Le Weekend

It's hard to imagine that we've only been here a week.  Perhaps it's because time on the African continent passes slower than in North America (unsubstantiated claim), or it's because we're actually awake more hours of the day because it's too hot to sleep. 

As you might expect, it takes us longer to do things in Dakar than it does in the US.  The pace of life is slower here, businesses keep irregular hours, we spend 5 hours a day in French class, and let's face it, we let ourselves wonder/doddle/follow the sounds/find our our way.

One of the best decisions we've made thus far is to make a daily list of "manageable" objectives, so as to not frustrate ourselves with our own inefficiencies.  Sara, being an expert to-do list writer and a generally effective person, has had to tone it down a notch when it comes to planning.

Objectives for the weekend

Not what we expected to see when we turned the corner

Friday:
1. Eat Thai food (done)
2. Plan the weekend (done)

Saturday:
1. Buy French/English dictionary (done)
2. Hear traditional Senegalese music (done)
3. Visit patisserie (done)

Sunday:
1. Do French homework (not yet started)
2. Eat yassa poulet (done)
3. Write blog (in progress)

Overall, a great weekend had by all.  Not only did we do all the fun things that we set out to do, but we also met some new friends (Mali's new Minister of Foreign Affairs), tried new food (street stall beignets), and learned how to exchange empty beer bottles for full beer bottles.

Honestly, I'm worried that our success this weekend of meeting our objectives has gone to our heads: tonight we made a 5 x 9 matrix of next week's schedule.   Beeeeg things are to come!

Typical Thai condiments

In Wolof, Obama means "US President"

This picture makes the band look a like church (er, mosque) choir

Is anyone surprised?! She's with the band.

Traditional yassa poulet from Chez Roger. Click here for a link to the recipe!

Our First Night in the Pink House

When we got to French class this morning, our teacher asked us to take out a piece of paper and write a short essay about our first night in our new house.  Immediately, I thought, "great, today's blog entry!"  Here is the English translation and some pictures to fill in the blanks:

Our first night in the pink house was very good.  It is a nice house with two rooms and two fans.  It needs more fans. We sat under the mango tree, but it was too hot there.  In the evening, we talked with Abdou, who lives in the adjacent studio apartment with his girlfriend Sophie.  They will have a baby in one month.

With Abdou, we talked about government, politics, people, education, and why George Bush is a mother f***er.  During this time, we drank beer. We did not have dinner.  It was too hot to eat.

At 11:30pm, we went to sleep, but we could not sleep.  There was no air conditioning.  The bed was made like a sponge. 

Early this morning, there were strange noises.  The birds are bad singers.  The garbage man was here.  He honked a lot.  The people gave him garbage.  He honked some more.  More people went to him. 

Now, I am tired.  I hope that it is not hot today, because I want to take a nap during this class.

***

Our stret

Every cul de sac needs a basketball oop

Abdou and Sara sitting under a tree.

Cl-ASS

Walking home for lunc

Hard to be away

Today was our first real day of French school, and as in many conversational language classes, we sat with the teacher and talked about our friends and families back home.  It was nice to be able to communicate with someone here about the important people in our lives.  After dinner, we read of the sad news from home, and for many reasons today, we are wishing we could be there with you.

It's a school night

Today's adventures were purely educational.  We started with a hike to the nearby Monument de Renaissance Africaine, the largest statue in the world outside of Asia.  The monument was unveiled last year with attendance by 19 African Heads of State, the representatives from the North Korean company that constructed it for $27M USD (seriously), as well as Jesse Jackson and everyone's favorite Sengalese hip hop artist, Akon.  The vista from the base of the monument was beautiful -- in one direction, you see the city scape of almost all of Dakar, and the other direction, almost exclusively Atlantic Ocean views.  

With a multi-million dollar investment towering behind us, it was hard to overlook the greater context. Deputy leader of the opposition party described the monument as an "economic monster and a financial scandal in the context of the current economic crisis." Ya think?!  Julienne thought it was made out of plastic, and I wondered why there wasn't any toilet paper or running water in the bathrooms.

Hope our French grades won't be posted, too

After a brief visit back to the hotel to change out of sweat-soaked clothes (who climbs 300 stairs at high-noon in 90% humidity), we were off to our first meeting at French school.  Armed with little more than a street name and a note to look for the alley behind Oil Libya gas station, we arrived at Africa Consultant International's Baobab Center (with the help of an escort from the school, because we actually thought the school was at the gas station).  When we arrived at Baobab, we realized that perhaps we might be better suited to attend the kindergarten (jardin de les enfants) two doors down.  We signed up for 50 hours of lessons, which should get us roughly through the end of next week.

Although both Julienne and I felt a little like we were living that reoccurring nightmare where you show up for the final exam and realize you hadn't been to any of actual the classes, it was good to be a student again. We stopped by what could easily be mistaken for a chicken wing stop in Brooklyn, situated appropriately along Dakar's version of University Ave, and then perused the bookstore (children's section). 

Our school bus (if we're too lazy to walk)

Hands down the most informative part of our day was learning that the house that we will be moving into on Thursday is actually just a few blocks from school. 

A day at the beach

Apparently we haven't adjusted to Dakar time quite yet, so much to our surprise we woke up at 12:30pm for the second day in a row. Our French classes don't start until Wednesday, so we decided to spend the day at the beach...talking only to ourselves.

Despite being a peninsula, Dakar isn't known for it's beaches. So, we headed to the northern village of N'Gor, to swim at the Plage N'Gor, after a quick little jaunt to the Ile de N'Gor. [The pattern should be obvious.]

Now, I usually feel pale when I'm at the beach, but today it was especially true. The Plage N'Gor is a small beach full of Dakarois, notably teenagers looking to get all smoochy-faced with their boos. Except for two other Europeans, we were by far the oldest (and whitest) people for miles. Fortunately the goats nor the children playing soccer seemed to mind.

We took a long wooden motor canoe, a pirogue, to the Ile where we walked through narrow walled streets and after five minutes found ourselves at the end of the loop, back to where we began, and walked right into an open air restaurant. Almost every menu has several fish options and most are accompanied with an incredible tomato-onion sauce. We ordered the grilled shrimp sandwich with said sauce on fresh French bread. Delish.

We call this "goats and boats"

There are fewer things that I enjoy than taking a rickety hand-painted boat ride in the developing world, and today was no exception.

Dakar is treating us well, and we're having a blast. 

Two tetes are better than one?

Where it all begins -- in French

Last night, I arrived on the evening flight from Paris eager to get my Dakar on. Sara had taken the enviable nonstop from DC, but I was glad I had layover since I had never been to Paris. After 5 hours of walking along the Seine, with a traveler's pack on my back and a camera around my neck [I know, I wanted to kick my own ass], I was ready for our African adventure to begin.  I did, however, learn an important lesson while in France. French is a difficult language to understand. Particularly if you're the kind of person, like me, who took French in high school and for one year in college, and you couldn't understand a damn thing back then either. French is hard, and in Senegal, people speak French.

It is exhausting being in a foreign country, trying to understand a foreign language by yourself. But after a full day in Dakar with Sara, when neither of us speak French, I'm not sure if two (mono-lingual) heads are actually better than one. We left our hotel at 1pm for a day of exploration. But when traveling in a country where you don't speak the language, exploration is limited to generic places at the discretion of the taxi driver. "Ou voulez-vous aller?" "Uh, the le bank." "Quelle banque." "Le bank qui n'est pas ici."

In fact, it is quite difficult to recount what we did today, because I don't think I actually understand many of the things that happened.  Here are a few conversations based on our understanding of both the French and English languages (in order of absurdity):

Julienne: So, do you want to reconsider taking French lessons only 10 hours per week?
Sara: Yes. It needs to be a minimum of 40 hours, if not more. I think we should become the investment bankers of French school.

Julienne, writing a blog in Wolof

Julienne: Did you go out to the clubs last night?
Taxi Driver: Oh, my shirt? It's the Senegalese National team.
Julienne: Soccer?
Sara: Women's Basketball?

Julienne: Do you have any brothers or sisters?
Taxi Driver: It's a mosque.

Julienne: This ATM doesn't work, is there another bank nearby?
Random man waiting for ATM: Quelle banque?
Julienne: Do you live here?
Random man previously waiting behind us at the ATM who is now walking us to another bank: Yes, at the place with two faces.

Sara: My French is way worse than I thought, and your French is way better than I thought.
Julienne: Quoi?!?

Day Un

My flight landed at 5:10 am and there was a short line of ten of us to get through customs as non-Senegalese visitors.  Five am is almost two hours earlier than I had told the hotel to send a car, so I made a few new 'friends' while waiting at the airport.   Chaz likes Rhianna but not Beyonce, and Obama but not "George Bullshit."  I've met three men named Abdoulaye.

I just checked into a small colorful hotel in the northern neighborhood of Mamelles -- ours is a tiny 2-bed room right off of an open cafe with pink walls and Castel beer.  I met Raul the hotel dog, got a flea bite, and took a quick *er* cold shower.  And the power just blew out while trying to post this.

First sunset in Dakar at Plage De N'Gor

So far, all is well, and the sun is only just over the horizon.  On the short 5-minute taxi ride from the airport, I got a glimpse of the ocean with the sun coming up, and there is new concrete block development throughout this northern neighborhood.  Most of the small neighborhood streets right here are covered in red dirt, and the one butcher shop I've seen is literally a goat on a table at the intersection of two red dirt roads.  Girls are in the streets, using palm fronds to dust off the roads.  I'm off to find a phone, walk to the beach, get Julienne at the airport.  Can't wait to compare notes with her.  Her one message from Pa-ree said that she wishes she liked museums more.