12/31/04
FRIDAY
DECEMBER 31, 2004
New Years Eve! I woke up at my usual time of 7:30. Went downstairs, had breakfast, and then went back up again to watch more movies until Dave woke up. Mary had a huge collection of DVDs. I put each one in in-turn to watch the special features, such as the whole 2-hour special features of The Matrix. The guest bedroom had its own shower but I did not want to take one and have the noise wake him up. However, by 1:30 he still was not up. I took all my items to the next bathroom and took a shower. He finally woke up at two in the afternoon.
As we got ready to go out the door I realized that for the first time since joining Peace Corps I had new shoes! We took a picture of me holding up my decrepit duct-taped shoes, whose soles were breaking, with my brand new styling shiny Chacos! It wasn’t until I had them side by side did I realize how truly bad my old shoes were. The first order of the day was exchanging money. After exiting Mary’s house we took a left one block to reach the main street in this part of town, Avenue Pompidou – better known as Ponty. Although Dakar is a major city, the main part of town, called Dakar Proper was where Mary lived. It’s located in a small peninsula only about a mile and half at its widest point, going east and west. If you go North you go out into the outskirts of the city, and to the airport. Ponty stretched from one side of the peninsula to the other and is filled with local shops, restaurants, and tourist shops. It almost reaches to the other side of Dakar except for “Place de l’independence”. This park, three blocks long by two blocks wide was to celebrate their independence from France in 1960, just five years before The Gambia would become independent from the UK.
Walking down Ponty a few blocks, passed all the tourist items and shops we reached a bank that would exchange his money.
Along the road there was a place called Ali Baba’s, which we stopped at for lunch. The Gambia also has an Ali Baba’s in Banjul, so it was quite strange eating at a place that wasn’t even affiliated with the Banjul one, but had the same name. Been to two different Ali Baba’s in two different countries. They’re actually all over the place in West Africa as Ali Baba is a character in “Arabian Nights”, under the story of “Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves.” We sat down and tried to order the best we could, by pointing to a line on the menu, whether we understood what it was or not did not matter. By now I had been drinking tap water and did not bother getting bottled water. Dave had brought his Nalgene Water Bottle and filled it at Mary’s before we left. The waiter came back a few minutes later and after a few moments got the point across that they didn’t have what Dave wanted. He had to order another thing.
Children trying to sell stuff were by the window while I had my back to them and Dave, following his usual custom, had his back to the wall. The children were begging for either some CFA, to buy something, or to get our left over food. We ignored them completely.
While looking at the map and trying to find out what else to see, we decided to see the IFAN Museum, which stands for “Institut Fondamental d'afrique Noire.” According to Lonely Planet, IFAN “is one of the best museums in West Africa.” We walked the mile or so it took to get there and walked in. The only problem was that it was closed for that day, being New Year’s Eve. We gave up on that and went to our second choice, which Dave found on the map, the Netherlands Embassy. The museum was located on the corner of one of the streets in a roundabout intersection. The street the Embassy was on and the street we went on were different streets and we ended up on the far side of Dakar looking at the Ocean. End of the road.
We quickly brought out the Lonely Planet book, with a map of central Dakar, to see where our error was. Back tracking some more and turning down the correct street we found the Netherlands Embassy, which was right across the street from the American Embassy. We never did get to the Netherlands Embassy as when talking to the guards at the American Embassy they waved us through the blocked streets and onto the main street again. Plus, it was already past five and everything would be closed anyway; even if it weren’t New Years Eve.
The last thing we saw before heading back to Mary’s was the Cathedral. This cathedral is the largest one in Dakar and was only built recently, in the 1920s. We went inside and sat down for a few moments admiring the architecture, the paintings, and the nativity scenes they had on display. There was no on outside and very few people inside the Cathedral. Upon exiting we dropped a few coins in the offering box.
Almost four hours after we had left we returned back to Mary’s house. She had just got out of work for the day and was planning on going out to do her own thing. I introduced her to Dave and he thanked her for having us stay at her place. Being New Year’s Eve she had her own plans but we asked where would be a good place to have dinner. She pointed out a few on the map that were close, and some far away that we could choose from. Our first choice: Restaurant-Bar Lagon I. This was our one big night out and neither of us minded spending a buck or two on dinner.
Restaurant-Bar Lagon I, is located on the eastern side of the Central Dakar, on the water’s edge. It’s about a twenty-minute walk from Mary’s house. According to Lonely Planet, the restaurant itself is “done out like an old-style cruise liner, and comes complete with sails, planking, brass rails and lifeboats.” We walked the twenty minutes to the restaurant, passing Pompidou Avenue again, across Place de L’independence, and down the steps to the water’s edge of Corniche Avenue. The restaurant was dead, and looking at the set up of the tables, it was going to be a little too expensive of what we were thinking.
Again taking out the Lonely Planet book we found our second choice, Chez Loutcha located back from where we came from and only two blocks away from the house originally. The book advised “servings are very large, as is the menu (which runs to about 30 pages, with specials including flights to Praia!)” That was our restaurant for the night! Going from Lagon to Loutcha we again got lost and almost gave up on trying to find Chez Loutcha. On all accounts we were in the bad neighborhood of town. We were dead center in the red-zone that the Senegalese Peace Corps administration told me not to travel in, especially at night. It was now not only night, but New Year’s Eve and we’re in the red zone. We both felt safe, just wanted to find a place to eat! All this fuss I’m making about the red-zone is not to illustrate we were in any grave danger, just that it wasn’t the best neighborhood to be in. Throughout the two years being here I’ve been in order of magnitudes far worse neighborhoods with nothing bad happening.
Ali Baba’s came into sight when we finally did give up and were just walking around trying to find a good substitute. According to the map Chez Loutcha should be right around the corner. We continued in search of this restaurant and eventually found it.
While we were eating and talking we realized that this was the second time we’ve been together out of the US for New Year’s. The first was on a cruise in the Western Caribbean, and now in Africa! Maybe we should start a tradition of every two years be somewhere unique?
When we entered the restaurant we were going to just sit down at the closest table but they encouraged us to go on towards the back, which was hidden, but had plenty of other tables. It was relatively empty, as most people wouldn’t come until later. The table next to use was a couple that was speaking Dutch and Dave started to talk to them. We each ordered something we didn’t know what it was and all expectations were thrown out the window.
Halfway through the meal we noticed this piece of paper that the waitress placed on the table but we couldn’t figure out what it was. It couldn’t have been the bill, but she kept on leaving it there, and even her manager came and looked at it. At the end of the meal we finally figured out what it was. Someone had reserved the table we were sitting at and we were closing in on the time that they were about to show up! We took that as our cue to leave and left to go to the Peace Corps Hostel.
Upon exiting the restaurant a taxi pulled up and offered us a ride to “liberté six terminus de neuf” where the Hostel was for 2,000CFA but only if we would break a 10,000CFA for him. We agreed and I got in front while Dave got in back. The streets were already dark; the only light in the taxi was a small light near the glove box. We went on the highway, a route I didn’t take before, and was a little bit nervous. The driver assured us we were headed in the right direction and not less than ten minutes later we were right outside the Peace Corps Hostel. What next happened was a combination of distractions, slights of hand, low light, and confusion. Somehow I had gotten ripped off a few thousand CFA, with the breaking a 10,000CFA being the ploy. The exact amount is unknown, but it was probably around 7,000CFA or $14. I was mad about it for a while, this being a good amount on a volunteer’s budget and would have been a very nice meal at the most expensive Gambian restaurant; but then I thought of something which made it stand out in perspective. Yes, I got ripped off; but I didn’t get mugged, robbed, or stranded. I could stand to lose $14 without it being much of a burden, but it wasn’t fun to lose it anyway.
The party was just getting started when we arrived. A few of the girls I had met two days ago at the PC Office recognized me and were glad that I came. They asked if this was the friend I was picking up. I answered in the affirmative and we started to mingle around the room chatting to the other Americans. The second person Dave talked to went to school at Hope College, and another knew Dutch. This was the second random Dutch-speaker he met that evening. Dave mentioned that he had come halfway across the world to a continent very few people ever travel to, and now on his first full night in this continent he’s at a party full of Americans celebrating the New Year. It was like any other college party, and as if he never left the United States!
There is one significant difference between the capital regional house for The Gambia and the one for Senegal. In The Gambia there are three regional houses upcountry, away from the capital that one may go to if they are stuck upcountry. If we want to come down to Banjul to be at the capital regional house we have to take out-of-site days, which we have only two a month (officially). However, for Senegal, they have a half-dozen regional houses each with internet connections and computer set ups. You can get your work done in any region, and therefore if you wanted to come to Dakar they would take vacation days away from you. All volunteers would rather have out-of-site days taken away than vacation days as the latter allows you to leave the country and go on trips with your friends. So, most volunteers that we were partying with had taken vacation days to be here and were celebrating it as such. The only ones that don’t have to take vacation days are the ones nearest Dakar, since it is their regional house, as such one bedroom and cabinet space is dedicated solely for them.
Inside the bathroom had a note written on the wall: “Attention: If we are out of toilet paper … PLEASE use this sign. Thank you, Budget Cuts.” What was interesting was that it was ripped at the corner. I had to bring my camera into the bathroom to get a picture of it.
The occasional drinking game commenced, a chair or two got broken, free pieces of cake were passed out, and music and dancing occurred the whole night in the back. At midnight those who had fireworks let them off, since at this distance we couldn’t see the official ones that Dakar were displaying.
One of the people I talked to said he was a volunteer from Guinea.
“I was in Guinea last summer.”
“Which part?”
“We hiked in from Kedougou, stayed in Mali, traveled through Pita and Labe to Doucki and stayed there for a few days before heading back.”
“I live in Mali.”
“Wait, you’re the volunteer who lives in Mali?”
“Yes, why you couldn’t find me?”
“Were you at site at the end of July, beginning of August?”
“No. I was in Mali, the country.”
“You were the person we were trying to find. They had told us there was a volunteer living there but when we asked where the volunteer was they showed us to some older French woman. We had to stay at the hotel at the edge of town.”
“indigo?”
“That’s the one!”
We talked some more, about Guinea, Mali-ville, and other travelers he received while being posted there. All this before he left to go out to the bar with other volunteers who were leaving. By two-o’clock the place was winding down. Either half had left for the bar or were going to bed. By 3:30 I called it quits. I saw Dave was comfortable in the back so I left him at the party and headed back to Mary’s. On the way home I was fearful of being ripped off again and so when the driver requested his money I just placed it on the seat and walked away, even though he was asking, politely, for more since it took longer to get home because of traffic of everyone trying to get home.
All the doors and windows to Mary’s house are triggered to a bell. Every time a door or window is opened a buzzer goes off throughout the house. It’s a safety issue so she knows if anyone has broken in while she’s in her bedroom or watching TV. It also helps to figure out when someone has made it home. She knew I made it back around 4:00 and I knew Dave made it back around 7:30 by the buzzer that went off as he walked in.
DECEMBER 31, 2004
New Years Eve! I woke up at my usual time of 7:30. Went downstairs, had breakfast, and then went back up again to watch more movies until Dave woke up. Mary had a huge collection of DVDs. I put each one in in-turn to watch the special features, such as the whole 2-hour special features of The Matrix. The guest bedroom had its own shower but I did not want to take one and have the noise wake him up. However, by 1:30 he still was not up. I took all my items to the next bathroom and took a shower. He finally woke up at two in the afternoon.
As we got ready to go out the door I realized that for the first time since joining Peace Corps I had new shoes! We took a picture of me holding up my decrepit duct-taped shoes, whose soles were breaking, with my brand new styling shiny Chacos! It wasn’t until I had them side by side did I realize how truly bad my old shoes were. The first order of the day was exchanging money. After exiting Mary’s house we took a left one block to reach the main street in this part of town, Avenue Pompidou – better known as Ponty. Although Dakar is a major city, the main part of town, called Dakar Proper was where Mary lived. It’s located in a small peninsula only about a mile and half at its widest point, going east and west. If you go North you go out into the outskirts of the city, and to the airport. Ponty stretched from one side of the peninsula to the other and is filled with local shops, restaurants, and tourist shops. It almost reaches to the other side of Dakar except for “Place de l’independence”. This park, three blocks long by two blocks wide was to celebrate their independence from France in 1960, just five years before The Gambia would become independent from the UK.
Walking down Ponty a few blocks, passed all the tourist items and shops we reached a bank that would exchange his money.
Along the road there was a place called Ali Baba’s, which we stopped at for lunch. The Gambia also has an Ali Baba’s in Banjul, so it was quite strange eating at a place that wasn’t even affiliated with the Banjul one, but had the same name. Been to two different Ali Baba’s in two different countries. They’re actually all over the place in West Africa as Ali Baba is a character in “Arabian Nights”, under the story of “Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves.” We sat down and tried to order the best we could, by pointing to a line on the menu, whether we understood what it was or not did not matter. By now I had been drinking tap water and did not bother getting bottled water. Dave had brought his Nalgene Water Bottle and filled it at Mary’s before we left. The waiter came back a few minutes later and after a few moments got the point across that they didn’t have what Dave wanted. He had to order another thing.
Children trying to sell stuff were by the window while I had my back to them and Dave, following his usual custom, had his back to the wall. The children were begging for either some CFA, to buy something, or to get our left over food. We ignored them completely.
While looking at the map and trying to find out what else to see, we decided to see the IFAN Museum, which stands for “Institut Fondamental d'afrique Noire.” According to Lonely Planet, IFAN “is one of the best museums in West Africa.” We walked the mile or so it took to get there and walked in. The only problem was that it was closed for that day, being New Year’s Eve. We gave up on that and went to our second choice, which Dave found on the map, the Netherlands Embassy. The museum was located on the corner of one of the streets in a roundabout intersection. The street the Embassy was on and the street we went on were different streets and we ended up on the far side of Dakar looking at the Ocean. End of the road.
We quickly brought out the Lonely Planet book, with a map of central Dakar, to see where our error was. Back tracking some more and turning down the correct street we found the Netherlands Embassy, which was right across the street from the American Embassy. We never did get to the Netherlands Embassy as when talking to the guards at the American Embassy they waved us through the blocked streets and onto the main street again. Plus, it was already past five and everything would be closed anyway; even if it weren’t New Years Eve.
The last thing we saw before heading back to Mary’s was the Cathedral. This cathedral is the largest one in Dakar and was only built recently, in the 1920s. We went inside and sat down for a few moments admiring the architecture, the paintings, and the nativity scenes they had on display. There was no on outside and very few people inside the Cathedral. Upon exiting we dropped a few coins in the offering box.
Almost four hours after we had left we returned back to Mary’s house. She had just got out of work for the day and was planning on going out to do her own thing. I introduced her to Dave and he thanked her for having us stay at her place. Being New Year’s Eve she had her own plans but we asked where would be a good place to have dinner. She pointed out a few on the map that were close, and some far away that we could choose from. Our first choice: Restaurant-Bar Lagon I. This was our one big night out and neither of us minded spending a buck or two on dinner.
Restaurant-Bar Lagon I, is located on the eastern side of the Central Dakar, on the water’s edge. It’s about a twenty-minute walk from Mary’s house. According to Lonely Planet, the restaurant itself is “done out like an old-style cruise liner, and comes complete with sails, planking, brass rails and lifeboats.” We walked the twenty minutes to the restaurant, passing Pompidou Avenue again, across Place de L’independence, and down the steps to the water’s edge of Corniche Avenue. The restaurant was dead, and looking at the set up of the tables, it was going to be a little too expensive of what we were thinking.
Again taking out the Lonely Planet book we found our second choice, Chez Loutcha located back from where we came from and only two blocks away from the house originally. The book advised “servings are very large, as is the menu (which runs to about 30 pages, with specials including flights to Praia!)” That was our restaurant for the night! Going from Lagon to Loutcha we again got lost and almost gave up on trying to find Chez Loutcha. On all accounts we were in the bad neighborhood of town. We were dead center in the red-zone that the Senegalese Peace Corps administration told me not to travel in, especially at night. It was now not only night, but New Year’s Eve and we’re in the red zone. We both felt safe, just wanted to find a place to eat! All this fuss I’m making about the red-zone is not to illustrate we were in any grave danger, just that it wasn’t the best neighborhood to be in. Throughout the two years being here I’ve been in order of magnitudes far worse neighborhoods with nothing bad happening.
Ali Baba’s came into sight when we finally did give up and were just walking around trying to find a good substitute. According to the map Chez Loutcha should be right around the corner. We continued in search of this restaurant and eventually found it.
While we were eating and talking we realized that this was the second time we’ve been together out of the US for New Year’s. The first was on a cruise in the Western Caribbean, and now in Africa! Maybe we should start a tradition of every two years be somewhere unique?
When we entered the restaurant we were going to just sit down at the closest table but they encouraged us to go on towards the back, which was hidden, but had plenty of other tables. It was relatively empty, as most people wouldn’t come until later. The table next to use was a couple that was speaking Dutch and Dave started to talk to them. We each ordered something we didn’t know what it was and all expectations were thrown out the window.
Halfway through the meal we noticed this piece of paper that the waitress placed on the table but we couldn’t figure out what it was. It couldn’t have been the bill, but she kept on leaving it there, and even her manager came and looked at it. At the end of the meal we finally figured out what it was. Someone had reserved the table we were sitting at and we were closing in on the time that they were about to show up! We took that as our cue to leave and left to go to the Peace Corps Hostel.
Upon exiting the restaurant a taxi pulled up and offered us a ride to “liberté six terminus de neuf” where the Hostel was for 2,000CFA but only if we would break a 10,000CFA for him. We agreed and I got in front while Dave got in back. The streets were already dark; the only light in the taxi was a small light near the glove box. We went on the highway, a route I didn’t take before, and was a little bit nervous. The driver assured us we were headed in the right direction and not less than ten minutes later we were right outside the Peace Corps Hostel. What next happened was a combination of distractions, slights of hand, low light, and confusion. Somehow I had gotten ripped off a few thousand CFA, with the breaking a 10,000CFA being the ploy. The exact amount is unknown, but it was probably around 7,000CFA or $14. I was mad about it for a while, this being a good amount on a volunteer’s budget and would have been a very nice meal at the most expensive Gambian restaurant; but then I thought of something which made it stand out in perspective. Yes, I got ripped off; but I didn’t get mugged, robbed, or stranded. I could stand to lose $14 without it being much of a burden, but it wasn’t fun to lose it anyway.
The party was just getting started when we arrived. A few of the girls I had met two days ago at the PC Office recognized me and were glad that I came. They asked if this was the friend I was picking up. I answered in the affirmative and we started to mingle around the room chatting to the other Americans. The second person Dave talked to went to school at Hope College, and another knew Dutch. This was the second random Dutch-speaker he met that evening. Dave mentioned that he had come halfway across the world to a continent very few people ever travel to, and now on his first full night in this continent he’s at a party full of Americans celebrating the New Year. It was like any other college party, and as if he never left the United States!
There is one significant difference between the capital regional house for The Gambia and the one for Senegal. In The Gambia there are three regional houses upcountry, away from the capital that one may go to if they are stuck upcountry. If we want to come down to Banjul to be at the capital regional house we have to take out-of-site days, which we have only two a month (officially). However, for Senegal, they have a half-dozen regional houses each with internet connections and computer set ups. You can get your work done in any region, and therefore if you wanted to come to Dakar they would take vacation days away from you. All volunteers would rather have out-of-site days taken away than vacation days as the latter allows you to leave the country and go on trips with your friends. So, most volunteers that we were partying with had taken vacation days to be here and were celebrating it as such. The only ones that don’t have to take vacation days are the ones nearest Dakar, since it is their regional house, as such one bedroom and cabinet space is dedicated solely for them.
Inside the bathroom had a note written on the wall: “Attention: If we are out of toilet paper … PLEASE use this sign. Thank you, Budget Cuts.” What was interesting was that it was ripped at the corner. I had to bring my camera into the bathroom to get a picture of it.
The occasional drinking game commenced, a chair or two got broken, free pieces of cake were passed out, and music and dancing occurred the whole night in the back. At midnight those who had fireworks let them off, since at this distance we couldn’t see the official ones that Dakar were displaying.
One of the people I talked to said he was a volunteer from Guinea.
“I was in Guinea last summer.”
“Which part?”
“We hiked in from Kedougou, stayed in Mali, traveled through Pita and Labe to Doucki and stayed there for a few days before heading back.”
“I live in Mali.”
“Wait, you’re the volunteer who lives in Mali?”
“Yes, why you couldn’t find me?”
“Were you at site at the end of July, beginning of August?”
“No. I was in Mali, the country.”
“You were the person we were trying to find. They had told us there was a volunteer living there but when we asked where the volunteer was they showed us to some older French woman. We had to stay at the hotel at the edge of town.”
“indigo?”
“That’s the one!”
We talked some more, about Guinea, Mali-ville, and other travelers he received while being posted there. All this before he left to go out to the bar with other volunteers who were leaving. By two-o’clock the place was winding down. Either half had left for the bar or were going to bed. By 3:30 I called it quits. I saw Dave was comfortable in the back so I left him at the party and headed back to Mary’s. On the way home I was fearful of being ripped off again and so when the driver requested his money I just placed it on the seat and walked away, even though he was asking, politely, for more since it took longer to get home because of traffic of everyone trying to get home.
All the doors and windows to Mary’s house are triggered to a bell. Every time a door or window is opened a buzzer goes off throughout the house. It’s a safety issue so she knows if anyone has broken in while she’s in her bedroom or watching TV. It also helps to figure out when someone has made it home. She knew I made it back around 4:00 and I knew Dave made it back around 7:30 by the buzzer that went off as he walked in.
posted by Mike | 5:35 PM
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