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.
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| The Beach at Terrou-Bi Hotel - Dakar |
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The Alkimia restaurant
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| Bullying the streets! |
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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.
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| The Road to Joal |
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| A derelict hotel |
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| The woven basket stands on the way |
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| Fishermen's beach |
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| School ended |
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| 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.
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| Muscles all along! Shame there was no marinière sauce |
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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!
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| White shells are covering the ground. |
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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.
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| The milk was stored in the huts before being taken to markets. |
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| The streets of l'Île de Coquillages |
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| 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.
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| The path to the beach |
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| The Moroccan-style living room |
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| One of the many dining areas |
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And another one!
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| The pink bedroom |
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| 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.
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| The local bus |
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Streets of Saint Louis
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The Portuguese staircase
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| The Mosque with a Catholic bell |
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| The modern Siki hotel |
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| Such Elegance Everywhere |
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| 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.
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| The Courtyard |
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| The President's residence |
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The Mosque in Dakar
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Purchasing urchins
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| 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'.
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