A monastery, a lake, and a senegalese dude

So it has been brought to my attention that people are worried something is wrong because I’m not  blogging. In reality, I’ve just kinda forgotten to update folks because I spent so much type skyping last week with friends and family. What has happened since Marche Sandaga? We’ll start with my trip to Keur Moussa Monastery and Lac Rose. Oh and a Senegalese man. I suppose I should start at the beginning. After Thursday of Marche Sandaga, I was waiting for the bus to go to school Friday morning. At the bus stop a Senegalese guy/man/boy my age started talking to me. What a shock right?... It turns out he was really nice and is a university student who is fairly good at speaking English. WEEEELLLL because I’m speaking English with him, when he asked if I had a cell phone I was like SURE I have a cell phone…crap. This was the first of many problems. English made me stupid so we exchanged numbers. Turns out we returned home the same time that day too…oh how freakin romantic. Fml. Anyways, he says how he’ll text me that night (insert sound of disgust)  and all that. He actually does text me and then he asks if we can hang out over the weekend. I luckily have an excuse. We have our trip to the Monastery and Lac Rose to help me out. What do you know he’s at My Shop when I get dropped off. I must have THE shitty-est luck in the whole wide world to be in the same place at the same time as him after being gone ALL DAY! Monday rolls around and in class I get 7 phone calls from him. I clearly ignored every call (two of which were from numbers I didn’t recognize but were probably his friend’s phones) and didn’t text or call him that night…this comes back to haunt me but I’ll explain that later.

Keur Moussa Monastery and Lac Rose made for a great trip. I started my Saturday morning at the ungodly hour of 6:05 although I had a restful night seeing as the mosque near my house stopped playing that awful music out of its crappy speakers. This music is not music that would lull you into a nice sleep…no this sounds like a monster gargling mouthwash in your backyard. Anyways, I hopped on the bus and BAM what do you know the bus is the fullest I’ve ever seen it. It’s a flippin Saturday morning people…sleep should be your number one priority. Just sayin. I only had a 1000 CFA bill (about $2 US) and the bus cost 150 CFA. The guy hands me a ticket with 850 written on the back. Why he couldn’t just give me my change right then and there I have no clue. So dumb American that I am, I strode off the bus wondering how I was going to get my change. Maybe I just hand the ticket to another bus dude. Nope, wrong. I was supposed to get my change before getting off. Cool. Now I’m out some serious Senegalese money for a stinking bus ride. That was the bad part of my trip. We load up at WARC and VIOLA breakfast for everyone! Yogurt and three deeeelicious pastries thanks to Awa and Waly! That made my day almost instantly.

Our first stop was Keur Moussa Monestary. This is a Monestary …Africa style I suppose. It was really tranquil and they had baby pigs! And big pigs. I mean I don’t know what to say really. It is a beautiful place with lots more green than you’ll see anywhere else in Dakar. Now I say Dakar, but really it’s like our version of a county. This is about 2 hours away…I think. Their specialty as lovely monks, besides serving God, is to make some lovely jazz out of grapefruits. And they have the most enormous grapefruits I’ve ever seen in my life. Awa and Waly also bought us a bag of grapefruits! Another awesome edible treat for the day. We also got to attend Mass which was similar to the Mass you’d see anywhere else but the music is very unique. I really liked the musical instruments they had. Many of the instruments were drums but they had a lot of intriguing string instruments as well. One of the string instruments was a sort of standing guitar with 20 strings. Super cool. I’ll have a video up on facebook soon. There are some pictures up already too. In the end a Monastery is just a cool place but it’s nothing extraordinary. Pink Lake was supposed to fill that category.

Pink Lake was sort of a giant disappointment as I should have guessed. The lake was not really pink. Rather it was a maroon poo colored thing. Yes I mean poo as in poopish colored. Like if you ate some beats or drank too much Kool-Aid poo. The salt piles around the lake were really nifty and we did get to see some Camels. Cool fact about the lake: no part of the lake is deeper than a meter and a half. You could walk through the whole thing! That’s really all there is to say about the lake…the roads around it are absolute shit. I guess that’s another important piece of info.

The whole trip was pretty awesome. The ride back was terrifying. Our little bus thingy had an awkward center row made of fold down seats. I switched with someone to sit in the front middle seat on the ride back. Worst idea ever not because it was uncomfortable but because I saw my life flash in front of my eyes about a million different times. How our bus didn’t wreck or get wrecked is totally beyond me. Just terrifying. No sleep for Sammy on that bus ride. We finally got back to the city and got dropped off at My Shop in the center of town because that was easiest. I step off the bus only to find that me and my admirer, his name is Aliou btw, are in the same place at the same time for like the 4^th time in 2 days. Stupid. Just absolutely stupid. So here I am tired and ready to go home and he’s trying to ask me to see a sport. He also thought I mumbled something about a husband and he texted me later that night asking about it. I should have said yes. Instead I took it down a notch and said I have a boyfriend. No deterrent for Senegalese men. After ignoring him on Monday he stopped texting and calling. I was so thrilled. That was short-lived too however. But we’ll get to that later.

The rest of my weekend was pretty tranquil. I went to Le Regal with Jess. The pasta at Le Regal is disappointing. I mean it’s pasta…but it’s not good pasta. Like I say though small favors when it comes to Africa. Then my Dad called so that made my day even better even though I had to haul Mohammed out of my room while talking to him. Someday I’ll never have to deal with that 4 year old menace ever again…until that day I will continue the weekend battles. He almost broke my lock when I locked him out of my room so I’m seriously considering just duct taping him to a wall.

Remember that pretty fabric from Marche Sandaga?! Yea well since I can’t work some magic on it I have to bring it to a tailor. I figured my tailor would be a bit of a walk but he is literally just around the corner. It’s a hole in the wall which was concerning, but I got all sized up and he told me to come back Friday. It turns out I didn’t get my tunic/shirt until Saturday but hey he did a great job on it! Pictures coming soon.

Monday, following the weekend at the Lake and Monastery, was the day for our Conflict Resolution teacher to lose his shit. He thinks our class is stupid and can’t understand, but there is a blank look on our faces because we are so bored not because we are stupid. He simply sucks at teaching. I could read a textbook and reread it to a class JUST like him. It was pretty ridiculous. Then lunch was crazy on campus.

The World Social Forum 2011 hit Dakar like a freight train. There were SOOO many people on campus it was insane. Every day of the week that week was insane. There were people from all over and a huge market set up and there were forums/talks no one could find. Mainly just a clusterf*** of people who want to make a difference but decided to try and be organized in the most unorganized place on earth. I enjoyed seeing the people and shopping around a bit though. I later spent my Monday night at My Shop and when I returned home at the oh so late hour of 8:30 I got grilled by my host mom about where I was. It’s not like I missed dinner or anything. We don’t eat dinner until like 9 or 9:30 anyways. I’m just cranky that it was cause for interrogation like I did something wrong. I may be a woman in Senegal but I can hold my own at 8:30pm. Jeez.

More to come soon! Lots more to tell…nothing crazy exciting though so don’t wait in anticipation.

A concert and a market

So the concert last night was awesome of course. But I’ll start at the beginning. I had to bring my laptop and jazz to WARC that day so I returned home in the afternoon which was kind of a  pain, but I was able to use this little bag I got. This bag is awesome because it holds just my camera, a couple batteries, my phone, my money and some toilet paper of course. I changed my shirt and headed back down into town. Our nights always start at My Shop enjoying some cheap gin and juice because we are classy like that. The whole group finally hopped a bus downtown. Now this detail is important because not I can figure out the bus to get downtown instead of paying a taxi! YAY! Especially since I want to go shopping at some point for some nice Senegalese clothing.

We ate at Ali Baba’s which was really good but I don’t think I like Shwarma (?) very much. It’s like a Greek burrito. Not feeling it. All I really wanted was pizza and I got that later so don’t worry. Back to the important stuff…I was disappointed when we showed up to the concert because we were kinda on the side of the stage where you can’t really see much but somehow I ended up right in front of the stage. We started seated but eventually we all got up and danced a bit it was so much fun.

There was one really awkward moment I feel most readers will find funny. So everyone got up to dance for a song and afterwards the whole crowd in front of the stage was trying to sit down. There had been a guy with a really nice camera in front of me most of the time. Let just say he was no small man and made a much better door than a window but that’s beside the point. I was trying to stay out of his way because I figured he was taking somewhat professional photos. We all sit down and apparently I make for a comfy chair. Yep that’s right. He sat in my lap and I don’t mean he kinda sat on a thigh or like my foot. I mean he sat smackdab in the middle of my lap. And what does he say? Not sorry! He says “very comfortable”. UGG….just absolutely the most awkward situation ever. But hey now I have a fun story to tell people about the concert besides just saying ‘oh the music was good’.

Needless to say, despite my lack of sleep lately, I really enjoyed the concert! All day I had been kinda dreading it because I was so tired. After the concert we found a nice bar/restaurant type deal with live music across from Ali Baba’s. It wasn’t even midnight when we got there and in Dakar time that means nothing is going on yet. So we figured we’d kick it there until we found a club to go to. Alison also did a lovely rendition of “Hit the road Jack”. Ali found some girls who had been in the city for a while and asked them where we should go downtown. Instead, Karla, Zoe, and I went to Ali Babba’s to get food. I finally got that pizza I had been craving for like a solid week. No joke I just kept going to My Shop and smelling their pizza joint and every time I craved it more than anything in the world. I was less than impressed when I got told to hurry up when I was going to the bathroom there because as we were leaving to go to a club I was walking with the first big group.

Now there’s something to be said for me going out to clubs. I don’t do it at home and I don’t particularly love it. However, when in Rome….or West Africa? Last weekend my family didn’t want me coming in late because I have to wake someone up to let me in so this weekend I arranged to stay at Alison’s house which is like a 2 minute walk from mine. Her host Mom apparently asked her why she hasn’t had more people sleep over. I can give one answer: a rug on tile floor does not replace a bed. So back to the original story. We found one club called Calypso (?) (things aren’t really well marked around here so I think that was the name). And the club said we had to buy drinks to stay. The drinks were expensive by Dakar standards soooooo we left. This is the whole club thing I really hate. We stand on a street and decide what to do for a while. So we walked around the corner where we could get in for free and didn’t HAVE to buy a drink inside. I liked this place because it was some American music which just made me think of all my Wells dances I’m missing this semester. But it wasn’t bad.

So here was another awkward/sketchy moment…we get a taxi to go home. Alison is our bargain shopper (even if it takes a while) but she found us a taxi for a good deal. We get in the taxi and get to the intersection. Some guys ask the taxi driver for his papers. He showed them then pulled over to the side of the road. As he gets out with his papers, he bring a bunch of money with him. Jess was not impressed. She was like “he’s paying them off. This is not okay” I agreed wholeheartedly. If I had seen this shady stuff going on from the back seat I would have said the same thing. So out of the taxi we go only to haggle with a few more taxi drivers. Our original driver came up to us and brought us back to his taxi. We never knew what happened with the papers and the money, but we made it home for cheap. He was nice enough but honest to god he did not speak any French…you only need to know like three words in French to be a cab driver. Tourner ici, gauche, droit. Heck I could do it. He was not the brightest bulb in the box.

So there was my night. After that I slept on a rug in Alison’s big house where there is no furniture. Jess and I slept in some awkward positions and were really cold over the night, but it was fun. Now I’m home doing essays and resumes for applications….yuck.

The rest of the weekend was great too. On Sunday I got sick of dealing with Mohammed so I went to Alison’s before a bunch of us were supposed to meet up at Le Regal. Hey so if you want to figure out where I am in the world this restaurant shows up on Google Earth. Just sayin. Jess, Andrea, Zoey, Alison, and I had lunch at Le Regal and it was awesome. They even have pasta here which is awesome because I haven’t seen pasta like ...anywhere. Pasta is one of those things I didn’t think I would miss but in its absence I really miss it! I also got a call from my dad while Alison and I were at the beach quickly before lunch. That was nice. I don’t mean to tease everyone at home talking about beaches. I hear there is a LOT of snow lately. Sorry folks.

And with that my weekend was over. Bam! February…strange feeling since the weather here feels like June. Hey if it were June though I’d be 21. Wouldn’t that be cool? Not like I can’t drink in Senegal but just thinking about returning to the states and being of age a month later is awesome. I needed a drink on Tuesday. If someone had handed me a plane ticket I would have been home in 12 hours flat. My day started kinda weird because my host mom was kinda in a mood. Not that it was a problem but that should have been a good indicator this couldn’t be a good day. Next, my car rapide to school was RIDICULOUS! There is so much construction between Ouakam (where I live) and Fann Residence (where I go to school) that the car rapide had to take another route and got itself all stuck in the tiny little roads of Mermoz. It took forever to get to school it felt like…mainly because your personal space is seriously violated any time you take public transportation around here. I finally got to WARC and headed to UCAD for my civilization class. I haven’t gone to this class yet because on Monday I tried a different class at the university I wanted to take and it doesn’t exist. (Now y’all remember I’ve been here three weeks and realize I still haven’t gone to all my classes? Yea bullshit.) Anyways, I get to where I’m supposed to be and it is not my class in Classroom 4. Two men standing in the hallway tell me that’s my professor so I ask him what class it is and tell him what class I’m looking for. He said it was in a different classroom. No it wasn’t I had already looked in those classrooms. Eventually, I figure out from others who were standing outside the class that this is in fact the professor we are waiting for our civilization class. He wanted to finish watching Camp de Thiaroye. This is a movie…the longest movie in existence I swear…2 ½ hours. I’ve suffered through it in my film class last semester at Wells. So in my mind I was like HELL NO I’m not waiting for this idiot to finish this film. I stayed of course mostly out of confusion and so BAM 40 minutes late we have class. Great. Thanks dude. He turns out to be a nice professor and I like the class mostly because it was easy but also because we are learning about places in Dakar. But in no university I know would a class be allowed to start 40 minutes late to watch a goddamn movie.

My day continued with lunch. Another cruddy ordeal. I had an hour between classes (because I have 7 hours of class on Tuesdays) and I figured I’ll just pick up a fataya on campus. Well the guys who I usually have make my sandwich weren’t there and the kid next to them didn’t have fries. Begrudgingly I went to the lady I really don’t like because she doesn’t like me. This particular day I was persistent and nice enough she helped me out. It got really busy at the cart and she disappeared. Now it was a man running this shindig. Ruined my day. He ignored me and made me the wrong sandwich and by the time the nice lady had figured it out it was too late. I had 15 minutes to be at WARC, although in Senegalese time that’s about 40 minutes anyways, but I like to be on time. So I get to WARC and grab a coke. NOWWWWW we have no idea what is going on with my next class because there is some conference at WARC. I lost my shit. I really just couldn’t stand this disorganization, mean people, and general stupid shit going on. I cried a bit quietly and my friend Meghan gave me a hug. She was super nice and kinda talked it out with me. I eventually went to my class half an hour late once I settled down. One of the reasons this day was so shitty besides all the others I listed is the fact that I cannot sleep here. It’s either too hot or too noisy so I’m always tired and a bit on edge. It’s not fun. I think it’s getting better but oh well.

Don’t fret folks I got to talk to my real Mommy! And skype with my bestest friend Kara! It made my day a lot better but it did make me want to cry again because I just wanted to be home. I feel like this is that week for me. The week of tears I will call it. I’ll tell you why the whole week is named that in a few.

Wednesday was a lot better. I got my application done for the LiveLearnIntern program which is a big weight off my shoulders but it took calling my Mom and my Aunt before I figured it all out. That was a bit difficult. Thank goodness for Skype to landlines. I started my day with a nice conversation with the man on the bus. He was worried for me that I’d be late for my Wolof class. Which I wasn’t and which is my favorite class. So that was a good start. I also ate my weight in pizza for lunch. I felt kinda ill but it was so worth it. It’s not pizza like ours but hey small favors.

Andrea and I also found the Olympic Pool which is really cheap and really close to WARC! I can’t wait to go swimming in it since it looks so nice! I also finally got a shower today after not having one since Sunday. I know that’s gross but you have no idea how long it takes to fill a bucket, take a shower, and refill the bucket. Especially when I have 5 and 7 hours of class in the beginning of the week. And I finished the day with a nice discussion with my host sister.

Thursday is Marché Sandaga day. I have no classes on Thursday so I made plans with Alison and Jess to go to Marche Sandaga in the center of the city. It is the biggest market in Dakar. I really wanted some snazzy sandals for going out and some fabric to have a dress or shirt or something made. I was going to get presents for folks at home but you’ll see why I didn’t have the chance to. So my adventure started with being blown off. Alison said she couldn’t do it and Jess was already downtown with Jen when I finally got a hold of her. I moseyed around in the morning until 11 and headed to WARC to check my email. Found out no one was going to the market so I went alone. Now don’t freak out Mom. It was perfectly fine for most of the time. I took the bus down into the market and began wandering. You could not believe how big this market is. There is just about everything you could ever want. I found sandals pretty quickly but I wasn’t sure if they were the perfect ones so I took a few more laps. I came back around and bought them for about $6 US. Then I took a few more laps. Now the trick about these markets is to shake of the guys who want to lead you to something. I was getting really good at that. I shook off most of them by walking into a store. I walked into a place with some really nice fabric and one of the patterns caught my eye. No matter what the fabric was worth the day I think. I walk out of here and guy starts to follow me and harass me. I’ve had enough at this point but I’m nice and say hi and try all the traditional ways to shake him. I cross the road and go into shops sorta. I took a few bad turns and had nowhere to go. I finally found a big hole in the wall store with some really nice shirts. He knows the owner it seems. Perfect. So I tried on this reeealllyy beautiful shirt. I really liked it but it didn’t fit exactly. So I bargain with the owner of the store but eventually just end up trying to say that I don’t have enough money on me. He tries to bag up the shirt for me and I tell him I’m not buying it. He’s trying too hard so I said thank you, good day and left. The guy who had been following me follows me again. I tell him to leave me alone. So now he starts calling me a racist getting progressively louder the farther I walk. Finally, I shook him off. I don’t know how but it lead me to a really shady sewing area. Literally the equivalent of a sweatshop shoved between the streets of Marche Sandaga.

I found where the bus had dropped me off and stood there. I know better than to stand still. A guy starts talking to me and I try to be cordial but given the last 30 minutes of my life I wasn’t feeling real friendly. This man seemed to start and hit on me some and instead like a nice person realized that I was a bit shook up. Some other man had come up behind him yelling at me that I was a racist also. I hadn’t seen that guy anywhere but I think he might have thought I was being nasty to them. But! The guy who started talking to me was really nice and shoo-ed the other guy off. He asked me my name and what happened. I did my best to tell him before tearing up a little. He explained to me that they are just angry I wasn’t buying anything. I knew he was right but it was still upsetting. He asked where I was going and I told him I needed to take a bus. He said he would show me where to go. I was worried it was another sham but I followed him anyways just wanting to get out of the city quickly. He showed me right to where all the buses and car rapides were waiting. He simply said here you go and nothing else. He didn’t ask me my number or where I live or if we could go out. I’m so grateful for the nice men in Dakar. It’s too bad they get a bad rap from all the other assholes. So I took a car rapide back to WARC, had a coke, and called it a day. Hey I got my food stipend for the month so that was nice and I got to check my email and found out that the institute received all my materials for my application to the LiveLearnIntern program. I’m still upset that I got called a racist but me and my racist ass now have some snazzy sandals and beautiful fabric. And that is the story of Marche Sandaga! No African Lit class in the morning means I can sleep in some! Yay!