It's pronounced San Loo-eey

I started writing this the day it happened, but didn’t finish it until today (of course). But here’s one of the days I spent in Saint-Louis:

Today has been one of the most amazing days of my entire life. I don't even know how to explain except to start at the beginning.

I woke up this morning after our second night here in Saint-Louis. Saint-Louis is about four hours north of Dakar, and it was the capital of Senegal before the capital was moved to Dakar. It was also the capital of francophone colonial west africa, so it has a rich cultural significance and historical pride. It's a UNESCO historical site, or however you call it. It's much smaller than Dakar, and is much less overwhelming and frustrating. The weather is also better, because Saint-Louis is an island. There are bridges on either side, one connecting to a smaller island/peninsula/thing (okay, so i'm a little unclear on the geography...) and another bridge on the other side that connects to the mainland, where the city continues somewhat.
Our hotel is on the main island, which is quite small and easily walkable. The people in the streets are curious and friendly, and although the kids follow us and call us 'toubabs' (white people) and the street vendors pssst at us (the way to get someone's attention here) and tell us to buy things, it's simply not as intense as Dakar is, and has a much more laid-back vibe.

So back to this morning. It's been amazing sleeping in air conditioning and beds with no mosquito nets and such, but I did go bed lat last night, so I was pretty tired when I woke up for breakfast. Some of the other students have been complaining that there is no substance to the breakfast and that they're sick of eating only bread for breakfast. But anyone who knows me will understand that I am in HEAVEN eating croissant and mini pain au chocolates and baguette with butter or jam. That and a small cup of coffee, lots of milk and sugar, and I was actually prepared to face the day.

Here in Saint-Louis we are working on projects; presentations on different historical sites. I picked L'Eglise du Sud, the catholic church here, which happens to be the oldest catholic church in West Africa. I'm doing my project alone, although some people are doing them in groups. Our afternoon was free to work on the presentations, but we did have a lecture on the litterature of Saint-Louis in the morning. Normally it wouldn't have been part of the best day ever, but we had a HORRIBLE lecture the day before about the history of the city. It was very boring and VERY repetitive and was three hours long when it was supposed to be an hour and a half, so today's lecture was refreshingly interesting and to the point.

After class, I set off to try and find the curate/priest of the church. I had tried to locate him yesterday, but he wasn't in the office. Luckily today he not only was in his office but welcomed with with typical Senegalese teranga (hospitality) and let me ask him questions about the church and the role it plays in the community. It was nice talking to him, and I found myself extremely happy to be in the company of someone who was the same faith as me. That's not something I'd thought would be a problem, but after a month of people asking me over and over every day why I'm not fasting, it was sincerely nice to be able to talk with someone about the social pressures that the minority of Christians here (5% ish) have to deal with in a Muslim country. At one point he opened a cabinet and brought me an old baptism and marriage registry. It was from the mid-1800s, I don't know if I've ever held something so old and interesting and been able to leaf through it like it was just any random book. It was pretty amazing to look at the elegant tiny handwriting documenting every single baptism in the Church with a paragraph each and the signatures of the parents and witnesses afterwards.

Of course he kindly opened up the church for me after the interview, and showed me around and answered my questions about the paintings, old (broken) organ, beautiful original stained glass windows, and the renovation that is so obviously necessary for the church to stay intact. (The government promised money for a renovation years ago, and hired people to come and look at the church and see how much it would cost, but so far, of course, they haven't seen a cent.) I had forgotten how much I love old churches, and how that was one of my favorite things to do while traveling. I haven't had a chance to visit a mosque yet, so I have nothing to compare it to, but the church was simple and open and felt heavy with history.

We were all due back at the hotel by 2:30, to take a little field trip in the bus. I finished up at the church when my camera's battery ran out, and then headed back to the hotel to re-group a little, grab some lunch, and just made it back in time to change into my bathing suit and tie-dye dress. Then we all headed out for La Langue de Barbarie. (Mom and Dad and Ellen, you may remember that name from the Lonely Planet guidebook for Senegal that was laying around our house before I left. It's a national park specifically known for being a bird sanctuary, although I don't think this is the prime season for it.)

We took the bus there, which was exciting as usual. (Without scaring my mom, let me just say that driving in Senegal is an... experience.) We drove for awhile, then we got out and took a pirogue (wooden boat, sort of like a large canoe, I'll put pictures up of them). La Langue de Barbarie is where the Senegal River meets the Ocean, so we took the pirogue down the river for awhile. It was gorgeous and fun, and of course the breeze was wonderful. Eventually we got out and crossed the 'langue' to get to the other side, where we swam in the ocean on one of the most beautiful stretches of beach I've ever seen. Completely deserted except for us.

Eventually we went back to the other side, got back in the pirogue, rode back to the bus and drove back to Saint Louis to the hotel. And it was during this return, during the pirogue ride back, to be specific, that we saw a very faint and very small rainbow, over the river. (Those of you who know me very well will understand why this was one of the highlights of my trip so far.) I tried to take pictures, but it’s hard when the rainbow’s so faint, you know? Anyway, I was very happy.

Going back to the hotel was one of the nicest parts of being in Saint Louis. Opening the door to a blast of (comparatively) icy air and being able to take a long cold shower and cool down before going out again is a luxury I’ll never underestimate again. For dinner we walked the entire length of the island looking for a restaurant that the SIT people had pointed out to us. We went all the say there just to discover that it was closed, but luckily for us we discovered another place to eat very close by. It was clearly the tourist restaurant of choice, since it was full of toubabs (French, American, English, etc). I had pasta, linguine carbonara and it was amazing! I miss pasta a LOT. Saint Louis is much cooler than Dakar, with the breezes coming from the ocean, and by nightfall it’s actually pleasant to walk around outside. We walked back towards the hotel, and met up with some other students downtown. They had met some Senegalese guys and said they were going to the beach to go play djembe (kind of drum). I decided to tag along with them, even though, I have to admit, the whole thing sounded pretty sketchy. We were a large group, so it was safe enough, but I was beginning to suspect that these guys were leading us on a wild goose chase as we walked around the city and crossed the bridge onto the smaller island next door. It was dark and people were shouting at us from all sides and little kids were grabbing us and asking for money, and all in all I was beginning to suspect that the night was not going to end up being any fun.

Just when I thought it was maybe time to turn around and disentangle ourselves from our ‘guides’, we came to the beach. We passed some kids playing late night soccer, our friends put their djembes down in the sand and began to play, and all of a sudden the night when from sketchy to sublime. I think we stayed on the beach for two hours or so, but I have no idea really. We danced, we sang, lots of kids and young women about our age heard the music and came and joined us. They all stayed together and occasionally one of them would start dancing and we’d all cheer her on, or an American girl and a Senegalese girl would dance together for awhile. I mean, I’m making this sound like a Lifetime movie of cross-cultural understanding, but that’s really what it was like. I went down the water and put my feet in. I stared at the stars. I sang Bob Marley songs. I got to try out the djembe, and finally figured out how to make some of the beats they’d been doing for us. I probably should stop using the word amazing so much, but that’s exactly what it was.

When we finally decided to call it a night, our Senegalese friends kindly walked us all the way back to the hotel. I got to talk some American and Senegalese politics, which is always my favorite way to end a night, and then I got to go back and go to sleep in an air-conditioned room. Sure, the whole thing sounds a little cliché, I guess, but it was such a perfect example of everything I love about traveling and being here in Sénégal. Oh, and I forgot to mention that we all went skinny dipping, too. :p

A bientot!

It's almost the end of the rainy season, so now would probably be a good opportunity to talk about the weather here. As I may have already mentioned, it's quite warm here. Hot, even. Horrible, dripping with sweat even right after you step out of the shower heat. The rainy season simply means that the heat comes with an enveloping humidity that makes it feel like you're wearing a fur coat. I've always hated the cold more than I've hated the heat, and after complaining for the past 20 years about my house being too cold, or my mom making me take off my sweater in the summer, I'm trying not to complain too much about the heat here. Can't be too much of a hypocrite.

One of the first nights we were here, during Orientation Week, we were at this restaurant down the street from our hotel for dinner. (We ate dinner there basically every night, it was paid for by the program. Sometimes it was great, sometimes it was so-so, but the vegetarians had a very hard time. It's basically impossible to be a vegetarian in Senegal if you don't at least eat fish.) Anyway, one night while we were eating our ceebu jen or some such, there was a sudden rainstorm. As if there's any other kind here! We haven't really had rain now for the past week, but when we first got here it was fairly predictable. It would be quite sunny all day and then pour now and then at night. Just a sudden downpour, completely drenching. I've never seen rain so intense last for so long! I tried to take some pictures at the restaurant while we were waiting for our food, in the hope of conveying the ridiculous amount of water that was pouring down into the restaurant. (We were basically covered by the mats overhead, but it came down the walls and leaked through in some places.)

There were ten days in a row that it rained at some point during the day or night, and apparently that hasn't happened in Dakar for a long time now. There was serious flooding in 'les banlieues' (suburbs, sort of) of Dakar, it's been all over the news here. And there was lots of sort of minor flooding in Dakar. Just lots of huge puddles filling in the already huge potholes. The streets aren't exactly up to New Jersey standards. We saw lots of drivers stuck in some serious water while driving around one day.

So, to apologize again for not updating more, I have to say that it's the fault of the weather! And hence why I've devoted an entire post to it. La chaleur me rend parraseuse. (The heat makes me lazy.) It's hard to do anything productive, when it involves doing anything other than sitting in front of a fan trying to not think about how much you're sweating. But it seems like I'm very behind, because there is so much here that I want to write about!

Let's consider this my test post, to see if it's possible to post movies that I take with my camera. The one I'm trying to post is of that same night in the restaurant, with the rain pouring down and all of us sitting around the table. It's not very long and it is taking FOREVER to load. But if it works than I can share with you all the videos of the religious meetings they have at my house and of the soccer game I went to last night! So let's hope it works. I'm inspired by my sister's recent video adventures. Ellen's been sending me videos using her new laptop, and it's been really nice to hear from her and my parents. Anyway, it appears to have worked but the video is very dark. :( Oh, well, there will be better ones later!!

Much love from sunny, sunny, sunny Senegal,
Robin

Yaasa Poulet

Tried to update here with this entry last night, but the power went out at the school, which means that the wi-fi goes out as well. So here it is now!

One of the things I was most worried about in coming to Senegal was honestly the food situation. Dakar is a located on a peninsula, and Senegal has a long coast to begin with, so I knew that fish would be a large part of the diet. The national dish, in fact, is called Ceebu jen, and is basically fish and rice. Okay, it's pronounced Cheh-boo-jen, I just copied the spelling from wikipedia. :p
But the fish here is very good, and tastes a lot like chicken to tell the truth. At my house we've had a variety of foods. Maafe is made with a peanut sauce and is a little more spicy, but really excellent. And my favorite dish is Yaasa Poulet. (Another variation of which is Yaasa Poisson.) The wikipedia definition of Yaasa Poulet is "chicken or fish simmered in onion with a garlic, mustard, and lemon sauce". But since I haven't (yet) learned how to make them for now all I know is that it's really excellent.

Eating a la Senegalaise involves eating with your hands. Since almost every dish is either chicken/fish/beef and rice the best way to do this is to roll a handfull of the dish into little balls and then try and get it from the communal dish into your mouth without spilling too much on the mat that's been laid down for that purpose. On the left you can see us trying to do just that! My host family doesn't normally eat like this, we have spoons. But we do eat from a communal bowl. If you imagine the bowl like a pizza pie, then every person normally eats from the slice in front of them. If there are big pieces of meat than the Mom or the head of the family will distribute it evenly into everyone's portion of the bowl.

On the right are Evie and Scram, two students from the program during orientation week, when we learned to eat with our hands. But like I said I haven't done it much since then. Last night there was a lot of people over at my house for dinner, so I think there wasn't enough silverware. My host brother and a few others did just naturally end up using their hands.

Anyway, more tomorrow on my host family. And a very happy birthday to my lovely sixteen year old sister!

Diop, Mariama Diop.

I have many excuses for not writing until now. Orientation week was hectic, for one. I got sick the last day we stayed in the hotel, and my first night at my homestay was probably one of the worst nights I've had in my entire life. (More later on how I'm feeling MUCH BETTER now!) Also, the heat, when it's not making me want to go crazy and jump into the ocean to cool off, makes everyone sort of lazy. I'm much more inclined to spend the two hours we have for lunch break sleeping on the mats here at school than blogging, even though I have so much to recount! But today I'm fasting (more on that later, too!) so I'll try and spend the time I would normally go out for lunch writing instead.

Let's start with the weather. It's September, which is either the worst or the best month, depending on how you look at it. Our program directors have mostly assured us that if we can make it through September the weather will become much more tolerable. For now it is hot and humid. It's still the rainy season, and this year has been especially bad. Apparently it hasn't rained 10 days in a row like it has in decades, and the suburbs of Dakar are badly flooded. Some flooding is normal, though, because of the uneveness of the roads and the HUGE potholes everywhere. Every taxi ride is a new adventure and it seems completely natural that all the taxis and buses to have 'Alhamdoulilah' or 'Thank God' written on them. As in, Thank God this bus hasn't fallen apart yet andThank God my taxi driver didn't get stuck in a three foot pothole and Thank God I got to school in one piece!

This is the sidewalk outside the hotel where we stayed for orientation. You can see to the side one of the buses, overflowing with people. On the left is another picture of one, the picture taken from the back of a taxi. The back doors stay open on the buses, normally, for air and so that people can hang onto the back for extra places. It's pretty insane to see. You can sort of make it out on the picture on the left, sorry for the bad picture! The taxis are much more civilized in terms of seating, but are also falling apart. They don't go fast like the taxis of NYC, but one still feels as though they are about to crash. Narrow roads that would be one way in the States are both ways, and with people walking in the streets and stray dogs everywhere. Your taxi will head straight for the oncoming car, and veer into it's path to get around a particularly bad pothole, only to swerve back at the last minute. It's terrifyingly fun.

Taxis are also an example of the culture of bargaining here. Today in Wolof class we learned how to bargain in Wolof, but I've already become an expert with the French that I have. To get to school every day I flag a taxi at the corner and say, Salaamaleikum to greet the driver. I ask how much it is to go to the Comissariat du Police at Point E. Taxi drivers are mostly illiterate and no one knows the street names anyway, so it's important to know landmarks to get to where you want to go. The taxi driver will tell me to pay 1200 cfa, and I respond that I'll pay 800. He says that 800 is not a good price and that 1000 is not a good price. I tell him that 800 is the good price and that I can wait for another taxi. He tells me to get in, but first I check that he has change for my 1000 bill, because no one has any change in this country. By the way, the 800 I pay to get to school is about $2, since the exchange rate is about 426 cfa to a dollar. Now that I know more Wolof, it will be easier to bargain. I also think I'll start at 700, so that I can concede 100 cfa before settling on 800. I drive a hard bargain!
Okay, well here's a picture of a beautiful mosaic on a bridge that you can't really see, but you can sort of make out the taxi jaune et noir in the picture. Maybe later, when I feel like scaring my parents, I'll post the pictures I took the insides of the taxis. Falling apart doesn't even begin to describe it!

Class is starting early, so I'll post later this week about the food here (so amazingly good) or something, but for now I'm happy and healthy and hot as heck!

Mariama Diop

p.s. Our host families give us Senegalese names. You can call me Yama for short. :D

First day... what day is it again?

So we landed in Dakar around 8 or 9pm last night. (One problem with everyone using their cell phones for the time these days is that no one has any idea what time it is since we got here and our cell phones don't always automatically adjust. I've already decided I'm going to buy a cheap watch first chance I get!) We were picked up by the director of the SIT program (the program I'm staying with and studying with here). Customs was long so we were happy to see the people picking us up. They brought us to a bus where we pickled in our own sweat waiting for one other person on a different flight, who thankfully got there very soon after us. Souleye, the program director, had to stay at the airport to meet other students, so he apologized for not being able to take us back to the hotel (where we are staying for our week or orientation before the homestay) himself. Bouna, the assistant director or something came with us instead. He talked to us about Dakar and the program and himself during the 15 minute ride to the Auberge Good Rade. He was really funny, telling us that he and Souleye had gone to school together when they were younger. He said that Souleye had taught him to smoke when they were young, but when Souleye quit a few years ago, he hadn't taught Bouna how to quit, so if we saw him smoking it was Souleye's fault. He's very funny, speaks almost as good English as Souleye does (his is impeccable). When he pointed out his Red Sox hat I gave him a fake dirty look so he apologized and told us we could think of the B as standing for Bouna. Today he came in with a Yankees hat and a big grin. He's really amusing and seems to be quite concerned with making us all feel at home.
Really, everyone here has been extremely nice and welcoming. It's exhausting, and we're all sort of out of it, what with the jet lag. Today was spent going over the 'welcome packet' they provided us with. Basically a list of cultural norms, rules, expectations, syllabi for the classes, health tips, etc. It was horribly boring and long, rather like the first day of classes at school, where the teacher gives you a huge syllabus and then reads every word to you. I always wonder why they don't assume that college students can read. Here they are trusting we will read the material on our own but spent a large amount of time explaining how the teaching style in the classrooms will work. We also wrote down all our fears and expectations in small groups and then they went through each one. Sort of fun, but not very comforting, since most of the fears are sort of well-founded. Sickness? Yeah, that's probably going to happen. Mugging? It's very safe, but it's like any other major city, so... it's possible. Making culturally insensitive mistakes? They didn't exactly tell us it was okay but said that it was obvious that we would make mistakes at first and have to learn from them. So basically, duh. But everyone is very nice and speaks a reassuring combination of English and completely understandable French.
Apparently, though, Wolof is the spoken language in our homestays and in the streets, so we will absolutely need to learn it. I think people speak French, but in order to understand most of what is spoken we will need to hurry and learn Wolof. The teachers gave a sort of demonstration of a beginning Wolof class today and I think it will be fine.

Lunch today was down the street at a restaurant. It was rice and fish. I have a feeling I'm going to just have to get used to eating a lot of fish. It wasn't bad, the rice was a little bit spicy which just made it easier to drink lots of water. (Bottled, of course). While we are here at the hotel, SIT is providing us with large quantities of bottled water. We all carry around these huge bottles with us, or our water bottles, filled from the bottled water. Can you tell I'm paranoid about accidentally forgetting and drinking from a sink?
The rooms are really nice and AIR CONDITIONED, which is lovely. My roomate was one of the ones whom Souleye was waiting for at the airport, she didn't arrive until 2am or so, so we ended up not sleeping until very late. Her name is Evie, and SHE IS A GIRL, MOM. (inside joke). She's very fun and has been traveling for the past two months around Europe and the Middle East so we talked for a long time last night until falling asleep. So I'm both tired AND jet-lagged today. (I already took a nap, though, so...)
Anyway, we're going to go explore the neighborhood a little before it gets dark, so I think I'll sign off for now. I guess I don't have much to say about Dakar since we've been exposed to very little of the actual culture and real life here yet. But it's VERY warm and VERY humid. September is apparently the worst month, and it will be perfect after that.

Bisous from Dakar,
Robin