Libreville

Libreville stretches along the north shore of the Komo estuary, a seaside capital of palms, ministries and grilled-fish smoke where the equator's forest begins at the last bus stop: Gabon is nearly ninety percent trees, and the city is the polite clearing where the country signs its papers. From July to September humpback whales breathe off the river mouth, and on weekends the city crosses the water to Pointe-Denis, a sand spit of beaches with the forest at its back.

The traveller takes the Boulevard du Bord de Mer at golden hour; visits St-Michel de Nkembo, whose carved wooden columns tell scripture in Gabonese hands; bargains cheerfully in Mont-Bouët, the market that swallows whole city blocks; eats poisson braisé with manioc down by the water; and books the boat to Pointe-Denis — or better, the onward journey, because Gabon's glory is Loango, where forest elephants walk the beach and the legend of surfing hippos was photographed into the world's imagination.

The Guide's practical counsel: oil makes Libreville one of the region's dearest cities — budget accordingly and eat where the fish smoke leads —; taxis run on negotiation, agreed before the door closes; French opens everything; and the real itinerary is beyond the ring road — Loango, Lopé, Ivindo's falls — booked ahead with operators, because the forest does not improvise. The city is the veranda; the country is the cathedral.