Push the “I believe” Button

After escaping the bottleneck that is the main drag out of Dakar, we were off to La Petite Côte

In reverse Cape Cod fashion (everything relates back to the Cape), I celebrated Memorial Day by getting off the peninsula for the long weekend. In doing this I learned a few things….

1. Man did I miss driving! Even though the ridiculous “roads” in this country demand perpetual vigilance as you keep a sharp eye out for roadway hazards such as goats, zebu, cars with no functioning brake lights (that would be all of them), and pedestrians brandishing the magical Senegalese hand that makes you stop as the stroll across the highway….I missed driving.

 License on me, nah? Does it matter here? Nah.

2. No matter how ridiculous the directions sound, if they are coming from a local then they are spot on. I will expound a bit:

      I’m not sure if I told you how we wanted to drive inland and visit Lac Rose a few weeks back  (it didn’t happen, but that’s besides the point). I had asked our steadfast embassy driver, François, how to get there.  At first he gave me directions that sounded a bit like “drive straight out of Dakar, then take a left”. When he saw my bewildered Western face at this guidance, he then scrounged for a map. Maps in this part of the world are a little silly. No, let me rephrase: useless. We both mutually agreed that the road system depicted on the map was far less instructive than his first explanation. “The roads change so much that this map would be outdated even if it was made last week.” he observed. He was right. 

     I’m not the brightest light bulb when it comes to details, so he tried again to give me directions with greater specificity: “Drive out of Dakar and turn left where you see the people selling the mint.”


     “Les gens qui vendent le menthe.” I restated the last part back to him. “Yes.” he said, as if this was the most normal point of reference in the world. 

     Me, thinking to myself: “I’m supposed drive and keep an eye out on the Walking Wal*Mart  until I hopefully see vendors walking around with fistfuls of mint leaves on this given day?” 


Okay. Merci François. I’ll just walk away and pretend that I believe you….

Fast-forward to Saturday. I recount this exchange as we are off on this new driving adventure, with me in behind the wheel, Jennifer as a passenger, and a Lebanese-born Army officer who  passed out in the back seat after downing two shwarma sandwiches (it’s his rental car).  We get to the area where Lac Rose is reported to be near, and behold:

François Faye, I will never doubt you again…

I love Senegal.  You just have to take things at face value. Like advice. No matter how ridiculous it sounds.



3.You can rent a house on the beach for fifty bucks a night. Divide that cost by three, bring your own food, and you can live like kings for pennies. Catch a glimpse of our balcony view:

Spend the day swimming in the Atlantic, come back and soak in a glass or two of Porto before heading out to a beachside restaurant for amazing calamari and other gastronomic treasures that were just pulled in from the sea. 
4. I finally get that these are the types of attractions that pull all of those tourists that don’t know how to drive (yes, I am talking to you minivan with the New Jersey plates) over the Cape Cod Canal and into my home each summer.

I actually felt like a little kid being back in the ocean. And it might be a stretch, but this vantage point above reminded me of the beaches near Surf Drive- all that was missing was Nobska in the distance, and of course, Martha’s Vineyard off to the left.

That’s it for now.  I am stealing internet off of my neighbor, and I need to go to bed. It’s a new week, and I’m back in town with a oddly pleasant sunburn on my stomach and refreshed outlook that only comes from being near the ocean. 



Thank you General Olmsted. And thanks to all of my brothers and sisters (yes, even you service members who drive me crazy) who are serving, or who have served our great country.