Sine Saloum

For two nights during our weekend trip to the Senegal River delta, S. and I stayed on a small island in an ecolodge called Keur Bamboung, which is run collectively by the residents of 14 nearby villages. It was a beautiful place, composed of several grass-and-brick huts nestled in the midst of one tiny village (pictured in third photo from the top; the second photo from the top is of "our" hut), which is a 30-minute walk, 20-minute pirogue ride, and 40-minute horse-cart ride from Toubakouta (which is already fairly remote). We pulled in to the village around midnight, exhausted but elated to have arrived after utilizing all of Senegal's major modes of travel in one long voyage. It was completely dark outside, with only a few solar-powered lights within the lodge coming into view as we came in (there's no electricity on the delta islands). After scarfing down dinner, we collapsed into our mosquito-netted beds in our incredibly charming personal hut - which had a water-tank and its own solar-powered light in addition to furniture made entirely of dried grass - only to wake the next morning at sunrise to the raucous sound of zillions of different types of birds.

Keur Bamboung was, in fact, idyllic. In the morning we took a bare-foot hike through the mangrove swamps, guided by one of the villagers, Mamfana (pictured at bottom), who showed us the three different local species of mangrove and how oysters and muscles cling to their exposed roots. Before lunching on fresh local fish, we swam lazily and dozed on the tiny sandy beach right in front of our hut - and then in the afternoon, at high tide when the water had submerged all the areas where we had previously been able to wade, we took a canoe ride around the mangrove swamps, sighting a large pelican and several dug-out holes inhabited by hyenas. (Luckily no actual hyenas were spotted.) The proceeds from the lodge go towards training and paying former fishermen in the 14 associated villages to act as anti-poaching guards, thereby creating a large-ish sized region where fishing is prohibited. This has, according to the villagers, allowed fish stocks all around to rebound, since the mangroves are where many species go to spawn. There are beautiful hand-crafted signs all over the village and surrounding areas documenting resurgent marine species, including a very reclusive type of manatee that has only been spotted once or twice. Meanwhile the thick mixture of mangroves, baobabs, and palm trees rustle constantly with life, though only a few birds allowed themselves to be seen. Luckily this mix included several giant herons and a flock of slim green parrots as well as birds of bright orange and electric blue.

Can't wait to go back.

On the Road

This weekend I left the Dakar peninsula behind and set off, with my friend S., to the Sine Saloum - the beautiful region of Senegal where the Senegal River delta bleeds into the ocean, forming thousands of islets of sand, mangroves, and varying degrees of salty-fresh water beloved of oysters, breeding fish, and colorful sea-birds.

The road trip was half the adventure. We traveled by bush-taxi, one of the ubiquitous gray station wagons known here as "taxis sept-place" because they cram in seven passengers in addition to the driver. (See top photo.) After finding a sept-place headed to our destination of Toubakouta in Dakar's gigantic "gare routiere" (taxi depot) at 3:30pm, we waited for an hour before the driver had signed on all seven passengers, then sat for another 2 hours in the slow crawl of traffic out of the bottlenecked single road out of town.

Then, however, we were on open road for four hours, whizzing through the regional hubs of Thies and Kaolack, past road-side tea-stalls, mango stands, rice-and-sauce purveyors, and multi-function boutiques. We were dropped off on the pitch-dark roadside next to Toubakouta at 10:30pm, the brightly-lit milky way twinkling overhead in the moonless night.

L'Ile de Ngor

My new favorite place.

Dakar traffic got you down? Sick of the hustle-bustle of city life? Want to soak your feet in the sea and sip fanta by a peaceful beach, but don't want to brave the traffic involved in getting out of Dakar altogether? Pick your way through the crowded village of Ngor, stroll along the beach to the far end, buy yourself a 500 CFA ($1) round-trip ticket on a fishing boat from the very efficient (a word I don't use lightly) embarcadaire, and zip out to l'Ile de Ngor, an incredibly charming get-away that's only about 200 meters off the northern Dakar coast.

The trip itself prepares you for adventure - you crowd into a long, hand-painted pirogue, slightly jostled by high school kids and families looking to escape the city for the softest sand and most swimmable water in town (the narrow strait between the isle and the coast is free of the treacherous currents that are otherwise common around here). At this point you're wearing a bright-orange lifejacket, which feels like an unimaginable formality in chaotic Senegal. One smooth motored ride (about 10 minutes not counting loading and offloading) later, and you're on a tiny island (25 minutes to circumambulate at a slow stroll), criss-crossed by narrow pathways between white villas and edged by beaches and grilled fish. My two fellow Ngor travelers and I settled into a beachside cafe, under a canvas awning, and feasted on grilled carp and gazelle beer (which reminds me of Indian Kingfisher - that is, light and somewhat flavorless, but delicious when cold), followed by the strong sugary tea that is the Senegalese equivalent of an after-lunch espresso. Perhaps as close to paradise as one could hope for.

La Plage de Ngor

Some pictures of the beach at Ngor, about a 20-minute walk from my apartment in Almadies. The village of Ngor - like Yoff, a fishing village along the northern coast of the peninsula that now bleeds into Dakar proper - is charming and gritty, with tightly-packed sand-filled streets and a calm oasis of a mosque, with open sides and a smooch concrete floor. You trudge through the village, past electronics stores and rapidly loading cars rapides (this is their main terminus), and then suddenly emerge onto the wide open beach, where all of the pirogues look newly painted, and boys wade their sheep into the sea to give them a good scrubbing. (Wish I had pictures of this. The rams, with their big curved horns, looked quite affronted.)

Almadies

Some pictures of my new neighborhood, Almadies... Dignified and spacious, dotted with large tree-surrounded houses, Almadies still has miles of rocky coastline and a very popular mini-beach (middle picture, with the giant Mamelles lighthouse in the distance). While I may complain that everything is more expensive and less convenient in Almadies (because of its association with expats and the fact that many residents have cars and therefore don't need to do all of their shopping within a 200-meter radius), it's a beautiful spot, dotted with outdoor grilled-fish stands and popular with Dakar's budding surfer scene.

Also, in the lowest photo, you'll notice the newest development in Dakar weather: clouds. Yes, the past week or so has featured several overcast mornings, delightfully cool and breezy, though no real rain yet. Everyone is waiting with baited breath - though this desire to see an end of sun and blue sky must come with time in Dakar; I for one don't feel ready.