Out of Africa

Despite everyone still speaking French, Brussels, even if just for 60 hours, was a very pleasant change from Senegal. Although I thought I was getting away from the touts, the cheats, and the average person who simply wants to get your money - case in point, being cheated at the airport on the way out when I thought I was being nice by taking some Euros off a woman who I thought was given them as charity by arriving passengers and giving her CFA, only to find out later that she had substituted some Euro coins for similar looking worthless CFA coins – may be people like that burn in hell! – but back to the story. I was reminded, upon arrival in Brussels, that capitalism simply results in large, organised companies being evil and trying to rip you off rather than individuals doing it in a non-organised way. A coffee in a large cup at the coffee shop chain at the airport results in them taking it a little too literally – the cup is large, but the volume of coffee is slightly less than what would have fitted in the small cup. May that company suffer the wrath of the European financial crisis!

Saly - not quite Scarborough Beach

The local 'Picaso' taking my purchase (bargained from 60,000
down to 20,000 CFA) off the frame.

Saly is one of the resort towns of Senegal (the other one being Cap Skirring). It is a around 80km South of Dakar (which means anywhere from 50 minutes to 2.5 hours driving) and serves weekend holiday makers as well as Europeans on package holidays. It has sun, beaches, and clubs. My reason for going: the beaches. I wanted to get away from Dakar for a weekend, relax on the beach which would hopefully be nicer than the ones in Dakar, and just enjoy a quite weekend. Well, on Senegalese standards, it lived up to these expectations. Therefore, if you're in Senegal, it makes for a nice getaway - though I certainly couldn't recommend making an effort to specifically come here from another country - that, is something I don't get...

Oh, and don't watch the video below if you're planning on having fish for dinner...

A Cultural Divide

Since it would obviously be politically incorrect of me, and perhaps even racist by some, to generalise about negative aspects of a group of people based on their culture, I figured, since today was full of great examples, to write a post about the massive cultural divide between myself and 2 particular people – they happened to be taxi drivers in Senegal (although the latter, in a sense, drove a car and accepted payment for the ride, I’m not sure if he really was a taxi driver…) In case someone happens to misconstrue this as a generalisation about Senegalese (heaven forbid), I will throw in an example of the cultural divide between myself and a certain aspect of bureaucracy – the other person happens to be an Indian.

Stuck in Friday arvo traffic - downtown Dakar

Taxi!

So after deciding to take a weekend break at the seaside resort of Saly, I flag down a taxi after work to take me to the Gare Routiere, from where I will catch my sept-place taxi to Saly. The conversation with the taxi driver, before I get in, and following the standard pleasantries, goes something like this (I have translated in a way that I assume I would sound in French).

Me: I would like to go to the Gare Routiere. How much?
Driver: blah blah blah blah. Gare Hotel blah blah blah.
Me: No. Gare Routiere (this time, pronounced differently, just in case I got it wrong first time).
Driver: Blah blah blah. Gare blah blah. City blah blah?
Me: Not city. Near Point E. Before Place de l’Indepdance. I want to go to Saly. Sept-place taxi. Gare Routiere.
Driver: Ah, Point E. Ok.
Me: No, NEAR Point E. But Not Point E. Before Place de l’Independance.
Driver: Ah, Place de l’independance?

Senegal v2.0 – Since I have so much trouble putting this into words…

When people have asked me what things are like in terms of housing in Senegal, I have found it very hard to describe the situation. I still find it very hard to describe the situation. So moving into a new apartment upon my return from a 2 week hiatus, I decided a photo blog might be the easiest way to describe the situation.

Despite coming to an agreement with an agent regarding an apartment. I was to pay 20,000 CFA per day for an apartment I liked on the 3rd floor. Whilst in Australia, that all of a sudden became 600,000 CFA per month, with no partial months, making my rent essentially 23,000 CFA per day. What choice did I have? Well, apart from give the agent less of a commission (ie., tip). Then I return to Dakar, go to the apartment, and discover i have been given one on the ground floor. After a few bullshit stories in terrible English with some French and Wolof thrown on, I accept it because I literally do not have a choice. Now, to describe the place. On the surface, at a high level, it looks like a pretty reasonable place – it’s not luxury, but it does look OK. But dig a little deeper, and you learn a little bit about housing in Senegal. And keep in mind, this housing is some of the more western housing around.