Far too long for a blog

From Dakar to Toubab Dialao and back, plus too many hours in Milano Malpensa

A few of the questions Mel and I asked ourselves as we went through Dakar after the meeting, down to la Petite Cote to Toubab Dialao and back:

• Does this smell like urine? – everything did, from the couch to the corners.
• Is he taking a dump? – when the taxi driver performed some strange squat.
• Is that a cat in the air vent? – when a miauwing animal was hanging from the airport ceiling.
• How often do Senegalese men think about sex? – and the answer to that was simple. As often as possible, and at least once every second.

Beach at La Pointe des Almadies
The best of Dakar, upper class posh… and a dusty car park full of rubbish: the scene of our farewells as the others prepared to head back home.

Place de l Independence, with nothing on it. Even the flags were tatty. There were pictures of President Wade everywhere though… even on people’s t-shirts! We could not find the fabric with his face on it to buy by the meter; shame, would have looked lovely on the couch!

FLASH BACKS:


A reminder that COPs can be fun:
Head of the Australian delegation, Lee Eeles demonstrating that silly things (the duck's nuts) can be said in Plenary.



Karen exploring the use of DDT and making us all run from the office.

After the French hotel owner terribly embarrassed his Senegalese staff by claiming he was Senegalese too, we managed to get away from La Détente, having left “only” my passport and 200 Euro. To cut a long story short, my credit cards refused to work even after being tried over eight times (system problems!!), and the nice receptionist and lovely Emmanuel were obliged to call in the owner. He was aggressive and unaccommodating. An awful experience ensued where Mel and I ended up heading to Toubab Dialou a lot later than planned, in the wrong taxi and badly stressed out. Somehow, by Tuesday, IISD had managed to solve the problem by sending over some cash to add to my 200 euro.

So Babouba did not get to drive us to the village on la Petite Cote, but we went with some Muslim man who decide, half way through the trip, to stop the car along the main road, take a bottle of water out of the boot, pull his caftan up and crouch to the ground… As I grabbed the pepper spray, Melanie asked if he was taking a dump?!

And that was the beginning of the vacation.

Sobo Bade, a Gaudi-like resort, made of shells: our slice of peace and quiet on our mini-break

Upon arrival in Sobo Bade, we had to fend off Ibrahima who was determined to put his hands all over Melanie with the excuse of practicing reiki. That was our first flavour of coastal insistence, but after having been called a racist because I pulled away when a bloke grabbed my arm in Dakar, and having our bums commented on several times, we were expecting the worst.

Sobo Bade lived up to its expectations and saw us both slowly wind-down and start to enjoy the Gazelle beer and sunshine. I managed to out-talk a lot of the boys and we eventually befriended a few of them without having to marry!

One of the ladies trying to sell us bracelets and refusing to buy our shells.

What Senegalese women wear around their waists to attract men. Samba demonstrated that it went quite well with the fashionable low-waist trousers and high-waist knickers…

On the way back, (le mari de la route) Samba’s car broke down and we had to leave him to sort out the clutch. We regained composure at the Institut Francais which provided a haven of peace before moving on to l Ile de Goree where we were supposed to check out the Slave museum but had to skip it as it was swamped by hundreds of school kids. So we walked and checked out the terrible souvenirs and art work instead!

Back in town we looked for the basket market, which had closed by the time we found it, and headed back to the hotel. Babouba – who was desperate to get back to his wife and kids – took us to the airport after pocketing my euro coins…

Babouba, Oumar and Emmanuel contributed to make Dakar pleasant, reminding us why Senegal calls itself le Pays de la Teranga (hospitality)!