Blog du Wren

Three Short Stories From Senegal

Story #1: What Are Borders Anyway?
On the topic of travel, people often ask "What countries have you been to?" Besides relishing the question as a lowkey way to brag, I also love to tell the story of the time I snuck under a barb-wire fence to get my picture in Russia! Well, I did it again...I think. Cap Skirring, Senegal is in the far Southwestern corner of the country. In dinking around with google maps, I realized I was less than 1 mile from the border of Guinea-Bissau. Why not? So I struck off down the beach (coming up on sunset a little sooner than I had bargained for). All in all, it was even more anti-climactic than the Russia barbed-wire thing. There wasn't a fence or anything. I just walked until my phone said I was then turned around and headed home (so as not be be stuck in the dark.) Do I feel like I've been to Guinea-Bissau? No. But will it be a fun asterisk when the topic comes up? Heck yeah!

Story #2: Little Successes of Public Transportation

One of the things I really like to do when traveling to a new place is to get to know how the locals get around. Sure I could take a taxi everywhere (assuming I can somehow communication where I want to go), but that feels like cheating, like going to a foreign land and staying in the resort the whole time. Here in Senegal, the way people get around the sept place, these beater old cars (all the same model of Pugeot) that take 7 passengers crammed together down the potholed roads. They don't have any schedule, just leave once they are full. But despite the absolute chaos of the sept place station, there is a method to the madness, or so it seems, as I have ended up where I wanted to go all three times I've tried! Successfully getting around the way the locals do feels like a little success, but an important one, one that I can feel proud of. (But that pride doesn't keep my butt from falling asleep when crammed in the way way back of that little Subaru-sized thing.)

Story #3: A Bad Day Turned Around
As you may have gleaned from my last post about communication, Senegal has not been the happy-go-lucky recovery adventure I was naively hoping for. I keep hoping that each day will be the start of a that adventure, just after I learn how to do this, say that, or understand the other thing. Today, I prepared for that new start and came up with a plan. I sought

out the one English speaker I had found in Cap Skirring, a great Rasta guy that ran a little cafe. I asked him advice on where to go, what to do, how to get there, and more. He was so helpful! He talked me out of one place I was going to go and into another one that he said was much nicer, cheaper, etc. He even hooked me up with his friend, supposedly English speaking, so when I arrived, he could help me find a good hotel and navigate the town. Well, after a fiasco of an entourage of moto-taxis, nearly spilling on the streets made of sand, and further communication gaps, I find myself stuck having to stay at possibly the worst hotel I've stayed in (which is really saying something) for a rate that could have gotten me at least a beach hovel in the previous town. I was so frustrated with the whole situation that I swore a blue streak (after everyone had left).

The one savior of where I ended up was that one of the few Senegalese geocaches was a mere hour walk away. In hopes of cheering myself up, I set off. Alas, like the other two caches I tried in Dakar and almost everything else in this country, I was thwarted. But

as is the point of geocaching, it took me to a spectacular location. And after a bit of letting the funk of the day wash away, I started to appreciate it: a beautiful secluded beach with wonderful thatched hut, an incredible hotel/bar property full of giant baobob trees, lagoons, and more (which I, coincidently, booked myself at for tomorrow night), the sunset, the walk back along the beach to a lively beach fish market scene. By the time I arrived back at my cell of a hotel room, I had found my peace, at least for the day. Did this turned around day balance out the contentious relationship I've had so far with Senegal? No. But I'm hoping it might be a start.

Monday December 13 2021

File under: travel, Senegal

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Lost In Translation In Senegal

It feels like a long time since I've been somewhere where a) I don't speak the language and b) it isn't obvious I don't speak the language. Here in Senegal, neither is the case and it makes communication hard. Being that I'm kind of a fan of good communication, my entry into Senegal has been a bit rocky.

First off, there's the French thing. Not only do I not speak it, I can't even pronounce it when I see it written*. So much for google translate to the rescue. And since most of the foreign tourists here do speak French, most locals assume I can understand them and am probably just being a jerk. But aside for awkward interactions, not being able to communicate affects things: can't communicate to a cab driver where I need to go, can't get a price for, well, anything, can't understand that the boat I'm getting on isn't headed to where I think it's headed to. Some of these things are par for the traveling course. And it's not something I've never dealt with, but what compounds it is...

All the tools I rely on also seem to be suffering clear communication issues, though this time not based on language. The guidebook I'm using (most current version, only 3-4 years old) still referenced the old airport (a $40 cab ride away). Google maps is atrociously wrong, both on where roads exist and where hotels and establishments are on them. Even the most current info for the overnight ferry got a bunch of stuff wrong, specifically that there would be beds (there weren't) and that it would make a stop before its final destination (which it didn't.)

Luckily, despite these frustrations, I've had some good experiences. Those that do speak English (few and far between) have been super happy to practice with me. And even when I respond to a "ça va??" on the street with a thumbs up, I get a smile in return. Too bad I can't communicate "to the nearest ice cream stand, stat!" with a smile.

So while the communication thing has proven much harder than anticipated, I'm getting along, as I do. I added a jumping photo to my ever growing collection*. I've got to squish sand through my toes and let the wash it away. I've eaten some great food (until I was laid up with a bad case of the Timbuk-toots). I've seen oodles of . And, as was my goal, I'm here and getting to know Senegal, even just a little bit.

Perhaps this language thing will become too much for me and I'll hightail it for the English-speaking The Gambia. Or maybe I'll get over my need to understand and be fine with paying whatever they want to charge a bottle of water or a kebab of shrimp or the ability to take your luggage with you in a shared taxi. Ha ha. Just kidding. The Gambia here I come...

Saturday December 11 2021

File under: travel, Senegal

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speak yer peace

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