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Published: March 17th 2011
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Dear Family and Friends 18
So i left you all in a stoned haze in Casamance. Unlike Gambia, we did not feel the need to make like a tampon; yet the sole activity of smoking as much dope as possible was quickly losing its flavor on the third day. We decided to get make like Tom and Cruise. Our next destination was Cap Skirring, the tourist mecca of Casamance. We were a little hesitant about Cap Skirring as the last African tourist mecca was a bloody hole that we barely escaped from with our wallets intact. Yet on the assurance of many locals and other travellers we decided to overcome our aversion and give it a chance by staying the night.
So I believe Kololi wanted to be like Cap Skirring, but through politics, over development and a scourge of indolent English tourists it did not become that. Cap Skirring sports an international airport, club med and miles upon miles of beautiful white sand beach with a constant southing continuous crash of waves. These almost pristine shores are dotted by sun seekers, hustlers, small restaurants, art shops and uniquely enough herds of cattle that lie on the beach and
stare at pedestrians with suspicion. Fortunately their excrement does not bother the tourist too much as it is usually washed away by the waves.
We installed ourselves into a small campement that offered clean rooms at a decent price. Better yet it was right on the coast, from the restaurant, which was perched on a hill overlooking the beach, we could watch the sun set into the sea while drinking beer and playing cards. Kololi, despite its larger touristic amenities it has a relatively bustling town that blends Sénégalese commerce and tourism. This mixture seemed fairly successful, if you wanted to eat traditional and cheap you could, but you had plastic chairs and a dark dank room, alternatively you can pay triple the price and eat western with full cutlery, table clothes, and beer. Nice to have the option to do both as in touristic part of Saint-Louis it is harder to find the locals restaurants that are cheap.
We were unsure of how long to stay there, or what we were going to do. I, after two very sedentary days needed some kind of activity or project! A local mentioned to us over dinner that we could
rent bikes to explore the town and surrounding towns… This idea was quite attractive to us because we had spent the last couple of days guided around by locals and wanted an opportunity to be able to explore the country side ourselves. The next morning we gathered together bikes and set off in search of adventure. It was a great pleasure for us to be able to choose our own paces and destination. We decided upon a town about 17km out of town that was supposed to be nice.
Off we went down the dusty road in the baking heat at a leisurely pace. Along the way we quickly became sweaty, dirty and deeply desiring a cold drink and swim. Which we would prefer became a hotly debated topic that was finally solved by the former being the first opportunity. We stopped, chatted to locals, had a pop than left for the beach. This town we went to was not actually on the ocean but several km in land. We could hear the crash of the waves but could not actually see them. To make matters worse there was a large stretch of sand dunes between us and the
cold refreshing ocean. We ended up getting horribly lost and spent a frustrating and angry time trying to reach the beach. But when I finally pushed my bike through the last dunes of sand I emerged onto a pristine white sand beach that did not have a soul in site. I was so inspired by the view that I stripped down naked and proceeded to ride up and down the coast whirling my shirt above my head shouting like a mad man. The next person of our party to emerge from the sand foliage was George. Fortunately for me George was not at all perturbed by my behavior and instead of judging me followed suit. Thus when Dan finally trudged out of the sand dunes he met the sight of two white naked, bicycle riding, hollering, mad men. In short insanity ensued and good time was had by all. Several close calls were had, like when an SUV came hurtling by on by driving the beach which sent us scurrying to the concealing safety of the ocean. Alas despite our brazen nudity, we were still culturally sensitive to the Senegalese who do not understand or appreciate our zeal for nudity.
Cap skirring proved to be far nicer than we thought and instead of one night as planned we spent the remaining two nights there instead. Alas our trip was winding down and coming to an end. We went back to Ziegenchor to catch the ferry to Dakar. The ferry trip highlights consisted of long games of gin rummy, sea sickness for the British boys, a semi drunken conversation with the German marine engineer and one of the most uncomfortable sleeps of my life.
Now I am back in Saint Louis, the lads have already left for England. This is the second time I have forlornly watched Dan’s taxi drive off into the distance. Fortunately for me my apartment is not empty, I have three travellers living at the place. They are a rag tag bunch, two Italians, one German, two musicians, one surfer. They boast some impressive achievements one of them speaks eight languages and picks them up like a sponge picks up water. Thus the house at any given time has 4 or more languages being spoken at any given time. Only 2 of which I can partake in.
So I am back at the office
grind and I am trying to pick up the pieces for one last time before I myself finally leave and abandon people.
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