Ile N'Gor

Friday we went to Ile N'Gor, a tiny little island off the north shore of Dakar. It costs 500 CFA (one dollar) to get there and back on a long boat (below). They do offer you a ride on another boat for 5000 CFA, which they say is more "sure", I guess meaning "more safe".

Once there, there isn't much to do besides relax on the beach, swim, and breath in fresh air to clean out your Dakar-blackened lungs.

For more Ile N'Gor photos CLICK HERE.

Thanksgiving at the Volunteer House

There were no mashed potatoes, or green beens, and there was certainly no turkey. But there was sharing of food, and a day off :)

Jonathan and I joined a potluck at the volunteer house (where 6 volunteers live, but which we declined because Jonathan needs a work space, and the internet, which they do not have.) It was a great time, with fabulous live music a lá Cody. It kind turned into a sing-along party.

The strange but yummy mix of grub: vegan pizza, vegan cookies (my contribution), lasagna, homemade bread, salad, popcorn, and.... pringles (???)

One fall-ish/festive food we did have: spiced wine. (We all only wished it had been a little cool outside. Drinking hot, spiced wine when you're wearing tank tops and sweating... it's just not as romantic as in sweaters in the snow.)

Jonathan with Guilleum and Myriam (both from France, but enjoying a reason to have the day off.)
Claire and her lasagna:

Cody and his guitar. (Cody's not actually a volunteer, but rather one of the very few 'western' staff, and is certainly the go-to guy - he knows everything about everything in the organization.) 

Our uninvited guest...

Guilleume and Claire... doing I don't know what

Martha and her "Southern France" salad

Around our neighborhood...

our first night we treated ourselves to pizza and Coke products:

the alcohol shop:

right next to the mosque:

For a few more photos, CLICK HERE.

Getting Around

There are many many ways to get around the city, (not to mention getting out of the city.)  There are taxis of course, which are cheap by American standards but like anything else would be too expensive to take everyday, ($2 to most places.) For 20-30 cents, however, you can take one of four different types of buses. 

First there's the car rapide - the uber-colorful thing you see below that barely runs:
Then there's the Ndiaga Ndiaye (pronounced "jaggin jay"), pictured below. Both seem essentially the same, aside from the colors. (Actually, now that I think about it, I think I heard that the cars rapides got their name (fast cars) because they don't have breaks.) Anyway, there's an aprenti on back, and as the bus approaches, you listen to what he yells, and if it's where you want to go, you hop on (through the back) and hopefully find a seat. 

When you're ready to get off, you tap on the ceiling, or really anywhere on the tin-like sides of the car, or say "Maima fii".  The aprenti lets the driver know to stop or go by hitting/slapping the back door. (I haven't yet been able to discern if the series of hits/taps/slaps is different for stop and for go.)
There are also the TACA white buses, slightly larger than the car rapides and ndiaga ndiayes, and also large western-style blue buses, called Dim Dekks, which I guess you take if going into the city center. (When we got here, the big blue Dim Dekks were on strike, so we learned how to utilize the previously-very-intimidating car rapides, so now we just continue to use them.)

From our place it's a five minute walk to where we cross the VDN, the large road/highway that runs from downtown Dakar, past our neighborhood (and many others) north towards the office and finally to the airport. It's usually necessary to walk the few extra minutes to the crosswalk (below) in order to get across (although a critical mass of pedestrians is needed before cars will actually stop).

Inside the car rapide (the ndiaga ndiaye looks the same):

When I get to work I say "maima fii", pay my 20-25 cents, and get off. But the journey's not over. Then I must cross the VDN - this time no crosswalk in site. After successfully crossing one direction of traffic, then pausing on the median before crossing the other direction, you reach the guardrail which is just tall enough to make it awkward getting across. 

For more transportation pics, (which aren't great because they were mostly taken with my zoom lens from the office roof,) including a few how-to photos on attempting to cross over the guardrail while keeping your pride intact, CLICK HERE.

Mbaye's Send-off Dinner

Ricci and Mbaye left last Wednesday for les Etats-Unis! Too bad for Mbaye (and everyone who lives there) that Chicago is experiencing colder-than-normal weather. He showed us the two hats and three pairs of socks he bought; I told him he'd be needing to wear all of those at once. I hope he knew I was being serious. Anyway, I was soooo excited and happy and giddy for them! We're wishing them good luck at all of his soccer try-outs over the next three months - bonne chance!

Mbaye's mother flew in from Conakry, where Mbaye is originally from. Ricci was so happy to get to meet her in person:

some very good fish (although it looked exactly like a pirana)

Mia, Mbaye's fiesty and gorgeous little cousin

Naomi and Theo

Two silly girls

When the lights go out in the city...

What Christine calls my "Science-Fair Project" - what it takes for Jonathan to have uninterrupted internet and telephone access:

Malick Ka, the IT guy from the Tostan office, very kindly came to our house with us after work one day to help configure our internet. 

Livin' it up.

We love our apartment here in Dakar. There's just so much SPACE. After living in Sevilla, Spain, and Berkeley, CA, we've gotten used to constricted movements: stand up from couch, walk two steps to kitchen, open fridge, turn 90 degrees to your left, turn on two-burner stove.  But here, you could do cartwheels and jumping jacks!

Our courtyard: our pathetic little tree, door to the kitchen, and on the right a space for washing clothes

And, a first for us - we've got a kitchen table AND a desk, meaning Jonathan won't be working in the living room and we won't be eating hunched over a coffee table (presumably, although we've yet to conform to this novel idea, partly because there's been nothing worthy of sitting to eat, as I've yet to find pots, pans, or silverware. We've been using Jonathan's Leatherman pocket knife to open tuna cans and cut tomatoes, and we go to a little boutique every morning to get a hard-boiled-egg sandwich.)

We purchased most of our furniture from a journalist who moved to Afghanistan, and a little bit from another journalist who moved to Sierra Leone.  We were still in need of somewhere to put clothing, though, and so Naomi and Ricci took us to a man who makes shelves and armoirs on the side of the road.  There we described what we wanted based on the one he was displaying and some baskets down the street.

Our socks and underwear baskets and dirty laundry basket:

We paid half then, and the rest when we picked it up Saturday. I explained where we lived, but the horse-cart driver wasn't too sure, so I hopped on what little space was left on the cart, and off we went, me directing the way, Jonathan running to the bank to get money to pay the horse cart driver. Everyone stared at me, some in disbelief, others in sheer joy, shouting "Africa woman! Senegal woman!" I even got a "woo-hoo!" of approval from a 50-ish French guy driving past on his scooter.  Me riding on the horsecart seemed to invigorate the neighborhood. I'll have to do it more often I guess. Or perhaps it was just my 15 minutes of fame.

We also needed a fridge, so Theo (as in Theo and Naomi, the people that found our apartment, moved all of our furniture from its previous home, and hooked up our internet and electricity before we got here, ) took us to Grand Yoff, the neighborhood you go to if you need a refrigerator. After hours of walking, negotiating, and finding a bank, we finally found one:

SEE MORE PICTURES HERE.