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During the holiday season the power of connections proved to be a delight for me. Through a mutual friend I had gained the contact of Iwan and Anne Sophie, living in Dakar with their two sons. I contact Ivan explaining what my trip looks like and that me and Stef will arrive in Dakar next week. If he has any tips for sleeping or activities, they are most welcome. In his first message he invited me to stay over in their appartment while they are on family holiday in Cap Skirring! Top notch hospitality to open up your home to strangers while not being there in the first place, I can not thank Anne Sophie and Iwan enough. It was really relaxing to spend a few days at one place and especially in their nicely decorated appartment. You do start to appreciate the feel of a nice bed and sitting on a European quality couch after a few months. The feel of Dakar was something else. It was the first more western bubble that I encountered in West Africa. The local mall is an exact copy of an American mall and comes with bowling alley and food court. The visitors are easily identified as the well to do Senegalese and westerners, either expats or tourists. The local cola branch World Coke even has its own red truck Santa commercial. The Senegalese at least in and around Dakar are very into sports. Along the coastline there are long stretches of outdoor sports equipment and they are often used. People come to the beach to work out, alone or in large groups. Unfortunately, the season of the harmattan had started sandy winds blowing in from the Sahara , which made its presence felt. The air was really bad for two days and quickly scrutinized our intention to go running. I already talked about stepping across boundaries while travelling in Africa. I was about to take another one. Since two weeks after my start I had trouble with a molar, pressure pain while chewing and very sensitive to cold and heat. Complaints stayed vague and fluctuated. On the day that Stef arrived, we had breakfast together and then I left for the Netherlands to see if it could get fixed. Although everyone flight crew, several dentists and friends went out of their way to make arrangements for me to be back on a flight to Dakhla three days later, the source was not to be found. I stocked up on pain killers just in case and started off in to Mauritania. In Dakar would likely be my last chance to get access to a good dentist before moving further into the more remote parts of West Africa. The first two dentists that were recommended were both full until their Christmas leave. I override the tendency to say better luck next time and feel the door. It opens and I am in a waiting room with two other people. The assistant says to take a seat and the dentist will be right with you. Twenty minutes later I am in his chair explaining the situation and the history of this inconvenience, while using Google translate since my dental French is not up to speed. My chair being not the only one in the room. There is actually another one with a patient jn it, seperated by a low board. After a few quick tests Dr Wazni, a young guy with a calming voice and clear eyes, I think with origins in the Middle East Lebanon? The hole that was filled up recently was so deep that although it was nicely done, the tooth filling pushes on the nerve, causing the sensitivity and pain. And now what I ask? Well, I can drill that thing out right now, treat the nerves in preparation for a root channel treatment next week. It will hurt, but you can handle it. Being put on the spot I decide that there is no use in postponing any longer, and I take the not using of rubber gloves for granted. In the upcoming two weeks I return two times to finish the actual root canal treatment. All in all Dr. Wazni seemed never to be in doubt and know his stuff. On time of posting I have started some antibiotics though, since likely not all the bacteria have died and my jaw is bothering me again. On Friday the 22nd l, Stef and I are in our way to Saly, a city just in the southern bend of the Dakar peninsula. From here it easier to get to and from the airport. Stef will leave on the 23rd and my brother Thomas will come in on the 28th. Saly is one of the most popular beach holiday locations in west Africa. A lot of French tourists are visiting during the holidays, staying in the resorts at the beach. That beach is beautiful white sand, with palm trees and a very calm surf. I take my time to swim in the morning when the surf is so calm that the water is like a mirror. Besides beach tourism, there are Europeans coming towards the area to find local love, a paid version of love or something that works for bot parties. I was shocked haha however by getting offered to buy a taser mid-day, just off the beach. Luckily salvation came in advance. While riding towards Saly that Friday, I receive a text from Thomas, inviting me over for a Christmas dinner in Dakar. He is Dutch and has been living in Dakar with his family for five years now. Apparently, my brother Thomas had gone for a drink with a friend in Amsterdam that Thursday, and through a few mutual connections, my story had landed with the other Thomas in Dakar the next day. I gladly accept and make arrangements to take public transport back towards Dakar for Christmas Eve. You have scooters that drive around in the city and they can take you anywhere in the smaller streets, usually for a coin of some sort, depending on the length. On the smaller roads, the cars in the worst condition I mean really terrible. Old small peugeots with the steering wheel upside down and four different sizes of wheels, doors that are barely closing. They are definitely making the most use out of resources, something that the West can learn from are driving up and down continiously between for instance Saly centre and the Route National 1 towards Dakar. Costs are also a handout. When at the crossing on the RN1, I just bunched up on the right side of the road, next to the other people waiting. Every now and then a bus of all shapes and sizes slows down with a few youngsters hanging out the window of open door, yelling where they are going to. If that is your destination, you give him a sign and he signals the driver by banging on the metal. The bus barely stops, you agree on a price and you get in. Comfort might be a bit less due to heat and too many people, but I liked it nonetheless. You can also get a shared taxi. There are some hustlers gathering people around for the same direction. A driver pays him a fee and he takes the four of you in his car to where you want to go. From getting of the bus I took a new regional train into Dakar city itself. It is an exact copy of a Dutch sprinter, cheap, clean and well organized. In two years this train will connect the airport to the city. Stef and I tried to bluf our way into the train with our bicycles to avoid Dakar traffic coming off the peninsula, but that was a bit too exciting for the train staff. Maybe also in two years. They are friends for a few years through their shared lives and loves for Dakar. A Dutch west Africa journalist, a professional diver and a Belgian diplomat and his family make guarantee for a night with a lot of interesting stories. Nur, a gynecologist from Tunisia working in the Dakar hospital, tells an especially gripping story about her encounters with various levels of female genital mutilation in the region. They are unaware and often have no chance to be aware of the consequences that it might have in later life during sex or at childbirth. The food is present in abundance and delicious. I stay with Thomas for a few extra days and we have a lot of interesting conversations on living and doing business in Africa. Special thanks to Thomas to inviting me into his home and life. The amount of birds that are identified go up by factor 10 when he is cycling with me. We pass a small fishing island, Joal Fadouth, mad accessible by two bridges. The island consists entirely of discarded shells, calcified into a landmass. On the next island is the community cemetery, shared by Christians and Muslims alike. The flowers, baobabs and view of the mangroves make this a particular beautiful last resting place. From Dagnane we take a pirogue to Toubakouta. In this way we get to see the nature of the Sine Saloum mangrove delta and we skip a rather bad part of the RN1, loaded with trucks going for Mali. It take about 5 hours and is a pleasant journey, done by a friendly local with a big smile, Birra. He points to a set of humpback dolphins to our right in the water, graciously making their way through the delta. In Toubakouta we have lunch of fish and rice at a local place. We have a nice chat with an Italian couple that have just arrived in Senegal before we set off for the Gambian border. We cross the border without to much hassle. On the Gambian North Bank the people, are extremely friendly and more approachable due to the English language. Due to a late flat tire we find a campsite when dark is falling, make dinner and sleep immediately after. The next morning we ride the last few kilometres towards the ferry crossing the Gambia. We are not alone. Several cars, trucks, motorcycles are making their way to the entrance. All the infrastructure to create an organized inflow of passengers is present, but not used, creating quite a chaotic scene. The amount of people that come of the ferry is astounding to me, and the number boarding the ferry with us is definitely exceeding the maximum loading capacity displayed on the ship. We are standing on the first row as we cross the Gambia river and feel a lot of prying eyes on us, but all in good spirits. Passing through Banjul we end up in the most touristic area of the Gambia, known as Senegambia. We go out for dinner and move into by going to bed at hours. Since the distances are limited, we are moving between countries pretty quickly. More to follow soon. Weer een prachtig verslag Stijn! Wat fijn dat je ook van die onverwachte invitaties tegenkomt , toch een beetje kerstgevoel kunnen ervaren. Geweldig Stijn wij volgen het met plezier en belangstelling super en soms ook heel herkenbaar na onze 2 jaar oost Afrika! Ook veel lieve groeten aan Thomas geniet van jullie prachtige ervaring dank dat wij dat zo mogen mee beleven liefs Mayke en Jan. Your email address will not be published. Save my name, email, and website in this browser for the next time I comment. Dakar holidays January 7, January 7, January 9, Gelukkig nieuwjaar Stijn en Thomas! Leuk om je verhalen te lezen, wat een avontuur. Mayke molkenboer. Leave a Reply Cancel reply Your email address will not be published.
If you're buying bottles of Coke or other soft drink, make sure you check the Yes, the town of Cap Skirring is a smidge touristy (by West African.
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