Something Fishy

We take our last big day trip of the vacation with our guide from Saint Louis, Ismaïla, who has stayed down south near the Saly beaches for a few days because he's got other clients in the area. We start by visiting the local fish market of Mbour, the "big" city by the beaches. Coming from nearly-black-and-white Paris, the colorful sight just makes me smile. The wanderlust part of me feels tremendously at home here; it reminds me in many ways of markets I saw when living in Asia.

 

 

This is about as un-touristy as it gets -- we're the only non-local people here -- yet this is where I take the most photos all day. So many, in fact, that I'll have to write up the rest of the day in a separate posting.

 

 

Given that it's got a huge coast, and waterways to the interior, this is a big seafood/fish country. So it's a working fish market, with the catch coming back in the handmade boats around 9am.

 

 

 

   

 

As my brother and I like to say when we travel someplace highly photogenic, "This place is one big photo op!" Every direction I look, it's a great picture. To prove my point, I stand in one spot, swivel, and shoot. This is the rough panorama I come up with:

 

        

 

Crunching on the shell-strewn beach, everything is done by hand. Or by horse.

 

 

 

Or by head.

 

 

Other precious cargo might be carried by back.

 

  

 

One of my favorite aspects is the women in their traditional, brightly colored clothes.

  

 

Traditional, but notice the earbuds on the woman in orange. She's higher tech than my parents.

 

 The "retail" market that is attached to the fish market (just inland) is equally colorful.

   

 

I must admit that even though the fish market does not smell fishy or disgusting at all (because it's just really fresh), the effect of both markets together does make me want to shy away from seafood. And vegetables. And meat. Luckily, I get over this aversion by lunch time.

 

 

 

The end is nigh! The end is nigh! Except that in this case, he's not the "The End is Nigh" local crazy guy but rather the local seller of plastic bags. However, make no mistake, the end is nigh. THE END

 

The New Year's We Never Had

Saint Louis is famous for celebrations leading up to New Year's Eve, and as part of that, the town gets all gussied up for a big show on the 30th.

This pre-New Year's show is like no New Year's celebration we ever had mostly because we never had it. Apparently Senegal operates on, well, Senegal time. So the festivities that are supposed to begin in the main square just outside our hotel at 9pm, and for which we get seats starting at 8:30pm, don't really start till around 10pm. The MC opens the show and goes on, literally, for at least an hour about something we assume is a political diatribe, but it's hard to know because we don't speak Wolof. So it's probably around 11pm when the singing and dancing actually start; we don't know, exactly, because by then, we have long given up. This is the one crappy photo from the festivities that we never see.

Luckily, when we head down to Saly, arriving in the beach town on the evening of  Dec 31st, the Hotel les Flamboyants where we're staying throws a New Year's Eve party that is worthy of the hotel's name. As guests at the hotel, we're automatically signed up. We put on our best outfits, while still trying to cover up for mosquitos, and head to the party. We realize we look like absolute and total schlubs and, frankly, some of what we're wearing is stuff we also wear to sleep. And our water sandals as "shoes" are downright embarrassing. But we think the necklaces really bring the outfits to new heights. Other people at the party are dressed more appropriately but, honestly, this is the best we've got in our luggage.

 

We love the show with local music and dance. Some of it involves audience participation. You can probably guess which 75% of our family volunteers.

 

 

 

Anthony gets up and shakes his groove thing once the dance floor opens up to non-African dance.

 

 

As befits a proper New Year's celebration, there are crazy sparkles, hats, noisemakers, silly string, and treats.

 

 

  

Anthony's treat is a drink so froufy it makes rainbow bubbles come out of his ears.

 

Just kidding of course, but that completely-accidentally-perfectly-placed photo cracks us up.

Still, the highlight of the evening (besides the fact that the girls proudly make it past midnight) is the African performers that dance and breathe fire. For lack of a better, or more knowledgeable, term, I'll describe them as kind of voodoo, medicine-man figures. If you know any better, feel free to enlighten me.

 

 

Anthony and I just keep looking at each other saying, "This is not like any New Year's Eve we ever had." The kids seem to appreciate it, but do they understand the extent to which they're lucky? Probably not. But at least they're having fun.