Banjul

Banjul is mainland Africa's smallest capital and possibly its most relaxed: a low grid on an island at the mouth of the Gambia river — the river that is the country, a ribbon of water with two banks of nation around it —, entered through a ceremonial arch taller than most of the city. The birds outnumber everything: five hundred sixty species patrol the mangroves and markets, which is why binoculars are the national souvenir of the visitors and the smiling coast earns its brochure name honestly.

The sensible traveller does Banjul in a happy morning — Albert Market's fabric and fish under the mango shade, the Arch 22 museum for the view down the little grid, the mangrove creeks by pirogue where the kingfishers commute —; rides the Barra ferry once, as participatory theater; and then obeys the geography: west to the beach towns for the evening, and upriver with days to spare — to Kunta Kinteh Island's hard memory and the bird-loud creeks beyond, where the country becomes what it truly is: a river with a welcome.

The Guide's honesty: the ferry runs on its own philosophy — allow hours, enjoy the deck —; the beach 'bumsters' offer friendship at commercial rates: decline warmly and completely, once; dalasi cash for everything small; the birding is world-class and the guides at the sites are genuinely expert — hire one and learn; and Kunta Kinteh Island is a memorial of the trade — visit as you would Gorée, with time and silence.