One can travel and tour in a number of ways: boat, foot, car, helicopter. I recently took a ride on a tourism train (photos) operated by the French ex-patriot owner of a Beninese hotel chain. There is probably no better way to see Africa.

Trains have many benefits. You’re guaranteed not to be squashed between marché mamans in the back of a taxi brousse. The prices are relatively fixed. There’s booze and fun Frenchies you’ve never met. Best, though, are the views.

A railroad (le chemin de fer) is very much unlike the paved road (goudron). For one thing, rail stations aren’t nearly as blandly ugly as modern service stations. They are also fairly few and far between. On the goudron, on the other hand, there’s a much more continuous stream of mechanics’ huts, gasoline stalls with gas in old rum bottles, trash heaps, etc. Like Route 1 in Massachusetts, or a local US Route just about anywhere in the States, the goudron has attracted the least attractive aspects of villages and small towns.

Aside from the man-made obstacles to seeing the landscape – well, no, there is no aside: that’s precisely it. The railroad runs through some beautiful country. Sometimes you can’t see anything but the rail disappearing behind you because the vegetation is so lush. Other times, you’re afforded spectacular views of the countryside – views which change as the topography and vegetation changes as you go from les collines, the hills, to the coastal region. You also get to see villages and spotty settlements you wouldn’t ever know were there zipping by at 100 km/h on the goudron.

In addition to great views, the people are different. Of course, they’re the same people, but instead of ignoring you as you go by, they wave. Who waves to a bush taxi? At station stops, people are happy to stop and chat, and even the demands for cadeaux seem fewer or somehow less irksome.

In truth, taking a train in Africa, especially a tourist train, is something of a jarring experience – you feel your wealth, the freedom it provides. Eating lunch while stopped at the station in Huègbo certainly was a guilty pleasure – good food amongst those whom I know have little. You realize the vast gulfs in culture and experience between yourself and the people in the villages and towns along the way, and you have time to reflect upon them. In many ways, it’s probably like taking a cruise ship.

Nevertheless, it’s a priceless experience, one that is more “organic” than flying through the country in an air-conditioned Landcruiser and more comfortable, enjoyable, and rewarding than cramming into a bush taxi. (You’ve been in one bush taxi, you’ve been in them all.)

La vie est belle – especially if you’re on a train through Benin.

*** Disclaimer: I was gone and back in less than 24 hours. ***