258km in 6 hours - The Road to Saint Louis

One restored building, and its mirror image across the street, 'about' to be restored

No, I haven't made it over to Missouri, USA. I have just headed up to a town which provides a strong reminder of the French presence in the area. Both because the town was named after the French king at the time (but seriously, to add 'Saint' in front, does seem a little obnoxious), and also because of the fact that Saint Louis served as the capital of French West Africa for over 2 centuries. The town, another one of Senegal's UNESCO World Heritage Listed sites is part crumbling to bits, and part remnants of its colonial past.

Above: Silting from the artificial break in the sand banks is very evident.
Below: the locals enjoying some colonial shade.

Going Colonial in Gorée

I have quickly realised that my blog entries about touristy things are going to be extremely different to what I'm used to writing. Primarily because tourism (which for me - is more or less doing or seeing something new in a different place) is totally different to what it is in Europe. Essentially, it is a lot more limited by that definition. There aren't that many places in Senegal that I would say I would want to go to from a tourist point of view (of course, this is solely my opinion). Either that, or my enthusiasm for travelling has waned a bit (possible, but less likely). Within Dakar, I don't have that much enthusiasm to go and 'see' things, but I guess that's because the few cultural sites are all in French, and there isn't really a heck of a lot of 'beauty' around. Nice architecture is lacking, as is places of natural beauty.

Enter two things to do. SCUBA diving, and visiting Gorée Island...

The Kindness of Senegalese (and work..)

The friendliness and generousity of people in Senegal cannot go unnoticed. Unfortuntaely, with my limited (or should I say, lack of) French, the only appreciation I seem to be able to show is "merci", or the occassional "merci beaucoup". It just doesn't seem to do it justice.

Musings on Dakar - Part 1 (most likely...)

Welcome to Léopold Sédar Senghor  (Dakar) International Airport 

I have only been here a short time, but I have already noticed so many things that stick out to me. Some of them stick out because I have simply been transformed to a different climate, different culture, different language and different life. Others though, simply do not have explanations because in any context, they simply do not make sense. In no particular order, this is my list of impressions of this hot country of which I have only touched upon...

• The unofficial taxi driver coalition in Dakar believes that if enough of their members honk at you, you will eventually get in one of their taxis and pay for a ride.

• In terms of equal standards, accommodation costs are slightly higher than Scadinavia, yet taxi rides are about one-twentieth the cost, even though the cost of fuel is roughly the same (on the other hand, the standard of the taxis themselves, can't really be compared...)

• It is nigh on impossible to find a self-service laundrette. But there are plenty of "pressing" shops that will clean your clothes (I have a feeling they actually dry-clean...) at a handsome cost per item (a load of basic washing just cost me 16,800 CFA / $33)

A busy round-a-bout with 3 Nescafe vendors (2 seen here, partly
blocked by a ubiquitous yellow taxi)

• Instant Nescafe from a street-seller in a tiny plastic cup is the height of coffee culture, and can be found on every street corner.

• Forget Japanese, European and American cars, Iranian and Indian cars rule the roads here!

• Forget BP or Caltex, here we have OilLibya!

• Like most non Anglo-Saxon Western coutries, the people are some of the most warm, welcoming and genuinely friendly people ever. Spend a day driving a new colleague aroundn to help him find an apartment? No problems. Invite a relative stranger into your house for a meal? Of ourse. Whilst overfriendliness tends to raise alarm bells with me, the worst thing that is likely to happen here as a result is daylight robbery by the street-seller or taxi driver.

Bumper Cars in Dakar

Today I got a ride to my hotel with a Japanese woman in the office who happened to be leaving at the same time as me and heading in the same direction. When I mentioned that I thought she was brave to drive here, she told me that it's not so bad, and I only need to go to downtown to see 'bad' drivers. Wow! I've seen good-bad drivers (Israel), crazy-bad drivers (Bangkok), and now, scary-bad drivers (Dakar). There was certainly no need for the humanitarian aid agency I work for to have a rule about no driving when on deployment, there is no chance in hell I would chance it here!

Dear Boss, I hereby tender my resignation...

Dear Boss,

I hereby tender my resignation with immediate effect. As you are probably unaware, there are numerous issues with my job and the current workplace which makes my continuing employment here untenable. Although, these in themselves, are reason enough for anyone to leave such a workplace, I have greater things coming my way right now.

I was planning on tendering my resignation in a few weeks' time anyway, but an opportunity has been delivered to me which gives me need to hasten that act. I had planned to leave your employ at the end of July and enjoy a month or so holiday before spending the Jewish New Year with my family in Perth. Following that, I was to move permanently to Israel. This is is a plan which has been roughly (and I use that word in its extreme sense) been in place since late 1993. The dream of returning to live in Israel has always been with me, and, as a wise sage once said (I hope she doesn't mind me quoting her here...):

If I don’t go, I will be forever plagued by the ‘what if’ and it will eventually consume your life and cause me to blame any future failings/mishaps on not ever taking the plunge.

It has already plagued for for a long time. But the fact that I tend to be attracted to certainty (in some aspects of my life) has held me back. No more. It is time to take the plunge and live my dream.

A Divided City No Longer

Pariser Platz - named so many years ago to piss off the French

I have always been amazed by the concept of war, especially, past wars. Mostly, because they don't make sense, but also because countries tend to behave in such ways which make even less sense. Even equating countries with toddlers doesn't quite explain things. The results of WWII are evident throughout Germany,  and although Berlin nowadays acts like one city, it is quite clear from how it looks that there are two sides to the coin.