Not exactly shopping therapy...

We finally ventured to Marché Sandaga – the largest market in Dakar.  Several city blocks are filled with stalls of clothes, food, fabric, jewelry, brooms, and anything else they can find to sell.  At all times in Sandaga you will be accompanied by some man trying to lead you to his still to give you his card (aka make you buy something) or propose to you – those seem to be their only two objectives. Other men will continually come up to you and vouch for your guide, telling you what a good guy he is.  If you have the energy to deal with them, you can have fun thinking up ways to shake them off.  Some we told we were to environmentally conscious to accept a paper business card, others we told we had very contagious illnesses, and some we just repeated “no merci” on high speed until they got the message.  With Senegalese men, it takes a long time for them to get the message – no does not mean no here, it means try harder.  I’m married does not mean no here either, it means explain in detail every way you are far superior to my husband. 

Once we found some fabric we liked – which was tricky because if you stand still long enough to get a good look at some you will be entirely surrounded by at least six men- the bartering process began.  Vendors are a bit more receptive to us now that we have learned a bit of Wolof to negotiate in, but we still always get the Toubab price.  One friend picked out fabric on the sly and then had her host sister go and negotiate a price for it (which was much lower as she was Senegalese).  When she then popped in to pay for it the vendor got really angry as he realized he had been tricked out of over charging a tourist.  

A la corniche

Everyone works out at the beaches (located all along the highway, detracts from the ambience a bit) – we always feel lazy just lying in the sun when no one else seems to do that.  Granted, they all think it is winter and way to cold to be at the beach (it is a frigid 85 F most days.)  On one beach each evening about fifty to eighty people show up to take part in what looks like a giant flash mob – dance / exercise moves that people join into at random times.  It’s fun to watch, and I was told I could join in, although I would stick out a lot as there are no women, and certainly no Toubabs.  Women here don’t seem to exercise, they don’t even like to walk – but most of them look amazing anyways.  Still trying to figure out their secret. 

Most of my Senegalese dance knowledge comes from our power outages.  We have power for about half of every day – and the other half we make do with candles and flashlights.  It feels a bit like camping.  During the outages when the kids are home from school they and Therese and Jimez (the maid and nanny respectively) sing and dance for sometimes hours.  Most of the songs are Christian, but sometimes we go around in a circle and all sing songs in our languages (George and Carol- French, Jimez- Serrer, Therese – French or wolof, and English for me except when I whipped out Frere Jacques.) 

La végétarienne!

Outside the university there is a street filled just with food vendors and carts selling paper and other school supplies.  This is where we go to find delicious egg sandwiches and Fataya – which is basically like fried dough with meat and fries inside.  The other day while waiting for out sandwiches a student I didn’t recognize came up to me and said “ La végétarienne! Ca va?” I am pretty sure I must be the only vegetarian he has ever met, that he remembers me from what must have been two weeks ago- the last time I was there.  Most people aren’t really sure what to do with vegetarians here.  Last night they gave me just a giant plate of shredded carrots to eat.  But being vegetarian is pretty much the only way you will get vegetables here – they aren’t served much as they are considered a meal for poor people only.  Which is ironic as salads are often the most expensive item on a menu. 

Public Transportation, Dakar Style

This weekend Andrea and I decided to try our luck with a car rapide, (yes, there is a lot of luck involved) Dakar’s main form of public transport.  How it works – you wait on the side of a road for a car rapide to show up (no schedules of course) and when it does a young boy will jump off the back yelling the route of the bus.  You then pile in the back with as many other people as they can fit in the bus.  On many of the buses, you have to run and jump on if they don’t stop all the way, and the same to get off. The boy then comes around to collect your money (only 100CFA for a ride across town, about 0.20 USD).  We ended up on a bus to Oakaum, the opposite direction of what we were aiming for but we were just happy to be going somewhere.  We called Jess, who lives there and figured out which stop to get off at, but it seemed we were not going in that direction, as we learned when the bus driver simply told us to get off and walk at what was apparently as far as they went.  Needless to say it was a good thing we had planned a whole day for this 20-minute trip.  

Youssou N'Dour

Last night we went to see Youssou N’Dour, one of Senegal’s most famous singers.  The crowd seemed to be mainly Toubabs and ambassadors – and they definitely played that up in the concert – teaching us some traditional dance moves and making fun of our version of Senegal.   I loved the concert though – there were about fifteen people in the band and a few back up singers / dancers – one guy seemed to be on stage solely to pump up the crowd.  There was just so much energy (especially from the featured dancer who did flips over the drummers) and they got almost all of the older white ex-pats and tourists up and dancing – which says a lot.  Before that we went to N’ice Cream, our new favorite place in downtown Dakar.  It is an upscale gelato place that is incredibly good and incredibly cheap (by our standards at least).  I think we spend most of our lunch stipend there each week, but it is so worth it.  My favorite is the ferrero rocher, which tastes exactly like the chocolate but in ice cream form.