The hotels run out, leaving nature to get on with things.
On Monday I accidentally order a 3 course meal for my lunch. French can still spring surprises on me. I ask for a Coke and a menu. The waitress wonders whether I want the full menu, or perhaps just the sandwich menu I think. Its only later I realise she was meaning the full menu du jour.
All being well I can pick up another visa on Wednesday, and leave the expensive delights of Libreville for pastures new.
