Diwaling Park to St. Louis - Day 177

Date: February 11th, 2010
Distance: 51km (Plus another 15km around town)
Country: Senegal
Song of the Day: Castles Made of Sand - Jimi Hendrix

Got up and felt great. Well, at least until a goat tried to eat the pads in my bike helmet. He ended up knocking over the bike in the process and my mirror broke. Thanks for that. Between that and the tire I am losing stuff left and right. (I think he ate one of the little felt liner pads for my helmet too.)

I was able to get on the road without any further complications, though. Still a dirt road up the the boarder. They were working on grating it down, but that meant it was still rough in a few sections. The guy working the grater also asked for a "cadou". What is wrong with you? Not only do you already have a job (or are at least stealing valuable construction equipment) but I am on a bike. I don't have anything. I am not giving you money. Quit it. I have heard that I should get used to it though. Anyway, no real problems.

At the boarder I wasn't really sure what was going on. They told me to go to the "Poste" first. I didn't understand why. I didn't have anything to mail. But I think it was the customs official. Not that he looked very official. He was just laying back on a mat watching TV when I came in. He sort of looked at the bike and let me go. Then it was off to the immigration officer. I had to wait outside for some reason. While I was there I met a group of Americans crossing into Mauritania. They were about my parent's age, so were quite impressed with my travel by bike. I guess it has become passe for me. After 10,000 kilometers it really doesn't seem that difficult anymore. Once I got into see the immigration officer, there wasn't much. A couple of questions, then he stamped my passport and I was off. I thought the boarder was a bridge. But someone was telling me it is a dam across the Senegal river. Either way it was an easy cycle. On the Senegal side, it was a reverse of the process on the Mauritanian side. A couple of questions and a passport stamp. Then a wave from the customs official. I was in Senegal. Country 14. No bribes. No hassle.

I would like to take a minute to talk about the road south from the Diama crossing. It is marvelous. I could be exaggerating its glories in my mind because of ~60km of poorly maintained dirt roads through Mauritania. Still, I think it is the best road I have been on yet. Smooth, dark black asphalt. Plenty of space on the shoulder. Flat. With almost no traffic. It looks brand new. Then again, with the condition of the road on the Mauritanian side I guess I could see why no one was traveling this way. Still, for a bike it was paradise. Just glorious.

Not much to look at though. Mostly it was deserty Savannah. I guess this area of the continent is called the Sahel zone. The boarder between the Sahara and the jungles to the south.

I did get into St. Louis (pronounced San Louie) without any problems. As the second largest city in Senegal, it almost overwhelms you with its chaos. The streets are jammed with cars, horse carts and buses. The cars go from battered, multi-colored taxis, to gleaming imports, to brightly painted buses. Also, the donkey carts of north Africa have mostly been replaced with the horse drawn version. Also it appears that there are, if possible, more shops than in Morocco or Mauritania. Maybe it is just that I am seeing more western style stores or that the shops are covered in bright advertisements. The stores actually seem to have names here. And it isn't just the streets that are crowded. The sidewalks are packed with people walking or selling veggies/plumbing/phone cards/toys from carts. Yet despite everything going on around you, it seems to make sense in some way. I had almost no problems navigating through it all.

The town itself was built by the French on a little island on the Senegal river. There is a long bridge connecting it to the mainland. On the other side is a long sand bar that runs all the way up the coast of Mauritania. This forms a long bay of marshes and tide flats. In other words it is like a little Manhattan on the West coast of Africa. Of course the city has expanded to cover parts of the mainland, all of the island and some of the sandbard. There is another, shorter bridge that connects the central island to the sandbar.

This area, named Hydrobase, is where I headed. I had heard from a guy in Nouakchott that there was a good auberge to stay at there. The first area is a little market. This is probably the most chaotic place in the whole city. I did get advice to head south though. So I took a left and got to the fishing area. On the inland shore were tons of boats pulled up on the beach. They were of the same type I had seen in Nouakchott. The people there were offloading the day's catch into trucks. There were also racks for drying fish. Again, amazingly hectic. People everywhere.

South of that, things seem to calm down. First a big cemetery, then a little community and finally some hotels. I didn't find that place I was looking for, but I did find a great camping site to stay at. Right by the ocean, with wi-fi, and cheap. I couldn't ask for anything more. I did want to go swimming in the ocean, but first I needed some food. So I left my stuff and biked back into town.

The city the French left behind is an orderly grid pattern. So getting around isn't a problem. Getting short changed is a problem. I went to one place to pick up some bread, the guy didn't give me the right amount back. Not knowing the currency, I just walked out. I then tried to buy a couple of bananas. Again, I didn't get the right change back. This time I did notice though. I called him out on it and he kind of shrugged and said he didn't have the change. After a bit of back and forth, he handed over what I had given him, and I passed the bananas back. Then I went back to the first place, and also got what I should have. The guy had to wait until a couple of other customers came in and bought stuff before he had enough. So watch out for that. In Morocco or Mauritania, even if they don't want to, they will run out and get the right change. Here, they don't bother. Just give you something close, and not tell you if they are ripping you off. Annoying.

Still, I did meet the Japanese cyclist again. He gave me his e-mail address. It was good to see he made it. I was hoping to hang out more, but he ran off. Me I went back to go swimming.

The beach is amazing. Like I said, it is on this long sandbar. So you have white sand beaches with the Atlantic waves crashing on them. Long curling waves. With the bright sun, it is almost like paradise. Almost. The big problem is that there is trash everywhere. Not toxic waste, but just plastic and glass. Cans too. I know that is the way of things in Africa. It just seems like just a shame. If the beach was clean, put in a couple of resorts, the tourism would be amazing. It just doesn't seem to work that way here. It's Africa.

This seemed like the dead fish in the streets. Near where all the fish were being offloaded, there were tons of discarded fish. They were just rotting in piles the streets or in the sand. It seems like they could be used for something. If not dog food (dogs aren't really pets here) then fertilizer. But no, they are just left to rot. Seems like a waste.

I did spend some time laying on the beach, in the cleanest spot I could find, and got some sun. (I am tired of my cyclist tan.) At first I was just sitting there and relaxing. Soon I got bored though and started digging in the sand. Building little sand models for various structures. I am thirty and still enjoy playing in the sand. I also nearly jumped out of my skin when I accidentally dug up a sand crab. I didn't realize he was there until he popped out and scuttled off. Afterwards I took a dip in the ocean. It felt great. The water was cool and sun was warm. Afterwards I took a shower and watched the sun set over the ocean. Simple pleasures.

I went out to a little place and had a great dinner. Rice, prawns and some onion sauce. Once back at the camping site I worked late into the night to update my blog. Around midnight a heard of sand crabs wandered through the camp. At first I thought they were big spiders. Nope, just crabs. It was fun to watch them scurry about though. That did mean it was time to go to bed though.

-Dravis