Thursday--The Two Guineas

I slept OK.  I got up because those little ants walking on me so I found another couple of entry ways for the ants.  They have a road system on the walls of the room.  You can even see it--it's a slightly lighter color than the rest of the wall.  I took a tissue and wiped a couple dozens out of existence.  Their comrades, somehow sensed this and the ant roads along the walls were reconnoitered by occasional scouts (who didn't make it back alive) but traffic ceased.  Then I found another one one higher up.  Same procedure there--a mass killing followed by abandonment.  Finally there was a third one.  This was too high for me to reach, but some wet toilet paper to plug their entrance seemed to do the trick.  This morning when I woke up, there were no ants on their road systems.

I allowed myself to sleep in a bit.  The Guinea Bissau embassy woman asked me to be there after 11.  I ate the baguette, jam, Laughing Cow, and coffee breakfast.  Then headed out to the embassy--again wearing my best embassy duds.

The last two days, the bus arrived just after I got there, but this time, the bus left when I was still a block away.  And the #8 to Palais isn't super frequent.  But all was not lost.  The bus route should take it left onto the highway, but the highway is under construction--possibly being turned into a divided highway and there are two sets of 4 foot high concrete barriers creating a sort of sandy median strip.  So the bus has to turn right, go about 1km, and then come back.  That gives me ample time to get across the street.  It's interesting watching the locals go across the concrete barriers.  Mothers with babies strapped to their backs, kids, men in dapper business suits, people in robes, etc, they all find one way or another to hoist themselves up and over the two sets of barrier.  So as soon as there was a lull in the traffic, about 5 of us went across, heaved ourselves  over the first set, then waited for a lull in the traffic on the other side to hoist ourselves over the other side.  So I got across and a bout a minute later, here came the "8 Palais".

On the bus, an American missionary named Bill asked me if I was American.  I said I was and we chatted for a while.  We got off at the same stop, his destination being in the same nice part of town (Point E) as many of the embassies.  He's been in Senegal for 17 years.  That's quite a run.  He was under the impression that the Guinea Conakry embassy was where the Lonely Planet guide said it was--he's even been there.  So I was able to inform him of the new location.  We parted a couple blocks shy of the Guinea Bissau embassy. He turned in toward the egg.  At least I call it the egg.  It's called l'oeuf and it's an oval shaped road that goes around something--I didn't know yet what it was though it would be easy enough to associate a number to a name on the Point E map.

So I went to the Guinea Bissau embassy.  I went in and there was already a bigger crowd than yesterday.  I stood outside.  Most people were just waiting--for what I don't know.  Were they waiting for a certain time to roll by?  I didn't have a watch so I didn't know the time.  It must have been about 9:30 so I went to the window and said in my French/English hybrid "C'est avant onze heure, mais is it possible that my passport is ready?"  The woman looked at me like I was a total nut for even thinking it might be ready 90 minutes ahead of time.  So I beat a retreat and headed over to see what the egg was.  It turns out, it is an Olympic swimming pool as well a nice park with playground.  And a fair amount of just green space.  Very nice.  I did a circuit around 'oeuf and then went back to the embassy.  I waited a while and kept trying to steal glances of people's watches.  I managed to see a few, but they were all different.  What's up with that?  Anyway, a guy came over and told me I could go sit inside in a little waiting area.  I think he might work there.  Maybe he's even the ambassador.  That would be cool.  So I headed over toward the sign that said "Courrier" and took a right and there on the left is a room with a couple of couches and a table with 4 chairs.  But no clock on the wall.  Dammit!  That's what I really wanted.  There was a fan, but two men were already sitting on the couch where it was aimed.

I got up and headed out to do one more circuit in the the northeastern direction.  Just beyond Le Celtic, I saw a really pretty white girl.  She was going to a missionary office a couple of blocks away.  I noticed the Ker Jeraaf was also on this street.  The Lonely Planet said that the Guinea Conakry embassy was across from the Ker Jeraaf.  There is a building there that is guarded but unlabeled and I suspect it was once their embassy.  I went around in a big square and found myself back at the Guinea Bissau embassy.  Waiting at the window, I saw the woman who dealt with me yesterday come in.  There were a lot of people in front of the little window so I just hung back. Then she looked through at the window and said, "Seignor?  Your passport." and handed it through the window to me.  :-)  I thanked her and left.

On the way out, I noticed something a bit unsettling--the visa is only valid for a month.  That means, I better get myself down to Guinea Bissau before August 30.  I better not lolligag in Saint Louis or something.

Now because I had laid the groundwork yesterday, I knew exactly where to go next.  So 2 minutes later I was in front of the Guinea Conakry embassy.  I entered the gate to the street and told the seated guard, "je voudrais faire une application pour une visa." He told me to go in and go straight to the back.  I did and found the consular section.  There was a room with a long table and a man sitting at the end at a typewriter.  I told him the same thing.  He motioned to me to have a seat.  I pulled out my passport just as he was asking my nationality.  He saw my passport and said "Americain.  Bush."  Then saying soixante sank mil and sensing my inability to catch the number (looking flustered and embarrassed by the "Bush") we wrote it out on a piece of paper.  65000 CFA is the most expensive visa to date.  That's like $130.  I wonder if I would have gotten a better price if I countered with "Obama" but oh well.  I tried to ask him how long the visa was valid.  If it's only valid for a month, I'd rather wait until I'm in Bissau.  But he showed me on the form where it had a new field (for me)--expected date of entry.  Actually Gambia had that as well.   Also, like Gambia, I had to provide my parents' names.  So, Mom & Dad, you are known to two African countries. ;-)  I didn't understand all the fields.  There were questions like "do you intend to leave Guinea before your visa expires?" for which the correct answer was "yes".  There were two more questions very much like that.  Then he asked for 2 pictures and a photocopy of the passport.  I wished I had a photocopy--then I could go get a Mauritanian visa, perhaps.  But I didn't so he just kept the passport.  I thanked him and left.

Now, being cleaned out of money, I decided to head down to the Casino which has a BICIS (BNP Paribas of Senegal) in it's complex.  I withdrew a stack of cash and felt better.

I bused it back to the Via Via.  The street was covered in these little flying insects.  They must be like mayflies or something.  I'd never seen them before and they were suddenly out in the thousands.  Most of them were on the ground flapping their wings for no apparent purpose.  Usually in the animal kingdom, when animals are seeming to waste their energy on useless activities, it's because they're trying to attract mates.  We humans are just as bad if not worse. ;-)

With a beer and water I read some more of Dreiser.  I'm at the pat where Clyde is seducing Roberta despite the fact she works for him.  I won't finish it in time though.  :-(  Then they called me into the reception.  I had asked them to calculate my bill a bit ahead of time so I have enough time to prepare.  They choose that time to let me settle up everything.  And as with the Guinea Conakry embassy--I got wiped out again--103750 CFA for the room and about 30000 CFA for all the food, water, and meals.

So I went to the SocGen and got out another chunk of cash.  Now, since I was on the highway, I decided to use my newly acquired skill of of hoisting myself over the concrete barriers to check out some of the stores on the other side.  There is a store that has a pizzeria on one side (Pizza Inn), a chicken place (Galitos), and a hamburger place (Steer's).  The pictures of the hamburgers looked especially appealing.  So I ordered the #1 meal--a King Steer burger with fries and a Sprite for 3300 CFA or about US$7.  It was yummy.  Two big patties and cheese so unbashedly processed that they actually have a "cheese whizz burger".  The cheese and sauces were yummy.  This thing must be dripping with transfats.  It's probably worse than the Hardee's breakfast sandwich that got so much press for having like 50% of the calories you need all day.  I finished it up and heaved myself over the concrete barriers and headed back.  Thousands of these dead mayflies or whatever they are littered the road.  I guess they come out, do some romancing, and then die.

I did some laundry since I got cheese whizz on my finest embassy duds while it started to pour outside.

July 31, 2008 18:21 Senegal local time

No WiFi (And Other Things)

Ugh!!!  I braved the rain lugging my computer to the Cap Ouest Hotel at 2pm and when I got here, no WiFi.  They have no electricity at all.  Too bad.  I wanted to upload all my blogs.  I can try again later when they turn their power on, I suppose, or try to find a place that has WiFi.

At least I got a bunch of pictures made for visa applications.  Twelve in fact.  I hope they are OK.  My face is a little bit smaller in these pictures and sometimes some places have strict limits on such matters.  But they should be OK.  I won't have to have pictures made for a while now.  Probably only one more time.

The rain sucks.  The road to the Cap Ouest Hotel is not paved and is very muddy.  You have to make sure you are not near a puddle when vehicles drive by so you don't get splashed.  I saw our bus causing quite a splash this morning.  Very splashy.

When I was here last time, they seemed like they had WiFi even when the electricity was off.  I figured they had a constant supply for certain functions and a bigger localized power supply for the bulk of their business.

There are three cute French girls here as I type.  Even though there is no electricity and I bought a 1200 CFA beer to have the right to use the WiFi, it's not so bad because I can take occasional looks at these three nymphs.  One is reading one of those three books by some Scandanavian or Finnish guy that's all the rage in France right now.  But I can't really see the book, because her legs are crossed and since she has a knee length skirt, the back of her thigh is showing--a vision much too enticing whenever my eyes are anywhere in her vicinity.

It's interesting seeing what type of European are coming to Africa.  There are a few families in my place.  A German family was there last night with three young kids--12ish.  There are a lot of pairs of young pretty girls--perhaps university students?  Some are probably volunteers for whatever organization they happen to join.  I saw 4 boys near the lighthouse and realized that there is a mission there so they are some sort of missionary or religious volunteers.  There are a few lone travelers.  We are probably not as common, though.

There seems to be no way of leading a life where things run sort of smoothly here.  There is always something in the way.  Today it was rain and no WiFi.

Accordig to Jonathan, finding even internet in Gambia was hard.  He paid for an hour but was only able, in that entire hour, read 2 emails.  Nothing else.  Just bad connections.  So when I'm in Gambia, I expect to build up a supply of blog posts to post.

Yuck, there was just now a fly in my beer.  I fished it out.  I guess I'll keep drinking it though.  One thing about Africa, it's not a comfortable place to travel.  The bus bounces like a jack hammer.  The room is hot and humid.  The mosquito net is a bit stifling.  Now it's raining.  I'm never sure about what I'm doing, where I'm going, and what's going to happen next.  My French is good enough to navigate the place broadly, but the details elude me.  The internet is spotty.  The Lonely Planet already has old information.

So far, the thing I miss most is security--the feeling that I can totally let my guard down.  I feel like my guard must always be up.  Always.  When you are traveling with someone, you can share "guard duty" as it were, but when solo, it's all up to me.  There are places where I drop my guard to 50%.  But never to 0%.  It is tiring.  There is always the fear that something will happen--I'll lose something or something will be taken either off me or out of my room.  Or I'll accidentally leave something behind.  Or the ATM won't work or it'll eat my card.  These are all things that, though unpleasant, I can deal with when I'm in Seattle.  They are much harder to deal with here.  On Saturday, I intend to go to Saint Louis.  I have no idea how I'm going to get there.  I sort of know from the Lonely Planet what my options are, but it's all going to be new to me.  While it's fun to learn all these new things, it's also stressful.  I'm just in my first West African country though.  I'm figuring out how it works.  Tomorrow morning, I'll have 2 visas and hopefully my passport into the Guinea (Conakry) embassy for pickup on Friday.  I hope.

Wednesday--Finding Embassies In The Rain

Yep, Tuesday night it started to rain, and it rained hard all night long.  Fortunately, at about 7am, it started to ease up.  It was still raining,  just not as hard.  I got up at 7:10.  Today was the day I"d go to the embassy for Guinea-Bissau.  So I shaved and put on my best embassy clothes.  Then, armed with 2 passport photos, a ball point pen (I remembered), my rain hat, my rain coat, and a plastic wrapped 2008 West Africa Lonely Planet, I set out to find the embassy--the 2008 can't be too wrong, eh?  The bus I needed got to the bus stop right after I arrived, but it was already just full enough that all the seats were taken.  So I stood the whole way to where I got on the bus yesterday.  I walked toward the monument of the Independence--a very tall obelisk visible from afar, and went up rue 24 to rue 34.  I crossed the boulevard expecting rue 9.  But it wasn't rue 9 as in the Lonely Planet.  It had some name.  Anyway, it looked about right so I continued.  I got to a traffic circle and went what, according to Lonely Planet should be rue 5.  But it wasn't rue 5--it was something else.  At least the layout of the streets conformed to the map if the names didn't exactly.  The little icon for the embassy of both Guinea and Guinea Bissau looked like they were on rue 5, though the addresses are given as rue 6 and rue 7.

The rain was light now, but there was no embassy where the icon is.  The Ghanan embassy, according to the Lonely Planet is just a block over, so I figured I'd see if at least that was there.  So I went a street over and there was an embassy.  It was the Iraq embassy.  Interesting.  Then I saw right across the street from the Iaqi embassy, an Irish bar called the Celtic.  And right next to that, the Consulate for Guinea Bissau!  Woo hoo!   I found it.  So I told the guy standing out front that I want to apply for a visa.  He took me in by the driveway rather than the front door where there were a few other people waiting.  He said something in French but all I got was "elle va venir" or "she's going to come".  Another woman waiting told me there were seats inside and to "assiez-vous" so I did.  The woman came and I could hear her setting up her office.  Then finally, she opened the window.  I got up and one of the guys came in from outside.  I motioned him to go ahead--he was there first, after all.  But he motioned for me to go.  I motioned again-he motioned again.  So I said to the woman that I'd like to apply for a visa.  She handed me a form.  The other guy then a his forms.  Then we all just sat there filling in forms.

It had many of the same questions as the Gambian form.  It didn't ask for my parent's names and nationalities, but it did ask for my religion.  To keep things simple I just put Christian.  After all I was baptized in a Lutheran church and did voluntarily attend a Unitarian church--who are apparently Christian enough to get shot up.

I paid 20000 CFA--about US$40--and gave them one photo.  She told me to return at 11 tomorrow.  I thanked her and left.

So now to find the Guinean embassy so that as soon as I got my passport, I could try to take it over there.  I went over one more street--no embassy.  I wandered around a bit.  No embassy.  FInally I came to a guard of something that looked official and asked him if he knew where it was.  He sent me turning left onto B, walking 3 blocks, then taking a right.  So I tried that.  No embassy.  I went back to the sort of main street that should be rue 5 according to Lonely Planet and asked another set of official looking people.  He gave me similar directions but with a few more details.  He said I take what I think is rue B all the way to the end until it ends in a sort of garage door.  Then take a right and it's 2 buildings down.  He added that there would be a flag and a plaque.  So I got back on rue B and walked to the end. It ended in a sort of garage door.  I turned right and voila--2 buildings down, there it was.  I think the first guy just miscounted or maybe I misunderstood.  But now I know how to quickly get from the Guinea Bissau embassy to the Guinea embassy.  Also, I found a place on rue A called "Chez Ass".  I'm not sure if I want to eat there.  Anyway, the icon in the Lonely Plant really should be on what is labeled rue 1 but is actually rue 7.  just south of what is labeled as rue A.  And the Guinea Bissau embassy icon should be moved just a tad to the right so that it closer to the street on the other side of the block.  I never did find the Ghanan embassy.

It was interesting that when I asked, everyone wanted to know which Guinea.  Guinea Bissau or Guinea Conakry.  I thought that Guinea without the Bissau defaulted to the Guinea that has Conakry.

Then I walked south back to the Casino.  The rain had finally ceased.  I bought some Bonne Maman tartelettes which I knew to be individually wrapped from France.  So I can eat these and not worry too much about the ants.  Whew!  Then I hopped on the bus and came home right around noon.

July 30, 2008 12:30 Senegal local time.

Tuesday--An Unexpected Problem

I woke up Tuesday and felt so tired.  I had breakfast while looking at the Lonely Plant to figure out exactly where to go next.  My passport would be ready at 13:30, so I'd be able to pick it up and take it to the next embassy.  But how much time did I have?  Well, upon inspection, it turns out that most embassies are only open in the morning extending only into the early afternoon if at all.  In fact, Gambia is the latest opening diplomatic institution.  So that meant I'd have to pick up my passport and do nothing else.

I can deal with that.  So I found the DDD stop for the #8 exactly where Jonathan told me it would be.  Shortly after I got there, it arrived.  I thought it went by the CitySport and Casino, but even though I was keeping a lookout, I missed them.  Then the bus got into heavy traffic closer to downtown.  I got off and was soon at the Gambian High Commission.  I tried to go back to the Casino, but got a bit lost. After a lot of wandering and furtive checking of the Lonely Planet map while appearing to be waiting at bus stops, I realized where I went wrong.  So by the time I recovered, it was time to get my visa anyway.  I headed to the Gambian High Commission and voila!  My visa was ready!  The same woman as yesterday was there. She asked me to "remind her" of my name.  She opened the passport behind the desk down so I couldn't see it from my side of the glass.  Then handed it to me open to the page.  I inspected the visa, thanked her, stored my passport, and left.

It was hot, so I got myself a beer and wrote out some postcards.  On the way back, I mailed them.  Then arrived at the Casino where I bought some Mir Express laundry gel for handwashing.  I'm almost out of my Carrefour laundry gel we got in France.  This tube is a bit bigger.  It will allow me to keep my stuff all nice and clean.  Then I figured out--with a lot of waiting--that the #8 stops right across the street from the Casino.  After about a half hour in the hot hot sun, the bus finally came--not the spacious big bus that says Dakar Dem Dikk across the front, but the smaller blue bus with more seats.  But there were no seats so I just stood all the way home.

When I got here, I got a beer and a 1.5 liter bottle of water and read some more Dreiser, and finally did laundry.

Last night I had a minor crisis.  My room has these little tiny ants--about a millimeter long and a tiny fraction of that across.  In fact, they are so small, I'm not even sure they're ants.  Anyway, I had my box of cookies open and it occurred to me after feeling one walk across me, that they might be into it.  They were.  Not too bad, though.  I inspected the cookies, shook off and killed any ants, and ate them up.  But there were still crumbs.  And one crumb could feed one of these ants forever.

I as write this, the rains have started--a hard sounding rain.  I gotta watch. I'm not sure how I feel about this.  I wasn't wanting rain.

July 29, 2008 20:26

Monday--A Day Fun Of New Experiences With Buses And Visa Applications

It's Monday.  I recently returned from my first outing to get a visa.  As an American, I don't need a visa for Senegal which is very convenient.  But I do need visas for every other country on my trip.  So I decided to get the visa for The Gambia today.  If you have no idea how to get a visa for The Gambia in Senegal, you aren't so far behind me in what I knew this morning.  I had not yet gotten any visa for any country on my trip except at the port of entry.

Although the official name is "The Gambia" I'm going to dispense with that damn "The" from now on and call it Gambia.  Gambia doesn't have an embassy in Senegal.  It has a High Commission.  I'm not sure of the difference.  Inspection of a map will show that Gambia has exactly one nation bordering it--Senegal.  If you are in Gambia and you want to leave by land, but you don't want to go through Senegal, you're basically SOL.  Anyway, the high commission is in Dakar.  It's not too far from the Place d'Independence where I met the guy with the fake (or stolen) RayBans, Louis Vuitton wallet, and Montblanc pens.  A taxi there is about 2000 CFA if I'm lucky.  But there are a few bus systems in Dakar and they are less than 200 CFA.  I have never taken one of these buses, so today I would learn.

But first things first.  I needed photos.  To apply for visa in Africa you need lots and lots of copies of photos of yourself.  I had noticed there was a shop that advertised ID photos right next door to the Cap Ouest Hotel where I stayed a few days ago.  So I decided to go there.  It's about a 40 minute walk.

But before I can go there, I gotta get ready to be photogenic.  That means a nice shower and shave and putting on my finest collared shirt.  So I showered, shaved, and got myself looking all spiffy.  Then I wrapped up my Lonely Planet guide in a black plastic shopping bag headed out.

When I got to the main highway I started walking along.  Then, as often happens to me, a guy became interesting in talking with me.  His name is Rouland (sp?) and he is a musician.  He is currently working in the studio putting a CD together.  He has a brother in Houston.  I told him I lived in Houston.  I was wondering if he was going to try to scam me.  And if so what his pitch would be.  What did he want.  He did want any help he could get in coming to America.  I told him it's tricky to get a green card, but that he could do the green card lottery which just gives green cards away to random people.  And I suggested his brother might be able to sponsor him.  He wants to get into the music business in the United States where he thinks he would be better compensated for his talent.  But I told him that the official channels through Immigration is really the only thing he can do.  That means applying and waiting a long time, getting lucky in the lottery, or getting sponsored by his brother if there is some sort of family reuniting thing.  Then we got to the place where he was going so he had to turn.  We exchanged my email for his phone number and I wished him luck.  It was nice.  A guy who just wanted to talk.  He didn't want my money.  He maybe wanted my influence but he understood that I have no influence whatsoever in the matter of immigration.  It restored my faith that there are Senegalese people who aren't just out to rip off every novice foreigner they see. :-)

A few minutes later, I was at the photo shop.  It's actually a Novosat (?) satellite TV chain that has these Kodak machines in the stores.  I went in, said "bonjour, je voudrais quatre photo d'identité".  He understood my French.  Yay!  He handed me a couple of kleenex and I wiped the sweat from my face.  Then I sat down and got 2 pictures taken.  The assistant put the card into the machine, did a bunch of touch screen processing to choose which picture and the size and format and voila!  About 3 minutes later, I had 4 identity photos for 2000 CFA--about 50 cents a piece.

I was very near the main highway that runs down the Atlantic by the lighthouse near where I stayed the first night.  So I decided I'd walk along it and see what it takes to use one of these Alhamdoulilai buses.  I started walking toward N'Gor.  I saw several of these buses go by.  The assistant hangs out the back door.  Jonathan told me I just have to ask "Dakar?" and they'll say yes or no.  If they say yes, you hop on.  But do you flag them down?  Or go to stops?  I wasn't sure exactly.  I didn't see anyone else flagging them down.  But I did see congregations of people where it stops.  Finally, I got close to the place in N'Gor where the main highway branches off to the western most point in continental Africa.  There was an Alhamdoulilai bus that had just stopped at a bus stop.  I approached.  "Dakar?" I asked.  The guy sort of made a motion that I interpreted as yes.  So I hopped up.

I wasn't sure how to pay, so I thought I would just take a seat.  Thank goodness it was nearly empty.  Here is what the interior of the bus looks like:  there are 4 seats facing each other, 2 by 2 at the very back where the assistance hangs out the back.  Then there are about 6 rows of seats.  Each row has 2 seats on the left, 2 seats on the right, and a hinged seat in the middle where the corridor would be.  To move from one row to another row, you have to lift the hinged seat, squeeze through, and then let it drop again.  It's very inconvenient when the bus gets crowded.

The construction of the bus is sort of like this: Imagine this conversation: Have you ever built a bus before? No.  Do you know how to weld? No. Do you know how to rivet? No.  Do you know how to paint? No.  Do you know how to bend sheet metal? No. Well, you'll learn--there's all the parts you need--build us a bus.  And then this was the bus the guy built.

Since the assistant is in the back and the driver is in the front, there needs to be a way for them to communicate--things like "stop" and "go" (maybe more, but I can't think of what else is needed).  Fortunately, if you bang sheet metal with either your hand or with a coin, it makes a loud noise that can be heard from the back to the front.  So the assistant was in constant communication via coded tappings on the metal.  The locals probably know what all the different taps mean.  I was just amazed that tapping the sheet metal was the way they communicate.

So there I was sitting on the bus.  It went to Dakar partly a way I knew and partly a way didn't.  But I could see the Atlantic off to my right, so I knew we were at least heading toward to Dakar.  We weren't making great time--people were constantly getting on and getting off.  As soon as we weren't too busy, the assistant collected money from some of the people so I have him a 500 CFA coin and he gave me 350 CFA back.  We eventually hit a traffic jam.  Just after the jam, the bus turned, so I got out the next stop, breathed a gulp of fresh air, and went back to go south.  I eventually figured out I was on Avenue Cheikh Anta Diop.  Right where I wanted to be.  It changes names a few times, but goes really close to the Gambian high commission.  I started walking south.  It wasn't too long and I came across a Casino supermarket.  I'm not sure if it's French, but they have them in France.  It looked like a nice one.  So I decided to go in.  As soon as I did--glorious air conditioning--and it smelled like wild cherry flavoring for candy!  It was so nice!  And no surprise, a huge percentage of the customers there were European looking.  I went in and looked at the store.  Time for a shopping spree!  Here's what I got: 

Item	CFA	US$
store brand chocolate chip cookies	1150	2.30
30 poison refill mats for my electric mosquito poison dispenser	1750	3.50
mp3 deodorant	2290	4.60
insect repellent	3990	8.00
package of 2 sink stoppers	2290	4.60

Now I can do laundry because I have sink stoppers.  By the way, I now what they are called: bouche-évier.  The store is wonderful.  It's the kind of store I wished I found in Morocco.

Then, since it was about noon, I decided to eat.  They have a place called Caesar's.  I went up to order a chicken sandwich, fries, and a Fanta, but before I ordered, she asked "en boite?"  I said, "no, sur place", so she said "assiez vous."  For those who don't speak French, she asked me if I was taking out and since was eating there, she told me sit down.  So I did and a waiter came.  It's like Senegalese fast food, but they have a waiter.

So I ate my very good chicken sandwich--a huge chunk of breast meat and fries.  I was a little surprised that the drink wasn't included in the price of 2700 CFA like on the menu, but I did notice that the posted prices are takeout prices.  The drink was 900 CFA.  So the total was 3600 CFA or about US$7.20 .  But I think I got ripped off.  I'll try again and ask before hand.  I did leave a tip of 400 CFA.  If I got ripped off, I'll not leave a tip next time.

After that, I went to the City Sport--a chain I know from France.  It's very well stocked with bikes, clothes, and all sorts of things.  The thing I was most interested in: the Timex Triathlon wristwatches.  I'd like a watch and that is the style I want.  Most watches in Africa are designer/fake designer watches.  I want something black and utilitarian--not jewelry.  But they aren't cheap.  The cheapest style was about 45000 CFA or US$90.  And they go up from there.  So we'll see.  Anyway, I bought a tin cup for 1500 CFA or US$3.  The price tag also showed 2,00E and 13,12 fr.  Wow!  That cup was price tagged in France before they had the € easily writable and there were still francs flowing around.  Right at the transition to the Euro in France.  I better wash it thoroughly.

Anyway--I'm on a mission to get a visa.  At the Caesar's I checked the map and all I do is sort of follow the street I'm on until I get to Pompy, then sort of back track one block and go west.  Or something like that.  So I checked my compass to make sure I was still going south, and I was.  I walked for about a half hour.  The street is just booth after booth after booth selling everything imaginable.  Sort of like a medina street but with practical stuff rather than tourist stuff, so they don't have to try to entice you in.  There was barely enough room for the traffic which oddly enough also sort of flowed on that street.  I was walking along thinking Wow!  Wow!  Wow!  Every ten seconds brought into my field of view something interesting or even amazing. Like a guy walking with about 10 feet of folded foam mattresses balanced on his head just walking down the sidewalk.  You can't see something like that in the US, except at a circus.  I passed a captivating  woman in a beautiful hot pink dress with gorgeous hair and sprinkles all over her skin.  Bookstores.  Auto mechanics jsut working on cars out on the curb because they have a booth but no garage.  Just everything.

Finally I got to where I sensed I was close to a road that goes to the Place d'Independence.  I went over and then went south again.  In the distance I saw a flag.  I didn't know what flag--and I didn't know what Gambia's flag looks like, so I decided to pass it and see what it was.  It was the Gambian High Commission!

Voila!  I was there.  There was an open door so I went in.  A table was right there unmanned.  I went toward a staircase with an arrow saying "renseignments" or something--then there on a mat--perhaps a prayer rug, were two men.  One asked me what I wanted.  I said "Je voudrais faire une application pour une visa".  He called me over to the table I passed and asked my passport.  He copied the name and number and told me to go upstairs.  I did.  There was a booth with a window but nobody there.  I saw a sheet on the doors saying that visa applications should be made before noon and passports retrieve the next afternoon.  Oops--I guess they must get strays like me.  Eventually a very bored looking woman came into the office and I repeated my line about the passport.  She explained a bunch of stuff in French that I couldn't quite get.  Hmmm...  I got some of it.  She gave 2 application forms--identical.  So I borrowed a pen (note to self--bring pen) and went into a waiting room to fill them out.  I had my Lonely Planet so I put the name of the place I intend to stay.  I wasn't sure what to put for fund as your disposal.  I guessed.  I wrote the names and nationalities of my parents (yes, Mom & Dad--The Gambia now knows about you.)  I went back and handed the woman both forms, 2 pictures, my passport, and 25000 CFA (US$50).  She inspected the forms and then told me to come back tomorrow afternoon to pick up the passport.  So I left.

Well, that was easy.  The worst part seemed to be making a bored bureaucrat deal with me rather than what ever it is she would rather be doing.

Now to get back.  Fortunately, Jonathan also told me about he #8 bus of the DDD  or the Dakar Dem Dikk.  If the Alhamdoulilai is what a Filpino thinks of when he hears "bus", the DDD is a bit closer to what we Americans think of when we hear "bus".  He said it stops sort of around the corner from the SocGen bank just down the street.  I popped into an internet cafe where I bought an hour (minimum time) for 300 CFA using a 500 CFA coin for which I got no change--so I guess I should actually say that I paid 500 CFA for about a half hour of time.  I checked the news--but most importantly, I figured out where the #8 runs in downtown Dakar.  Turns out it leave from the Palais de Justice which a little more googling showed me is right in the tip of the peninsula at the far south end of Dakar, not far from where I was.  So I started walking there.  I watched every bus go by--there were lot's of 6's, 7's and 9's but no 8's.  Finally, I found a stop that was listed on the route map.  So I waited.  About 10 minutes after waiting, I saw it: "8 Aeroport" and I hopped on.  There is a guy in a cage right at the door who sells tickets.  I got a ticket and went to sit down in the not yet crowded bus.  I got more crowded as we went.  I recognized some of the route.  I was amazed by the amount of space on the bus.  I wonder if all the buses are like that for maximizing the passenger per square meter--or if the airport bus is like that because people take luggage.

Watching the people from the bus, they looked busy.  Dakar has a vibe--a buzz.  It's actually a nice place.  I'm not sure if I'm at the stage where I think I could live here, but I do like it.  The people seem more motivated than the people in Morocco.  I wonder if it's because Senegal is a democracy and Morocco is a monarchy.  So many of the streets stank in Morocco.  If your street stinks and you live in a monarchy, how do you get civil help?  In a democracy you threaten to withdraw your electoral support from whoever is responsible for making your street smell good.

Anyway, I watched as we wound through the streets of Dakar--slowly.  Then I saw that were at a street called "Grand Yoff" Whoa!  Yoff is where I want to go.  But nothing looked familiar--especially a guy in a clown suit on 12 foot stilts followed by a bunch of children banging drums.  Maybe I should have taken this bus in the morning so I would know the route.  But I didn't.  Nothing looked familiar and I didn't even really know where we were.  Were we really in Yoff?  Then the bus got on a highway and went through a clover leaf.  Damn!  I thought!  I'm headed to the airport.  I strained to see if anything was familiar.  Then finally, I saw something I knew.  Whew!  I got up and pushed the button to ask for a stop.  The sign over the driver already said "arrête demandé" and when the bus stopped, I got out right by the SocGen where I had gotten money out from the ATM a couple days earlier.

I walked down to the Via Via and went in.  I went to the reception and asked if I could extend my stay.  A woman behind the desk--perhaps the owner--told me in English that my French was good.  We laughed.  I told her, in English, I learned it just for this trip.  It is possible to extend.  So thins week, I'll get a few more visas, and then, once armed with all my visas, adios Dakar!

I ordered a well deserved beer and a 1.5 liter bottle of water.  Whew!  My day was over!  Mission accomplished!  Two bus systems experienced! Casino shopped at!  Timex Triathlon watches located! French used and understood at more places! And best of all--only minor rip offs!  It's nice to have a good day.  I need one of those every once in a while. :-)

July 28, 2008 19:00 Senegal local time

Sunday--A Day Of Rest

On Sunday, I did almost nothing interesting.  I woke up late, read, ate breakfast (Via Via breakfast which is included is about 12 inches of soft baguette, a hot beverage, and a plate with a pat of butter, a Laughing Cow cheese wedge, and a dallop of jam), and dinner--a plate of spaghetti with meat sauce.  The rest of the day was spent resting.

28 September 2008 10:00 AM Senegal local time

A Quiet Lazy Saturday

It's Saturday.  Breakfast is included in the hotel price so I went out at 9.  Breakfast was just a baguette, jam, butter, and a slice of Laughing Cow.  And coffee--an Americano--not one of those mini coffees you get in France and Morocco, but a full cup like in America.  It was so nice to have a full cup of hot coffee.

I sat there reading the last few chapters of The Street Lawyer and observing those around me.  I am the only English speaker.  I woman sat at a table near me, I did a double take--she was cute.  But then a guy showed up and sat with her.  Too bad.  The Scrabbler ate while studying something in his Scrabble book.  Then he left.  It seemed it had started to sprinkle.  Hmmm....  SO far rain wasn't a problem since my travels started in the desert, but now I'm in the tropics during rainy season.  I can handle sprinkles, though.  I live in Seattle where it sprinkles all the time.  Seattle is famous for rain, but so much of it is superlight rain that requires no umbrella.

Today I plan to walk down to the SocGen (Societe General--a big French bank unheard of by most in America until a juicy scandal last year.) and see if I can withdraw money.  I might also look for a BICIS which is the local name for the BNP Paribas.  In general, SocGen hands out only large bills while the BNP Paribas machines tend to hand out a few more useful smaller bills as well.  I know there's one in N'Gor, the village halfway between here and the lighthouse.  N'Gor would have the privilege of being the absolute furthest west point on the contiguous continent of Africa.

Other than that, my plans for the day are minimal.  I'm having some laundry issues.  I maybe don't use enough soap or maybe I'm putting it up in a place with too little air flow.  It smells good when it's wet, but this morning when I smelled it, it was already sort of musty.  I have a fan in my room, so after I let it drip for a while, I'll move it to the mosquito net posts of the bed where there is plenty of airflow.

Later today, I'll buy a bottle of water and sit outside in the cafe reading my The Road/La Route.  I'll probably finish it up here.

I have to ask them for a space of time where I can stay for about 10 days or so so that I can get all my visas.  I'd like to get visas for The Gambia (US$45? 2 photos), Guinea (US$40 + 2 photos), Guinea-Bissau (US$40 + 2 photos)), Mali (20,000 CFA or possibly US$100).  I'm giving up in Sierra Leone as the visa is ridiculously expensive.

-----

Later--it's about 12:30.  I went to the SocGen and was able to withdraw from my debit card.  Whew!  Now I'm set.  I have enough to get me through for a while now.  Until I start getting all those visas, at least.  Oh, and the SocGen gave me the last 10000 CFA in small bills. :-)

-----

Now it's 5pm.  I went out a while ago and decided to see what I could eat.  I went to the Brioche Dorée which may or may not be connected to the Brioche Dorée chain in France.  For 1200 CFA, I got a yummy chawarma (sort of like a gyro but with thinner bread).  It has fries rolled up right in it.  It was so good.  A kid seeing me come out of Brioche Dorée asked if I'd buy him a cheeseburger, but I declined.  They also have a pizzeria and bakery with yummy looking baked goods.

It's good to have my appetite back.  I was not as mentally alert as I needed to be.  I also have enough water.  This afternoon, I drank an entire 1.5 liters of water while reading An American Tragedy which I started a few years ago, but haven't gotten around to finishing it.  I was comparing my voyage to The Street Lawyer which I read from start to finish in the last 24 hours.  The lawyer in there does something similar to what I'm doing.  He left a nice job to help the poor.  For him, there's no going back to him old life, unlike my situation where I expect to find something similar.  And I'm not really helping anyone.  Just sort of observing.  I had seen the Dreiser book there on the shelf and was thinking about Sister Carrie.  Dreiser had an influence on my blog in a unique way.  In the book, Sister Carrie, Hurstwood has a bankroll he has to live off of.  In order to make sure the reader understands how much he has, Dreiser tells the price of everything.  It's fascinating.  You can follow his bankroll down to zero.  I really enjoying knowing the prices of things--and so in my blog, I make sure to list prices.  I don't think my family and friends care about them so much, but anyone who comes across my blog while researching their own trip to Africa will find them useful.

While I was out, I passed by a quincillerie (sp?) which is a hardware store--more a booth really.  I need a stopper for the sink, so I popped in and tried to ask for a bouchon pour le lavabo, but they just brought out pipes and valves.  I tried to ask for a bouchon de (cow chew)  pour arrete l'eau while holding my fingers in a ring about 3 or 4 inches in diameter.  I don't know how to spell (cow chew) but it means rubber.  In the end, they couldn't figure out what I was talking about so I left.

July 26, 2008 18:00 Senegal local time

Relief

I lugged my laptop and had my backpack in the noon-time sun for what seemed an hour--though it was only about 40 minutes.  I at last made it to the Via Via with my stuff.  But my key was behind the desk and there was nobody at the desk.  So, since the Via Via is also a bar/cafe/restaurant, I decided to order a beer and a 1.5 liter of water--both 1000 CFA.  I took the edge of my thirst with the extremely refreshing beer!  Perhaps the best beer I ever had in my life. ;-)

The Via Via has a few tables--maybe 8.  There are oscillating fans on the ceiling.  One table had 4 white people speaking French, one table had a 55-ish European guy who was studying a book of columns of 5 letter words, and one table had various people coming and going--half black and half white.  I was trying to figure out what the guy was doing looking at columns of words on a sort of onion paper book.  Was it some bible code thing?  Aha!  When he got up to leave I first saw that he had a nametag thingy saying "PARTICIPANT" and then I saw he had a Scrabble book.  Dakar is hosting this year's Francophone Scrabble tournament this week.  He's a hardcore Scrabbler.

They have a fairly well stocked bookshelf filled with English, French, and German random books that I suspect were left here by tourists.  I picked up John Grisham's The Street Lawyer and started reading it.  The fan was blowing on me, every twinge of thirst is immediately satisfied with a swig from the 1.5 liter Kirène bottle, and I was reading English--Grisham, in fact--an author who never bores.

I tried to pay my tab and they explained how it works here: they have a piece of paper with "my name" obtained from the sign in sheet in which I put my full name.  So they chose my middle name Andrew.  Close enough.  And they have my room name--Thies.  The rooms here are all named after cities, I guess, in Senegal.  So that's nice--I have credit.  Actually I had credit at the Cap Ouest Hotel as well.  I guess it's one of those things they do to reduce the amount of need for all the small money.  It's difficult getting around without the little bills.  Very difficult.  Part of the reason I walked is that I'm afraid of the taxi driver not being able to make change and I have to way overpay.  So now I can relax with regard to money for a little while.

So far, I really like the Via Via.  My room has a fan, mosquito net, toilet, shower, a little chair that I'm afraid to sit in, and electricity.  ...Errr.... the electricity just went out as I wrote that...  like a little gnome saw what I wrote and wanted to give me a reality check.

Anyway, I would recommend it for a budget traveler.  I didn't have any food yet, but I will as it's on credit and what I saw with the other people was that it looked and smelled really good.  Oh, and the electricity was only out for 4 minutes.  Whew!  It's a good thing to have a laptop rather than a desktop in Africa.

Anyway, here I am in the village of Yoff--essentially a suburb of Dakar.  I'm as comfortable as I can be given the circumstances.  I have some time to figure out my next move without trying to spend all my arranging shelter.  I have a library at my disposal.  I have electricity if not WiFi and there's WiFi with beer 40 minute walk away.  Maybe even something closer.  I have a SocGen bank at the end of the street, but I haven't seen if it dispenses money to me yet.  So I am relieved.  My appetite is back.  I'm learning how to deal with the Senegalese hustlers.  I'm able to use enough French to get by.  I'm ready to make this the start of my travel through West Africa.

July 25, 2008 14:00 Senegal local time

Search For The Via Via

This morning I was out at 9:30. It seemed cool as I left, but that was shade. The sun was already so hot. My goal--the Via Via--the cheapest Dakar-ish address in Lonely Planet. I tried yesterday and failed, and my attempts to use Google Maps in satellite view were hampered by the fact that my computer freezes occasionally while I scroll around in satellite (and as I now know, terrain) view. So that happened 3 times and I gave up.

So this morning I decided to take the roads closer to the beach where this one guy's mausoleum is and where the cemeteries are. The name of the road with the Via Via is the Rue du Cimitieres, so I figured an orbit of the cemetery would be good. I managed to spot a cemetery looking area on google maps satellite view, but failed to zoom in before the computer locked up.

So I went down the first sort of big street from the highway to the coast. On the way, I got a desperately needed 1.5 liter of water for 400 CFA. Whew!!! That was the best water I ever had in my life! Anyway, I continued to the water, then started following it a few blocks in to the west. I tried to stay on bigger streets, but it wasn't always possible. There were neighborhoods, stores, and everything you'd expect in a town. I certainly didn't feel threatened or scared but it feels a little funny to be walking around these parts.

After quite a while, I came upon the mausoleum with its onion domes. I then followed a white spire and it turned out to be the terminus of the Yoff bus station. I went further eventually finding the cemetery. That's one long cemetery. There are a lot of dead people in Yoff. I went around it and found a road with auberges, but no Via Via and no evidence of a street named Rue du Cimitieres. So, I gave up. I was just sort of walking waiting for the first taxi to beep at me. Finally one came. My French was up to the task of negotiating a price 1500 CFA and telling him where I wanted to go. He knew the place and took me there. It is actually pretty far from where I was. From the highway that runs around the airport, it's on the street that has the SocGen bank. You go down a few blocks and then it's on the right. You go in around the side. It took me a few tries to find the reception which is hidden deep inside. But I managed to find it. I asked if there was a room for 4 or 5 days. Yes. Whew!!!

So I got it. 14500 +/- something for a room with a private bath and breakfast included. OK, not as cheap as I wanted, but I can work with it.

It was 11:06 and I needed to get back before noon to check out of the Cap Ouest. So I headed in that direction. I saw a different guy dresses in one of those gowns of colored squares. Maybe he's having a baby too. ;-) I got almost all the way back to the Cap Ouest when a car pulls up next to me. It's the taxi driver who charged me 2000 CFA to go the last 10% of my journey. He wanted to take me to where-ever Iwanted to go. Of course--he thinks I'm a sucker--which I was. But I'm not a sucker anymore so he won't get much from me. It took me a while to shake him. I had to say "Je n'ai pas besoin de taxi" about 4 times before he finally waved at his best customer and drove off.

I checked out with minutes to spare. I'm having one last beer at the Cap Ouest and using their internet, but after that, I'm off the Via Via which is a funny place worth a blog post in itself. So until then... I am now hungry and will be eating regularly now.

July 25, 2008 noon Senegal local time

Food Finally

For some reason I haven't really been hungry. And as a result, I haven't eaten in a couple of days. My last two meals were at the airport and on the plane where Royal Air Maroc gave me fish in tomato sauce with green beans, sliced zucchini, olives and dolmedes, and sweetened plain yogurt. They also gave me 2 rolls which I did not eat.

So I did Dakar too exasperated to eat. And then I did Yoff, to exasperated to eat. So finally, last night I ate even though I wasn't really hungry. I had a chicken stirfry here at the Cap Ouest Hotel. It was OK.

I think my two days without eating have effected my ability to think, reason, and read. So it was nice to get something in me. I'll try to eat more regularly today.

July 25, 2008 9:09 Senegal local time

Second Day In Senegal--Still Learning The Ropes

After yesterday's rough ride through the life of a rich white American in Dakar, it was time for the next installment. Naturally, it will not be without its problems. But it showed evidence of improvement.

So I woke up this morning and started interneting. From my room in the Hotel du Phare, it is hard to tell from noises if the bathroom is occupied because my room was right above the kitchen and so many of the sounds of the kitchen are like sounds of the bathroom. And I didn't have to be out until 12. So I figured I'd internet until 12 and then head out. But the electricity in our hotel, which came on in fits and starts at 6pm last night, went off at 9ish this morning. So, I showered, packed, and went down to turn in my key.

I only had one request of the front desk--would he give me two 5000 CFA notes for a 10000 CFA note. Last night I had a beer hoping to pay with a 10000 CFA note, but they wouldn't accept it. Fortunately, he gave me a 5000, 2 2000's and a 1000 CFA note. Then I was out to find the way to the road.

I was thirsty as hell since the only liquid I consumed since the orange Fanta the previous afternoon was a beer. So I was delighted to see a little grocer. I went in and grabbed a 1.5 liter bottle of water from the fridge--it wasn't cold. So I dug a little to find a cold one. Then I tried to pay with a 5000 CFA note. Nope--they wouldn't take it--too big. So I brought out the 2000 CFA note. The water 380 CFA or about 80 cents US. This sucks having a store of wealth that is too big to work with. It's like the gold bars in Cryptonomicon--too hard to manage despite the supposed value.

Anyway, I left the store and chugged about 1/2 of the bottle. I had a better pair of underwear--the leg section was around the chaffed part of my crotch, so I could walk. Also, my blister still hurt (and does now as I blog) but not too bad. So, rather than cab, I thought I'd try to walk it. So I headed north on the same road that goes to Dakar. When yo go north it goes to N'Gor. I headed north and ignored the scores of taxis beeping at me. It was a long way, but nowhere as long as to Dakar. As the road is close to the Atlantic, it's all nice. In the Dakar area, proximity to the sea is for the rich. At one point, a Peace Corps truck stopped in front of me. I passed it and he went on. I guess, he thought I might be a Peace Corp volunteer with my pack. I passed all sorts of night clubs and bars and restaurants. I kept going and going.

I started noticing that the buildings looked familiar. Was I on the way to the airport and not headed to either the Hotel or the dorm? I stopped to check my guide. Mistake? A taxi driver saw me consulting it and asked if I needed a lift. I told him I was going to the Hotel Cap Ouest. He said he knows it--I think--my French wasn't quite up to communicating with this guy. He said he would take me there for 3000 CFA. No. OK, how much? Like a moron, I said 2000 CFA. OK. I got in. In less than 2 minutes we were there. Dammit! I was almost there! He suggested that he take me around Dakar and show it all to me. But no way I'm going to trust a guy who just let me pay 2000 CFA for a 2 minute ride.

The Cap Ouest Hotel is also a bar, restaurant, and has a nice little beach. A very nice little beach.

So I went in and asked if they had a room. Yes, but it wasn't ready yet. It was only 11am. So they invited me to wait on the beach. I sat there on a chaise longue and wrote in my journal. I watched a fisherman. He had a "reel" like a homemade kite string winder. And instead of a rod to launch the hook and bait, he just swung it around his head like a slingshot and slung the hook out. He caught a fish shortly after I started watching him.

A guy came up while I was there and went through the whole spiel--Ça va? Ça va. English? Yes. Where are you from? The United States. Oh I have a brother in New Jersey. Oh, New Jersey is a nice state. Where are you from? Seattle, Washington--on the other side of the country from New Jersey. Is it your first time to Senegal (subtext: are you still a newbie sucker)? Yes. How long have you been in Senegal (subtext: Have you had an opportunity to buy what I'm selling already)? Two days. How long will you stay in Senegal (subtext: How many opportunities remain for you to buy the stuff I'm selling)? I have some stuff here to show you. I'm not interested in buying anything. Just look--you don't have to buy. (I've heard that before.) But I already bought everything I need. I went to Dakar and on the way, there were merchants just like you and they sold me everything I needed and even some stuff I don't need. So I really don't need to buy anything. Can I just show you? You'd be wasting your time since I'm not going to buy anything. Sorry. He gathered his stuff and started to move on. I wished him luck. The whole thing took about 3 minutes. A new speed record in shaking off the persistent Senegalese merchant.

Finally I got my room. Whew! It's an OK room. 20100 CFA in total which is still too high for me. It's on the first floor and has a fan. I wasn't willing to pay for AC. There is WiFi in the room. A toilet and shower are also inside and not shared.

I went out and had a beer and wrote into my journal a little bit. Then I interneted a little bit. Then I decided to head off and see if I could find the Via Via with the cheap beds.

I walked through the village of Yoff. Yoff is actually a sizable village. I was just on the major road looking at all the neat stuff.

Then I passed a man in a robe made of about 4" x 4" colored squares--all colors. The usual spiel--Ça va? Ça va. English? Yes. Where are you from? The United States. Oh my brother and I lived in Washington, DC for university for 2 years. He now lives in New Jersey. Oh, New Jersey is a nice state. Where are you from? Seattle, Washington--on the other side of the country from New Jersey. Is it your first time to Senegal? Yes. How long have you been in Senegal? Two days. How long will you stay in Senegal?

He claimed to be a guide and wanted to show me around. I told him I was just out for a walk and didn't need a guide--I just needed a quiet walk. Then we asked to me look at his outfit. Like I said--colors squares. He said he owned a jewelry store just down the street but that he closed it today because his wife was having a baby today. And a baby comes into the world as a stranger. So in Senegal, the tradition is to find the first stranger after the baby comes for good luck. And lucky me--I was the first stranger he saw. He said that his outfit is the outfit you wear when a new baby arrives because it has all colors--like the planet and the baby should be born into a world without racism. And he said I am not a racist. Then he told me to hold out my hand. I held out my right hand. No--this tradition requires the left hand because it is the lucky hand. So I held out the left hand. He pulled out a little white package folded up. I had no idea what was in there, so I jerked my hand away. No, he said, I have a present for you--when you have a baby, you must find a stranger and give him a present. He told me to put it into my pocket. I told him I'm going to put anything into my pocket if I don't know what it is. So he opened it. It was a very attractive gold necklace.

Interesting...a scam involving jewelry again--just like at the bridge just south of the Louvre that I blogged about a month or so ago. I don't get these jewelry scams. Anyway, I said it looked too expensive. He said I had to take it because if I didn't, it would curse his baby with bad luck. And he was so lucky to meet me because I'm not racist like Germans or the Dutch who, he said while lifting up his robe revealing a little leather ball by his kidney, get a voodoo curse. He said he was happy I'm not racist because he wouldn't want to have to give me a voodoo curse. So I said, "Ok......."

Now, the next part of the tradition is that I need you to give me a paper that I rub on my forehead while saying a prayer (he said it like "pry") and then I give the paper back to you. A paper? I don't know that I have a paper. A paper money. A ha! So that's what he's up to! I was wondering where this would lead. I carefully slipped a 1000 CFA out of my wallet. I didn't trust this guy any further than I could throw him. 1000 CFA is like only US$2 and the story is was already worth that. So even if he took it, and I never expected to see it again, it would be OK--more annoying because I lack small bills than the fact it was being taken.

No, he said, he needed a bigger bill. I said the 1000 CFA note was all I could give. Then he got mad. He asked if I wanted trouble...maybe a voodoo curse? Maybe a knife?

OK, now he said "knife". End of everything. A threat to my person is not an acceptable way to run a scam. I pushed the necklace into his hand and stepped back. I pointed at him and yelled, "You just threatened me with a knife! A knife!"

He smiled--just like yesterday when I got mad at the guy with the RayBans, Montblanc pens, and Louis Vuitton wallet that were either fake or stolen. Did he smile because he got me mad? Did he smile out of embarrassment that he had to degrade himself and his country in this manner? I wish I knew. Anyway, that ended that. I walked to the end of the road and then turned around an came back going through that intersection about 10 or 15 minutes later. He crossed the street to the other side when he saw me coming.

So these scammers/shysters use a few different tricks. 1) give you a "gift" to try to create a desire for a reciprocal obligation, 2) telling you that you are not a racist, 3) they unfold their scam slowly--you wind up spending a lot of time with them, and 4) persistence. They are harder to shake than anyone in Morocco.

July 24 21:03 Senegal local time

First Day In Dakar. Wow!!!

It's 5:40 pm.  The electricity is off in my hotel and I'm on battery power.  So I better get crackin...

I woke up this morning after a less than refreshing sleep.  I took a much needed shower and changed and headed out.  My passport was at the front desk as promised and I retrieved it to my relief.  I'm paranoid about my passport.

So it was time to tackle Dakar--or be tackled by Dakar.  I asked the clerk how much a taxi into Dakar costs. She said about 2000 or 2500 CFA.  Since I only had a 5000 CFA note and a 200 CFA coin, that was potentially almost half my CFAs on hand.  So I studied the map and decided to try walking.  I left about maybe 9:30 or so.  We are right by a lighthouse in the Mamelles neighborhood.  It's about 2 miles from the city center.  So off I went.  I went by the light house.  There were a few people walking.  There were tons of taxis.  They beep at you to let you know they can take you.  I got beeped at a lot.  Taxi drivers with empty seats hate to see rich people walking, I'm sure. (Electricity is back-I guess it comes on around 6.  They are running a generator from the sounds of things.)  Anyway, there weren't many walkers, but a few so I didn't feel like I was doing something I shouldn't.  I next passed some sort of military installation with men in towers watching the road perhaps and probably wondering what this white guy was doing walking along the road.

Then I sort of crested the hill and voila.  A magnificent scene!  A mosque at the bottom of the cliff.  There were long deep staircases going down, a nice beach, a bunch of boats, and people.  But the mosque is a fascinating architectural style.  It looks brand new--all white with its two towers à la Notre Dame and an onion dome.  (Generator is off again.)

View Larger Map

So I went around that.  After that, Dakar turned beautiful.  So much nicer than even Rabat.  The buildings were nice, the streets were clean, the infrastructure was constructed with quality.  I had expected Senegal to be behind Morocco.  Maybe it was racism on my part, or thinking that proximity to Europe would mean more European influence, or maybe it was the fact that the Arabs invented the zero.  I don't know what it was, but I was pleasantly surprised.  I started to think that Elena should have come with me.  I went along in this happy state by the university, by a big blue gorgeous building that welcomes everyone to Dakar at the city limit.

Then I went by a small market that sells art--teak wood stuff, ebony, mahogany, etc.  A guy called me in.  OK, I can't buy anything so what's the harm in looking.  After all, I dealt with the most persistent merchants that Morocco had to offer.  And Moroccan merchants see Al Pacino's character in Glengarry Glen Ross as a lightweight.  Well, these guys make the Moroccans look like amateurs.  The only reason they let me go was that I had no money on me.  Unlike the Moroccans whose approach is always rough, these guys are much smoother.  They don't start out with that offputting "Français? Espagnol? Italiano? Anglais?"  These guys have charisma that the merchants in Morocco just don't.  I get away from Paco who wants to show me around Dakar.  I tell him I want to go alone.  By myself.  Finally he leaves me be.  But other guys suck me in.  Finally, one guy--the guy, Alionwe Sow at booth 86 is trying to sell me carvings.  Finally in order to escape, I have to promise to come back later.  What time?  It's like he wanted to make an appointment.  I said maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow.  To seal that, he gave me a present--a sort of wooden mask sample that is unpolished.  The idea being now that he's given me the mask, I have an obligation to come back.

So now, I'm on my way.  I survived and kept walking.  Then out of the blue--there's Paco.  He just follows me.  So we chat a bit.  He leads me to the Place d'Independence where the bank machines are.  I get 100,000 CFA out.  I figure, Paco deserves a beer, so I invite him for a beer. He picks the place--l'Imperial.

On our way a guy attaches himself to me.  He has in his hand 5 items.  Fake (or stolen) RayBans, fake (or stolen) Montblanc pens, a fake (or stolen) Louis Vuitton wallet, and two other boxes whose contents I didn't see but are probably fragrances.  He kept putting items in front of me and quoting prices.  Like I can do CFAs yet.  They're between a Japanese yen and a Korean won.  Too small.  Morocco was easy because I learned Moroccan pricing in Hong Kong.  A dirham is like a Hong Kong dollar.  Anyway, he kept putting this in front of me in various combinations and quoting prices.  Like 5000 CFA for a fake pair of RayBans AND a set of fake Montblanc pens is something I can consider a good deal.  I couldn't even think how much 5000 CFA was.  I was tired and thirsty. 

It's nice inside the Imperial.  Air conditioned.  Lot's of Europeans.  Cute bartendresses.  We got two Flag beers and they came with spicy olives.  Yummy!  I don't really like olives in the US, but I like the olives we get here in Africa.  I guess we can't do olives--like they can't really do hamburgers.  So we sat at Imperial enjoyed the AC and chatting about various things.  Paco is a bit clingy but a nice enough guy.  And the west Africans have that charm that the Moroccans just lack.  The only Moroccan I met on the entire trip of 1 month who I would invite to a beer was our neighbors son, Tarik, in Marrakech.  All the rest weren't really people I wanted to have a beer with.  Of course Tarik comes from a strict Muslim family and doesn't drink beer.  Oh well.  Paco claims to speak 7 languages: French, Spanish, Italian, Portuguese, English, Chinese (!?) and his local dialect.  I doubt his Chinese is really good.  Actually (soapbox moment) why do people claim to speak "Chinese"?  To me, that usually means Mandarin.  Though there are Mandarin, Cantonese, and then a whole pile of decreasingly used dialects.  When I mean Mandarin, I like to say Mandarin.  Another amazing fact about him, he claims his family has 20 boys and 10 girls!  What?  He has 30 siblings?  According to the Lonely Planet polygamy is practiced in Senegal.  So I guess his dad had the maximum number of wives allowed.  (I'm sticking with the minimum, myself.)  I'm personally not a big fan of multiple wives.  I can't even find one woman who wants me when there are an equal number of single men and women.  (Seattle actually has a huge number of extra single men, though.  I'd have to go east--NY or Boston--for fishing in the barrel rather than being the fish.)  He also said it had rained yesterday.  It's very hot today--OK only 31°C, but hot to me.

So finally, I decided to leave.  I show my journal which I had brought and told Paco that I wanted to find a place and write.  We went outside.  We obviously still wanted to follow me.  Finally I said I had to do stuff that I need to do by myself.  Then he tried to lay a guilt trip on me.  He said that he came all this way and had no way of getting back.  Gee, I bought the guy a nice beer in a nice place with lots of hot waitresses.  What more could he want?  He followed me--not just uninvited--but told that I wanted to explore Dakar alone.  Is it my problem if he wandered to far from where he started as he followed me?  No.  But I said I could contribute to his cab fare.  I had a 2000 CFA note as change from the beer (1200 CFA each plus a 500 CFA tip--think 500CFA is like a dollar so two US$2.40 beers and a buck tip which is half of what I pay in the US--a buck a drink).  So I was willing to give him 2000 CFA but he made a suggestion first.  Twenty.  Twenty?  What can you do with 20 CFA?  It's like a penny.  No 20,000 CFA.  Whoa!!!!   That's like US$40.  For showing me the way to the ATM?  After drinking a beer?  What was he smoking?  (Cigarettes actually--3 the whole time we were together.)  He agreed to half.  Agreed to half?!  I never even agreed to 1 CFA!  Let alone 20 bucks.  He said he'd give me credit when I came to his store tomorrow.  We "negotiated" some more.  In the end, I gave him 2000 CFA--like US$4.  More than he deserved, but he did answer a lot of questions while we had our beer.  And he's a nice guy as well, so the time spent with him was exasperating but also interesting.

So exit Paco stage left.  Whew!  But enter RayBan/ Montblanc/ LouisVuitton guy stage right.  I told him I'm not interested in as many combinations as he showed me of his goods.  I walked away from whence I came but he followed.  And followed.  I told him I wasn't interested in his merchandise.  But I didn't know what his sales pitch was.  He didn't want me to buy one of his five fake (or stolen) items.  He wanted me to buy him off. So he would leave me the hell alone.  He obviously wasn't going to make a lot of money trying to sell one of those 5 items in the Place d'Independence.  He didn't need to waste his time try to sell it.  One of the people there (I;m not sure of their relationship--but they must be in league) gave me a "present" of a cowry necklace.  (Cowries are little shells that are easy to punch and string together and became money in west Africa.  Hugh Thomas's The Slave Trade goes into a lot of detail about how cowries worked in the economies of the time.  Sadly, the book is a tad tedious though not as much as Harold Innis's The Fur Trade in Canada which is basically detailed lists of prices and marchandise carried on trade missions--hey wait a minute....nevermind.)  Anyway, he found a much more valuable commodity--freedom from his presence.  How do you shake that?  Irritation just makes the commodity more valuable.  His pitch became that he wanted a Coca Cola and he's go away.  How much is a Coca Cola?  2000 CFA he assured me.  2000?  That's like ten dollars, I exclaimed.  Actually, more like five.  Finally we went into a store.  I just wanted to get rid of the guy and the smallest bill I had was a 5000 CFA note. He told me to give it to him and he'd give me the change.  I figured the odds of that were pretty slim, but I was tired.  And sure enough, he didn't give me the change.  Instead he invited me to his store.  But it was the impetus I needed to get pissed off.  I switched to French and said "Nous sommes fini!" swinging my arms like an umpire does "safe".  He was happy, he got his 4000 CFA.  He asked me if I was happy.  "No!" He smiled.  Was it because he was embarrassed or because he got 4000 CFA from an annoyed American?  Either way, it's good riddance.

He got me angry enough that I was able to keep the rest of them at bay for the rest of the day.   A guy told me to come to his store--just look.  I said "The last person who told me that took my money!  I'm done for the day!"  He hung on a little longer but he soon knew I was in no mood for games and I wasn't going to play them.  Same with another guy not far from Paco's store on the way back.

Anyway, after that, I decided to try to find the Continental Hotel to see if they have rooms.  I found a street that seemed to go there--roughly.  It was an interesting street.  It is the street where they repair cars and more importantly, the buses.  Part of it looked like a chop shop.  In a way it was probably a legal chop shop--they dismantle cars and turn them into parts.  It was a little scary.  I was the only white guy.  And this was not a fancy pants part of Dakar.  Oil ran in the street.  The people made money on the difference in price between a used car and its parts.  I finally exited the street and turned left.

If you ever look at a large African city on google maps satellite view, they look very intimidating.  They map is essentially made up of grey and brown pixels and nothing else.  Everything is very close together.  Here is the chop shop near the bus station:

View Larger Map

I got lost in that.  It's sort of surreal.  I'm probably the only white guy to go there today.  My presence was, I'm sure, noted, but they didn't bother me.  They ignored me.  Whew!!! I wandered around in that for a while.  Then decided to give up on the hotel and just go home.

I found the light house of in the distance.  And by distance, I mean distance.  Actually, it's more of a 5 mile trek into town than a 2 mile trek.  After about an hour of walking, the lighthouse was still far.  There's a French pun in there for those in the know.   An hour later, I made it about 1/3 closer.  Near the cool mosque I bought the most delicious Orange Fanta I ever tasted in my life.  They didn't have any cold bottled water though.  That gave me the boost I needed to make it back--which I did by sheer force of will.  My crotch skin was chaffed severely by my sweaty pants and I got a huge blister on my right heel.

I came into the hotel which was much further from the highway than I remembered.  A disembodied voice said "Bonjour".    I eventually found the cure clerk laying sort of under the stairs in a cushioned bench.  We laughed.  Then I went to my room to take a much needed shower.  I was sunburned, sweaty, and in pain.  I could barely walk.  The water was hot.  It started as fresh water from the shower head, but was salt water by the time it hit the floor.  My crotch chaffing was stinging with all the salt water flowing down my body, but eventually, the salt was gone.

Then I went back to my room where I learned they don't have electricity during the day.  Oh well.  I got a couple of beers down in the hotel "lounge" and came up when the mosquitos came out.  I need to minimize my exposure to those little guys.

So, at least I accomplished my mission critical task of withdrawing money from the ATM.  But I didn't succeed in the less critical task of prearranging a place to stay tomorrow.  I'll cab it everywhere tomorrow--it's in my health budget.

23/7/2008 21:34 Dakar local time

The First Night In Dakar

I didn't sleep too well. Despite the screen doors, there were 2 mosquitos. I got the first one pretty early. The second one was more elusive. I'd hear her and occasionally see her fly by, but I couldn't track her down. I slept in my sac à viande (aka sleeping bag liner) to expose as little flesh as possible.

This morning, I woke up and saw it on the wall. I tried to chase it down, but it kept getting away and went under the bed. I figured the low flying can't be good--weighed down with my blood, perhaps. Yikes. I hope is wasn't carrying malaria. If I get flu like symptoms, it's off to the doctor. Sadly, it's malaria season in Senegal. Malaria is deadly if not treated. So I'm going to be a little extra paranoid about my health in the coming months.

23/7/2008 8:53 am Dakar local time

Rabat To Dakar

This morning I woke up Rabat. My goal was to fall asleep in Dakar.

Though my ticket was for the 4 pm train to the Casablanca airport, I decided to try to board the 3 pm train. No problem. Fortunately, the train system in Morocco is pretty good with schedules. I made the switch at Ain Sebaa to the airport line and arrived at the airport at 4:20 or so.

As my luggage was heavy, I thought I should see if I could check in. I lined up not realizing that it was too early. I even asked "est-ce que il est trop tôt?" but he said no and let me check in. I checked my backpack and a stuff sack that I had attached to the top of the backpack. Then, went looking for something to cool me off.

I bought a Speciale Flag and sat down in the cafe. They have WiFi--but you need to buy a voucher for 40 dh for 30 minutes or 60 dh for an hour. Anyway, as I was sitting there, it occured to me that my backpack and stuff sack were sitting there as sitting ducks for anyone who would want to look through them--and maybe even pocket a few goodies like a Swiss army knife or rechargeable flashlights or clothes. But fortunately, not much else is of value expect clothes.

So I sat there sipping my ice cold beer (WiFi and ice cold beer--the airport gets a few things right) thinking about my stuff. Then I decided to fill out my disembarkation card. It said I cannot take more than 1000 dh out of the country. Well they're worthless out there, so I went to a bank where I turned 800 dh into US$ 107. At least I can use dollars. Then back for another beer. I actually had a lot of time to kill, so another beer seemed like an OK idea. Then I decided to pass through security and passport control and enter the gate area. I didn't know what there would be over there. Cafes? Restaurants? Stores?

I went through the first set of people--5 police standing there making sure I had a boarding pass. Then the next step. Two officers. I stopped there and they only wanted to know how much foreign currency I was taking out of Morocco. I told them about US$200 and about €600. They looked askance at me and asked if that was really all. I said it was. They handed my passport back to me and wished me a safe trip.

Next I went through passport control. Just a stamp in the passport next to the one I got when I came. I like it when they put the stamps next to each other like that. Then security. It was pretty easy--no taking off shoes or removing the laptop from the case. Just normal pre-9/11 security. Good enough for me.

And then voila! Not only do they have stores and cafes and restaurants, they have better ones on that side. I went to have a cheeseburger and a beer. The guy tried to get me to bump up to Casablanca brand beer for 38 dh, but I stuck with the Flag for 32 dh. The burger was not the best--the fries were cold. But it was OK. My last Moroccan meal--probably ever. It least it wasn't as bad as my worst ever hamburger which I had at the Perkins Restaurant and Casino in Butte Montana. That was one bad burger.

Anyway, I went up to the boarding area. There were a few white people but not many. A lot of black people. Almost no Moroccans--to my surprise. The boarding announcement came but my French wasn't up to it, so I just let the crowd go in and went when they were almost done. When I got to my seat, of course there was someone in it. So went back further to the rear and got a nice seat in the less crowded back. The plane was about 90% full. Let's see--30 rows times 6 seats per row, minus about 12 for business class--168 people, approximately on the Royal Air Maroc 737-800.

We took off and the little video screen came down with my favorite thing--the map showing your track. It puts up little random cities and Montpellier was one of them. Cool, I thought. I didn't even know Montpellier had a beacon. Eventually, though, that went away and they showed a British version of Montreal's Just For Laughs Gags--something called Just Joking or something like that. After that, they had Mr. Bean. Finally back to the map. It was getting late. The plane took off at 8 and would arrive at 11. The guy in my row decided to sleep and his head was sort of in my space. But he was a funny guy.

The plane started descending. There were a lot of lights. It's not like Seattle lit up, but it's pretty lit up. There are houses right up to the runway. I felt sorry for the inhabitants. It's gotta be a pretty bad place to live. We landed safely. Whew! I hate flying.

So we taxied around for a while, then while we were still moving, people started to get up and move around. I the US, we typically wait until the plane at least stops. Not in Dakar. It's just anything goes. I originally thought it would be a long time to get off since I'm at the back, but there wasn't one of those jetways--instead shuttles came and the back doors were opened as well. So I actually turned out to be one of the first off the plane. It was stiflingly hot, but no mosquitoes seemed to be buzzing around. The shuttle took us to customs where there was a rush for the customs forms. There were 2 parts. One part is the immigration form for immigration, and the bottom half is more of a survey for the tourism agency. I filled it out and got in the international line. Most people were in the ECOWAS line. A cute girl in front of me borrowed my pen to finish filling out her card.

Then it was time to go through. I handed the man there my passport and the boarding card. I had my Yellow Fever certificate ready if he asked. He didn't ask. Just stamped stuff and gave it back to me. So I went to get my luggage. It took me a while to figure out which carousel. Embarrassing since there are only 3. Eventually I realized that the computer screen switches between displaying the flights of the 3 conveyors and all the screens over all the conveyors show the same thing at the same time. It wasn't until it was showing the flights for conveyor 1 that I saw my flight.

I waited and eventually saw my things. Just as I was getting them, a guy came up and offered to help. I told him I was OK. He said he could help. I said I was fine. He said he could get my stuff through without it being opened by customs. I still turned him down.

To go through customs, you run your stuff through an X-ray machine again. I did and gathered it up at the other end. Done. Now to find out if there would be a guy waiting for me with my name on a piece of paper.

I went out. And voila. A guy pointed at me and the guy next to him had the paper with my name--misspelled of course. We shook hands and headed off to the car. Here's where it gets bad. I'm a white guy in Senegal. That makes me a beggar magnet. By the time we got to the car, I had a train (to use an old EQ term) of people hobbling on crutches, dragging their kids, hands out, asking for just one euro, they knocked on the window of the car and pleaded. But I had no money handy even.

Fortunately, the driver managed to take off. I noticed there was a digital display on his dash alternating back and forth between "ABS fault" and "Engine coolant temp too high". We drove along the road from the airport. It was interesting. Even at 11 at night, tons of people out. There are restaurants, night clubs, hotels, a Shell station with a Select convenience store. Soldiers every few hundred yards. It was amazing. Like nothing I've seen yet. Eventually we got close to the lighthouse. Then the hotel--Les Mamelles du Phare. The driver, outside the door, called them on his cell phone. I heard the phone ring inside. They let us in. It turns out, I had to pay the driver the agreed upon fare from the website when I made the reservation. Also, they want all payment up front. So I payed €70 and got 5200 CFA back. (You though dirhams were hard? Wait'll you see the CFA prices.) The driver got paid, and I got my room.

Shared bathroom, 2 beds, WiFi, a fan, screened windows (whew). I'm here for 2 nights. I have that long to figure out how to exist in Dakar or its environs for cheap. That's my job tomorrow.

And speaking of tomorrow, it's already here and I need to sleep. Which I can do because my room is pretty good.

By the way, my friends over at Capitol Hill Seattle are trying to get their blog back up to number 1 on google. They used to be number one when they were with blogger.com, but now they are http://www.capitolhillseattle.com. So this link should help them a bit.

Blogger Time Zone Fun

There are 2 ways the timestamp feature could work on a blog. The first is that it sets a timestamp based on "universal time" and the second is that is sets the time based on "local time". When I'm here traveling in Africa, I don't really want the timestamp to show what time it was for the reader when something happened--I want it to show my local time. So if I post something at 2 am in Dakar, ideally it would say 2 am no matter where the reader is. This is in contrast to my usual tendency to want to know when something was posted in universal time. So if Joshua Micah Marshall posts something, I want to know what time he posted in my time.

The problem is that up until now I have been manually setting timestamps as if the blog were in Seattle. From now on, I'm going to post in local time and try to add the local time to the end of each post for reference. Also for the first time since in France, my computer displays the right time. :-)

23/7/2008 8:32 am Dakar local time

Getting Ready To Fly To Dakar

Tonight at about 8 PM I'll be off to Senegal. I'm flying Royal Air Maroc, flight AT 503 between Casablanca and Dakar.

In preparation, I mailed some stuff from Amana, the package office of the Moroccan post office. It was an interesting experience. I first had to get a box for 6 dh, then package up my stuff and take it to the outgoing customs desk where I got a stamp on the box. Then I took it to the window where I got postage. It was pretty light and I sent it Economy so it was 123.10 dh.

Then I reconfirmed my flight. I got my ticket to the airport last night, along with a shave (20 dh). I'm packed as well. I'm pretty much ready. Last night I went one last time to the Weimar Cafe. I was there at opening, 7 pm, and the AC was really nice. I had 2 50cl beers and a half pizza (Red Hot) and half salad (Indienne). The total was 165 dh--50 for each beer and 65 for the Menu Malin of the half pizza half salad. I wrote a lot into my journal. When I was done, I came back and went to sleep where I slept like a log.

Last Full Day In Morocco

Today is my last full day in Morocco. I'm taking it easy today--doing some last minute laundry and mailing a couplke things. Hopefully, everything will go OK in Senegal. I'm hqving email trouble and can't send reliably. It's a bit frustrating as my hotel in Senegal never responded to say if they got my information. I hope they are there when I show up at the airport because I sent them the flight info. If they aren't, I'll have to figure out what to do at 11 at night at Dakar airport.

Elena is safe, too. I got her "I arrrived" email. Whew! She must have had a not-so-fun night spending the night at the Milan airport.

I wanted to go to the Cafe Weimar last night, but the guide says they are closed Sundays. So I had a beer and journaled at Le Grand Comptoir and ate a "cheeseburger" at the much cheaper Marhaba.

First Morning Without Elena

It is the day I knew would eventually come. Elena and I planned to only do the France part together, but wanted to check out Morocco and since we are very flexible, she was able to come and spend a month with me in Africa. Now she is on her way to her original itinerary. I cried at the airport, and all the way home to the hostel from the airport. We both know we'll meet again at the end of the year, but it is still very emotional.

Now I have to figure out how to survive without Elena watching my back. I made it to Rabat this morning--catching the train by 2 minutes. Close but not as close as the transfer back from the airport last night where I jumped onto the train as it already moving.

I'm staying at the Rabat youth hostel for 2 nights until I can go to Casablanca airport for my flight to Senegal. I managed to check in and drop off my bags. Later I'll return and have my first shower in 2 days. Boy, that will be nice. Hosteling is a bit tricky to learn. How do you keep your stuff secure? How can I organize my stuff so I don't spill the contents of my pack all over the bed? These are thinbgs I have to work out. I was a little disorganized because Elena found a person who was staying at the hostel and volunteered me to accompany her to the festival (what festival? I girl from Seattle namede Sara knows because she went). We didn't go to the festival--just talked for a while outside where it was cooler. She had to catch a 4:30 train to the airport so she was rerady for bed anyway.

This morning I started writing in my journal--something I haven't much of lately but will start to do in earnest now. I'm also reading my new Tocqueville book. Well, I better go eat.

Elena

Well today (19th) is my last day traveling with Elena. Originally, I thought we would only be together in France and she'd go off and do her thing while I went to Africa. But I also told her that she was welcome to come with me as far as she wanted to. And to my surprise, she decided to come to Morocco and see how it is.

For me Elena is a great traveling companion. She has her quirks but she always makes sure everything is in order, clean, neat, and organized. I'm going to miss her. We have agreed that if I find I can't stand traveling through Africa, we'll meet in Thailand or Nepal. Otherwise, we will meet again in December or January for our trip back across the United States to the Pacific Northwest.

So, Elena, thank you so much for being my traveling companion these 2 months in Vancouver, 3 months in France/Spain, and 1 month in Morocco! Although we had our disagreements and arguments, I have never had a better traveling companion. We have been to Hawaii, Japan, Amsterdam, Greece and the Greek Islands, Romania, Hungary, Czech Republic, New York City, Yosemite National Park, Banff, now Barcelona, Montpellier, Paris, Seville, Tangier, Fes, Casablanca, Essaouira, Marrakech, and Rabat. So I know how you are as a traveling companion! I keep inviting you to come with me! I hope that whenever we meet whoever we will and fall in love with whoever we do, that our special friendship will continue. Good luck on your travels to Romania, Nepal, India, Southeast Asia, and the Middle East. I'll be thinking about you. Always.

Rabat To Casablanca And Last Two Dinners

We visited the kasbah to see the sunset from there, but we gave up since we got there too early. Here is the sunset a mile behind the kasbah from the previous night.

We headed back to the Weimar Cafe. We got there and snagged the last unreserved table. Whew! Any later, and we would have been waiting a long time. We got a Weimar salad and a Provençial pizza. They were so yummy. We also had big mugs of beer. Elena finished hers before I finished mine! How did that happen?

Here I am taking a bite of yummy pizza.

And here is one of the best pictures I ever took of Elena!

Then back for our last quiet night at the hotel.

The next morning we got a book for Elena to read since she finished everything I was reading. We also got a pastry--chicken pastilla for me and a croissant for her. With coffee of course. Then another lunch at Ghazza. Everything in Rabat was nice. We really like Rabat. But it was time for the train--so we headed to the station.

Elena and I took the train from Rabat to Casa Port. We went first class given the 20 dh difference between them and were happy we did. It was the nicest train car we've been in since arriving in Morocco. It was the first time we were in an open car rather than those horrible compartments. It was so pleasant. Sadly, it was only an hour. Also, there were actually announcements saying which stations we were at. For the first time along the whole route. Maybe it is only in first class. Morocco--specifically, the ONCF--needs to really fix the way one knows what station we're at.

We arrived near the Hotel Central--we just followed the water on our right until we found the youth hostel sign. Just about a 6 or 7 minute walk. The Hotel Central has nice rooms with shower/bathroom inside. Our room was over the square with the youth hostel and has a view of the port.

Finally we went to Rick's Cafe again where we got a 170 dh bottle of Domaine de Sahara Reservé. Elena got teriyaki chicken grillades for 75 dh with vegetables for 20 dh. I got the deluxe hamburger for 90 dh and potato salad for 20 dh. The chicken was yummy. The hamburger meat was good, but it came with a bun and nothing else. No ketchup. No mustard. No mayonnaise. No tomato. No lettuce. No onion. No pickles. There were fried onions in the ground beef and the patty was juicy, spicy and large. But I'm not sure where the "deluxe" comes from. It was still yummy.