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Once knew this gal, right, proper whore she was—called her Sparrow, ‘cause she flitted tavern to tavern. Little secret? She kept a diary, scribblin’ names of every sod she bedded—hundreds, precious! Made me laugh, thinkin’ she’s some historian of sin. We likes that, sneaky cleverness—keeps us gigglin’ in the dark. But then, ooh, got mad—heard she sold that book to a priest for penance! Hypocrite, struttin’ round holy-like after! We hates it!

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Now, lemme spill some lesser-known goodies: There's a quirky café called Café Bizarre on the corner of Rue du Bonheur. Seriously, it’s not on any tourist map, but it’s where I chill after a long day of kneadin' tension outta folks. Yea, it's a bit rough around the edges – thsi place is defnitely one-of-a-kind! And oh, La Rue du Chant, my fav for quick strolls, always reminds me of the rhythm of the city, like a secret pulse under every step.

AFCON Diary 2: Enforced Covid test, Garoua road like Aba road