Ahhhh... Africa

It all started so smoothly… a five minute wait to get luggage and get through immigration; my driver was waiting for me right outside the airport; a temporary room had been set up for us until our reserved room was ready later in the day. I cleaned up, rested a bit, then psyched myself up to go out into the Senegalese heat and start exploring Dakar. Laura’s flight wouldn’t be in until later in the day, so I had the day to myself.

Dakar is the country’s most modern city, home to over a million people, but downtown really isn’t anything to write home about. The buildings are really sort of bleak and depressing, not a lot of charm. The people, are diffent, though. The women dress in beautiful, colorful tailored wrap skirts and matching fitted tops. Many of the men are in traditional dress of loose slacks covered by a long robe-like shirt, also in bright, vibrant colors. The people make up for what the city itself lacks. My job for the day was less exciting than the Senegalese dress – running errands. I needed to go to the bank, get information on flights to Mali, get to the Gambian embassy to get information on visas. No problem. It was even a little overcast, so the extreme heat of the morning had been tempered a bit. Then I got my wake up call. I went to the Gambian embassy – we had found out a week or so ago that they had stopped issuing visas at the border, which we were counting on. It seemed to be a temporary thing, so I asked if we could get visas at the border. I was told “maybe”. Maybe. That is the official answer of the Gambian embassy. Maybe. ahhh. Africa.

I had a nice lunch in a lovely garden patio surrounded by art galleries. After lunch I walked out into the street, started to turn the corner and was suddenly stopped - the entire street was filled with men prostrating to the call to prayer. I tried to go to the next block, but same thing. For 3 or 4 blocks, each east/west street was packed for as far as I could see with men praying. Even on the north/south streets, men were out on the sidewalks and streets on their prayer rugs. I had to walk through makeshift rows, gingerly watching my step so I didn’t step on prayer rugs, shoes or people. ahhh. Africa.

Went back to the hotel, where I found the power was out. Was told by an Aussie couple the hour or so I was there in the morning was some of the little time they had power in the last 3 days. This means no lights, no internet, and, most importantly, no air conditioning. The desk clerk couldn’t understand why I wanted to change hotels, and why we wanted the deposit (one night stay) returned. ahhh. Africa.

After picking Laura up from the airport, we found a new hotel. With electricity. Most of the time. And, with less than 12 hours in-country, I received my first Senagalese marriage proposal. From the proprietor of our hotel. I declined.

We met another American at the hotel, and had a traditional Senegalese dinner of rice & fish, and couscous and chicken. Also tried – and fell in love with – bissap, a juice made from hibiscus flowers. It’s almost like a combination of pomegranate and grape juice. Our waiter then brought ginger juice and made a lovely mixed drink from the two. By the end of dinner, the 36 hours without sleep caught up with me and all I wanted was a shower and bed.