Putting landmines and twitchers in the same scene is probably not such a good idea -- Senegal, The Gambia and back into Senegal

Wow! Wow! Wow!

I am not sure at all how to even begin describing the overwhelming assault on all my senses these past few days. Sights and sounds, colours and smells, sensations and textures -- an entire world of energy and life and joy and passion.

How often did I not use the words 'amazing' and 'exquisite', 'flamboyant' and 'gorgeous' -- and now I wish I had spent the last year since I got home from my last sortie into Africa on studying new and unique adjectives so that I could even begin to describe what I am currently experiencing. (but alas! I did not, so bear with me -- there are bound to be a few more amazings and breathtakings and the such..)

I am sure you would all remember that I absolutely feel in love with West Africa last year -- and returning to this part of the continent, has just made me recall how completely I had fallen in love then. I think that the second half of the African Oddyssey last year -- the East Coast Experience, was in so many ways such a contrast to the West Coast Experience, that I had lost a little track of that first encounter of the western side of Africa. But here I am back and it is good. It is very good!

Arriving in Dakar was a strange experience. I am not sure why , but it was. Dakar is such a dichotomy; contradictory in so many ways. It is an African city through and through, but with more fancy homes in the Les Almadies neighbourhood than probably anywhere else on the continent apart from South Africa, more Porche SUV's than in any one place anywhere in the world - and yet it is not a city of expats or diplomats or NGO workers, or World Bank people. The rich people here are Senegalese in the main. The wealth is local and home grown. The sophistication is strangely African. I learned from my African-American landlady that the medical system here is one of the best in the world (?) -- so much so that all the international organisations send their employees here for treatment -- and I bear witness of a few of the clinics dotted all over the city -- they are modern and smart and look inviting enough for you to feel quite confident of their services -- definitely different from my personal experience of hospitals and clinics elsewhere in Africa! The same lady also waxed lyrical about the education system and I have to say, my impression in talking to some of the people around was that they were far better educated than many a young westener.

While in Dakar I visited Isle de Goree -- yet another little island off the coast of the continent where the slave traders of yore picked up their cargo. Again -- this sad shaming history but in an environment that is beautiful with its colonial architecture and colours, local artists selling their wares and quaint little restaurants enticing you to sit down out of the extreme heat and enjoy an ice cold glass of bissap (my favourite red hibiscus flower tea) or a plate yassa -- grilled fish and fried onions and lemon sauce -- yum! On the day that I spent on the island it happened to be one of the most important days  on its calendar : the Dakar'Go swimming race -- a 're-visit' of the old slave route - over a thousand participants swim from Dakar to the island. It is 7.8 km for adults and 4.7 km for children under twelve -- IF you swim straight, but since there  is not clear route to follow, no markers or buoys or even little boats to show which way to go, most people swim in from all directions -- some having done more than double of the route! Thousands of Dakarians had come across the ferry to watch the swimmers come in and over many hours there was a loudspeaker hailing the successful finishers. In a ceremony at the end of the day all the swimmers were issued with t-shirts and certificates and the queues to get back on the returning ferries stretched right around the island.

On Monday morning I got to meet die group of people with whom I will be spending the next ten weeks exploring this little -known (for tourists at least) part of the world. An interesting bunch of people -- and even though the average age is probably about 55, I am positively the rookie amongst them as far as overlanding goes! All of them have been everywhere in the world where overlanding is done -- and that more or less covers the planet! But it makes for interesting conversations... I am still positive that this is going to be a good group..

Leaving Dakar was an exciting event! We were all ready to get moving after waiting for our Guinea visas and to finally be on the road. The truck is amazing (first one...but warranted!). David and Jimmy have done an excellent job on designing and building the truck. The seats are ex-railways -- so comfortable -- and can even recline a little, we have a fridge on board (!!) as well as speakers right down the length of the truck so everyone can hear the music (mmm), we have windows (!!) -- a novelty for me!, proper chairs to sit on at night (!!)  -- and in the kitchen section everything is brand new and very well laid out. Quite quite impressive and a pleasure to travel in.

We are not bushcamping as often as I would like -- mainly because of the tricky areas we are travelling through and most of the places we arrive at to pitch out camps, have to scurry around like broody chooks to get things in order for us -- not expecting guests, since none have arrived for these last few years. Our first night bushcamping we were all so relaxed and happy to be back in the rhythm of overlanding -- and so enjoying sitting in the comfortable 'proper' chairs that we completely ignored the massive black thunderclouds ominously approaching overhead at an impressive speed -- that we were still sitting there commenting on how welcome the cooler breeze was when the heavens opened -- as they can only do in Africa -- and sent a deluge down the likes of which would have made even Noah doubt his carpentry. The result was that all over tents were inundated with water, some floating downstream where no stream had existed only 30 minutes before, we were drenched right through, our backpacks were wet, the world was wet, wet, wet. A proper roof wetting if ever I had seen one!

So here we are one week later to the day -- all settled in, everyone still changing seats every day in the truck, everyone still smiling,, me covered in mosquito bites from head to toe and itching -- like in the old days -- already far too brown -- through no fault of mine, I assure you all, hot sticky and in constant yearning for a cold shower, having slept on a beach under the most breathtaking and exquisite (I did warn you) starry African sky last night -- one that earned its Red Button ten times over -- and where I am sure I caught a strong whiff of the fragrance of a shooting star... and tonight staying in Ziguinchot, in the Cassamance, currently sitting under a giant mango tree where the frogs are crawling over my feet and the mosquitoes are having a banquet on my Tabard coated back,  off to the Guinea Bissau embassy tomorrow morning to get our visas, already warned not to go upstream tomorrow because of security alerts, rebel movements, the kinds of things that are the norm in these parts of the world... but so very  very happy to back. Life is good. Very good. 

Much love to you all -- and so wish you were here!

wwxx