My life in Dakar: The Early Days

Backyard of where I am housesitting

I am being a very poor autobiographer in terms of writing contemporaneously, but let's pretend. My first few weeks in Dakar were very work-focused, and it took me a while to get my legs here. I felt like Kampala opened itself up to me as a visitor more easily, but that could be:

• some retrospective rose colored glasses (it may have taken me longer to feel at all embedded in the city than I am imagining now); 
• related less to the city than my living circumstances (I'm living alone here, well, mostly; there I had a rotating crew of...at least six roommates I can think of to guide me or at least share discovery); geography (I'm living and working in rather residential, removed parts of town); 
• or just straight up chance.

(I really like bulleted lists.)

Either way, Dakar felt at first very quiet, and more like a more inconvenient, overpriced (seven dollar cereal, no almond milk, etc.) version of a Western city than something wholly new.  I'm getting past that, getting to different corners of town, out of town, and trying to reach outside the US government environment. Of course, as I am familiar with the last eight (!) (nearly consecutive!) summer internships, just as you are getting accustomed, you are on your way out.

My daily routine (ha! compare this regularity with my "day in the life" posts of earlier in the year):
7 or a little earlier (the sun is just up at this point, as I learned when I observed Ramadan one day. More on that later.) I get up, let Scout out, (my chocolate lab charge for the summer, who I'm feeding & watering in exchange for free rent. Good trade!)

Rush to cut up some mango/papaya for snacks during the day and spread some avocado on Erik Kayser whole wheat baguette for breakfast, (You can tell I am suffering here. Where else is there that voluptuously delicious tropical fruit and boulangeries every other block, including some that are seriously world class?), fill Scout's food and water, pack up my work clothes (I go in gym clothes usually, work out at USAID's gym around the corner from our office, then shower and change.)
7:40 Hope I am outside by the time my officemate, Pape (pronounced like 'pop') swings by to pick me up. We drive mostly along the coast about fifteen minutes to get to the office. If I am on time, the horoscope is just about to finish my sign. (I tell Pape I just like to listen to it because it is good listening comprehension practice, but I am pretty sure we both know the truth.) Sometimes Pape pulls over to the Brioche Doree boulangerie (it's one of a chain) at one of the rotaries on the way for a pain au chocolat to supplement his petit dej. There's always a line at this hour. Well, there was before Ramadan. Now we never stop since Pape eats only before sunrise this month.
8:00 Workout for half an hour, spend another half an hour desperately trying to get down to a normal enough body temperature that I am not still bright pink and dripping when I get back. There is just not enough cold water in the world if the air in the shower is 95 degrees. A daily battle, followed by the gauntlet of greetings of anyone I might run into between the gym and my office. I'm friendly with the USAID guards and they keep trying to get me to speak Wolof. Their tenacity is amazing given that every day I can respond to "hello" but then stare blankly. Well, little by little.
9:00 At my desk (ocean view!) checking emails that have come in the half day that Washington was still at work after we left the last night.
1:00 Go with Pape to the USAID cafeteria, hoping there is thieuboudienne with fish today. (classic spiced dish served with rice. Not very helpful Wikipedia entry says it is made from "fish and tomato sauce and the other ingredients are onions and peanut oil". The name is from the Wolof for fish and rice. Aside: It was only invented maybe 50 years ago, around the time the French were trying to push their rice  surplus from Indochine on non-rice eating Senegal. ) NB this is also pre-Ramadan. Now Pape is fasting and I try to hide my grabbing a sandwich or eating a packed lunch in the next room.
6:00ish Take the Pape bus back home, feed the dog, go to the Lebanese grocery if I'm low on grocery items [very confused exchange with cab driver: I'm going to Parcours Grocery, says I. Au bas la? says he. NO, not down there. Go straight, I reply. We argue for a while. Turns out he was saying "Hoballah" which is the name of the owner.], sanitize fruit if I've stopped at the market, get a massage on my floor from Clementine if it's Wednesday, read whatever's currently on my kindle (taking suggestions!), or meet people for dinner (trying to beat the breaking fast rush at 7:45), etc.

Is there anything interesting in there? Maybe. I'm going to say yes and move on to catching up on google reader.