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Published: June 27th 2008
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Dakar the day of the dust storm
Remember I told you about that dust storm, around my third day in Senegal...this is a photo from the city center the day of the storm. My last week in Senegal! I was still
sans camera so the photos here are random ones taken in Dakar.
I decided to get out of Dakar for a while and headed south down the coast along what is called the Petite Côte or, in the case of a couple of spots, Senegal's Côte d'Azur. Mode of transport? The
sept-place—an incredibly beat-up old Peugeot station wagon configured to barely fit seven passengers in addition to the driver that most Senegalese use to get around the country. They somehow add a third row where part of the trunk should be, but it's elevated several inches above the other rows making it extremely uncomfortable for all but the smallest people. Although they really feel like death-traps, they are faster and cheaper than regular buses so they remain popular. As we set out from the huge
sept-place stands near Dakar’s city center, the man in the back row behind us closed his eyes and solemnly started reciting a prayer; I began fumbling for the seat belt I accurately suspected I would not find. We wove through makeshift lanes out of the sprawling sea of cars and street vendors and into a gas station
Ocean after the dust storm
It looks really cloudy, but it's not--just terribly terribly dusty. It was beautiful! to fill up for the trip. Our driver opted to leave the motor running while we refueled—for our excitement, I’m sure. I began imagining how someone exhibiting such risk-taking behavior would drive and whipping myself into a panic, when we turned onto the main highway and came to an abrupt halt. I never thought I would be relieved to see traffic! Mbour, the next big town outside Dakar, should have only be an hour away, but the road out of Dakar was so jammed that it ended up taking more like 2.5-3. Our driver sought to bypass the worst of it by turning off onto narrow dirt lanes that wind through the
banlieues. While it made for a much more dusty, bumpy ride, I did get to see parts of the city I'd never seen before. For example, we headed into the
abattoir section, where all the city's meat is butchered—a one-lane dirt road runs all alongside the sprawling compound, lined with tiny makeshift stands selling all kinds of meat.
We reached Mbour after dark and switched into another
sept-place for the trip down the coast to Joal-Fadiouth, a picturesque little fishing village composed of an island and a
small stretch of coast connected by a long wooden bridge. We found the one open hotel (they’re all on the mainland side, which is Fadiouth), deposited our bags, and took a taxi into the deserted “town” to try and locate some grub. We managed to find a great, cheap little restaurant—the only one still open at 9pm—where we got rolls, and chicken and chips (fries), and hot sauce, and ice cold Gazelles (super yummy Senegalese beer). The dining area was in a lovely little courtyard covered with a thatch roof, surrounded by what must be the best value rooms in town (10,000 CFA). Naturally I ended up giving the bulk of my meat to the two beggar cats perched at my feet, while the owner told me where to go the next day. The main attraction in town is Joal, the island, which is made mostly of clam shells and has no roads or cars. You walk on shells which cover every inch of ground, and the buildings are decorated with them. There is a beautiful cemetery on a hill overlooking the lagoon, where oysters are farmed. All in all life on the island must not have changed much over
The tea-maker
This guy was truly an expert...people came from all over the neighborhood to partake! the last hundred years, except that it has learned to cater to the tourists visiting—there are countless souvenir stalls, even a row of little stands calling themselves “Auchan” and “Carrefour”! The island is also notable for having a lot of interfaith couples. Our guide explained that when a couple with different religions marry, any female offspring take the mother’s religion while the male children take the father’s. Interesting!
After visiting the island we crossed the bridge back to Fadiouth and headed on a
sept-place back north up the coast to Mbour, where we transferred to a taxi to go to Saly-Niakhniakhal. Saly proper is the main tourist attraction on the Petite Côte, a stretch of coast lined with fancy resorts frequented mostly by European tourists. Saly-Niakhniakhal is the more traditional village next to it, where Lonely Planet promises one can avoid the resort scene and engage more with local culture—definitely wishful thinking on the LP editor’s part, but nonetheless far more my speed than the resort-y destinations. Once you get into the village, there are no more paved roads—just thick, beachy sand between tiny houses and local restaurants. We headed in the direction of the sea, and the houses
Making tea
Like I think I explained in an earlier blog, the tea is poured from up high to cool it down, and it's poured repeatdly from one cup into another. started turning into villas surrounded by high walls draped with gorgeous fuschia and orange flowers (bougainvillas I think). We finally reached “Le Petit Jura,” which we had picked out of the Lonely Planet guide—upon entering the gate and seeing the crystal blue pool rimmed by a few small rooms, we were hooked and decided to stay for a couple of days. The beach is only a few yards from the hotel’s gate, and there are some restaurants and shops scattered amidst the houses in the neighborhood. It is unfortunately a bit of a hike to the more local part of the village, which can be a little uncomfortable during the mid-day heat, but taxis are reasonable, and at night the walk on the sandy paths is lovely. It’s a very safe area—even if there were any crime, the fancy villas all have guards perched outside. The hotel serves food—I had an amazing baguette with imported ham and cheese and cornichons!—so there isn’t really a need to leave, but we preferred to explore the area a bit. The first night we ate at a new hotel just down the road that has tables right at the beach. It was overpriced and
not very delicious, but the atmosphere was pretty great. The second night we decided to head into Saly proper; our taxi driver recommended a Senegalese-run restaurant right at the edge of town called "Le Soleil" where we had an amazing meal at very reasonable prices, sitting on an open-air terrace overlooking town. During the day we did nothing but tan, swim, and read. On our last night on the coast we went to a local joint called Chez Poulo that was unbelievable—very cheap, very local, all plastic tables and chairs, open-air, purely Senegalese dishes—with a mixed African and European crowd. We sat next to a French family who were regulars and told us what to order. They helped us avoid ordering the local wine which they informed us was made from powder! I had the ubiquitous
crevettes a l’ail (garlic shrimp) to start, which with the baguette they served was a meal in itself; then I had basic grilled shrimp and fries. It was delicious; the entire meal cost about $16. The restaurant also serves national dishes like
thiéboudienne but they tend to run out by nighttime. A group of Gambian musicians came to perform with some amazing instruments I had never seen before.
Next, finally getting to Malawi.
love,
martina
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Jim
non-member comment
Food
I see you are still active and alive!!!! The tea pics probably didn't satisfy dear ole Dad's culinary interests!!! Things are heating up on the campaign trail and I'm glad the Democrats have a candidate. Lookin' good. Am getting involved next month with the West Side Democratic headquarters, will be doing some work there. Hope by the time you get back we will have an new Prez and a Democratic Senate and House. Unfortunately the mess created will take more than a superhuman effort to clean up.