May 21, 2004

Travel

Air travel is such a joy. I've never seen Dulles airport so crowded. I needed the 2.5 hours just to get on the plane. After weaving though endless lines to check my baggage and then go through security, I had only five minutes at the gate before boarding. The 6.5 hour flight to Paris went quickly. I watched two films neither of which I can remotely remember. The jet lag and arrival in Dakar has completely erased them from my memory.

I do remember the day at Charles De Gaulle Airport. It was interminable. I arrived at 7 a.m. and couldn't check my heavy bags until 1 p.m., so I tried to stay awake by wandering the airport with my trolley of bags, drinking coffee, browsing in the bookstore, drinking beer, going to the bathroom. The bathroom was quite a challenge with all my bags, trying to get the trolley through the door, then taking my carry-on in the stall.

Finally it was time to check my bags for the 4 p.m. flight. When I got to the ticket counter, the Air France agent spent some time on the computer trying to figure out my electronic ticket which she eventually told me had been canceled. She sent me to the Air France office where I spent another 45 minutes buying a ticket. The agent there kept mumbling to the others about how she didn't know if she could get me on the flight, even though she realized Air France was at fault. With great pride, she cheerfully handed me a paper ticket.

I returned to the check-in counter where one of the gate keepers rudely asked me for a piece of chewing gum. I politely offered her a piece. The check in chick then told me I would have to pay 244 euros for my heavy bags. I hesitated, but agreed to pay. I was too tired to figure out what else to do. She sent me back to the office to pay. Fortunately, I was able to trade in frequent flyer miles instead of cash.

After all the trials they put me through, I headed for the gate, relieved it was over. I started thinking that Air France and George Bush have a lot in common. They take your money, lie to you, make mistakes, screw up your day, never admit they're wrong and never apologize. I had a pleasant flight with a friendly French couple who are building a house in Senegal and plan to retire there.

I dozed on and off during the flight and at long last arrived in Dakar at 7:45 p.m. Monday. I was in and out of the airport in a record five minutes. Papis' younger brother Moussa and his cousin Papis Mane were at the airport to meet me. They gave me big hugs then whisked me away in Papis' Mane's Honda Accord and delivered me to the Hotel Alafifa.

We headed out into the dark streets of Dakar for a bite to eat. Through the haze of jet lag I could feel the warmth of my young companions. As it was a Monday evening, things were rather quiet. We settled on a medium priced joint with poor lighting overlooking the normally bustling Rue George Pomidou. The guys had pizzas and I ate a sandwich as we brought each other up to date on our lives.

Moussa is about to complete hotel/restaurant management school and Papis Mane is creating a consulting company to help businesses in their management practices.

Dakar

I woke up around 10 a.m. in the Hotel Alafifa and went downstairs next to the pool for a cafe au lait and croissant. Moussa came and sat with me for a while, then took me shopping for leather sandals so I wouldn't have to go around forever in my dorky American style shoes.

Unfortunately I didn't find anything and after 1/2 an hour I was thoroughly exhausted with the crowds and vendors. Just walking down the street in Dakar is a challenge. It is so overcrowded with cars, pedestrians, and vendors. The sidewalks are blocked in most places by parked cars, vendors, beggars, and sitters, so you have to weave on and off the street to make any headway. Though more crowded, it is much cleaner than it used to be.

Moussa had to go to school, so I wandered around by myself. The weather is much nicer than I thought it would be. A soft steady breeze blows constantly. It's not yet the rainy season, so there is quite a bit of dust in the air. The city was familiar, but distant. I felt like a ghost visiting a part of my past. I knew my way around, but I had no immediate connection with the place.

I went to an outdoor cafe for a sandwich and beer, then went to the hotel Teranga to find Lamine Sonko. He's a cousin of the Goudaibys and husband to Papis' sister Mame. Though I'd already had lunch, he insisted on bringing me a huge free pizza of which I ate a third. We talked about Belaye and Le pere, then he walked me back to my hotel and I promised to come to his house when I returned to Dakar.

Love,
Amy

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Amy called me this morning and said she wanted to write a lot more but was running out of time. She did send a brief follow-up e-mail to let me know she arrived in Ziguinchor.

Ken

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