mangos, vendors, and bake-ovens

I see that Mona has already written about the intensely long flight over to Dakar, Senegal. Since I don't want to simply repeat her while writing this, I'll just say this to all you worried parents: no luggage was lost, no wallets were stolen, no hostages were taken, and no Air France flights mysteriously disappeared over the Atlantic.

Now.

I woke up in my small room in the Hotel Good Rade feeling like that was the best sleep that I had ever had. Ever. Overly fatigued from staying awake thirty-six hours, I can't say I was completely objective, but that opinion still remains.

After dining on a breakfast consisting of crossoints and OJ (very Western, I must say), the hotel was scoured for people that were still asleep. I can't say I blamed them, but when it was eleven o'clock and we had to hurry to pack the bus, I think that rest was a little much. 

Our leader, Jacques Cusin, asked for people to climb up to the top of the bus in order to help with loading our bags up there. Because I was feeling guilty that I was virtually no help when we were unloading bags in the airport, I immediately volunteered.

Big mistake.

The sun had already heated the metal latticework up top to what felt like a boiling point, and it hurt to touch bare skin to it. Making matters worse, the latticework was a latticework. There was more space in between the metal bars to put my foot than on them. Because of this, I couldn't walk on the top without tripping.

Complaints aside, though, the loading process worked well. I eventually found a position where I could sit securly and in relative confort (forgive the bad spelling, I still have jet lag), and still lift the heavy bags that the hotel doorman passed up to me and give them to the busdriver, who was lashing down the said luggage. 

Covered in sweat, I went down to the interior to the bus for the ride through Dakar to Thies. It was interesting, and gave me a strong sense of culture shock. Horsedrawn wagons were on the highway with the mostly dilapidated cars and trucks, and vendors plagued us  the whole way. Whenever the traffic slowed, they would walk in between the cars, bearing boards of sunglasses or bags of cashews or placards proclaiming they sold phone cards. They seemed to be desparate for selling their items, running along cars as they and their potential buyers. 

Hey personal message: I love you Julie and Orla and Africa is amazing so far!!!!!

Greetings from Amanda aside, we eventually stopped along the road to buy mangos from the said vendors. There were tons of mangos for sale, and our bus was immediately mobbed by sellers. After a spirited haggle from Bounim, our guide, and the ten sellers, we bought a total of twenty eight mangos for twelve dollars. Note that these are the same fruits that sell for one dollar back home.

According to the girls sitting next to me, there also were tons of cute kids around, and I have to say I agree. Little girls the size of our bus tires would walk alongside the bus, and little boys would sell walk goats and run through the fields on the sides of the bus. Apparently, we're going to take them all back to America with us and keep them.

We finally pulled up to our hotel outside Thies, and walked outside into what felt like a bake oven. I hopped back onto the roof of the bus again to unload the bags (maybe I'm feeling bad about life. I don't know...), and it was even worse. After lunch, some of us played played basketball, and they sweat out their sunscreen until it looked like they poured a bottle of milk over their face. 

Tomorrow we go to the village. I'm excited!

-Aaron M.