My first trip 2005 to the Ivory Coast took place amidst political turmoil. 11 years later I came to Abidjan after three tough months on the African road and immediately felt like living the life of Riley: Owing to the Phoenician trading talents of the sizeable Lebanese diaspora I could dive into a huge selection of French gourmet food in hypermarché: I buy a paté de canard, a Epoisses from Burgundy, a chèvre from Périgord and a salami aux noix from Auvergne, as well as a crispy Baguette and red wine bearing, nobody knows why, my name. Cerises comme dessert. My pique-nique on mz hotel balcony offers a fine view over the high-rise-studded lagoon of Abidjan. The hotel was built by Félix Houphouët-Boigny, Ivory Coast’s “founding father”  and became a favourite for French expatriates which for a time possessed the only ice-skating rink in west Africa. 

On an immaculate four-lane autoroute I drive 240 kilometres further north. Long before I reach Yamoussoukro, I can see the great cupola of the Basilica, world’s largest basilica, also built by Félix Houphouët-Boigny. This ought to be Africa? Yamoussoukro, Houphouët-Boigny’s birthplace had once been a small agricultural village and became home to a palace surrounded by a crocodile-filled lake; a visit there inspired VS Naipaul’s celebrated essay “The Crocodiles of Yamoussoukro”, in which the writer suggested the reptiles symbolised Houphouët-Boigny’s mystique over his people.