First Impressions of Guinea
November 2019 – Into the Unknown
Before this trip, Guinea was a country I knew almost nothing about. I had never met anyone from there—nor had I encountered a fellow traveler who had been. It was a blank spot on the map for me, which only fueled my curiosity.
Rich in Resources, Struggling in Reality
Through research, I learned that Guinea holds one of the largest bauxite reserves in the world—a mineral essential for aluminum and steel production. Despite this wealth of natural resources, the country remains one of the poorest in the world, plagued by decades of military coups, political instability, and deep-rooted corruption.
A Plan to Go Beyond Conakry
With only three full days in Guinea, I knew I wanted to get beyond the capital, Conakry, and into the highlands—a region known for its natural beauty and cultural richness. To make that happen, I connected with a local fixer, who helped me arrange a vehicle, driver, and French-speaking guide for the journey ahead.
I was ready to dive deeper and get a more authentic feel for a country that, for many, remains completely off the radar.
Route in Guinea
Arrival in Conakry
A Chaotic Welcome to Guinea
We landed in Conakry, the capital of Guinea, in the early afternoon after a flight from Abidjan, Côte d’Ivoire. Stepping off the plane, the heat hit us immediately, thick and humid, clinging to everything.
Unfortunately, our first impression wasn’t a good one.
A Rough Introduction
Inside the airport, chaos reigned. There was little organization, and we were frequently asked for “donations”—by government officials, airport staff, and seemingly anyone in a uniform. It was hard to tell where security ended and hustling began.
To make matters worse, the driver my friend had arranged in advance never showed up. With no sign of him and no way to contact the fixer, we were left standing with our bags and no plan B.
Plan B: Find a Taxi
After waiting and searching in vain, we finally flagged down a local taxi, negotiating a price and resigning ourselves to navigating Conakry the hard way.
It wasn’t the smoothest welcome to Guinea, but sometimes travel starts with a challenge—and we were still eager to see what lay beyond the airport chaos.
Sheraton Hotel Infinity Pool
Luxury on the Edge of Chaos
A Night at the Sheraton, Conakry
After navigating the heat and disarray of Conakry’s airport, we checked into the Sheraton, widely regarded as the nicest hotel in Guinea. Perched on the edge of the Atlantic, the property offered a stark contrast to the streets outside—quiet, clean, and sharply polished.
But Guinea isn’t exactly a tourist hotspot. The clientele here was mostly businessmen and political figures, many likely in town to negotiate shady mining or military contracts. The hotel lobby felt like a crossroads of power, profit, and whispers, with a heavy military presence—top brass in full uniform—often entertaining young female companions at the bar.
Infinity Views Over the Gulf of Guinea
Despite the strangeness of the atmosphere, the hotel had one undeniable highlight: its stunning infinity pool overlooking the Gulf of Guinea.
As soon as we dropped our bags, I grabbed a cocktail, made a beeline for the pool, and sank into the water just in time to catch the sunset melting into the ocean. For a fleeting moment, it felt like another world—calm, beautiful, and far removed from the chaos outside the gates.
It was the kind of view that makes even the most jaded traveler stop and soak it in.
Plans in the Pool
But in my travels, relaxation is always fleeting. While still in the pool, cocktail in hand, our local guide for the following day showed up at the hotel—ready to discuss logistics.
He didn’t speak English, so we huddled on the pool deck, communicating via a French translation app on my phone. It wasn’t ideal, but it worked.
We agreed on an early morning departure, heading deep into Guinea’s highlands—a trip that would be part exploration, part navigation of political unrest. Our route would need to avoid anti-government protests, which had become increasingly common due to corruption allegations surrounding the parliamentary elections.
Sunset views and infinity pools were quickly replaced by strategy talks and protest route-mapping. Welcome to Guinea.
Into Guinea’s Highlands
Dusty Roads, Bald Tires, and a Boat to Nowhere
Our journey into Guinea’s interior began with humble wheels—a basic sedan with bald tires, creaky suspension, and quirks that only our driver understood. Like many vehicles across Africa, this one came with its own set of unspoken instructions. The lone removable window roller handle was passed around between seats like a shared tool.
Once we left the outskirts of Conakry, the roads deteriorated quickly. Potholes turned to craters, and the paved roads became washboard dirt tracks. We drove for three hours toward Kindia, before turning onto an even worse road—a bumpy, dusty 1.5-hour detour that would lead us to the remote village of Samaya.
The Expanding River: Lake Samaya
The road paralleled a wide, slow-moving river—expanded into Samaya Lake, the result of a French-built dam from the 1950s. By the time we arrived at the road’s end, a small group of villagers stood waiting near the lake’s edge, ready to board the ferry with us.
This was our jumping-off point.
Crossing the Lake by Pirogue
We left the car behind and boarded a narrow wooden pirogue, equipped with a small outboard motor and about ten other villagers and their goods. The boatman stood at the rear, scanning the water for submerged rocks and logs as we glided across the lake.
Our first stop was the village of Kaporo, where a few passengers and their motorbikes were dropped off—the only means of transport on that side of the lake, since no roads or cars exist there.
A Swim Among the Granite Bluffs
From there, we motored to a cluster of giant granite rocks in the center of the lake. With the tropical heat bearing down, it was the perfect moment to stop.
We dove into the cool water and spent over an hour floating in the shade, swimming, and relaxing in one of the most peaceful settings I’d found in West Africa. The view around us was surreal—remote, wild, and untouched.
Life on the Far Shore
Eventually, we returned to the far side of the lake, near Kaporo village. This side of the lake had no electricity, no infrastructure—just motorbikes, thatched homes, and granite cliffs rising above the forest.
Despite the isolation, the villagers greeted us with warmth and curiosity. It was clear they were not used to visitors, and their genuine hospitality made us feel instantly welcome.
We pitched our tents on the rocky shoreline, the lake shimmering in the background, and set off to explore the village and meet the locals—ending the day in one of the most remote and rewarding places I’d experienced in Guinea.
Our campsite on a lake in the highlands on Samaya Lake
A foot long king scorpion on the path
An Unexpected Encounter in the Fields
Scorpions, Machetes, and a Curious Foreigner
While exploring the edges of Kaporo village, we wandered through a patchwork of fields and forest, where the land is both farmed and left wild in turns. The late afternoon sun filtered through the trees, and the quiet was broken only by the sound of birds, distant chatter, and the rustle of leaves.
Then I saw it—a villager hacking at the ground with a machete, his movements fast and forceful.
I knew immediately that whatever he was attacking had to be interesting—his intensity gave it away.
The King of Scorpions
As we drew closer, I wasn’t disappointed. Lying on the ground, still twitching, was a giant black King Scorpion, nearly the size of my hand. It was a monstrous, gleaming creature, a living relic from a time when insects ruled the earth.
One of the villagers instinctively stepped in front of me, shielding me from what he assumed was danger. He meant well, but little did he know—this was exactly the kind of thing I love.
I crouched low, laying flat on the ground, camera in hand, completely fixated on the creature that everyone else wanted dead.
The village kids laughed and watched curiously, clearly amused by the foreigner’s fascination with something they saw as a threat.
Venom and Respect
After I snapped my photo, the man with the machete gave the final blow, killing the scorpion. I was told its venom isn’t lethal, but it can cause a severe fever if someone is stung—particularly dangerous in a remote place like this with limited access to medical care.
For me, it was a thrilling encounter. For the villagers, it was just another hazard of daily life handled swiftly with a blade and teamwork.
Me posing with the Kaporo village chief
Welcome to Kaporo
Cassava, Laughter, and Smiles That Stay With You
The village of Kaporo welcomed us with open arms. In a place so remote and rarely visited, our arrival felt like an event—and the atmosphere quickly became one of genuine warmth and joy.
We shared simple food with the villagers—whatever we had with us—and in return, they invited us into their homes and routines. The women gathered around to demonstrate how they prepare cassava, grinding the root with practiced rhythm and strength, their laughter echoing between the trees.
Faiths in Harmony
Like much of Guinea, the villagers were a blend of Christian, Muslim, and animist beliefs—a reflection of the country’s layered cultural and spiritual heritage. But here, there was no sign of tension—only peaceful coexistence, woven into daily life like threads in a shared fabric.
A Game of Hide and Seek
But the true highlight was the time we spent with the village children. What began as a few shy waves turned into spontaneous games of hide and seek, laughter chasing us through the narrow footpaths and between scattered huts.
The kids had the biggest, brightest, and most genuine smiles—the kind that instantly disarm you, the kind that stay with you long after the journey ends.
Village kids Welcoming Us
Village kids Welcoming Us
Village kids Welcoming Us
Village kids Welcoming Us
Village houses
Back to Camp
Following a Goat into the Sunset
As the sun dipped lower behind the granite cliffs surrounding Samaya Lake, we wrapped up our visit to Kaporo village and began the walk back to our lakeside campsite.
Leading the way was a local village boy, barefoot and smiling, walking his goat along the narrow footpath that curved through the brush. We followed in silence, the sounds of the village fading behind us, replaced by the lapping of water and the distant echo of evening birds.
It was one of those quiet, almost cinematic moments—simple, unplanned, and unforgettable.
By the time we reached camp, the sky was painted in dusky hues, and the lake had turned to glass. The day had been long and rugged, but filled with discovery, connection, and the kind of memories you don’t find on a map.
Village shepherd
Cinema Under the Stars
Sunset, Shared Meals, and Tarantino by the Lake
Back at our campsite on the edge of Samaya Lake, we settled in as the sun set behind the cliffs, casting a golden glow over the water. We cooked dinner on our camp stove, the smells of sizzling vegetables and rice mixing with the cool evening air. A few local fishermen wandered over, and we shared our food with them, swapping smiles and hand gestures in place of language.
It was the kind of peaceful, communal moment that makes travel in remote places so rewarding.
Tarantino in the Bush
After dinner, we did something that felt wonderfully out of place—we propped up Richard’s iPad and began watching Quentin Tarantino’s “The Hateful Eight” under the open sky.
A small group of villagers joined us, drawn in by the glow of the screen. In a place without electricity or regular access to modern media, it was clear that few had ever seen a film, let alone one quite like this.
They watched with rapt attention, visibly wincing at the gore, eyes wide during the more explicit scenes, yet never looking away. They didn’t understand the dialogue—but the expressions, the action, the sheer spectacle was more than enough to keep them hooked.
As the movie played on, I couldn’t help but feel a mix of amusement and guilt—had we just exposed this quiet lakeside village to one of the most violent and twisted films in modern cinema?
Still, the experience was surreal and somehow beautiful. For one night, in the middle of nowhere, we all sat together—villagers, travelers, a goat or two nearby—watching Tarantino under the stars.
Our boatman who watched the Hateful Eight with us
Misty Mornings and a Sudden Change of Plans
A Final Look at Samaya Lake
I woke early on our last morning beside Samaya Lake, greeted by a scene that felt almost unreal. A soft morning mist drifted across the water, blurring the edges of the granite cliffs and turning the lake into a dreamscape.
It was a photographer’s paradise—still, silent, and cloaked in pale blue light. I watched as villagers paddled out in slender wooden boats, the silhouettes of their bodies and paddles cutting through the haze as they set out to fish.
After days of rough roads, jungle heat, and surreal encounters, it was the kind of peaceful morning that makes it all feel worth it.
A Lucky Message in a Signal Black Hole
Despite being in a place with virtually no cell reception, a lone message somehow made it through. It was from the airline—our flight time had changed. It was now leaving early that morning instead of the evening.
Had we not received it, we would have completely missed our departure.
With a mix of adrenaline and gratitude, we scrambled to call ahead and arrange for a new driver to pick us up earlier from the lake’s far shore later that afternoon. It was a close call, and a reminder that in remote parts of the world, even the smallest update—if it reaches you—can make all the difference.
Morning on the lake
Fishing Eagles and other birds were common
Fisherman
Morning on the lake
A Simple Breakfast and One Last Hike
Coffee, Baguettes, and a Waterfall Swim to End It All
We started the day with a very basic breakfast—instant coffee, a simple omelet, and a fresh baguette, eaten lakeside as the mist slowly lifted. It was the kind of minimalist meal that tastes better in the wild.
Fueled and ready, we set off on foot, hiking up a ridge above the lake. The trail wound through scattered forest and rocky slopes, eventually leading us to a hidden gem—a cool, cascading waterfall, tucked into the hillside.
After days of red dust, river crossings, and bone-rattling drives, the swim beneath the falls was the perfect send-off—refreshing, silent, and completely ours.
It was a fitting way to end our time in Guinea: raw, remote, and unexpectedly beautiful.
Village Lady carrying her vegetables and baby
Through Fields and Forest to a Hidden Waterfall
Warm Smiles, Wild Trails, and Fish With Attitude
As we began our hike up the mountain ridge, the trail led us through a patchwork of fields and forest. Along the way, we passed a scene that perfectly captured the rhythm of life in rural Guinea.
A beautiful woman, topless and barefoot, stood in her field with a machete in hand, harvesting crops with her baby tied to her back. Nearby, three other children played joyfully in the grass. She looked up and greeted us with a warm, contagious smile—the kind that lingers in your memory long after the moment passes.
We continued upward, the path narrowing as we left the farms behind and entered dense forest, eventually opening into tall grasslands that swayed in the breeze. After a steady climb, we reached our destination: a small, secluded waterfall, tumbling down into a clear stream.
We stripped down and waded into the cool, refreshing water—the perfect reward for the hike.
Well, almost perfect.
It turned out the pool was home to tiny fish with a strange fascination for toes. Anytime we stopped moving, they’d dart in for a quick nip at our feet, making it hard to truly relax.
Still, it was a moment of pure adventure—remote, unexpected, and filled with the kind of texture and contrast that makes travel in places like Guinea so rewarding.
Waterfall
Village lady taking a break to smile at me while working her fields
Village lady taking a break to smile at me while working her fields
Back to Conakry and One Last Sunset
Infinity Pools and a Full-Circle Return
In the afternoon, our new driver arrived right on time, ferrying us back to the familiar gates of the Sheraton in Conakry. After days of dirt roads, boat crossings, and mountain hikes, the cool marble floors and oceanfront breeze felt surreal.
As if in reward, I once again found myself floating in the infinity pool, cocktail in hand, watching the sun dip below the horizon over the Gulf of Guinea. After the raw beauty of the highlands, this luxurious moment of calm felt both indulgent and well-earned.
Circus Dreams in a Humid Warehouse
Keita Fodeba Centre for Acrobatic Arts
Before our early morning flight to Senegal, we squeezed in one last experience: a visit to the Keita Fodeba Centre for Acrobatic Arts—a circus training school located in a metal warehouse tucked into the outskirts of the city.
Founded in 1998, the center serves as a launchpad for street children and at-risk youth, offering them daily training in acrobatics, dance, contortionism, and drumming. The goal? To develop their talents with the hope of landing a contract with an international circus—some have even toured with acts in Europe, North America, and aspire to join the ranks of Cirque du Soleil.
In return, those who succeed abroad send back a portion of their earnings to fund the next generation of circus performers.
A Humid, Heart-Pounding Performance
When we arrived, the warehouse was thick with humidity and buzzing with energy. Around 30 young performers were in the midst of their daily routine—but as soon as we entered, all eyes turned toward us.
We stood quietly in the corner as the performers—now part audience, part host—launched into an impromptu show. The room pulsed with African drumming, singing, acrobatics, and even a charismatic dwarf performer running atop a balancing ball. There was raw talent, joy, and hunger in every movement.
It was unexpected. It was electric. It was unforgettable.
At the end of the performance, a small basket was passed around, and we left a tip for the performers, hoping our contribution might in some small way help one of them chase their dream across the ocean.
We arrived at the training center, a metal building drenched in thick humid air with 30 or so street kids in the middle of training. The circus hopefuls instantly redirected their attention to us as we watched in the corner. The scene of African drumming, dancing, singing held in conjunction with acrobatics and a midget man running on top of a ball was outstanding. At the end we left a tip for the performers, in a basket.
Circus Training Center
Little Man Balancing on a Ball
African drums
Contortion and the Cost of Talent
Among the many unforgettable moments at the training center, the highlight—and arguably the most disturbing—was a performance by a young male contortionist. In front of the crowd, he managed to bend his head entirely backwards, his spine and shoulders twisting in ways that seemed almost inhuman.
It was mesmerizing and unsettling all at once. One of the trainers later told us that his extreme flexibility came from a rare ability to voluntarily dislocate his joints—a skill that, while astonishing, likely comes with a lifetime of physical strain.
As shocking as the performance was, it had clearly paid off.
We learned that this particular performer had already landed a contract with a traveling European circus—proof that the center wasn’t just a dream incubator, but a real launchpad to international opportunity.
Circus Training Center-Contortionist