88 Lines About 44... Tourist Destinations

The world's new culinary capital?

Tomorrow's NY Times will publish an interactive feature called The 44 Places To Go In 2009. You can vote on each and you can order them by filters such as "luxury," "foodie," "culture," "party," "eco," etc. I've been to 23 of their recommendations, from Reykavik, Buffalo and Washington, DC to Dakar, India, Phuket and Marrakesh. They call Marrakesh, which I've visited a dozen times since 1969, "the culinary destination of the year." I like Moroccan food-- ate at Chameau on Fairfax last night and rejoiced when I stumbled upon La Rose des Sables, Bamako's only Moroccan restaurant, a few weeks ago. And in 2006 I had even posted a story here called Eating in Marrakesh. But I never thought I'd see this:

As the fascination with Moroccan cuisine has taken off-- both in the United States and around the globe-- epicures and chowhounds are flocking to the ancient ochre-hued city of Marrakech. Foreign-led food tours are sprouting. Homegrown cooking classes are multiplying. And high-end restaurants run by European hotshots are opening alongside the city's nonpareil street food and old, homestyle establishments.

Wow! Quite a leap from the communal tables of the Djemaa el Fna! But if you think that's odd, the Time's top destination for "culture" is Doha, Qatar. They contrast it with Dubai, the Las Vegas of the Middle East, and point to the just opened Museum of Islamic Art, I.M. Pei's "ziggurat-like structure of white stone... far off the art-world grid, in a corner of a globe known more for its religious fundamentalism than its embrace of cutting-edge art." Doha also has a "raft" of new contemporary art galleries in the historic souk, a cobbled together national symphony orchestra, and-- coming soon-- their own Tribeca Film Festival. All brought to you by the emir, Sheikh Hamad bin Khalifa al-Thani, and his 26-year-old daughter, Sheikha al Mayassa (the lucky purchaser of $160 million worth of Mark Rothko, Francis Bacon and Damien Hirst at a recent Sotheby's auction; we have the same taste!) Still... the #1 cultural destination in the world? Is Qatar a big Times advertiser?

Party central is Florian�polis, Brazil, and it sounds like the kind of place to avoid at all costs. Other party towns include Berlin (well... duh!), the Aegean Sea, Cuba and... Kazakhstan.

On most Friday nights in Almaty, the Uzbek-themed night spot known as the Car Wash-- an ornately decorated rooftop restaurant with enviable mountain views-- is packed with well-heeled Kazakhs smoking water pipes, drinking, dancing and eating extravagantly. Sandwiched between a residential district scheduled for rapid development and Almaty�s business district, the Car Wash is not the only center of hyperactive nocturnal activity.

Infused with newly flowing oil money, Kazakhstan�s largest city is flush with nightclubs and exotic restaurants. The city�s main boulevards are lined with English-language signs; boutiques sell everything from Armani to gem-encrusted Vertu cellphones, and cafes serve the latest in overpriced coffee concoctions.

Sacha Baron Cohen�s comic Borat character may have imprinted in the minds of many people a sense of ridiculousness about Kazakhstan, but there is little that is ridiculous about this sprawling business hub. Half a dozen luxury hotels are planned or under construction, including an ambitious JW Marriott Hotel opening next summer. The country�s flagship carrier, Air Astana, has added international flights to cities like Hanover, Germany; Dubai; and Bangkok. Wide-bodied Airbus and Boeing jets have joined its fleet.

In short, Almaty is no longer a hardship outpost for the diplomats and the oil industry executives who still dominate the city�s visitor logs.

Still... sounds like quite a stretch to call this a party destination-- even more than calling Doha a world cultural capital. Could be I'm so jaded about Kazakhstan because I just finished reading Ken Silverstein's brilliant new book, Turkmeniscam about the evils of Inside-the-Beltway lobbying, to which that monstrous and grotesque country is no stranger.

And although Kazakhstan ranks up there in this category too, the Times' top destination for luxury is Phuket, an island off the west coast of Thailand. I haven't been there since the 2004 tsunami wiped out the villa I used to rent on the beach, but the Times says Phuket is back-- and better than ever. And the top destination for the frugal traveler? Vegas, the Times apparently mixing up the concepts "frugal" and "cheap."

Since I've just returned from a brief stay in Dakar, I decided to see how my experience jibed with the Times' write-up. I liked Dakar primarily because it was an easy way to acclimate myself to Africa and get ready for the real thing: Mali. I had a great time because of the people I met there and the music scene. Dakar I found pretty nice but not amazing; Roland said it was a waste of time. The Times touts Gor�e Island, which is pleasant enough but... nothing to write home about. They also point to the music scene, which I also loved, although I found it in second place behind Mali's.

They may not be Billboard chart-toppers, but Senegalese acts like the rollicking Orchestra Baobab, the soulful pop vocalist Baaba Maal and the poetic lyricist and harmonica virtuoso Ismael Lo-- to say nothing of the international star Youssou N'Dour-- have helped turn the colorful French-speaking city of Dakar into a world-music hotbed.

Their overall #1 destination for 2009? Beirut. OK. And the place on their list I'm thinking of visiting this year? Madagascar, "nature's laboratory," (at #38).

How I Lost 15 Pounds Without Even Trying-- And Saw The World's Biggest Mud Mosque

Visiting a quiet Bozo fishing village on the Niger

The alternative title for this post was A How To Guide For Seeing Mali but I thought the one I used would be more eye-grabbing. I suppose if you take all the vaccines that the tropic disease doctors insist on for a visit to Mali-- and thereby not have to worry as much about cholera, typhus, typhoid fever, polio, yellow fever, Hepatitis A and B, meningitis, and malaria (there is no way to protect yourself from Dengue Fever)-- you can eat whatever and wherever and whenever you like. I, on the other hand, only did the barest prophylactic minimum-- the yellow fever vaccine, without which you can't get a visa, and malarone pills, to possibly prevent malaria. The rest... I left to the fates and my own well-honed good instincts for prudently watching what I eat and drink.

I learned about getting sick on the road when I was much younger. In 1969 I drove a VW van across Asia to India on a two year excursion. I was a vegetarian and I quickly attributed the fact that everyone-- like I mean everyone-- around me was coming down with seriously debilitating diarrhea, to the differences in diet between myself and them. I'll spare you the unsavory details of what the Kabul Runs entails, but I can still remember the first time I realized that the slab of dead animal hanging from a hook in every (unrefrigerated) marketplace across Asia was black because it was covered in flies.

These Third World countries are poor and don't have the kinds of infrastructure we do-- even after 8 years of George Bush-- and everywhere you look there are ample opportunities to get really, really sick. Think back to Jamal's earliest flashbacks of the Mumbai slums in Slumdog Millionaire; all that poopie is not poetic license. One of my closest friends, painter Eveline Pommier, contracted cholera in India and died, full of promise and vigor and beauty, still in her 20s. Mali today is at least as bad as rural India was two or three decades ago.

That said, Mali is a gorgeous and unique country with wonderfully, warm, open, friendly people who have a culture unlike anything else you'll find anywhere on earth. It's well worth visiting. So how do you do it? It isn't a place I'd suggest just getting on a plane to, showing up in Bamako, and playing it by ear. There are no really current guide books although the best one I found, Bradt's Mali, Edition 3, is the best out there. First written in 2000, it was somewhat updated in 2004. It was reprinted in 2007 but not changed from 2004. A lot has happened in Mali since 2004 and some of it is even hard to find on the Net. But the Net is where I turned to figure out what to do about my trip. And I struck gold on the first shot.

I found fellow blogger Sophie (aka, Toubab), a Swedish woman who runs a gem of a hotel in Djenn�, the Djenne Djenno (which opened in 2006), and blogs about the experience. Sophie's blog is fascinating in and of itself but the big score for me was when I contacted her to book a room, she helped me figure out the best places to stay throughout Mali. And, best yet, she steered me towards a reputable and capable tour agent, Tounga Tours from whom we could get an essential 4WD vehicle with a dependable driver.

I had already figured out that the best hotel choice in Bamako, the capital and the city with the international airport. The Hotel Salam, a relative newcomer at the top of the market, looked like a better choice than either of the two traditional considerably older "best" hotels, Le Grand or Hotel de l'Amitie. But after Bamako I really depended on Sophie's suggestions for which were the best places to stay in each town.

Tounga Tours is run by an unflappable husband and wife team, Van and Ann, in Bamako. Obviously they know all the ins and outs of traveling around Mali. Ann was also kind enough to book me my plane ticket from Timbuktu back to Bamako, which was lucky since it sold out. And she booked the Hotel Salam for me, saving me hundreds of dollars. When it came to the trip itself, my first instinct was to just want to rent a jeep with a driver. Ann patiently explained how we really would need a guide to get the most out of the trip, and an English-speaking one at that. I was resistant but, luckily, I gave in to her good sense. And was she ever right! Our driver and guide were a great team and a pleasure to travel around with. They find their own places to stay and their own food and the whole shebang cost 200 Euros a day, which is very much worth it if you can afford it. We were able to travel in relative comfort and visit S�gou, Djenn�, Mopti, spend several days in Dogon Country (the best part of the trip) and then make the iconic road trip to Timbuktu, from which we flew back to Bamako.

UPDATE: Pics

We listened to Ali Farka Toure and Ry Cooder the whole time. Here are some of our pictures set to their music:

Mali's Boutique Hotels

Mopti's exquisite La Maison Rouge

Outside of Bamako, Mali's capital city, there aren't really any hotels similar to American and European style hotels. And even in Bamako there aren't any Hiltons, Marriotts, Best Westerns, Hyatts, Sheratons... let alone Four Seasons or Ritz-Carltons. It's not that kind of a place. Outside of Bamako people camp in tents, sleep on a roof or stay in modest lodgings without regular electricity or hot water. An alternative? Paris, Rome, the Bahamas, Las Vegas...

Thanks to a fellow blogger, Sophie, a Swedish woman who runs a hotel in Djenne and blogs about the experience, I got turned on to an informal network of delightful boutique-like hotels throughout Mali. After I booked a room at Sophie's Djenne Djenno, she helped me, through a series of e-mails, plan out where to stay all over the country. All of the hotels are quite small, utterly unique, and very much geared towards serving the needs of foreign travelers. In Djenne, one of the most memorable places we visited in Mali, the Djenne Djenno, a 10 minute walk from the world's biggest and most famous mud mosque in the center of town, has a dozen rooms. We paid around $40 for what would be the equivalent of a junior suite. The hotel is beautifully decorated, beautifully run and impeccably kept up, from the beautiful gardens and wonderful common spaces to the clean, comfortable rooms (with, thankfully, mosquito nets). The restaurant is really good as well. There's no giftshop selling t-shirts or ashtrays.

Our next stop was Mopti, Mali's second biggest city (and biggest port, albeit a river port). The Kanaga, with 80 rooms, is bigger than any of the hotels we stayed at while we traveled around Mali, and is considered the "best" hotel in town. It has a swimming pool and a good location near the river (the heart of town) but otherwise... not nearly as good as La Maison Rouge, one of the most beautiful hotels I've ever seen. The hotel, which opened about a year and a half ago-- and isn't quite finished-- is the dream of visionary French architect Am�d� Mulin, who has been building it for over 4 years. Because of the luxuriant public spaces the hotel looks pretty large, although there are only 12 rooms. The rooms are beautifully appointed (although mosquito nets are very much needed) in earthy Malian design. Our double cost us around $80.

After Mopti we headed out for Dogon country and we based ourselves first in Bandgiagara and then in Sangha. Neither actually has what I'd call a boutique hotel and in each case, Hotel Kambary (aka, Chevel-Blanc) in Bandgiagara and Campement Sangha, we found pretty basic accommodations (with not many hours of electricity per day in Sangha). Actually the Chevel-Blanc, a series of self-contained geodesic domes, is pretty good, although there are no mosquito nets and the owner, an eccentric Swiss man named Jean Bastian, is a bit too uptight to be running a service business. Campement Sangha may be the best available to that charming and very remote town-- and it is well-run-- but... well, thank God there were mosquito nets. We paid around $70 for a double.

Timbuktu's nicest hotel is another boutique situation, La Maison, a small, well-run, beautiful little hotel in the middle of town. The clean, simple very agreeable rooms are built around a lovely courtyard with a candlelit pool. The rooftop restaurant is a pleasant common space. A double was around $80.

These hotels all have decent restaurants with fair prices and safe food and water. You tend not to spend much time in your room and the common spaces are conducive to friendly interaction with other travelers.

Bamako May Be Hot, Dusty, Expensive & Polluted, But They Sure Make Some Good Chow

Party time in Bamako

Roland, who is always clamoring to go see nothing but filth, decay, degradation and abject misery-- that and all that is offered on the seamy side of life-- says Bamako is the worst city he's ever been to. He agrees with the guide books that say to use the airport to get to Mali and then head straight for Djenne, Dogon Country and Timbuktou. He's turned off in Bamako seeing people suddenly squatting down on the side of a busy street and moving their bowels. He's turned off seeing children playing in sewage and women "washing" their dishes in the city's open sewers. He's turned off to the dry, dusty 100 degree weather-- in the "cool season"-- filtered through a curtain of smelly, deadly exhaust fumes. He's turned off to being over-charged for water. Malians pay 300 CFA; last night the hotel charged him 2,000. (Normally tourists can get a bottle for something between 400 and 1,000 CFA but the high end hotels tend to be shameless cash vacuums, like in so many cities around the world.)

Neither of us is a big mosquito fan-- though we've both given up fighting that scourge-- and we're not partial to the stench this town has to offer. And neither of us is happy to be ripped off if we try changing dollars in a hotel or even a bank. By chance we stumbled into a Lebanese supermarket and they gave us 450 CFA/dollar (no commission) instead of the 400/dollar (plus a 2% commission) others offer. If you're counting, that means $100 in the hotel would get you 39,200 CFA instead of 45,000.

On the other hand, Roland seems happy enough taking taxi rides down back streets filled with decaying colonial buildings that remind him of Vietnam and Cambodia and we both love the fantastic authentic African cuisine. The expensive hotels all serve way over-priced crappy, boring French food. Two people would be lucky to get away for less than $70 for dinner at our hotel (without wine). But last night we had dinner at Le San Toro, a restaurant owned by an ex-minister of culture and tourism in a part of town called the Hippodrome (on Avenue Al Quds). The food is traditional Malian, as are the decor and music. I can't say enough good things about the food which was not only spectacularly delicious but also very healthfully prepared. It's also pretty inexpensive, a fraction of what you'd pay in the hotel joints. And the decor and the art is breathtaking. On top of that the live kora music we heard during dinner was excellent as well.

Speaking of food, it has been easier in Mali to eat well as a vegetarian than in most countries. Everywhere is was a synch explaining that I don't eat meat and instead getting a nice fresh heaping plate of cous cous or millet or fonio with veggies. Last night at Le San Toro I ordered a vegetarian plate and it included cous cous, a huge variety of vegetables, beans and bananas. It was so good I can't wait to go back! Roland had a goat stew, disappointed there was no gazelle or zebra on the menu-- nor even camel. I do have to admit, though, that I'm looking forward to having lunch at Guy Savoy, one of my favorite restaurants in Paris, in a few days.

How Safe Is Mali For American Tourists?

Roland at the Djenne market

After spending some time in Dakar and Bamako I posted about how I found both cities very safe for tourists. Now that I've traveled around Mali a bit I thought I'd expand the idea to assure tourists that the whole country-- or at least the places tourists go-- is, if not like Disneyland or Dollyland, a safe choice for an exciting adventure trip.

Roland and I were traipsing around Sanga last week-- a place so foreign to the American experience that one would have to be on another planet to find something more exotic-- when we ran into a gaggle of American Peace Corp volunteers on holiday. They're stationed around West Africa, mostly Mali and Burkina Faso I gathered, and the State Department and U.S. Embassy in Bamako have decreed that no Peace Corp volunteers are allowed to venture north of some imaginary line (like around Mopti, I think), which means no Timbuktou. They said it is too dangerous because of Tuareg bandits on the roads-- and that the local airlines, C.A.M. and M.A.E., are too dangerous (i.e., non-compliant with FAA guidelines) for Americans to fly on-- so that their employees could not go to the northern two-thirds of the country.

We spent a few days in Timbuktu, which gets bad-mouthed by most tourists as not worth the trip. They're wrong. Timbuktou is fascinating and exotic and if it doesn't live up to your dreams of the 13th century or to Paul Bowles' Sheltering Sky, get real and open up to what actually is being offered there. As for danger... there's nothing remotely dangerous, other than a difficult road getting there, the bad exhaust fumes from motorbikes in town and the fucking mosquitos (we've just given up on not being bitten; it's not possible. Just learn to love the Malarone.)

We were waiting for a couple hours for the ferry to take us across the Niger on the way to Timbuktou and the settlement there is a Bella one. Until 1973's epoch drought nearly wiped out the Tuareg's camels and herds, the Bella had been their slaves. In 1973, basically because the Tuareg couldn't feed them anymore, they emancipated them-- although I have heard that there are still some small services that many of them still render to their former masters (like when there is a wedding or something). Anyway, this Bella settlement was all festive and bustling like all the villages we visited in Mali, when a couple of pickup trucks filled with Tuaregs pulled up to the bank of the river. Suddenly things got much quieter. Many of the little children seemed to disappear. It reminded me of a scene from Star Wars when some alien warrior people dropped by a space cafe. Anyway, the Tuaregs were pretty well-armed with swords and daggers and God knows what else and they don't seem to smile much; no chatty bonjours and they certainly don't ask you for a Bic or an empty water bottle or candy. The Tuareg War ended in the mid-90's though and they seem to be peaceable enough (except around Kidal) and way in the northern Sahara where Mali, Algeria and Mauretania share vast trackless wastes. In Timbuktou, they were certainly easy enough to get along with.

In fact, one of our most memorable adventures was when our guide, Mohammed, took us out into the desert one night to meet some Tuaregs who had just come from Araouane to trade for millet. They were also open to trade for the stuff we no longer needed-- mostly stuff Roland had picked up at the 99 cent store before coming here-- like a pair of cheap extra sunglasses-- as well as my REI walking sticks, half a dozen cans of sardines, shaving kits from Air France, a t-shirt, a roll of toilet paper, organic mosquito repellent that seems to attract mosquitos, etc. We got some nice Tuareg "silver" bracelets, a pipe and an agate necklace-- and had a long Tuareg tea ceremony before this whole thing got started... all by the light of the moon and stars. The Tuareg basically live their lives by the light of the moon and the stars.

I mentioned the other day that Mali is a Muslim country in the context of how Muslim countries are normally safe places to travel. Like I've been saying, Mali certainly seems safe enough, but it doesn't actually seem all that Muslim. Women aren't covered up and are everywhere and seem to play leadership roles in society. I've seen more women covered head to toe in London than in Bamako. And the dancing... well, to say some of it is erotic doesn't even begin to suggest how a Muslim fundie cleric would react. The dour Tuaregs seem to take it more seriously than most.

A couple weeks ago I went to a wedding celebration out in the sticks. For some reason I had imagined it would be something like one I went to in a small village-- real small: two family compounds-- in Afghanistan in 1969. There were no women at that one-- no bride, no groom's mother... no, it wasn't a forerunner of a No On 8 reform in pre-Taliban Afghanistan. The women were kept in strictest purdah and although I was living in the house for months and the groom was my best friend, I never did meet his new wife. Instead of women, the entertainment at the Afghan wedding was dancing boys-- really, really young ones-- with some kohl and cheap jewlery. My friend's grandfather grabbed one, quite forcibly, and raped him behind a building while the festivities proceeded. Afterwards the disheveled boy straightened his outfit and got back into the dance, looking mighty pissed off.

Mah Kouyate in the middle with no headgear

The Malian festivities were nothing like that-- a fully integrated affair with raucous joy, lots of music and dancing, mostly led by women. Almost all the local celebrities who were made a big fuss over were women-- including celebrated singer Mah Kouyate, who now lives in Burkina Faso and made the trip all the way to Mali-- and the only male celebrity other than a famous drummer who was playing, was some local version of Liberace who fancied himself the m.c.

But below the surface, Malian women have some big problems to contend with-- even if you don't consider polygamy a problem in and of itself. In every Dogon village we visitted there is a "special" women's house where women are kept while they're menstruating. They're considered impure; it's very primitive but I gather it's just an animist Dogon thing and not prevelant in general Malian society. Everyone tells me that as soon as a Malian man marries he's out looking for as much side action as he can find and that the women are pretty pissed off. They're also pregnant a lot. Almost every woman we see has an infant strapped to he back as she goes about her arduous life. Men here hate condoms. One guy we met in Dogon country-- although he's from Segou and has been to NYC-- says he would never use a condom because it would make him unable to perform up to par. And, yes, AIDS is a gigantic problem here.

Anyway, if you're now forewarned about the dangers of sex here, consider the road travel-- or any travel. We didn't let the knowledge that a hippo can break apart a pinasse ruin our wonderful day of floating down the Niger and Bani rivers near Mopti visiting Bozo fishing villages. Some tourists took the 3 day boat trip-- two nights camping along the shore-- from Bamako to Timbuktu. We drove from Sanga in Dogon country after 3 days there. Simply put, the road from Sanga to Douentza, halfway from Dogon to Timbuktou, has to be the worst road on earth. People talk about how bad the Timbuktou road itself is-- and it's rutted washboard and uncomfortable and we broke down in the desert twice-- but it is nothing compared to the Sanga road, which is just various sized boulders that you drive over while praying.

Roland fears Tupolov planes the way I fear sharks and crocodiles but he was willing to pay anything to get on one to get out of Timbuktou without having to get back on the terrible road again. I might mention that the road from Bamako in the west to Gao in the east, which covers much of the populated parts of the country, is a decent 2 lane paved road. The airlines were a little lax and dicey but we made it fine and who cares if there was no security whatsoever and if the stewardess returned some guy's spear as soon as we took off?

UPDATE: some pictures from our trip-- and some Wassoulu music from Sali Sidibe

How Safe Is It For Americans To Visit Dakar In Senegal And Bamako In Mali?

Mali feels very safe all the time

Conventional wisdom is that Bamako is uber-safe and Dakar is infested with pickpockets... but otherwise pretty safe. First Dakar: you can certainly feel confident about walking down a dark street in the middle of the night without being molested. The people are outgoing and friendly and respectful. The vibe is extremely amiable and for the week I was there I never ran into anyone who had experienced any pickpockets or who had heard of any-- other than in old guide books. That doesn't mean it doesn't exist, but I sure never saw anything to indicate that it does. I should mention, though, that unemployment is high-- like around 60%-- and that on the surface, aside from lottery ticket sellers, it looks like the main job in Dakar is private security guide.

Obviously you don't throw caution to the wind and run around with a fat wallet sticking out of your back pocket. In fact, I've been wearing a money belt under my arm in lieu of a wallet. I guess I would rate Dakar as very safe for tourists of all ages-- except for the mosquitos. You can't avoid them-- not in Senegal and not in Mali. Ex-pats I spoke to in both countries have told me that they can't take the poisons that western medicine prescribes and that most bites don't result in malaria-- or even Dengue Fever-- and that when you get it you rest and eat well for a week and then you're fine. Healthy people don't die from malaria any more than they die from the flu. Personally, I'm still taking the accursed Maladon.

I'm pretty cautious about what I eat and drink-- including in the U.S.-- and I found Dakar and Bamako safe foodwise as well. I pretty much don't eat in dodgy-looking places and stick to bottled water-- including for bushing my teeth. It's hot as hell here and it's important to keep well hydrated. I met a French woman who lives in Bamako 5 years and says she drinks the water here and has never had a problem.

As for the safety factor in Bamako, as "scary" and foreign as it looks, it would be far harder to imagine a crime against a person here than it would be in L.A. or NYC. On the other hand, you could step into an open trench or an uncovered manhole. And for those who define "safety" as breathing air instead of exhaust funes... well, there's a real problem. Someone e-mailed me and asked me if there is any danger from lions or other predators. I think the Malians ate them all. There are a lot of birds and I hear there's a huge herd of elephants between Dogon country and Timbuktu-- and some hippos (which the Malians are wisely quite afraid of)-- but the only wild animals in Bamako are in the zoo. I've walked all over the city, including to really remote areas without paved roads or the blessings of any kind of modernity, and the only vibe is friendly, friendly, friendly. People are unimaginably poor but this is a Moslem country and the level of personal ethics is very high.

I might also add, there are American flags everywhere and people walk around with Obama t-shirts! This has got to be one of the safest cities for tourists I've ever visited anywhere.

Bassekou-- Master Of The Ngoni-- Rocks The House

Thursday I went out to Quizambougou to watch Bassekou Kouyate finish recording his second album, a follow-up to his amazing debut, Segu Blue. Like the first one, the new songs were being recorded at the famed Studio Bogolan across the way from Mali K7, Ali Farka Toure's foundation. (Ali Farka's son, in fact, played his father's guitar on Bassekou's new album.)

Bassekou isn't well known in the U.S. yet-- he's never been to our side of the Atlantic-- but he's a real star in Africa and Europe, wildly popular in Mali and recognized as the best ngoni player in the world. The ngoni is kind of a cross between a banjo and a guitar and what Bassekou does with it is pure magic. The music I heard in the studio seemlessly combined the two goals Bassekou set out to accomplish with his new album: respect for Mali's rich musical tradition in which he is steeped, and an opportunity to explore the directions his own muse is drawing him. His first album Segu Blue is pretty amazing too.

I did my best to persuade him to come play in the U.S. and made a fun suggestion to help him gain some recognition there. If he follows my advice you'll recognize it instantly when you hear the album.

I had an opportunity to meet two musical legends at the studio-- BBC presenter/musicologist/producer Lucy Duran, who is probably best known in the U.S. as the producer of President Obama's favorite album, Kulanjan by Taj Mahal and Malian kora master Toumani Diabate. (I might add that the ngoni player on that album was, of course, Bassekou.) Anyway, Lucy is the most credible producer of West Africa music anywhere, speaking the local languages and having worked on Toumani's own records as well as with Kasse Mady Diabate and with Yasmin Levy. The sound engineer she and Bassekou were working with was Jerry Boys, one of the world's best-- a guy who recorded everyone (literally) from the Beatles, Stones, Pink Floyd, and REM to Ry Cooder, Buena Vista Social Club and Ali Farka Toure! (I recall him working with Everything But the Girl when I worked at Sire.)

Anyway, the studio was packed with TV, radio and print jounalists, as well as photographers from the record label and the media. It's like everyone in Mali who loves music-- and in Mali that means everyone-- is eagerly awaiting the new Bassekou record. The happy citizens of Bamako didn't have to wait for the release to hear some of the new material. Friday night Basselou was onstage at the French Cultural Center doing a full-fledged concert. You think I went?

It was only about a mile from my hotel so I walked over early. Bassekou had told me his sons have an ngoni band and asked me to show up in time to hear them. I'm glad I did; you can see their influences and they were pretty good.

Bassekou with his band at CCF in Dakar

But it was Bassekou's nine piece extravaganza that well could have been the best live performance I had ever seen in my whole life-- and I've been seeing concerts since the early 60's and haven't missed too many artists. The first time I was in Africa was in 1969 and I was hanging out with Jimi Hendrix in Essaouira (in Morocco). The first time I had seen Jimi play was years before that at the Cafe Au Go Go when he was the guitar player in the Night Hawks, backing up John Hammond, Jr. I don't say this lightly: Bassekou Kouyate is the Jimi Hendrix of the ngoni.

I don't know how to describe the concert without losing the essense of what the music did for everyone involved-- both on and off the stage. Let me tell you, though, as magnificent as the recorded versions of his songs are, the live show is what makes it so amazing. The concert defined hot. When those syncopated rythms get going, there is no resisting their power. Mali is the birthplace of the blues-- and the blues is still very much alive and vibrant here-- and it is the ancestral home of rock'n'roll in every imaginable way. Bassekou has that coursing through his blood and he knows exactly how to convey it to the audience.

And the dancing was as good as the music! Absolutely breathtaking! Truthfully, I can't remember the last time music compelled me to jump out of my seat and dance in the aisle. Last night it did. If Bassekou and his band wind up on Leno or Oprah, they'll open America up to its own musical roots-- and I'll bet Bassekou will become a real superstar in the U.S.