I left a part of my heart in Senegal... St Louis

My heart speaks louder than words could express, which is how I connect with so many lovely people on a worldly basis. My heart says of love and understanding, forgiveness and nurturing, the part of me that leads to many travels and working on keeping a positive note at all levels ...  At any cost.

Now, back to mid-November in Senegal ...  The weekend of talks and partying in the Senegalese capital of Dakar had exhausted Donna and me by Tuesday, so we potted around by the pool at the Terrou-Bi Hotel all day. We attempted to have lunch at the well-recommended restaurant, Alkimia, at 15:00, but it was shut despite the concierge's assurance of the eatery's all-hour opening hours! We were in the posh neighbourhood of Dakar, and it was amusing to watch the bulls take over the streets without caring for the drivers passing by. So, lunch ended up back at Terrou-Bi.

The Beach at Terrou-Bi Hotel - Dakar

The Alkimia restaurant

Bullying the streets!

Late Tuesday evening, after the dinner of seven at Lagoon 1 ended, our driver, Pape, took Donna and me on over an hour's journey to Saly, a beach resort well outside Dakar. Needless to say, I passed out in my seat at the back of the car while Donna watched the route all along, giving advice to our driver as he made a jump at every unexpected road bump in darkness.

We finally got to the villa Donna's friend had sweetly offered us to stay as long as we wished. It was well over 1:00am, and we each took a room and got well-desired hours of sleep. And you, I sleep extremely well on aeroplanes, but every time I change beds, it takes at least one night of waking hours until I get used to my surroundings and mattress.  
On our first day in Saly, we headed to a café with outdoor seats, an elementary breakfast of pastry and a good coffee, Oh  And fresh orange juice from Senegal.  
Donna did some personal chores while I took my beach towel dressed in a bikini. Hawaiin Tropic, oil in hand, headed to my favourite place: laying on the sand and looking at the sea, which always makes me feel alive. Those wonderful rayons of sunshine being soaked up, followed by a swim in an ocean with perfect temperature. It was surprising to see the number of sunbeds being laid in different sections belonging to all the hotels that seemed to surround us, all filled with a European crowd, mostly French-speaking, which is also the national language here.
After three hours of sunshine and people-watching, I saw Donna approaching on the beach. We returned to the villa, conveniently placed very close by and dug into a relatively large watermelon the housekeeper had cut for us.  

At night, we found the Riviera restaurant on the only high street in Saly, by the recommendation of the hotel concierge next to our villa. The langoustines were as giant as a lobster, and we did not realise we had chosen the 'as-much-as-you-can-eat' menu. One was sufficient to fill up a baby elephant  Stuffed, but we still managed to gulp down a desert of sorbets to wash down the massive catch.

Thursday, 15 November, we woke up with a hectic drive schedule to Joal, followed by a visit to l'Île aux Coquillages and the Cimetière des Coquillages ...

Pape, our devoted, smiley driver (who could get stroppy. His issue was just being young. I smile every time I think of his laughter with his head banging in mid-air Bless), knew his way around. He drove us first to the Hotel Espadon, where we had a buffet breakfast, which was exemplary. However, the sight of the scenery made up for the simple food.  

We then headed towards Joal, through a shortcut on an orange, dusty road which eventually led to the main road. I was again taken aback by how the Senegalese ladies dressed up in such a colour-coordinated way, rich or poor, young or old. We stopped for a spot of shopping from a local stand, their hand-woven baskets, then parked the car next to a long bridge where we faced the choice of walking along it or taking a local boat called 'La Pirogue.'  It was a hot day. The way by sea became the popular decision by both parties, with a guide.

The Road to Joal

A derelict hotel

The woven basket stands on the way

Fishermen's beach

School ended

La Pirogue to l'Île aux Coquillages

On the thin but sturdy pirogue, we passed the mangroves where the muscles hung on a stick, cut from the palmier rogner trees called Palletier.  

Muscles all along!  Shame there was no marinière sauce

We then were let off at the Cimetière de Coquillages.  Where Muslims and Christians are buried in the same area. I never thought about that before, that you get buried according to your religion!

White shells are covering the ground.

We then took the boat to the next hut island, where they gathered the mil (couscous-like) and stored them in huts made of Palmier de Rogner, which has weather-resistant qualities.
And last was l'Île de Coquillages, a bridge crossing away from the cemetery. The island began at La Case des Palabras, where everyone gathered to exchange opinions and the elders to resolve any issues, like a court.

The milk was stored in the huts before being taken to markets.

The streets of l'Île de Coquillages

Meeting place under the shade (similar to courts)

 

The most magnificent tree I have ever seen grows in Senegal, called the Baobab tree, which was considered sacred and a religion in itself, where it was the symbol of Animism, an old belief.  

Finally, we got back to the mainland and made a last stop at the Museum of Président Singhor, which was the house where he resided. It was simple white walls, with blue/green shutters and mainly photos displayed on run-down walls. 

It was a hot day, and we were glad to be driving back to Saly after a long day of sightseeing. We had purchased bottles of a green, natural drink from the local dikktar fruit, filling and making up for our dinner as we had no energy to go out that evening after our long day.

The path to the beach

                           

The beach on Saly

                           

While we were touring around, Ibou, whom we had met on the last day of the talks, had been texting Donna and me to fix our meeting, taking our invite to St Louis seriously. So, early Friday morning, our driver, Pape, dropped us twenty minutes outside Saly, where Ibou was waiting at a roundabout with his car and chauffeur.  
Ibou was not very tall but charming, extremely pleasant and well-dressed. He greeted us with a warm smile, and as we settled in the back seat, our journey to the region of Saint-Louis, northwest of Senegal, 320 km from Dakar, began. Before setting off long, he suggested we visited Louga, where le Palais de Djily Mbaye, built over thirty years ago, was located. The palace was opened for our visit, and we went in through an iron gate into a modern entrance of a vast marble corridor with glass walls occupying each side.

Entrance to the palace

 
There was a marvel of rooms, each occupying vast spaces. Living rooms were designed in different themes, and bedrooms were individually decorated in various colours of pink, yellow, green, etc.
My paparazzi kodak moment could not stop me from continuously clicking the button on my camera. Here are some more photos.

The Moroccan-style living room

One of the many dining areas

And another one!

The pink bedroom

The carpet had gold & silver thread in parts.

 






























Our journey to Saint Louis continued after the visit. The three hours passed quickly as we drove through Thies and the picturesque African scenery filled with large Baobab trees scattered all around  Ibou mentioned the green, long grass occupying each side of the road would be yellow due to lack of rain in a couple of months  While admiring all that was around, I mentioned my mother's great advice.  
She said: "Life is full of ups and downs, and everyone faces troubles throughout life. But Haldita, always remember that there's also 'the beauty of life', which comes from nature. Remember to appreciate what each season brings. The trees, the flowers, the rivers and mountains, they're the beauty of life."
And here I was, experiencing just that.

We finally arrived at our destination, driving through a bridge Saint Louis appeared to sight.
Donna and I were shown to our suites at the house and freshened up quickly before meeting our host for a tour around his town. I noticed the water was not one to swim in, and again, any chance of sunbathing became a thing of the past. Oh well, there was much more to see and do.
Ibou was extraordinarily hospitable and proudly showed us around this charming town, which seemed more like an island. 

The local bus

Streets of Saint Louis

The Portuguese staircase

The Mosque with a Catholic bell

The modern Siki hotel

Such Elegance Everywhere

What colour coordination

After our tour and watching the well-dressed people of Saint Louis, we took refuge back at the house for a rest and a chat. After all, apart from the three-hour journey, we hardly knew each other. An hour was spent conversing by the pool before heading to our rooms to prepare for dinner. Ibou had it all planned ahead. Meanwhile, our host sounded increasingly excited, and as we strolled round the corner from the house, he gently took hold of my hand.
The first stop was a cocktail at a posada-like (bed & breakfast) house run by a French lady who spent most of her time running her boutique four-bedroom hotel  (Must try and find her card!)  Set in a white house you would never imagine seeing, looking from outside, a large door opens into a courtyard. She had also designed most of the modern furniture throughout the space.

The Courtyard

The Living room of the mini-hotel

 
 

















Our hostess, Josephine, offered to show Donna and me around her hotel gem while a French couple arrived and kept Ibou company. The cocktail hour over, we then walked down the road to the Hotel La Résidence at a table of ten, joined by another couple Ibou had seen earlier on our walk and invited to dinner, plus a Senegalese singer and an exciting professor  I was sat in between the gentlemen and got busy chatting. At the same time, a delicious fish dish was being served. Still, I opted for a salad. The well-known singer (if only I had a better memory for names, is my wish for 2013) told me about a festival of music in the desert nearby where Senegalese musicians would perform amid the wilderness the following weekend. Wish I could stay for that. Still, my flight to Tehran the next week prevented my thoughts from running any further.
On the way back to our residence, Ibou held my hand again, and I went along with the comfort I felt of his company. We talked a little more, walked around with our entourage while each parted on their separate routes, and we arrived back at the house, where Donna left us by the pool and resumed the night in total flirtation.

Saturday began with a big smile and the smell of freshly made pancakes, hypnotising me straight into a breakfast of homemade jam, cheese, and honey. It was a perfect way to start a bright day.
Our short stay in Saint Louis ended, and we returned to Dakar in over four hours. Ibou had insisted we stayed at his apartment there and made no plans for the rest of our two-day stay there.  
We rested in the afternoon and got ready once again to hit the streets of Dakar and attend a party given by a couple who had newly moved into the city, accompanied by Filia, whom I had met at the French Institute before leaving for Saly.
I chatted with an interesting character of an Italian artist who had been in Dakaresidentrty for years. He then introduced me to his young Senegalese girlfriend, who happened to be the most intelligent and had a good knowledge of the world. Hence, our conversation was getting hot when Donna informed me that Ibou and Filia wanted to leave, and everyone awaited me.  

On our last day in Dakar, I woke up with Ibou's gentle kiss on my head. He then gently whispered in my ear:
"Sleep  Sleep."
Totally awake by then, I told him:
"You wake me up and then say, sleep, sleep  Really now!"
We laughed, and I got up for another breakfast already prepared for us. As it was our last day and we only had till 9:00pm left from our trip to get to the airport, I suggested we lunched at the Lagoon restaurant by the sea so that Céline who was a guest at Ibou's, could join me for a spot of two hours' sunbathing. In contrast, Donna got on with some last-minute chores in Dakar.

Lunch at the Lagoon 1

 



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Time flew before Céline and I were picked up by Ibou's driver, who drove us around to the fish market to purchase urchins for the guests our host had invited before our departure. And here are some last shots from my memories of Dakar.

The President's residence

The Mosque in Dakar

Purchasing urchins

My last sunset in Dakar

And so, after an exciting nine days spent in the splendour of Senegal, our journey ended with goodbyes and memories which will stay alive in my mind forever.

If this was sin, then he's the sweetest taste of sin
If this was a voyage, it sure left me with a grin.
Destiny is about to change; life taking a new course
A fresh chapter to begin blows away strong as a force
Let the hair loose, make the most of every second
Are we really in control? Is that what you reckon?

For some reason, this came to mind... During the talks, Archbishop Desmond Tutu Pointed out...
'A woman who wants to match a man has no ambition'.

I wish you a merry Christmas, my friends out there. With all the scare of the world ending, life is on  'Live it in Love'.  

The World is not Enough! Tehran visit.

'Life should not be taken as work but as play. Non-serious, more joyous'. Osho.
Deva Vilas - Divine Play.  Take life as fun, a beautiful joke.
Let your laughter become your prayer because each moment only becomes luminous, glorious. It is the small things that count which allow splendour enter your life.

I have indeed made this my rule of life. Every morning I wake up, and that is each and every day, I open the curtains of my bedroom, looking onto the gardens below, that lush green which only nature can provide, the blossoms facing my window in April, the branches standing strong in winter, the magnificent colours of the leaves in autumn and summer with its full warmth and glory. Then, I bow to my Dear Lord, always with a smile. I take a moment to reflect on my incredible, surreal life, and I tell him:
"God, thank you. I fucking love you."
Even swear words, as we know them, have a way of bringing humour into a prayer. It is not God who punishes us; he has shown us his ways, and we do a great job of that onto ourselves alone.

Why is such a philosophy coming to me early in the morning?
There is talk of the world ending on Friday, 21 December 2012. My absence from my blog here was due to another trip back home for two weeks. In one way, home is where I lay my head. London is where I have felt comfortable for almost 40 years now. Still, the city I was born in is Tehran, where my family moved back to and where I needed to be before returning to London to spend Christmas with my kids and the friends who have become such a significant part of my life here.

Since arriving after my trip to Tehran, parties have been every night. Mind you, there were plenty of parties back there, too, as there is no drinking outside in restaurants and no bars or clubs to go to; people keep their fun homebound. Apart from dining at some great restaurants such as 'Terrace', 'Monsoon Lounge' and 'Nayeb'; the much-favoured chello kebab (which is the Persian traditional plate of rice and kebab, especially when you dine in a restaurant), a friend, Ardi, offered to drive Hala and I with my Girl, to the skiing slopes which had only just opened for the season, only two hours outside the capital. Ardi, a great family friend, is one of the most gentlemanly guys imaginable. He picked us up at our home, and we made our way to Dizin, situated in the Alborz mountain range. We stopped for breakfast, including fried eggs, Iranian flatbread (lavash), feta cheese and honey, with a pot of brewed tea, sitting on carpeted wooden beds with a view of the magnificent mountains ahead. A great start.  

Zoor Abad (favela concept) - Nex to Karaj

Karaj Dam on the way to Dizin

 

The road close to Dizin

Dizin ski slope

Dizin ski slopes are nick-named 'autobahn', which means motorway, as it is a long run starting from the 3,600m peak above sea level.

There is a hotel and chalet complex for visitors.
On the other side of the mountains, Shemshak's ski slopes are more bumpy and, hence, challenging for skiers.

On the left is the chalet, where the restaurant is located upstairs, with a terrace for keen sunbathers.

The sign for the Raees Coffee resembles Starbucks to the last detail!

The music played in the restaurant with a burning fireplace was a chill house of the latest numbers heard abroad.


A great day ended fast as I chatted with a charming family of a father, daughter, and husband who joined me at the empty table. I sat to watch the trendy girls, all made-up and the good-looking boys at the tables around. The family used to live in the UK and had now all moved back home to Iran.
As the father mentioned, they were pleased about their move.
Before the night had fully drawn, we returned home for a restful evening of joining my mum, brother Soltan and Tuba. We watched the latest Turkish series, which followed one after the other and occupied many families' lives at night. Even my Girl and I got involved in them in no time. Dallas, eat your heart out; stories of family feuds, insest and money matters at its best, or should I say at its worst?

A few days were spent at the bazaar in the north of Tehran; it was not quite as vast as the main one in the south but still relatively busy, with narrow roads taking one to different sections, from fruit stalls to a whole floor devoted to gold and jewellery, another for Persian embroideries with mainly paisley designs and hardware stores, a kind of department store, divided into shops, all in one mostly covered area. Or one could call it an old-style mall!

Entrance to Tajrish Bazaar

Persian nuts are delicious!

A typical grocer's

Fruit Galore

Sabzi to accompany most meals.

Paisley and another textile shop

The Imam Saleh Mosque

As Sis Hala said, Tehran is full of surprises. One of my dear friends there, Goly and her two sisters took us to a great pizza and pasta restaurant on a backstreet in Gheitarieh called ....  Surprise, surprise ...  Dolce Vita! The most minor attire for going anywhere outside the homes for ladies is a scarf (barely covering the hair these days) and showing no bare body skin. But in certain areas, uptown, so many ladies were walking without any attention to their fallen scarves!  

On a Friday, at Hala's suggestion, it was a family affair of ours and Ardi's, visiting the park set amid Tehran called 'Ab-o-Atash', which means 'water and fire'. I had to take pictures as the area occupied was immense and bang in the centre of town, still under construction in some parts. Letting you be the judge.

An art gallery still under construction

The Dome-like building with a covered nursery selling plants

Another bridge is being built, connecting the park to a hilly forest.

Tehran is full of wonders. Visiting family and friends is always heart-warming; the Persian sense of humour is outrageous. As someone pointed out, throughout history, poets and writers have used humour (tanz - in Farsi) as a weapon to ridicule. The hospitality everywhere we went was next to none: lavish and warm. Leaving my home town always leaves me with a sense of emptiness, which gets filled through my love for my countrymen and women. But like everywhere else in the world, there are ups, and there are downs. My visits are short, and I see the beauty of the country and people because that is what I choose to see.
I do miss my calm mama and her hug.

Back in my other home, London, the first night I got back was dinner with two old friends, the wonderful sisters and their Girls. What fun to catch up with them all after so long. At these moments, it is like time never got in between us.  
Who was in town on Monday, but my soulmate and great buddy, Jade. I joined her and her young nephews at Maroush in Beauchamp Place for a bite of Lebanese. That first morning back here, Ernest had called to invite me to the Box, a club I had heard so much of, with live acts, some naughty and others artistic, on a special MTV evening in aid of an Aids Charity. His strict orders were:
"It's tomorrow night, and Kelly is joining with Daniel and Jonathan. I want us all to look fab and sexy!"
After lunch, Jade agreed to accompany me to my favourite designer, Jean Paul Gautier's flagship store in Chelsea. Boy, did I go wild there before hitting the Box the following evening!
We then left the large shopping bag in the boot of my car and drove to see Jade's close friend Darya at her new apartment before heading to the newly decorated Electric restaurant called Diner in Notting Hill, joined by Yasmeen and her new man. At dinner, I entertained them with my stories of Tehran and ...  My new man! Ah. There has been no mention of him since my stories on Senegal have died to an end. To be continued in the next chapter of my life.
Tuesday night's MTV Aids Charity was a big success, with Graham Norton presenting the acts and hosting the show. It was so much fun spending a fantabulous time with my chums, dancing the night away before I found a cab back home at 3:00am.
When I first saw Kelly and Ernest that evening at Gracy's exhibition, I mentioned my supermarket shopping that afternoon in case some cosmic changes were forced upon us, depriving us of food.
"Really, Haldita,"  They asked in surprise. "Like, what did you get?"
"Oh!"  I replied. "Four cans of tuna and two cans of corn."
Most extravagant if hunger was to strike for days! Haha.  One certainly wouldn't be able to feed on Jean Paul Gautier's creations. Eating cake won't do either, as Marie Antoinette put it.
Sadly, could not find the energy the following evening to attend Lola's Christmas party as I crashed in bed before 9:30pm! 

Now, I want to end this chapter with a note to all the rumours of the world ending tomorrow (as some believe) due to planetary alignment; I tuned into the LBC radio by chance in my car tonight. Some believe 'materialism will give way to spiritualism', others... 'A new rhythm moves in as away goes chaos and in comes a beam of light poured onto the world'. Some assume we may experience darkness due to an eclipse. The question being posed on the radio was:
"What would you do if you knew this was your last day?"
My response to myself was immediate. A smile covered my face when I thought:
"I wouldn't change a thing in my life. In fact, I've been living my daily life since my separation as though it truly is my last day on earth. And thank God for that."
Keep positive and happy. It will all work out beautifully at the end. If it hasn't worked out, it's not the end. (I love that quote)

The tales of Senegal still need to be finished... But to come.