August 12, 2011 (A Swede In Senegal)

One week. 7 days. However many hours. I don’t want to do the math…I know it’s not hard. 7 x 24, right? Well, whatever that is. I really don’t like using the calculator on this netbook. Not that I have to use the calculator on the netbook. I guess I could use a my phone. 168. Phil just yelled it to me from across the room. My friend Martin was here for 168 hours, give or take a few hours. He got to see as much of Senegal as one would want to fit in a week. It was awesome.

Stops included the pristine city of Kaolack, including the labyrinth of cars known as garage Nioro, Tambacounda (or as the Lonley Planet guidebook calls it, (A Rough Lover), my village Afia Seno, Sokoutou, the Gambia river in Wassadou, Mbour, Warang liquor, and of course, Dakar. For the amount of traveling we were doing, Martin was holding up like a champ. Not being phased at all, even with all the T.I.A. (This Is Africa) moments.

Examples: Our car breaks down 70km outside Tamba…so the solution, apparently, is to tie a single seat-belt from our car to another car, and have it tow us all the way there, going the same speed as we would have gone if our car didn’t go to shit.

OR, while in a separate car (station wagon), heading to Mbour, 1 hour from our destination, a man, who is clearly sick (pasty, clammy, and sweating through his shirt), projectile vomits all over my back, then out the window. Martin is untouched in the front seat, thank god. 30 minutes later, car moving fast, with sick dude in the front seat, Martin behind him, then me behind Martin, sick guy droped his head out the window, spews stomach water into the wind, it flies through Martin’s window, hits me in the face, and miraculously leaves Martin untouched again. To sum up: I got vomited on twice. And Martin didn’t freak out once. Best visitor ever.

I hope this post makes more people want to come and visit. Or maybe it’ll scare people off. I don’t know. It would be great though if more people came. I’ll show you some shit you’ve never seen. And if you have seen it. I’ll treat you to a nice steak dinner instead. In the states of course. Don’t expect a New York strip here. Unless that’s a euphemism for a sexy dance. Which, if you were wondering, is also not available here. To sum up, again: Come and visit. Steaks aren’t available. Neither are sexy dances.