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Published: December 3rd 2007
Having a December birthday has always meant that it's cold, and sometimes even snowy on your special day. 79 degrees and sunny just does not feel like my birthday. I never realized how much weather is a part of my life...we associate so many events and holidays with the weather that goes with them. It didn't really feel like we should have been celebrating Thanksgiving without the chilly, fall weather, and it certainly didn't seem like my birthday would ever be celebrated without pulling on the winter coat, hat, scarf, gloves, etc. and trudging through the slush.
My friend Andrew offered to throw bits of white confetti over me in order to induce thoughts of snow, but once I realized how ridiculous that sounds, I ignored what I considered to be "unseasonal" weather. We decided to splurge a bit and get "real food" at the restaurant at the Institut Français. We have been eating at restaurants more and more lately, as the ceebu jen (fish and rice) and yassa jen ak friit (fish, fries, and onion sauce) has gotten really old. Most of the restaurants in our neighborhood, though, are little more than fast food. Pizza, schwarma, and hamburgers aren't
exactly the "real food" that we've been craving, so the Institut Français was quite the culinary shock. I had a chicken sandwich with a slab of real mozzarella cheese, mayo, sun-dried tomatoes, real tomato, fresh lettuce, and onion. It was probably the most delicious thing I've ever eaten, haha.
We followed up dinner with ice cream at La Galette, which has the most confusing ordering system ever. They told us to go upstairs to the tea room to order, but we soon realized that it was only because the prices were twice as much! We went back downstairs, ordered our preferred flavors based on what we saw in the glass display case, but then they told us that some of the flavors weren't available. We pointed out that we could see them quite clearly in front of us, but they said you can only get prepackaged little cartons to go. After finally convincing them that cones were more that sufficient for some of us, we had to convince them to write a us a receipt - which is the only way you can pay. We took our little scraps of paper with some numbers scrawled on them, forked over
far too much money, and ran out with our ice cream. Luckily, the pistachio ice cream was well worth the inconvenience of the ordering process.
The Océanium club hosts a party on the first Saturday of every month, called Koulgraoul (iloosely translated, t means something along the lines of "Cool, no worries" in Wolof). The Océanium, however, is in the most inconvenient location. Most taxi drivers don't know where it is, as it's behind the expensive hotels, down a dirt road, along the ocean. We were already downtown, so we decided to walk there. It was one of those classic "yeah, of course we know where we're going" moments...no one knew exactly how to get there. We walked in the general direction, got directions, got lost and found the UNICEF headquarters, and then finally found the correct dirt road to follow.
The party started at 11pm, but when we got there at 11:30, there were only two people inside! We waited for a few more of our friends to show up, then headed in and claimed a table. It was a very slooow start to the party (most parties and clubs don't get under way until at least 1am), but eventually, there were tons of people. The club is outside, with some tables, a bar, and a dancefloor that overlooks the ocean. You could see all the stars and the waning moon, and the DJs were pretty good. To go along with an eclectic group of people (Senegalese, French, American, Lebanese, Greek, Moroccan, etc.) there was a very eclectic selection of music (popular American music, hip hop, mbalax, disco, 80s, punk, reggae, etc). We danced until almost 4am, trying desperately to keep away our many admirers (some guys just don't understand where they're not wanted!).
Birthdays are not important in Senegal, so I was surprised when my family wished me happy birthday. My mama even consulted with other members of the family to make sure she was saying it properly in French. My little brothers swore someone told them I bought a cake for the family to celebrate. They were quite heartbroken when I informed them that there was no such cake. Getting a cake large enough to feed the clan of a family that I live with would have cost me a fortune! And once word about cake would have spread, the family would have multiplied to be even larger as neighborhood kids swarmed the courtyard. I figured it'd be cheaper (and tastier) to wait until my arrival back in the States to have a cake. (note: I'd like it to be a homemade funfetti cake with chocolate frosting, thanks!)
Thanks for the birthday cards and packages! 😊
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Danielle
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One Senegal Birthday Blogger to Another
Well, happy birthday! I've had all of my 'pivotal' birthdays in Africa, 29, 30, 31 and now 40! Ah, to be 21 again! Live it up! I think my cake cost about $40 so you were wise to wait!