It’s probably true that I can be a little heavy-handed when highlighting the parts that I perceive as negative about Senegal. I’m trying my best in this post to show you some of the beauty that I also get to experience, which will hopefully underscore how grateful I am to be placed in what really is a paradise land for all of you sun worshippers.

Cap Skirring boasts some of the best beaches in West Africa.  It’s true. I spent virtually all of yesterday on said beaches, starting at sunrise with, what else, a morning run.

This is real estate made for morning running. No one is awake yet but you and god….and maybe some cows (which you will see later).

I know I must look ridiculous running with my camera in hand, but really- how else could I attempt to convey the humbling beauty one experiences at solitary times like these?

Here I am, right up against the border of the neighboring country, Guinea-Bissau. I couldn’t get a picture of the dotted line marking the distinction between the two, so you’ll just have to take my word for it.

There’s a bit of instability in the area- and if you saw our armed escort from the previous posting, you have some sense of this. That said, I didn’t want to press my luck and decided to turn and follow the trail of beach cattle back towards my hotel.

There were lots of stops and starts on this run, but I think the workout suffered to a good end.

I told you there were cows on the beach.

Moo.

….and now Megan is going to ruin the post with some negativity (sorry, I can’t help myself!)

The one completely toubab observation that I would make to Senegal’s tourism board is the annoyance I feel towards the “beach vendors” who roam the sands of relative affluence, trying to make a buck:

Women with fruit, necklaces, pareos..

Men selling sunglasses, coming right up to your chair and won’t take no for an answer until you tell them “No” at least three times.

These people kill the air of tranquility that you are trying to attain while perched in your beach chair in the so-advertised “private beach”. Take the guy who walked up to us this morning with a backpack- very obviously packed with crap to sell us.  Me, the ever terse New Englander, didn’t even “bonjour” him and instead commenced the obligatory exchange with “Ça va, merci” (No thank you). I then ignored him as he made small talk with my far more polite (and patient) friend to my left. 

“Do you remember me from yesterday?” he asked her, “I’m the one who wanted to give your son a gift, but your husband said no.” Indeed yesterday he had tried the old “I want to give you a cadeau in order to make you give me money” scam on them yesterday, to which he was promptly called out on his game. I found it amusing how he would want to dredge back up the memory as a means of re-engament and a slim-to-none chance of selling his goods.

As he was leaving us, he said that he had come over this time to “saluer” (greet) me, but instead I had insulted him. I think I offered a vaguely sarcastic comment, but my inside voice was thinking: Comment on dit, “Cry me a river en français?”  I am quite certain that I had not hurt his feelings as he sat off to the side and dug into his backpack to produce his wares. I know that he is trying to make a living- but the invasion of perceived privacy really puts a bit of a damper on one’s tranquility.

[Feel free to post comments calling me a privileged white person who should just put up with this brief invasion of privacy, and maybe even purchases a crappy necklace or two. I fully recognize that I need to be more patient and altruistic- but sometimes you just need to be on vacation.]

So after that brief polemic, I’ll return to my beach chair.

Truth be told, there were more cows than vendors down here…not nearly as bad as in Saly or other heavily-touristed areas.

Thank you, General Olmsted!