I walk for 15 minutes unprotected in the streets amid the dust trucks old colonial architecture and the sea breezes. Dakar city of contrasts is less and less scary and more and more meaningful.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Dakar Friday19th Nov
Sheila and I part ways today. I to the beach and the Italian lido, she to the school and a pique nique. Nothing untoward occurs other than the dislocation of a roman shoulder and the farewell to his number 1 chef matre d who was off to amsterdam to wed and feared only the European winter.
I walk for 15 minutes unprotected in the streets amid the dust trucks old colonial architecture and the sea breezes. Dakar city of contrasts is less and less scary and more and more meaningful.
I walk for 15 minutes unprotected in the streets amid the dust trucks old colonial architecture and the sea breezes. Dakar city of contrasts is less and less scary and more and more meaningful.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Dakar Thursday 17th Nov
Again we seek the comforts of the Maison D'Italie and his excellent lido and cuisine. The streets are tres calme as the President of Senegal has declared a surprise public holiday I do sudoku and Sheila's finger heals nicely. We return early to make muffins with the kids and learn about odds and evens by way of maths homework.
Dakar Wed 16th Nov
Tabaski day dawns to the muezzin chanson and the bleat ot mouton replaces the normal daily roar of F15's. We imagine.too much.
We are invited to a Tabaski feast, dress up and make shortbread with the young scion who is clearly a chef in waiting. The party is genial with genuine friendship, multi -lingualness and playing children. The vegetarian fare is wonderful to see and I'm honoured to be treated with so much regard. The talk is UN and the day hot. We return home for the arvo and I try to make rhythmics on a very fine djembe to farewell the millions of ,mouton now out of their misery. Sheila cooks a fine pesto for us all.
We are invited to a Tabaski feast, dress up and make shortbread with the young scion who is clearly a chef in waiting. The party is genial with genuine friendship, multi -lingualness and playing children. The vegetarian fare is wonderful to see and I'm honoured to be treated with so much regard. The talk is UN and the day hot. We return home for the arvo and I try to make rhythmics on a very fine djembe to farewell the millions of ,mouton now out of their misery. Sheila cooks a fine pesto for us all.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Dakar Tues 16th Nov
Gibril our guide is a very open and correct muslim man. My french over 10 hours driving with Sheila sometimes asleep in the back stumbles and feels baby like with the bigger concepts let alone jokes. However we get by and discuss the Tabaski feast of the morrow. As we motor along we witness the mass exodus of mouton ontop beside and beneath everywhere resigned tied mutton faces stare out. They will be sacrificed in a reenactment of the Abraham and Isaac story. Gibril whose namesake arch angel actually stayed Abraham's hand is anxious because he has not enough to buy a lamb for feasting on. When one considers the average price is close to a months rent and negotiations start at the absolutely last minute due to the lack of refrigeration the whole scene becomes impossible. Huge temporary markets filled with hungry looking sheep have been on most corners for the last month and when one considers the whole muslim world is forced to do the same everywhere it is no wonder the live sheep trade is so profitable to australians.. Simply the way 1000,s os animals are so badly treated while alive and then mass bbq'd by amateur butchers makes me know why I support Humane international each payday.
Most households will be killing a sheep tomorrow in the morning after prayers. Knives are displayed through the windows in increasing numbers as we wade through Pikine a suburb of a million to the north. Gibril invites us to his home for a vegetarian lunch with his wife and 7 kids. Their two room place is starkly lacking in furniture and Gibril's wife is not invited to eat with us despite preparing everything early after a telephone call.
We eat from a communal plate off the plastic sheet on the floor and I'm so glad our host explained to eat with right hand only. Coke is poured and I make the mistake of attempting to include Gibril's wife without any real success. The way that the world work's here is different and I pull in my head. Nice bloke with some understanding of Australia from the movies Gibril but I reckon he'd last 2 seconds with that kind of attitude.
Anyway the 7 kids are sad to see us go. We give him a present as we say goodbye and hope that it will not be spent on Tabaski slaughter.
Home to wash and sleep in our calm suburb nestled between the mamellles.
Most households will be killing a sheep tomorrow in the morning after prayers. Knives are displayed through the windows in increasing numbers as we wade through Pikine a suburb of a million to the north. Gibril invites us to his home for a vegetarian lunch with his wife and 7 kids. Their two room place is starkly lacking in furniture and Gibril's wife is not invited to eat with us despite preparing everything early after a telephone call.
We eat from a communal plate off the plastic sheet on the floor and I'm so glad our host explained to eat with right hand only. Coke is poured and I make the mistake of attempting to include Gibril's wife without any real success. The way that the world work's here is different and I pull in my head. Nice bloke with some understanding of Australia from the movies Gibril but I reckon he'd last 2 seconds with that kind of attitude.
Anyway the 7 kids are sad to see us go. We give him a present as we say goodbye and hope that it will not be spent on Tabaski slaughter.
Home to wash and sleep in our calm suburb nestled between the mamellles.
Lompouil 15 Nov
Early start to catch the air conditioned car to Lac rose and lompouil a desert encampment.
The driver Gibril has been waiting in smart clothes for half an hour before the suggested 8.00am. The car is small white and has excellent air conditioning at the end of a 5 minute walk.. We travel light. I feel that this trip I've slowly divested myself of nearly everything. Having started with a bike full we now have passports a fresh shirt and a bottle of water.
The outskirts of Dakar are a real contrast. Poverty, dust moutons, broken down everything, people running beside cars trying to sell things through the windows....4 lane highways turning into dust bowls at a moments notice. No traffic lights. dodons aptly named speed bumps. rond points with hundreds of cars and trucks waiting patiently as three lanes are squeezed from two.
The roads gradually become countryside as we turn off to the pink lake, past concrete brick walls, past small thatched huts and old men sitting outside dark empty shop fronts. Three hours of pot hole missing, goats and old mecedes benz truck busses and we arrive. An enormous woven roof, and coffees for three. Chez Salim's is a big place. We discuss the availably of legumes and are introduced to the chef who assures our guide in Wollof that he will provide for us after our tour of the lac.
An enormous three metre deep salt mine which occasionally turns rose in the right wind, sunlight and season. Brown clear to red was what we got.with millions of white shells underfoot.. We swim as far off poor people raise salt manually from 3 metres down on modified spades with tree long handles. Into rusting pink boats and thence to house size piles on the shore to dry and be loaded by women into bags. Very profitable, very ancient still very laborious.
As we finish swimming an old man pours fresh water over us and then tells me to pull open the front of my shorts to receive and extra splosh.
We resume our journey to witness a very australian beach with ribbon gums and endless clean sands. Then suddenly we are back at the monstrously huge grass hut hotel and omelette's and haricots vertes with frittes. Our guide ploughed through a small chook with onion sauce. Sheila was troubadored with much mirth by a local armadillo playing gentlemen who was then happily paid.
Four hours later we arrive at a small village when we are removed into a 4 wheel drive to accomplish the last section before the micro desert which proves to be a tumble in the open back with some Perpignon french couples who laugh and make jokes with our guide. Sheila's finger is bursting with pain and I worry it will get caught up in it all unawares. Then we arrive at dunes with groups of Mauritainienne tents which are by all accounts the ants pants.
We are shown ours and told camel rides are only on today. Into the couching sun we approach some tired looking camels who eye us all distastefully. Sheila agrees despite misgivings and is lifted into position on the back of a grey ship of the desert. I cling onto a sugar bag tied on behind. Two by two we are led off into the sunset on our ballade chamel. Despite rather terrifying sudden lurching and grievous snorting we return safely and are again tumbled back to mother earth.
The night descends we drink a beer a coke for our guide, treated to some wild djembe sounds and then are escorted into another aunt where we are seated at tables 10 or so in each. We eat couscous and legumes and small sections of water melon. The conversation turns brittle as the french have a go at the local musician for idleness.
We sleep on foamies listening to Danes chortling into the night, howling wild dogs and far off the djembe rings out at another city of aunts.
The driver Gibril has been waiting in smart clothes for half an hour before the suggested 8.00am. The car is small white and has excellent air conditioning at the end of a 5 minute walk.. We travel light. I feel that this trip I've slowly divested myself of nearly everything. Having started with a bike full we now have passports a fresh shirt and a bottle of water.
The outskirts of Dakar are a real contrast. Poverty, dust moutons, broken down everything, people running beside cars trying to sell things through the windows....4 lane highways turning into dust bowls at a moments notice. No traffic lights. dodons aptly named speed bumps. rond points with hundreds of cars and trucks waiting patiently as three lanes are squeezed from two.
The roads gradually become countryside as we turn off to the pink lake, past concrete brick walls, past small thatched huts and old men sitting outside dark empty shop fronts. Three hours of pot hole missing, goats and old mecedes benz truck busses and we arrive. An enormous woven roof, and coffees for three. Chez Salim's is a big place. We discuss the availably of legumes and are introduced to the chef who assures our guide in Wollof that he will provide for us after our tour of the lac.
An enormous three metre deep salt mine which occasionally turns rose in the right wind, sunlight and season. Brown clear to red was what we got.with millions of white shells underfoot.. We swim as far off poor people raise salt manually from 3 metres down on modified spades with tree long handles. Into rusting pink boats and thence to house size piles on the shore to dry and be loaded by women into bags. Very profitable, very ancient still very laborious.
As we finish swimming an old man pours fresh water over us and then tells me to pull open the front of my shorts to receive and extra splosh.
We resume our journey to witness a very australian beach with ribbon gums and endless clean sands. Then suddenly we are back at the monstrously huge grass hut hotel and omelette's and haricots vertes with frittes. Our guide ploughed through a small chook with onion sauce. Sheila was troubadored with much mirth by a local armadillo playing gentlemen who was then happily paid.
Four hours later we arrive at a small village when we are removed into a 4 wheel drive to accomplish the last section before the micro desert which proves to be a tumble in the open back with some Perpignon french couples who laugh and make jokes with our guide. Sheila's finger is bursting with pain and I worry it will get caught up in it all unawares. Then we arrive at dunes with groups of Mauritainienne tents which are by all accounts the ants pants.
We are shown ours and told camel rides are only on today. Into the couching sun we approach some tired looking camels who eye us all distastefully. Sheila agrees despite misgivings and is lifted into position on the back of a grey ship of the desert. I cling onto a sugar bag tied on behind. Two by two we are led off into the sunset on our ballade chamel. Despite rather terrifying sudden lurching and grievous snorting we return safely and are again tumbled back to mother earth.
We sleep on foamies listening to Danes chortling into the night, howling wild dogs and far off the djembe rings out at another city of aunts.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Dakar Sun 14th
The sterile needle was out today after our walk . The sea cucumber thorn is now safely removed if a tad tardily and pain has reduced. Accordingly the day was spent at home washing and sleeping.
Tomorrow we will set off for the micro dessert finger permitting, to be under the firmament for a night.
Caught a bird possibly a sea eagle or kestral on the mamelle.
Tomorrow we will set off for the micro dessert finger permitting, to be under the firmament for a night.
Caught a bird possibly a sea eagle or kestral on the mamelle.
Dakar Saturday 13
We walk up the left hand local breast today and enjoy the sights form the top in the cool early morning sea breeze. We were treated last night to a glorious vegetarian Ethiopian feast served on a common platter with small rolls of sweetly lemon scented bread to scoop with. The wine a Bordeaux took me back to the plum ripe grapes of our recent days cycling. The roof top jardine set it off and I was able to make the book come true and wash my hands in a calabash. The tones were Malian with Amadou and Mariam like friends welcoming us to a old home.
The rest of the day is spent sunning ourselves at the beach with the Roman man and his tall crew making us another delicious lunch.
Sheila picked up a sliver of shell in here finger as we swam over some rocks and I'm guessing we will need to use the well cycled first aid kit after all....
Home to enjoy the company of youngsters as Sheila and the kids renew their family connection.
I trot up the the very friendly pharmacie to pick up more malerone to take with us to last us past the tabaski holidays which can last all week some say.
We wash our clothes with the assistance of Elizabeth who willingly drys and folds them for us.
The rest of the day is spent sunning ourselves at the beach with the Roman man and his tall crew making us another delicious lunch.
Sheila picked up a sliver of shell in here finger as we swam over some rocks and I'm guessing we will need to use the well cycled first aid kit after all....
Home to enjoy the company of youngsters as Sheila and the kids renew their family connection.
I trot up the the very friendly pharmacie to pick up more malerone to take with us to last us past the tabaski holidays which can last all week some say.
We wash our clothes with the assistance of Elizabeth who willingly drys and folds them for us.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)