Senegal Journal

I have now been in the Gambia for more than four months working as a volunteer with VSO in the capital city of Banjul. I have decided that it is about time for a break so when I was told about the Jazz Festival in St. Louis (on the northmost part of the coast of Senegal) I (and a number of other volunteers) seized the chance to have a bit of a break. Actually, I also like jazz so this was even more a reason to do it.

Being my first time in Senegal I decided to see if I could see a bit of the country by as many different forms of transport: “Planes, Trains and Automobiles”, though the train-thing never worked out, I did end up with “Planes, Buses, Ferries, and Automobile”. Not too bad.

Well, it has certainly been a long day. I had to begin with getting up at 4:20. We had to catch the first ferry from Banjul to Barra which leaves at 7:00 but in order to get to Banjul we had to catch a “bush taxi” from Westfield Junction, which is about a mile from where I live. I say “we” because I made this trip with another VSO friend of mine, Christine, who had indicated she wanted to try this trip to Dakar by bus with me. We figured it was a) easier than taking a regular bush taxi b) cheaper than a flight and c) (most importantly) it was a good way to see a bit of Senegal before getting to Dakar. The tickets for the bus I had purchased a few days ago and they were much cheaper than any other form of transport (short of walking) that we know of and, it turns out, much more comfortable.

At 5:30 I met Christine at a place we both knew just down from Westfield then we walked to the junction (a long walk, but no taxis seemed to be around at that time). When we got to the junction we found an empty bush taxi that indicated it would go to Banjul as a “town trip” for 50 delasis. Ok, a town trip is essentially what we would consider a normal taxi ride – door to door – as opposed to a bus which might follow a particular route. Bush taxis normally follow a set route and the trip to Banjul is normally 4 delasis so 50 was a bit beyond us (even if it was split between the two of us) so we decided to wait until they filled the other seats in the van. We did not have a long time to wait, about 20 minutes.

It was quite strange taking the bush taxi at this time of the morning – there is no one around and it is so quiet. I am used to the hustle of city life – beggers, hawkers, and just an abundance of people (and “life” itself). We were able to have the bush taxi take us right to the ferry terminal which is a good thing since it would have been about a half mile walk from where the bush taxi normally finishes in Banjul – though we had to pay an extra 3 delasis each.

Well, if Banjul itself was quiet, the ferry terminal certainly wasn't. Christine stood off to the side as I got into a queue for tickets (the booth was not yet open). It turns out that the queue had formed at the wrong window – mistakenly assuming that the big glass window was the ticket place instead of the small window about half a foot square recessed in the wall at just above knee height (convienient only for those crawling). We stood for quite some time before the small window opened and then a mad rush of hands thrust their way through the window for tickets – with me in the middle since I happened to be standing right in front of it. I managed to crouch down and push my fist through and shout “naar!” (two) for the tickets. Once I had the tickets and my change (hopefully) clenched in my fist I had to tug to get my back-pack out of the ensuing throng.

Christine was not amused, I was at the far side of the crowd and she had to make her way through to where I was in order to get into the waiting room for the ferry (the ticket booth is at the beginning of a long narrow corridor with the other end being the waiting room and someone checking tickets). It turns out we could have gone around and entered the ferry along with the vehicles which are let on first but, playing by the books, we stood in the crowd of people at the end of the waiting room by the padlocked gates and watched the vehicles (and, disappointingly, many foot passengers as well) enter the ferry ahead of us.

Finally we were released from our prison onto the boat and people flowed quite readily onto the ferry – it was no where nearly as busy as I have seen it in the past. There were actually places to sit available and you could see a bit of the deck…Christine and I made our way up to the second floor near the bridge and sat down with our backs against the wall. From here we were able to have a good view of the vehicles below and where we were going looking directly across the bow of the ship.

A MercyShip is in Banjul right now. They are an organisation that owns a number of big old cruise liners that they have converted into floating hospitals that provide care to various places that normally do not have such care available. It is a massive, smart-looking ship in the small harbour at Banjul. Very impressive.

The trip was relatively uneventful as we sat and talked, picking up a package of cookies from someone selling them (people were selling all sorts of things, of course) – with an interesting conversation with the hawker about the price though we managed to pay “local” and not “tourist” prices (eventually).

We eventually arrived at about 8:30/8:40 which was not bad considering we left on time at just after 7:00. After docking, we joined the queue leaving the ferry and spotted our bus to Dakar – waiting for us before the exit gate of the ferry loading area – very convienient. We were not the first ones there, but we were told to wait for a few minutes after which our names were called in the order which we had purchased our tickets. Ours were #3 and #4 so we secured a very good seat about a 1/3 of the way back, on the left side, of course with two of us, one of us (Christine) got the window. While we waited for the rest of the group to load we were accousted by people selling various items outside the windows. We picked up a bag of what turned out to be bitter plums which were very tasty (and we ended up eating all the way to Dakar), but quite small and mostly “pit”. There were all sorts of other things including a gentleman who came on board with a clear plastic bag full of various pharmaseuticals (including “dramamine” – for motion sickness – which did not bode well for the trip).

The bus is in pretty good shape which is suprising since it is operated by the Gambia Public Transit Company (GPTC). Most of the buses they operate are somewhat old but this one seemed fairly new (only about 10-15 years old). It even has arm rests (don't even THINK that it would have air conditioning or music – open the window and start whistling!).

Eventually we were loaded and headed off through the gate and made our way slowly through the clutter of parked and waiting vehicles around the ferry area (some vehicles wait, we are told, for DAYS before getting on the ferry – you can see the drivers sleeping in hammocks strung up underneith the trailers). Eventually we were on our way – only to stop about five minutes later at the “bus terminal” just outside of Barra where we were able to use the “facilities” (grab a tea pot of water, visit the hut at the far end of the compound, see the hole in the ground…“toilet paper”? What is that? What do you think the water is for?). This took a bit of time but eventually we were all loaded and off once again on our way. By this time it was getting a bit…warm.

Very quickly we left the settled areas when we came across the border into Senegal. We were told we did not need Visas and this turned out to be the case though they came and took our passports away from us – of course causing us to follow them to get them back. The questions were pretty standard “Why are you going to Senegal?”, etc. We boarded the bus (avoiding more hawkers selling everything from the ubiqitous mango to toiletries) only to stop another 100 meters down the road for customs and then stopped again another 50 meters from there for Senegal border checks as well. Many people had their bags searched but since we had only minimal baggage and nothing to declare, we were left alone. I took the chance to fight for five minutes with someone to purchase some “afra” – meat (lamb, in this case) cooked in a metal box where you point at which pieces you want (with a pre-defined price each) and they cut it off the bones for you, adding spices if you want, and give it to you wrapped in a torn piece of brown paper – along with some bread (just meat is a bit much). It was quite good but he charged a LOT more money than I would have paid in the Gambia so I had a bit of trouble figuring out if that was INDEED the price or not (eventually, I paid up). I feel a bit bad though – I got a bit upset at them and actually raised my voice – it was taking FOREVER and I thought the bus was going to leave – this worked though, I had my meat a few seconds later (less a LOT of money – 25 delasis each, 2 pieces and 3 delasis for bread!). Once finished with the afra I did as what everyone else does - - through the rubish out of the window (don't be silly – “garbage container”, what is that?). This was something that Chris and I really noticed for the whole trip – they were selling canned drinks on the bus (in an ice-filled cooler) and people, once finished, simply through the can out of the window of the bus (moving, or not). Very annoying.

At 10:30 we eventually got past the border and continued on to stop just outside of Kaolack beside a large body of water where they were harvesting salt. You could see the piles of it in the distance and the people wading out in the water to harvest it from the bottom. We stopped at what was obviously a place the buses commonly used as there were a number of people selling frozen juice including our favourite: baobab. So, Chris got out of the bus and went in search of some. We had picked up some CFAs (the currency in use in Senegal – interestingly, this is “Communaute Financiere Africaine” which is supported by France and is used in a number of former french colonies in Africa) but unfortunately they turned out to be FAR in excess of what we needed for the baobab so Chris was actually GIVEN a small frozen bag of juice (since they wanted something like 500 CFA, and the smallest bill we had was about 5000 CFA).

We continued through Kaolack which turned out to be a good sized town. Senegal has turned out to be (so far) very impressive in terms of infrastructure when compared to The Gambia. Here, and many other very small villages, all seem to have electricity, water and telephone lines using very good looking poles and sub-stations (“built to last” concrete and very tidy looking). The roads are much better than the Gambia but not fantastic though the bus seems to be able to simply “float” across most of the holes and ruts. We passed by a number of bush taxis on their side beside the road.

The countryside is much like the Gambia except perhaps a bit sparser with, it seems, fewer villages and trees, with a lot more sand and open areas. The Baobab trees are also very impressive with the bus passing by a number of “Baobab forests” (as I called them) – large numbers of baobab trees for as far as the eye could see (though fairly far apart, with little, if any, other types of trees there as well).

As we approached Dakar, having passed Mbour, both sides of the roads started to be built up with shop after shop and house after house. We started going through a series of roundabouts and passed by some high- rises and a few impressive looking “nursaries” (areas where potted plants are lined up in rows). Eventually we were on a “dual carraigeway” before continuing south at a LARGE roundabout into Dakar itself. Today we had headed north out of Banjul to Barra, then northeast to Koalack, then northwest to just outside of Dakar to finally head south into the city.

We arrived in the city proper at about 4:00 though we were immediately held up with traffic – for an hour and a half. We made good use of it by talking to people in other vehicles out of our windows as well as to people wandering in amongst the “parked” vehicles selling things such as rechargable lights, CDs, food and birds (Christine was very polite to the person selling these, indicating that she would NOT want to buy them but would rather set them free from their cage). The number of people on scooters and motorcycles weaving in amongst the traffic, in the wrong direction, on the pavement (sidewalk) and against the traffic lights – was truly astounding after the Gambia – I doubt if scooters would last too long on Gambian roads…

Eventually we continued towards the train station though the bus eventually stopped, evidently in need of some work to be done on it and we decided to get out and walk (since we were able to figure out where we were on the map in our guide book). Evidently, you can get the GPTC bus in the opposite direction – from Dakar to Barra (Banjul) but it is at some ghastly hour in the morning and you pretty much have to arrange with the driver on the previous day as to where and at what time he will be leaving (from). A bit hap-hazard.

We walked around a large roundabout outside of the rather dilapidated looking train station and headed south towards Place de L'Ind�pendance – a large park-like area that seems to be where most of the big hotels are located (as well as banks and other big organizations). The buildings all have a very colonial look to them with most of them being only one or two stories in height. We made our way around the Place and then along Pompidou which is where we really started getting a lot of hastle with people very desperately trying to sell us everything and anything - - They did not really want to take “no” (in French or Wolof – both of which are spoken here, no english really) for an answer. We managed to duck into a small “patisierie” and purchase a very nice ice-cream desert which was a bit of a break from the street. Heading south we eventually found Rue Jules Ferry and followed it to the hotel we were staying in: H�tel du Plateau.

Chris insists she knows no french but managed to convey our plans to the conceirge quite well (there are a number of us volunteers staying at the hotel – the others will be arriving later on a flight or tomorrow). The hotel is quite nice and the elevator is VERY small (three of us fit in it but we were all but touching each other at this). My room is quite small but has a shower, air conditioning, television(!), double bed, a desk and a bedside table (a bidet in the bathroom, of course, it is french!).

View from Window at H�tel du Plateau

I had a HOT shower (ahhhhhahhh! After the cold ones of the Gambia!) and then had a knock on the door to see that Ben and Kate (more VSO friends from the Gambia) had shown up and were staying in the room next to mine. Other people's rooms (such as Chris') have balconies, mine does not – oh well.

We headed out a short while later for dinner but Christine and Steve (her boyfriend) headed out for drinks first (joining us a bit later). We ate at a place I had been told about by some of the people at work in Banjul – Chez Loutcha. This, I had been told, had “good food, good prices, BIG quantity”. It turns out that this was not an exageration with a massive menu and HUGE portions. I started with octopus and had squid for my main course. We were seranaded by a Kora player who Ben & Kate had a conversation with since he spoke Wolof (and Kora players are typically Mandinka) – they spoke to him in Wolof, Mandinka and French (oh my!). We managed to get rid of him with a bit of money put into the hole of instrument.

The restaurant itself is very interestingly decorated with a lot of fake plants, small inter-connected rooms. It was quite busy but the service was very good. Steve and Christine joined us a little later but we left them shortly afterwards – tired after a long day.

I can see this is not going to be a “vacation” but rather a busy time in this country. I had breakfast this morning at the hotel, if “breakfast” is the right term, basic to say the least, a croissant, some bread, a glass of orange squash and that is about it. A bit later I was joined by Kate and we discussed about what we wanted to do today (no great PLANS for anything).

Before Ben joined us Kate and I went for a walk to the cathedral which we learned was just down the road from us. It is beside a small children's amusement park that has a carousel and a few other small rides. It was brightly lit up last night. The cathedral itself it not too bad, the white paint is peeling a bit but it is fairly large. We headed away from the cathedral and through the “diplomatic” area, passing by the American embassy and a number of others. The roads around here are pretty much all baracded and there are a fair number of security guards about. Of course, the American embassy is the most impressive of the lot with very impressive looking security and a very nice building.

Eventually we headed north and found our way to March� Sandaga. As we walked along the road we were approached by many people attempting to sell things – they are very persistent here. The market itself we could see is a large two-story building surrounded by a sprall of small stalls much like what we would see in The Gambia. We passed a number of small tables et up on the pavement (sidewalk) near the market displaying various items including used clothing as well as new (very nice looking shirts…will have to pick up a few while I am here…). We were looking for a bank since I had not really brought a lot of money with me from the Gambia.

Actually, getting CFAs in the Gambia was not exactly the simplest thing I had ever done. I knew that this trip to Senegal would essentially be paid for by my savings in the UK so I knew I would have to either use my UK credit card (Visa) or a cheque drawn on my UK bank to transfer into CFAs. It turns out that not only were all the banks in Banjul out of CFAs (there seems to have been a “run” on CFAs recently due to some event people in the Gambia were going to in Senegal), they would not cash a cheque for me so I had to use the bank machines at the Standard Chartered Bank (the only ones with bank machines) to get money from my Visa then I had to go to the market and buy CFAs from someone off the street (a tad on the “black market” side). This turned out quite well and I ended up getting a better rate than I would have in the bank. Of course, I also ended up taking all the CFAs from about three or four money changers (they are interesting people with rather LARGE duffel bags full of currency that they carry around with them and carry around the ubiquitous calculator and shout “change, change!” to anyone that passes by).

Eventually, we asked someone who directed us to a Western Union/bank set-up where I was able to use my bank card to draw money (thankfully – the hotel does not accept plastic and I only had a limited amount from the changers in Banjul). While I was inside getting money Kate was attempting to get rid of the guy who had directed us to the bank who was trying to sell us a number of items – “come see my shop, just look around, no committment!”. Oh dear. No (in any language) did not seem to have any effect. Very persistent.

We headed back to the hotel where Ben was sitting down having breakfast and we discussed the general strategy for the day. Eventually we headed out to see what looked to be one of the more immpressive sites on the map – the presidential palace (“Palais Pr�sidentiel”). This was down a very pleasant road lined with trees, wide pavements (sidewalks) and cafes. The palace itself is quite impressive with very good looking gardens all around it and a high iron fence surrounding the whole lot (you cannot go onto the grounds). We had a chat with the guard for a few minutes (very impressive uniform) before heading south, making our way around the palace grounds towards the water.

Palais Présidentiel

We figured that a nice walk along the ocean would be a good thing to see – a lot more interesting than simply walking through the city (which, I am sure, we will be doing a lot of anyway). There is a small road that winds along the top of what are essentially cliffs above the shoreline. There are a few beaches at their base and, of course, hotels at the top but we also passed by a few nice looking restaurants, night clubs and private fitness clubs as well. Obviously a very wealthy area of the city. We could make out the island of Goree visible just off-shore past a small breakwater.

Dakar Coastline

We followed along the road, pausing to admire the “glass paintings” that someone was selling beside the way. These are things that Kate had read about on the plane yesterday and are basically simple, almost, cartoon-like paintings on glass that seem to be sold just about everywhere here. Most of the time they are images of bush taxis and of famous cartoon characters though sometimes they are quite intricate. This gentleman was also selling some images that were made up of the wings of butterflies that were, despite being a bit macabre, quite well done. After getting his card we moved on and passed the afluent area and approached the port. It started to get very commercial as we eventually made it to where the Goree ferry leaves. We are planning a trip to Goree over the next few days so we checked the schedule before then wandering through a small market that had been set-up beside the “terminal”. They were selling all sorts of fresh seafood and fruit (the fresh shrimp caught my eye immediately). There seems to be a lot of this around in much better quality and higher quantity than in The Gambia. At the end of the market we were standing on the end of a pier and were suprised to see an oil rig not 100 meters away obviously being in port for repairs or refurbishment. It is a small rig but still impressive with much of it's struts, which are normally underwater, visible, encrusted with barnacles. People standing on the bottom rungs gave a good idea of how big the structure actually was – very impressive.

We then wandered back through the small gate leading to the terminal area (when we entered, the terminal is straight ahead, the market is to the right and to the left is a long building with a series of VERY expensive looking shops along with a rather large car park full of taxis) and headed off to the right over a BIG roundabout that Christine and I had crossed yesterday. We eventually arrived at the train terminal as Kate and Ben wanted to check out the times for trains going to Mali. I was also interested in the train to St. Louis since I thought this might be an interesting way to get there (rather than by road). We wandered into the impressive looking building to find that there was no one selling tickets (no ticket windows) and a number of sectioned off areas where there were piles of boxes and people obviously waiting for certain trains to arrive. Oddly, there was a rather nice juice bar there as well…Anyway, eventually we found an official looking gentleman sitting on a chair near the actual train platforms who turned out to be a conductor. Through our broken french and wolof we were able to figure out that the schedules were on small, dirty pieces of papers taped to the walls at the back of each of the sectioned off areas in the main hall (where all the boxes and people were). Eventually we found the schedule for Mali which also included prices. The trip takes about a day and a half and leaves about two times a week. Of course, this is all mere speculation since we had our doubts about the timeliness of the departures. I also found the schedule for St. Louis but we had read (and been told) that this service only operated during “special periods” so did not really take the rather hard to read schedule seriously. It looks like I will be taking the road to St. Louis.

We left the impressive large open space of the train station atrium and turned right to take a quick look at another market that seemed to consist of stalls all along the streets for a number of blocks. The ones closest to the station were selling a large number of beads and necklaces (beads are sold, I am told, strung on a temporary string of grass, and necklaces are on a more permanent fish-line type string). They were quite impressive and we wandered around for a few minutes before finally heading back the way that Christine and I had done yesterday – back towards Place de L'Ind�pendance.

By now we were looking for somewhere to eat as we had walked a pretty good distance so we finaly settled on a small bar or the north side of the square. It was a typical cafe and we ordered individual pizzas and some mineral water (we don't want to chance the local water – we are used to the water in The Gambia, but not here). I visited the toilets while we were here to be incredibly disappointed that the men's consisted essentially of a fixture recessed into the floor – a bit disgusting and dirty for me.

We eventually left the cafe and wandered through the park in search of a bank for Ben. He had a Citibank card but it turns out that the Citibank that is on the Place de L'Indépendance does not have a bank machine (nor, even when they are open, do they accept their own bank cards). Ben and Kate consoled themselves by buying a few post cards from a local newstand (they exist here – and even have a few english language magazines including National Geographic!). We headed back along Avenue Pompidou and then turned along Rue Mohammed V as Ben had read about the many small craft shops along there and he wanted to visit. Alas, as it was 2 o'clock it was afternoon prayers and only a few shops were open selling rather nice looking clothing, statues, masks and rugs.

Returning to the hotel we met up with a few other friends and we were told about a modern art festival (Dakart) that just happens to be starting today. So, we made our plans then returned to our rooms for a mid-afternoon siesta – ahhh, air-conditioning!

A while later we met at the H�tel Al Afifa which is just down the road from our hotel where a number of us met in the bar to discuss things a bit more. The free olives and peanuts quickly vanished as we ordered our drinks and chatted.

Heading out, we walked over to the cathedral where, it turns out, there was a Dakart venue in the basement. Helping ourselves to the free drinks on offer (yes, alcoholic if you wanted them!) we descended into the crypt. It truly is modern art with a number of multi-media pieces as well as a side room containing some more traditional canvas paintings. It was quite interesting (the one video of a log hanging from a rope and simply twisting was quite engrossing!).

Ben, Kate and I wandered for a few minutes through the cathedral which turned out to be very modern inside with modern stained glass windows and quite a small interior (for a cathedral).

Returning to the hotel, Kate and I decided to go for a bit more of a walk and wandered through a dress shop (nice fabrics) and then into a corner store that was just closing where we picked up a copy of the National Geographic and “The Economist” – both in english. We also wandered through another Dakart exhibit that we found just down from our hotel where they even had wine on offer! This one was considerably more crowded and basically had a number of paintings with only a few sculptures in a series of four rooms. We also took a few minutes, before returning to the hotel to drop into a few of the local restaurants to see what they had on their menus (and their prices). There are a large number of very nice restaurants in the immediate area of our hotel – which is good news indeed!

Meeting back at the hotel, a number of us returned to the cathedral to climb in the car of another volunteer (this time with the “APSO” organization, who is based in Dakar) who whisked us off to Casino de Port - a trendy-looking bar, restaurant and casino quite near the ferry terminal. The big screen television above the bar (I mean BIG screen, as in 6 foot across) was showing football as we perched on the tall, small stools and ordered (yet more) drinks. Eventually we were joined by more people and finally made our way into the restaurant. The food was quite good. I had a shrimp (crevettes) caserole for a starter followed by a “fruits de mer” (seafood) pasta. Quite nice (if a bit expensive) with the menu appearing on our paper placemats. A bit of french did come in handy to be able to figure out generally what everything was.

Dinner was followed by a brief foray into the casion where I watched a number of my collegues feed their money into machines to see the lights whirl around for a few minutes (not, obviously, under any illusion they would actually get any money BACK).

Climbing back into the car we returned to quite near the hotel where the rest of the party headed out for a late night of drinking and dancing while I, a non-drinker, headed back to the hotel for an early night.

Well, it was a late morning with my wandering out at 10 for breakfast. I found a local cafe and sat out on the balcony on the first (second) floor overlooking the street. It was a bit confusing about how the cafe worked – it had what looked like a cafeteria on the ground floor but had waiter service on the first (second) floor. So, I ordered at the cafeteria and then made my way upstairs (confusing them greatly). Since lunch was not available (sandwiches), I had two ham & cheese croissant and a large grapefruit juice. I took my time looking down on the street which was quite quiet – it is a Sunday after all. The next table filled up with bikers as they rode their “hogs” up to the restaurant and parked on the street below.

I made my way back to the area around the Marché Sandaga where not a lot was open. I went inside and was suprised at how similar the inside of the market was to Serekunda in The Gambia – except this one is on two levels. Inside is quite dark and dingy selling all sorts of spices, fruits and fish (the smelliest section, of course). The stalls are all very close to one another but they certainly are not as pushy about selling you things as they are on the street.

I made my way east from the market along a side street (avoiding Pompidou and trying to lose a few people who were determined to sell me something and were following me around). Eventually I passed over the Place de L'Indéndance and headed over to the other big market in Dakar – Marché Kermel. This is a octangular building that I am told the stall owners did not appreciate the high rents that were charged in this new building (built when the old market burnt down) so they have boycotted and have stalls all around the perimeter of the market. Inside I found a few stalls selling fresh fruit and vegetable but nothing caught my eye. I was a bit unnerved on the streets around the market though – two people approached me on either side and seemed to want to sell me something but were actually checking my pockets. No damage done but VERY irritating. I got rid of them by passing across the rather wide, busy road and wandered through some side streets to return to the park at Place de L'Indéndance.

I returned to the hotel where I met up with Ben and Kate who wanted to return to Sandaga so I walked over with them to see that a number of additional stalls had opened since I had been by earlier. We were eventually approached by someone who guided us around and away from the market to a small factory where they were making clothes. It was a large room with people operating sewing machines everywhere with clothes, handbags and anything else they can think of made of their fabric hanging from the ceiling and piled up in every available space. The aisles leading around the place were narrow as we were shown various different styles and types of clothing. I was quite impressed with a few fabrics and shirts so picked out a few things while Ben and Kate did the same. Eventually we were guided out and led off to the side of the back alley of the factory and got down to “brass tacks” – money. They wanted a LOT of money that we were simply not willing to take. Eventually, for my two shirts and a pair of trousers (pants) I talked them down to about 20% of what they initially asked for (using a calculator to do the talking) but Ben and Kate made no headway and eventually we walked away with only myself having made a purchase (and, we discussed, even I had paid too much – considering the prices we would pay in the Gambia, though, granted, the quality here is so much better). They followed us all the way as we made our way back to the market area attempting to convince us of the sale but Ben and Kate were having none of it. We stopped at a few other stalls to see what they had but nothing really appealed as we headed away from the market down Avenue Pompidou.

We eventually found our destination – lunch at Ali Baba Snack Bar. A small, rather dingy looking, diner that sells one of my favourite fast foods – Chawarmas. We had read that this was one of the best places for them in the city so we decided to give it a go. Not too bad and the price was not that expensive. Chawarmas are a bit of an odd sandwich – shaved beef with chips (french fries), onions and a sauce wrapped up in a pita. Good though.

We spotted Christine and Steve walking by so we flagged them down and then we all made our way down the road to get some ice cream. It was really nice as I lapped up my sorbet (my favourite!). Heading away from Pompidou we returned to Rue Mohamed V where Ben was pleased to see everything was open. They wandered through a number of shops looking at masks and statues and eventually, through a long negotiation process, picked up a few things at a small shop just down from our hotel (though these are quite LARGE and how they will get them on the plane to return to The Gambia I do not know…).

On the way back to the hotel we spotted another Dakart exhibit being housed in a wrestling theatre so decided to take a look. One particular piece on the upstairs balcony was very dramatic – a large black, burned out piece depicting burned bodies and buildings that was called “September 11th, 2001”. Not nice at all, but very powerful. A few of the pieces caught Ben's eye – they are realising that they are leaving the Gambia in a few months and they NEED to do some shopping for art to put in their place when they return.

Once again we had a bit of a siesta at the hotel and I headed out to take a look at the IFAN (Institut Fondamental d'Afrique Noir) museum which is just down the road from where we are staying. Unfortunately, it was not open but there was a small Dakart exhibit in a small building around the back which I visited instead.

Assembl�e Nationale Near the IFAN Museum

Returning to the hotel I was followed by a “friend” who was disappointed I did not want to go to see his gallery but I wanted, instead, to relax for a few minutes before dinner.

For dinner we headed off just down the road (again) to Le Dragon which was mentioned in our guidebook as having the best Vietnamese in town. Unfortunately, the other restaurant we had wanted to go to, the “Big Five” which has a lovely african interior and good food (which Kate and I had seen yesterday) was closed. Le Dragon turned out to be very good and we had a very nice meal starting with a consum� starter and spring rolls, followed by curried prawns and pork noodles for our main dishes. The sorbet was wonderful for me for dessert while Ben and Kate had a “flambé” – I could smell the alcohol from across the table.

It was an early night after yesterday. CNN was a bit disappointing as the audio is not all that good…

Another day, another breakfast in a cafe – life is difficult. Well, actually it was since it I had a bit of a problem finding a waiter to take my order – two croisants, bread and orange juice. This time a cafe opposite the one yesterday with a number of tables in an outside patio.

I headed off to see if the museum would be open today, but no luck again though there was yet another Dakart exhibit on the first (second) floor that I wandered through with some interesting looking pictures made of metal sheets stapled together. To get to the exhibit I had to pass through the main floor which was the museum but the museum itself was “roped off”. I found out later than Ben & Kate just ignored the ropes and wandered into the museum anyway. From what I could see the museum looks quite good with lots of big dioramas.

After checking out of the hotel I read and waited around to see who was out and about before heading off to the ferry terminal – on the other side of town. It was much busier on the street now that it is past the weekend. Reaching the terminal for the ferry to Goree, I picked up a ticket and then entered the waiting room and found the upstairs bar and restaurant where I was able to get a drink and look out a bit over the harbour before the boat arrived. I was essentially alone but they did not seem to mind that I took my time over my Coke.

At about 12:20 I headed down to meet up with a number of my friends. We had decided last week that a trip to Goree would be a good idea for a few days so we all met up for the boat trip. The crowd was quite considerable now with a lot of tourists around from only about 45 minutes ago when I first arrived. We managed to get onto the smaller passenger boat and (those of us that wanted them) actually got seats on the main deck. Ben & Kate had picked up a number of statues that they were now moving along with their luggage and Usha was heading over with us as she had been to the island earlier in the week and bought some african chairs. These chairs are two pieces of carved wood that form a “X” when put together. Quite nice, a bit heavy and bulky for a vacation…

We headed out of the harbour, passing by the oil rig we had seen the other day and travelled the short distance to �le de Gor�e. It very much reminded me of what the islands must look like in the Mediterranean. Very dry looking and covered with buildings painted in various pastel colours. At the one end of the island, which we passed around coming from Dakar, is the Fort d'Estr�es (now the home of the IFAN Historical Museum) which is a round stone fort. At the other end we could make out Le Castel which is now little more than a high rocky area on the island but was once a more formidable, I am sure, fortification.

We came to dock at the jetty near the beach (there is only one, really) which has a number of buildings housing small cafes and small shops. Everyone got off the boat before it had really docked, no one being patient enough to wait as we jumped the short gap to the dock. In search of the hotel Ben, Kate and I had booked, we were met by the owner waiting near the dock. Ben & Kate had actually pre-booked while I was just hoping to be able to also get a room on the spur-of-the-moment. The Auberge Keur Beer is a small guesthouse which you enter from a small cobble side alley. They have a small shop selling local goods, books and the like but once you pass through that you enter a small courtyard with a staircase leading to the upstairs rooms and there are a few rooms on the main floor as well. Evidently breakfast is served in this courtyard and there are a few tables setup for that purpose. There are tall walls enclosing the area which also has a number of plants and sculptures from various different world cultures (including Egyptian and Roman!).

My room is on the upper floor and has three beds and a few of the alley through two windows complete with wooden shutters. It also has (thankfully) an en-suite shower and toilet (and bidet, yes). Very comfortable. Of course, there are no cars on the island so it should be quite quiet at night.

Keur Beer is not the only place to stay on the island. Steve & Chris are staying on the other side of the beach at the Hostellerie du Chevalier de Boufflers which also serves good meals (in addition to the 3-4 rooms on offer).

A bit later I visited the post office (yes, very small) and then Ben, Kate and I met at Boufflers for lunch with Usha. This is her favourite place to eat on the island (after dark when the tourists have all left, this is the ONLY place). The food was very good and served in a very liesurely way. I started with an avacado with vinegrette dressing followed by fish scewers. We decided to try the fixed price menu so this meal also included a dessert and, due to a bit of a mix-up, I ended up with a banana. Oh well. Ben, at least, had a half pineapple that would have been a bit nicer…We sat and chatted for a time and watched as the ferry arrived and departed, taking many of the tourists with it. Boufflers overlooks the beach and the ferry jetty.

Ferry Jetty Area on Goree

After lunch Usha went off to pick up her chairs from her local artists while the rest of us wandered around some of the back alleys near the hotels. It was quite strange with the buildings all in quite good repair with people selling local handicrafts in many different places in the alleys. We also found a few places with Dakart exhibits which, of course, we visited. Ben & Kate saw a few more pieces that they were considering…One of the artists we visited had a Dakart exhibition – if it could be called that – that basically was a series of (unmarked) pieces in his overgrown, enclosed, yard. We made our way through a number of trees and bushes looking at the various pieces.

It is very quiet here and the people are very friendly. We also managed to visit the small tourist market where they were a bit more desperate for a sale. It is just a series of small stalls all side-by- side in an enclosed compound close to the ferry dock and beach.

We continued to the other side of the island, passing by our hotel and the local church (quite impressive stone church). We stopped at a number of stalls and talked to the local people which was quite interesting as we made our way up Le Castel. At the top we found very little in terms of a castel – a strange looking monument in the shape of a ships sail about 60 feet high – two rusting World War 2 guns – a series of concrete bunkers that now house some of the local artists. Of course, even here, people were selling paintings and a few sculptures as well. The view was fantastic of the rest of the island with Dakar in the distance and, on the far side, of the rock cliffs below and the sea.

Le Castel Cliffs

We made our way back down the cobble path to return to the hotel before heading out a bit later for dinner at Boufflers again, this time inside as it was a bit cool outside. We met Steve & Chris and had another wonderful meal – this time I had an octopus with fennel starter and a scewer of massive prawns for my main course. We chatted for a while before heading back to the hotel.

The island is very different at night. The locals are the only ones (other than a few rather conspicuous tourists – ourselves) around and it is very quiet and much more tranquil. An early evening. A hot shower. Nice.

A very good day. I am really beginning to like this island.

Breakfast was the same as I am beginning to expect here: Bread though this time with Hot Chocolate (served with warm milk!). Quite nice in the small courtyard of the guesthouse.

We went off on our own directions after breakfast with my heading out to see a few of the actual sites of the island (there are only a few). I began with the IFAN Historical Museum at the Fort d'Estr�es. I was the only one there as I made my way across the “draw bridge” into the enclosed area of the fort. Each of the small pie-piece shaped rooms around the building housed a different piece of the history of Senegal beginning with the very beginnings of life on earth. Of course, the displays were all in french but I managed and was also able to enjoy a good view out of the windows of Dakar in the distance. It is quite a magnificant fort with very thick stone walls. Walking along the top of the walls I had a great view of the island as I stepped around the few cannon they had on the walls.

I hurried away from the museum as I wanted to make it to La Maison des Esclaves – probably the most famous attraction of the island. This is a rather small house that used to house slaves for the slave trade. There seems to be some confusion in the guidebooks about the actual extent of the slave trade on the island though it certainly had a number of wealthy merchants who would have had slaves at the time. Entering the un-assuming building the first thing you see are two curved staircases making what resembles a set of parenthesis leading to the first (second) floor. The main floor consists of a series of small rooms (with plastic signs such as “Femmes” and “Enfants” above each of them) and a famous doorway visible from the main entrance between the two staircases of the ocean just a few meters beyond. Evidently the slaves were taken out of the doorway and onto ships though this seems unlikely due to the large number of rocks there.

La Maison des Esclaves, Gorée

I managed to trail a group of tourists on a tour being offered by the caretaker (a famous person in his own right, having met a number of famouse people giving tours of this place) in french. Ben & Kate were visiting so I had to take their pictures…before heading up the curved staircase(s) to the exhibit on the upper floor which was quite good.

I headed out of the museum and met Steve outside of a shop and chatted for a few minutes before heading off to the beach area for lunch, trying a small cafe that Steve had suggested. I was one of the few people in the cafe as I ordered a tuna & tomato salad (mistakenly – I do NOT like tinned tuna), scewered beef and a fruit salad for dessert. It was a bit annoying sitting and eating in that particular place as I was hastled a few times with people wanting to sell me watches, paintings, cloth, statues, etc. Very much the tourist area of the island.

Back at the hotel for a bit of a break, I moved to another room since my room from last night was booked for tonight. It is a much smaller room though with a double bed and a view of the neighbouring compounds instead of the alley. The toilet and shower are down the walkway. Oh well. Since there is no one else really in the hotel (I was given my choice of rooms on this side of the upper floor) this should not be a problem.

At 3 o'clock I headed out and visited the Musée de la Femme which I had heard was worth a visit. It was quite good with a series of small rooms containing exhibits on the role of woman in Senegalese life. One of the best things about the museum was that most of the signs were in both french AND english! There was not a lot of information actually in the signs with simply exhibits about ASPECTS of life not actually details about what each artifact actually was or did. I was also happy to pick up a small book about the history of the island from the small shop (which also had, of course, a selection of local handicrafts).

Heading off once again I headed to the south side of the island and Le Castel. I was really getting “into” the island and spent a few hours purched on a rock on the top of the cliffs looking out over the ocean and watching the eagles fly below. Very relaxing.

Eventually we all met up once again for dinner at the normal restaurant (fish with curry sauce for me) though it was a bit upsetting to learn that Steve was sick.

There were posters around the island of a free concert being held in the evening so we managed to wander around and find it. We, of course, were not the first there and the small open-air theatre was thronging with people. We had to stand on a small staircase to the one side of the stage. The group playing are actually a jazz group on the way to the festival up in St. Louis. They were not that bad though there was a local doing some strange dancing in front of the group that seemed to be a bit strung out on something (this was not what you might call normal african dancing). We stayed for a few minutes before heading back to the hotel. Lying in bed, I can hear them still, only about 50 m outside.

Well, an extremely busy and eventful day. But, we have made it and are now in St. Louis – ostensibly the whole purpose of this trip.

An early morning as we had to get up to catch the 8:00 ferry to Dakar. We wanted to give ourselves as much time for the trip to St. Louis as we could – a 350 km trip. Breakfast at 7:00 was made more interesting as I had to fight to use my Visa to pay for the room (they are not really used to dealing with credit cards – Visa is the only one they accept.

Ben & Kate are accumulating a large number of souvenirs – big ones - - that we managed to lug to the ferry. We were lucky that the hotel owner happened to have a friend with a taxi that we were able to arrange to meet when we arrived from the ferry in Dakar so that he could take us to St. Louis (or, rather, get us a driver and car to do it). It was a bit melencoly leaving the island but eventually we arrived in Dakar and sure enough the friend was there and managed to meet us amongst the people that were on the ferry.

He took us over to a local shop where we wandered around browsing while he arranged to get a vehicle for us and we explained (well, Ben, since his french is very good) what we wanted for the day. It was made a bit complicated by the fact that we wanted a round-trip price including a stop at Lac Rose on the way up to St. Louis (and to return later in the week). Eventually we agreed on a price that we could all live with (though NOT cheap). The shop was also not too bad, a bit more expensive than a stall on the street but the quality was much better. They sold fabrics, clothing, and various art pieces as well. Kate also managed to try on a few skirts that were very nice though we never did actually buy anything.

The taxi that was to take us to Dakar eventually showed up and we loaded our luggage into the back. It is what is known as a “504” since it is a Peugeot of that name which has four rows of seats (including the driver and passenger in the first) in a car the size of what might be known as a “station wagon” in the US. It looked sturdy enough. We had a bit of a complication in that we wanted to visit a) a bank machine (to get money to finance the next part of the week) and b) the hotel so that Ben & Kate could drop off their purchases so they did not have to go to St. Louis (which they were lucky enough to negotiate). For this part of the trip, since it was in the city (Dakar) we had to use a local-style yellow taxi – there seems to be a regulation against using the 504s in the city. We also managed to stop at the theatre in the Place de L'Ind�ndance that was showing Star Wars II to see about tickets for when we return (we were told no advance ticket sales but took down the phone number of the theatre to try again later).

We returned to the ferry terminal clambering into the 504 then headed out of the city…only to stop just outside to transfer to yet another 504 (and another driver) for what reason we were never sure…though the explanation of “it is my brother, no problem” did not seem to be completely reasurring. Stopping for no aparent reason and the driver vanishing was also a bit unnerving.

We headed off along a wonderful dual-carrigeway which we left for a not-so-good paved road through a number of small villages as we made our way to Lac Rose. Lac Rose is an interesting place. The water is a light shade of pink due to the high concentration of minerals it being an inland lake of salt water. Local people harvest the salt in the small, shallow lake by chipping off salt from the bottom of the lake and scopping it with their hands into small boats. These boats are then unloaded on the shore into large piles of salt all along the shore marked with various signs indicating ownership. This is also, I am told, the finishing point of the Paris to Dakar rally held every year.

Eventually we came across the lake and the driver drove along, not knowing exactly where we wanted to go we eventually got out a bit of a ways along and wandered around talking to people for a few minutes (and taking, of course, photographs). We walked amongst the piles of salt though there were still people trying to sell us various things including “sand paints” (pictures made by glueing sand of various colours onto a wood board). It was interesting to talk to some of the people in french and wolof about what life was actually like here – it seems, not very good though they seem to be quite healthy and relatively happy. The water itself is, of course, VERY salty to the taste and almost oily to the touch.

Lac Rose

Eventually we met up with our bemused driver who then took us a short distance to a small tourist camp for lunch. Evidently this is where the drivers take tourists when they come here. We payed for his lunch, which we felt was quite reasonable considering the amount of trouble we were giving him (stop here, wait there, etc.). Chicken Yassa, a typical dish that is served to more intrepid tourists in this area (and not too bad at all). We also made good use of the…facilities while we were there. It was getting quite warm so Chris and I headed off to the hammocks for a few minutes. Very nice, very quiet. Ben & Kate also went down to the lake from the camp and passed through another tourist market.

Returning to the car parked under the shade of the trees (very sensible) we once again headed off, passing along the shore of the lake for a few minutes along the dirt road before taking an even worse road for about half an hour returning to the main tarmac road to St. Louis. A number of times we wondered where we were on these back roads (with the driver asking for directions) but once on the main road we got into the flow of things.

On the Road to St. Louis

The road was very good with many places having three lanes – one lane in each direction and a middle lane for passing. There were no potholes and it was very flat. We clipped along quite quickly (80 km/hr) passing through a number of villages as well as a few big towns (one with a series of roundabouts and another dual-carriageway!). The train tracks followed us all the way though we saw no trains (only a small maintenance engine) on the tracks. We remembered to lift our legs each time we went over the tracks (evidently, according to Kate, we are supposed to make a wish when we lift our legs and it will be granted…ooookkkkk….). A number of places we passed a vast number of people selling piles of mangos on the side of the road. Quite incredible both the size and numbers of both mangos and people selling them.

As we approached St. Louis the temperature all of a sudden climbed dramatically. We all immediatley noticed it and likened it to having a hair dryer blowing in your face all the time. The surroundings were a lot more arid with only a few boabab trees and a lot of sand. Evidently this is the sub-sahara or Sahel area. I can't imagine what the Sahara area itself is like. This part of the trip was relatively uneventful (except for the complaints about the heat, obvioulsy) except for the time a bird tried to fly through the window and ended up in the back seat with Ben (feathers everywhere, broken neck poor thing – had to get the driver to stop so Ben could put it outside).

Baobabs Beside the Road to St. Louis

The temperature once again dropped as we approached the coast where St. Louis is. Thankfully. It was starting to get dark as we entered St. Louis about three hours after Lac Rose. We crossed over the Pont Faidherbe bridge that leads into the city proper – a long iron bridge that evidently used to cross the Danube (though how they got it here I will never know!). Entering the main square near the tourist information booth, we took a side street passing by the two-story buildings reminicent of pictures I have seen of New Orleans and Spain that are falling apart everywhere. We made our way to the hotel where Steve, Chris and I are staying in the north part of the main island.

Pont Faidherbe, St. Louis

St. Louis basically occupies part of the mainland, a small island in the middle of the River Senegal and a small ocean peninsula on the other side of the island. There is only the one bridge connecting the island to the mainland and another two connecting the island to the peninsula.

We are staying in the Auberge de Jeunesse (Youth Hostel) which is not too bad with a series of rooms around a rectangular courtyard having a large banquet-style table on the main floor. The upper floor is where our rooms are located have a number of beds in them. We had reserved two rooms – one with two beds and the other with three beds – anticipating that there would be more volunteers coming from The Gambia that would need the room. Ben & Kate are staying with a number of other volunteers at a house owned by someone's friend here in St. Louis. I was told later that they were in a series of rooms with matresses on the floor (we have beds in the hostel).

Auberge de Jeunesse, St. Louis

After having a drink (“Fanta Citreon” - our favourite here in Senegal, not sweet but actually a lemon drink) we headed out to see what was happening in the main square where the main stage has been set up. It seemed to be in the process of setting up but we managed to pick up tickets for the evening performance on the main stage and learned that the the “Out” events listed on the program were actually on a small, free, stage on the south-eastern shore of the island.

We managed to find a good restaurant and ordered pizza – “Le Laser” or something like that. Very good personal pizzas on an upper floor with a view out of the window of the sand road running beside the eastern shore of the island.

Eventually we headed off to the concert which was supposed to begin at 9:15 (but actually began at nearer to 10). This was taking place in the middle of the main square. We had to go through a police check at the entrance to the square then the stage area itself was a curtained- off area to the right butting up to a long older building which had an small art exhibit and “bar” set-up on the main floor.

We had picked up the cheaper ticket of the two different ticket prices and were told we had to sit at the back of the theatre. So, we grabbed some seats (and put our feet up since there was NO one there) and waited for the show to begin though eventually Steve and Chris headed over to the bar for drinks. Eventually the show began (Saint Louis Jazz Orchestra) which was not too bad though got better…During the interval I headed off to the bar to join the rest of the friends that had made it up for the festial.

The second concert of the evening was Youssou Ndour who is a VERY popular Senegalese rock singer. That concert was very well attended and really got very good near the end as the crowd was on it's feet clapping as he went into some of his more famous songs. Evidently Ben & Kate had front row seats for both concerts and thought that Ndour was very good.

After the concert which ended very late, we all headed out to a small, local, jazz bar – Marcos Jazz – that Usha told us about (she has been here a day already) that was just down from where we had dinner. It is a small bar about 10 feet across and only about 50 feet long all painted inside in black with spray painted greetings in white on the walls from various jazz musicians. Eventually a few of the people from the Jazz Orchestra showed up and played a few numbers which was quite good (if not a bit loud in the small room). We sat around in the few sofas that are up against the walls as well as leaning against the walls (when the sofas filled up). It was great fun.

Eventually I gave up at 3:30 am (though everyone else was still going – not drinking means there is not much of an incentive to stick around as everyone is drinking more and more) and returned to the hostel, feeling guilty as I woke the custodian at 4:00 to let me in.

A late morning this morning, that is for sure. I was up at 9:15 but Steve mentioned that he and Chris only got back at about 6:00 when they were the last to leave from the bar. He looked a bit in bad shape.

I took the oportunity to go back to the main square where it took me a long time to get a ticket for tonight. I decided that after having the “B” ticket last night I would have an “A” ticket tonight (an extra few thousand CFAs only).

St. Louis, Near the Tourist Information Booth (Syndicat d'Initiative) and the Pont Faidherbe Bridge

Wandering a bit around, I headed south to the southern shore of the small island. It was quite quiet down here with a small boulevard lined by palm trees. A few people were sitting chatting and a street cleaner did his business around me as I relaxed on a bench for a few minutes. I could see the south portion of both the main land and the peninsula. Directly west from where I was on the peninsula is the muslim cemetery which was easy to pick out and south of that is basically unoccupied and, I am told, has a number of good beaches. As I walked along the western side of the island I could see the peninsula was built up quite a bit as I got closer to the centre of the island (and nearer to the two bridges that connect the island with the peninsula). Looking at it reminded me a lot of the Serekunda area in the Gambia – a lot of small market stalls off of small, narrow alleys with only the most rudimentary walls and roofs. There were a lot of people as well.

The amount of rubish on the river side was truly appauling with people using it as a rubish tip as well as a (very) public latrine. I was startled to find that people were actually fishing in the river and even more suprised to see that they actually caught fish!

I crossed to the peninsula by the Pont Mustapha Malick Gaye bridge which had a narrow concrete path elevated beside the roadway. I crossed through the mayhem of the market area (and bush taxi junction, it seems) to find the beach on the ocean side. I eventually found it – covered with fishing boats (pirogues). I mean literally, every few feet there was another boat and I could see no open stretches of beaches in either direction. I was later told by Steve and Chris who walked considerably further south then where I was that there was indeed a large stretch of fairly nice beach a ways from where I was.

I leaned up against a boat and watched a group of fisherman as they struggled to get their motor working as the waves crashed under the half of the boat that was in the water. There were a lot of waves and the breeze coming from the ocean was not only refreshing but it also helped to get rid of some of the stench coming from the beach itself. As I stood there a number of small children were using a stretch to my left as a latrine. I also had the opportunity to purchase an illegal substance of my choice by a gentleman lounging in the shade of a nearby boat…I declined.

Beach at St. Louis (on the Peninsula)

Since I could not walk in either direction due to the profusion of boats and as I was becoming a bit overwhelmed by the…atmosphere, I headed back across the bridge I had just crossed back to the island itself. Returning to the hostel, I met Steve and Chris then we headed out to have lunch at a small bar on the east coast of the island just across the road from Marcos Jazz – Flamingo's. It was a nice small bar with very good fresh fish.

After wandering for a few minutes after lunch eventually I headed back to the hostel to relax – I had been walking a fair amount today.

At 5:00 I headed off to see the “Off” stage (as opposed to the “In” stage which is the one you need a ticket for at night) which is on the southeast shore of the island near where I was walking earlier today. It is a small stage set-up on the dirt road beside the water. There were not many people there and they seemed to have a lot of trouble with the sound system (I am told that this year the sound systems are no where near as good as other years) and they eventually gave up on even having the first band (Vaps de Brin) play more than just two or three numbers at 7:00. A new group (Xalaat) started at 7:30 who managed to get the sound working to their liking and I stayed until 8:00 when I headed back to the hostel to get ready for the evening. They were not too bad – really a relaxing, what I might call a “lounge jazz band”.

Heading out at 9:15 for the 9:15 show (a 10 minute, at least, walk away) I was, of course, very early. As it turns out, extremely early as the group only started at 11:00. We were told (in french) that this was due to the fact that the group's plane was late into Dakar – they came from South Africa. Judith Sephuma was not too bad – a lady jazz singer – getting better as the group “warmed up” and had various teething problems (one of her back-up singers did not show up until about a 1/2 hour into the show looking a bit haggard).

I sat through the interval between acts and waited for the second act which was supposed to begin at 11:00 but, obviously, with the delays of the first act, began at about 1:00 (am). This was Aka Moon et Doudou Ndiaye Rose. The first half of the act “Aka Moon” was a jazz quartet of VERY technical jazz players which I found very hard to follow (intermingling solos and extremely stilted sounding). The “Doudou Ndiaye Rose” part of the act consisted of about six Senegalese traditional drummers and when they joined in things got REALLY good. The two halfs challenged each other with solo after solo. It was odd because we lost the (electrical) sound system a few times but, of course, the drummers simply carried on but it meant a few awkward moments such as when the lead drummer challenged the guitarist who could not reply due to the lack of power. The jazz quartet just let the drummers do their own thing in these times – fantastic. After having been nearly asleep during the technical part when only “Aka Moon” was playing I was wide awake and enjoying it when the two played together.

At 2:30 the concert finished and I joined the good sized crowd as we made our way out of the gates and I headed right home – no Jazz club for me tonight I am sorry to say.

Back at the hostel I was asked by the custodian whether I would mind if his brother stayed in the room I was using (as there were two unoccupied beds). I could think of no good reasons to refuse (other than general awkwardness and a bit of a concern about the security of my belongings) so he is sleeping on the bed opposite me. Hope he does not snore (well, I do, I am told…).

I was up quite early – about 8:30 but did not get out of bed until about 10:00 simply because a) I think I needed the rest (and I was going to make SURE I got it, even if my body wanted to be up) and b) I did not want to leave my stuff alone with my roommate from last night (this morning).

Eventually I headed off for a shower and sat at one of the tables in the small area on this upper floor set up under an awning – reading the National Geographic that Kate and I had picked up in Dakar. A lot cooler than sitting at the table below. I have run out of reading material since I finished the first Harry Potter during our visit to Dakar (in the first two days).

Steve and Chris were out late again so eventually I was joined by Steve and we headed off to visit the tourist information place to pick up tickets for tonight (well, I picked up a ticket, Steve & Chris did not go to the concert last night, but went to a bar/club instead). We wandered through a very nice clothing shop and then through the local CD store (nice to see since we could not find anyone in Dakar selling CDs). I picked up a CD by a Mali artist I had been told about – very nice. I also made sure I got him to put a sticker with the name and address of his store onto the CD case as well (have to prove I was here!).

Returning to the hostel we chatted for a few minutes before being joined by Chris when we again headed back to the clothing store where I left them and headed out for lunch. I keep meeting people in the street, this time it was Gemma who has just arrived via a plane to Dakar. She had news that a few other volunteers were not coming due to other things coming up – which is a bit disappointing and also meaning that we have reserved too many beds – oh dear.

Side Streets, St. Louis

Eventually I found a place selling Chawarma which was very good (and had a TV showing the news from Dakar as well including a clip from Star Wars II) and I sat down for a few minutes in their small eating area. The young man behind the counter was from Sierra Lione and spoke very good english. The Chawarma was very good (I had two) as was the meat pie I had on the side.

I headed back to the main square where I looked into a few of the stalls that were set up all around the outside of the stage area. There are a number of tourist information booths (for Senegal) as well as places selling various handicrafts and food off around the corner. The whole area is sectioned off from the city with people standing and checking who comes into the area (and only those with tickets at night).

I headed back for a bit of relaxation and read before the rest of the day.

I headed once again off to “Off” and once again they were very late to begin again. This time the group reminded me a lot of “elevator music” and I was not really all that thrilled with it (Saint Louis Blues Quartet). I eventually left the area at 8:00 to meet some of our group at the Marcos Jazz bar again for, I was told, drinks then dinner. I stayed around for a long time (about 45 minutes) before I gave up waiting and returned to the hostel to prepare for the evening. Steve was heading out to the bar so I tagged along to find that the group had decided to show up (an hour later than I had been told). A bit annoying since I wanted to go to the show so could not really join them for dinner now since the show was STATED to start in about 15 minutes. I left them about 20 minutes later and headed off to the stage for the evening.

I got the same seat as yesterday which is up on the curb of the street (on which the stage area sits) off to the left of the stage only about 10 rows back from the stage which means I have a great view over the first few rows and am VERY close to the stage. There are about 50 or 60 rows of individual seats in the arena and at the very back there is a structure with a series of about 10 rows of seats rising up towards the back of the area.

Of course, the group did not start on time. It was not too suprising to see that the first group was the one we had seen on Goree – Paul Van Kemenade (from Holland). They played a number of the songs we had heard there but a few others that we had not heard. They were very good with one of their members playing a very interesting looking instrument that turned out to be an electronic bass consisting of just a set of strings that he used just like an ordinary bass but with no instrument body. Really neat.

I was wondering what was under a large tarpaulin that was off to the left of the stage that the first group worked around. My curiousity was eleveated during the interval as the tarp was removed to reveal an impressive assortment of synthesizer keyboards arranged in a circle around (I would learn) a single performer. He had a number of computers as well as the profusion of syths.

The second group (the “Joe Zawinul Syndicate” from Austria) was another very technical jazz group that I found very hard to listen to but it was quite interesting to listen to. I talked to Chris (another Chris, not Christine) on the way out of the concert (he was sitting just in front of me) and he really enjoyed it, finding it a bit different than the other groups – which was very true.

Joe Zawinul Syndicate at the St. Louis Jazz Festival 2002

We headed out to a local patisierie which is open 24 hours (!) and had a donut and chatted for a few minutes before I, once again, reneged on the evening and headed back to the hotel, with Chris accompanying me up north as he was continuing to the far north and the casino where there was an act playing tonight that he wanted to see.

It was a bit distressing at the hostel tonight as the custodian's brother turned up at my door just after I got into bed, obviously drunk, and attempted to break in to stay another night. I had not agreed to this so I politely but firmly turned him away. I could swear I can hear him ranting and raving on the street outside of my window as I pack for our return to Dakar tomorrow.

At breakfast we had a bit of a chat and paid our bill. We were suprised to see that our driver who had driven us here was at the door a good hour before we expected him. So, we packed up and loaded the back of the taxi and headed off to get the rest of the group for the trip – Ben, Kate and Chris (not Christine). They were staying at the compound so we showed up there to find that they had gone to the patiserie for breakfast so Steve and I headed down to get them (grabbing donuts-to-go on the way). They indicated they would be a few minutes so we headed back to the compound to wait.

This was the first time I had actually been in the compound where people were staying. It is quite nice with a series of rooms around a small courtyard. Each room has a number of matresses on the floor and they all share a single shower and toilet. It had been laughingly (or not so laughingly) as the “comune” by those of us in the city for the festival.

Eventually we headed off to return to Dakar. Ben and Kate had been talking about what we could see on the return trip and it was decided that a side trip to the “most westerly point in Africa” would be a bit interesting – we had talked to Chris and Steve who had done this when they were in Dakar earlier this week so we knew a bit about what to expect. The trip to Dakar was relatively uneventful with the heat seeming to be consistent the whole way instead of just near St. Louis.

This place is just a bit northwest of Dakar and basically consists of a rocky shore line with a bit of a loose rock jetty out in the water. We managed to get our pictures taken by each other before clambering back over the rocks to the shore where we sat at one of a number of long rows of picnic tables for a bit to eat. There were a number of people with barbecues set up with fresh seafood including lobster, massive shrimp, squid and fish. It was very warm so we also helped ourselves to a number of “Fanta Citrons” and chatted for a few minutes. My squid and shrimp were very good (it also came with a small salad).

Heading south towards Dakar we passed by many massive, expensive houses and hotels all around this area. We were also lucky enough to be able to convince the driver to pass by the mosque at Plage d'Ouakam which is truly a magnificant site – almost like a fairytale – with it's two massive towers and simple painting along with it's truly massive proportions. Looking down on it from the surrounding hills we were very impressed.

We continued our winding way into the city where we were stopped for a few minutes by a policeman – I think he was talking to the driver about why he was driving the 504 into the city (since, as I mentioned previously, I think they are not really allowed into the city). Although, he could have just been asking directions to the hotel where we were going to. Ben & Kate and Chris & Steve are staying at the same hotel we were at previously – H�tel du Plateau – while I am “splashing out” and staying at the H�tel Al Afifa which has a lot better facilities (including a BATH not just a shower, a pool, and CNN that you can actually hear – it has VOLUME!). So, I left Ben & Kate arguing with the taxi driver about the final part of his payment (we were told to pay the taxi OWNER who we had met from the ferry, NOT the driver the remaining part of the fare) and headed down the road to my hotel.

It really is worth the extra money. A very pleasant room on the 1st (2nd) floor with a large double bed and nicely appointed. I relaxed for a few minutes (showering off the dust and sweat of the journey) before heading out to see about the tickets to Star Wars II that we had seen at the theatre on Place de L'Indépendance. I found the owner that Ben had talked to on the phone while in St. Louis and he indicated that he would not sell me tickets for the evening until a bit later. I was also informed that the film was in french (dubbed) so it was going to be a bit of a challenge for us to understand it…

I headed off to Avenue Pompidou to try the other Chawarma place in Dakar that was recommended in the guidebook that we had not visited earlier in the week – Chez Donald. It is not as nice as the other place but I placed my order for two, to go, as well as a tin soft drink. The strangest things I think about Chawarmas are the chips (french fries) that they put inside. I ensured that they put a bit of hot sauce into them…of course.

On my way to the hotel I stopped in a rather large bookstore I had noticed earlier in the day and had a bit of a brose and was suprised to find they actually had a pretty good assortment of english language books (about 5 of their 100 or so stands) – but nothing really appealed to me.

I returned to the hotel and was not really hastled all that much by hustlers and I sat cross-legged on the bed with CNN on the TV and ate my Chawarma(s) – life does not get much better than this. The air conditioning helped as well.

At 7:00 I headed down to the lobby. We were meant to meet in the bar but it was closed so I sat in the black leather seats and waited for a few minutes for the others to show up. We decided to head off to the Hôtel de L'Indépendance which we understood had great views from it's restaurant and bar on the top floors (about 15 stories up) for drinks before the show. Before making our way to the bar we visited the theatre to get our tickets (a few of us were paranoid we would not have a seat for the show).

Leaving the elevator on the top floor of the Hôtel de L'Indépendance we were quite put off by the rude people in the bar who insisted that we must have a seat and buy something rather than run around looking out the windows like we were doing. They could have been a BIT more polite about it…So we took a few pictures and then left for something to eat, at my suggestion, at Chez Donald. To be polite I had to, of course, have something to eat so there was another Chawarma…The rest of the group was not impressed by the not-so-clean interior (why I previously had take-away) but thought it was not too bad anyway.

Dakar At Night from Top of Hôtel de L'Indépendance

Returning once again to the movie theatre we waited around for the doors to open. I waited outside while Ben & Kate went ahead with a few others since I had tickets for other people that had not yet shown up. There were not many snacks on offer (they were out of popcorn, though we are not 100% sure since we could not make the lady understand our broken french and Wolof – how do you say “popcorn” in french?).

The theatre was quite large and the seats were not too bad. The movie was fantastic though the French was a bit difficult to follow (there is a LOT of talking in this movie). The effects were fantastic and we all had a good time. The air conditioning only being put on for about 10 minutes did make the experience a bit difficult to take as we sat and soaked our seats with sweat but other than that…

We returned to the hotel – exhausted after a long day and an even longer, busy, week. My television has been on for some time now and it is VERY late…Have to get up early for the return plane journey to Banjul.

Finally back “home” here in the Gambia.

We were up early to catch the taxi to the airport. Ben & Kate had arranged for our driver to pick us up again for this trip. I was grateful that I was able to use my Visa to pay for the hotel room (and they did not complain like they did on Gorée…).

Waiting in the lobby, eventually Usha showed up with her chairs to take on the plane.

The trip to the airport was uneventful as we passed in the same general direction as we had over the previous week's journeys.

The airport was not crowded and we checked in quite easily – or rather, most of us did. It turns out that Steve & Gemma did not have a seat on the aircraft because, for some reason, their seats had not been confirmed by telephone a week previously. This is odd since I had not called to confirm myself – I take it my travel agent had done this for me. They were told that they did not have seats and that they would have to wait until tomorrow for a seat on another airline or wait until the day after for a seat on the same airline – though there was no guarantee that either flight would actually have seats. We left them with a copy of the guidebook and we each scraped up some cash for them to do whatever they needed to do to get back to Banjul.

The rest of us proceeded into the gate area where we were a bit disappointed to see that only one coffee shop was open (no food, really) and all the other shops (other than the duty free liquor marts) were closed. We consoled ourselves with drinks and croissants.

We headed through the final bit of security to the gate itself where a few minutes later we boarded the bus that took us to the plane – a small propeller-driven Dash-8 with four seats across. The assigned seats were pretty much ignored as people just grabbed whatever was available (though, by chance, my seat was the one actually assigned to me).

The flight was very quick and I had a great view of the city as we left, passing directly over Gorée. We were given a small snack during the 30 minute flight landing essentially right on time at the Banjul airport. A far cry from the 10 hour+ journey that Chris and I had experienced coming up to Dakar. There was a bit of a fuss at security where there was a bit of a misunderstanding with one of us. I passed through security and waited for a few minutes when we headed back to our houses in a shared taxi. Of course, the taxi driver tried to rip us off but we would have none of it (after all, we had dealt with the troubles with the hawkers walking down the street in Dakar, this was MILD by comparison). Ahhhh, back home, gotta love it!

I was later to learn that Gemma and Steve were able to share a taxi with someone they met at the airport to get to Barra in the Gambia in order to take the ferry across to Banjul. Of course, they paid a lot of money but they did not want to have to stay around for however long it took to get a seat on a plane. They eventually got half their money back for their tickets.

Senegal was an interesting and much-needed break from the Gambia. But, for all the differences, there is much in common with the Gambia. I sort of saw Senegal and, specifically, Dakar as what the Gambia could become if it chooses that type of “development”. Whether that is the most appropriate with all of the ensuing problems and, admitedly, advantages – at least to those with money – though, who am I to judge?

In Dakar, Steve stayed at:

• Hôtel du Plateau - 62 Rue Jules Ferry, Telephone (+221) 823 44 20
• Hôtel Al Afifa - 46 Rue Jules Ferry, Telephone (+221) 889 90 90

On Île de Gorée, Steve stayed at:

• Auberge Keur Beer - Fax (+221) 821 38 01

In St. Louis, Steve stayed at:

• Auberge de Jeunesse - Rue Abdoulaye Seck, Telephone (+221) 961 24 09