There and back again

After teasing you with yesterday’s brief but enticing post, I’m now ready to explain what I meant when I said heaven: I meant Toubab Dialaw.

Last week was pretty rough for me. Dakar was getting boring, school was annoying, I was tired and my lungs ached from all the pollution. Our rural visits (during which we would have a week off of school) were moved forward from March 9 to some indefinite time in the next 12 weeks. It was time to get out of town.

We’d heard of Toubab Dialaw from other students, and Lonely Planet is a big fan of this tiny, touristy (that is, white) beach town on the Petite Côte south of the Dakar peninsula. LP described the village as “Tolkien-esque” — I was picturing the Elves’ city with all the waterfalls and shimmering sunlight. (I’m sure someone can tell me the name of that fictional city, and perhaps even give me a detailed history. Kevin…)

We met on Saturday morning and took cabs to the Gare Routière, which purports to be Dakar’s main bus station but is basically a parking lot in an industrial zone under the highway. Groups of “helpful” men swarmed us and after 25 minutes of haggling and being misled and arguing in Frolof, we got a man to take the seven of us in his minibus — direct to Toubab Dialaw (no changing buses in the middle of the savanna!) for 14,000 CFA ($28).

The bus ride was hot and… hot, but pretty quick once we got out of the Dakar metro area traffic (not an easy feat). We got to the hotel and could hardly believe our eyes. It’s called Sobo-Bade and really is a Hobbit village. It’s built into the side of a cliff, everything is decorated with seashells, all the roofs are thatched, hammocks abound, and the views are really stunning.

We got a seven-person dorm room for $8 each a night (a steal), and proceeded immediately to the beach, where we lounged until the sun was starting to scramble our brains. We ate dinner at a restaurant across the street, where we waited a full 90 minutes for our pizzas (although they were good). Then some of hiked up the hill to a liquor-selling supermarket to buy cheap rum and warm juice. We took our disgustingly hot beverages to the hammock area, played drinking games, rocked in the hammocks, and watched the lunar eclipse.

The next morning we woke up late, got breakfast on the beach (although there was no jam, as advertised). More lounging on the beach, another hike up the hill for alcohol (now double the amount from the night before). Dinner was at a restaurant populaire, which was more or less this woman’s living room. We all had a craving for chicken, and while she didn’t have any on hand she was nice enough to get some from one of her aunts. We had chicken sandwiches, and then she offered us (free of charge!) fresh ginger juice, rice and vegetables, and this Senegalese custard for dessert. Her daughter was a midget… a very creepy child who stood next to our table with her tongue out moaning for little bits of chicken and rice. When they gave her the leftover chicken bones to suck on, it was like something out of a horror movie. But the woman was so friendly, and our stomachs were full for the debauchery that was about to ensue.

Andreas and I tried to cool the alcohol in the ocean, but it didn’t really work and may or may not have gotten sand all over the bottles. No matter — we drank plenty nonetheless, and were having such a good time as to be asked to move by some other Americans (“trying to sleep” — LAME) in the hotel. Then some of us decided to go skinny-dipping in the frigid and actually dangerously fast-moving ocean, while Sennett and I made friends with some middle-aged stoners named Babacar and Youssou N’Dour (no relation).

The next morning was dizzy, dizzy, dizzy. We got breakfast on the beach again, and then swam and laid in the sun to try to gather strength for the bumpy car ride back to Dakar. (We had long ago abandoned the hope of making it back for our 3:30 class.) The hotel was nice enough to call us a sept-place, which is a converted station wagon with seven passenger seats; the driver was nice enough to take us all the way to Dakar for 17,000 CFA.

So, suffice it to say, this weekend was unforgettable and exactly what I needed to tide me over until Spring Break (only three weeks away). And also suffice it to say that I will be returning to Toubab Dialaw/Heaven at least once before I go home.

It’s 10 o’clock now, which means free coffee at the Baobab Center (our Wolof class this morning was cancelled). More class this morning, then some free time in the afternoon to prepare for a presentation with my friend Zoe in African Literature tomorrow… the book is about colonialism and the social changes that accompany it! SUPRISE! Never read about that before… oh wait, that’s EVERY FUCKING BOOK WE’VE READ FOR THIS CLASS. I’m not bitter.

This week should be manageable, seeing as I only have three days of class left. Hopefully we’ll be able to watch some of the Big East Tournament at the Marines’ house. And for those of you who are regular readers, I will try and write more… really. Hope everyone’s enjoying their Spring Break. Just don’t end up on Girls With Low Self-Esteem.

IMPORTANT P.S. I forgot to mention that everyone was so happily drunk we all failed to wake up when a stray dog wandered into our room and took a huge, steaming dump on the floor in the middle of the night. That is all.