Yesterday was a very, very long day. We arrived at the hotel around 5 a.m. and were given three hours to rest. Despite the fatigue, we excitement of being in a new country was enough to keep me up. I ate a breakfast (parts of a baguette, a croissant, tea and orange juice) and ended up taking a walk with a few members of the group to the beach. Senegal is unlike anything that I’ve ever seen before. People, things, ideas, and faiths truly coexist here. They say America is a melting pot but I’d like of it more as a salad: a mixture of mutually exclusive entities that fail to blend. Senegal, however, is truly a melting pot. Islam and Christianity, French and Wolof, the traditional and the modern blend to form something truly unique. Palatial homes can be and are found next to and surrounded by slums. A catholic church and a mosque are often found on the same block. Sitting at a red light (of which they are very few) in a Mercedes ten seat van a horse drawn garbage truck will pull up next to us. Another thing that becomes readily apparent is the amount of development that is taking place, more on that later. Anyways, it took us nearly an hour but we found our way to the beach which was an embarrassingly only about a twenty minute walk. The beaches were full of fisherman and we were lucky enough to arrive just when the boats were getting in. Excited to see what a catch looked like, I quickly took off an offer my a Senegalese man and his twenty some friends to help them pull their net in. These guys are big, I am not. We must have pulled for twenty minutes, my hands red with tension, sweat dripping from my forehead. This was truly hard work. Imagining the size of the fish that must’ve been in the net, I glanced back to see the progress we had made. No joke after twenty minutes of pulling we might have pulled three feet of line in. Discourages I asked a man where the net was and he pointed to a boat that was nearly half a mile out at sea. I quickly accepted defeat and left the professionals to the job. The beaches are beautiful in a very strange way. Unlike the pristine beaches we’re so used to, the Yoff beach was covered in trash, rotting fish and boats. Its easy to undersand why this sight would turn many people off but for some reason it made sense to me. As a fish head and a bundle of fishing line washed up near my feet I thought to myself, “That’s right. THIS is a beach. Beaches aren’t all pina coladas and Bermuda shorts.” In Senegal they’re opportunity. From what I understand many people make they’re livings fishing and its easy to see why. All along the beach people were pulling in fish of all different sizes (from macerals to Marlins), mussels, shrimps, lobsters, etc. Perhaps the most remarkable thing that I saw was a group of boys on the beach who were grilling sea urchins. The box of what must’ve been more than a hundred urchins was enough to make any foodies knees weak. Once chared on a makeshift grill they would throw them against the ground until all the spikes were rounded, crack them open and eat the roe like candy. Five for 500 central African dollars. What one would pay forty dollars for in a sushi restaurant was being sold for a dollar.

I less pleasant experience is the smell of the city, possibly the smell of the third world. Burning rubber, weeks of trash pile-up and the strong smell of fish emitted from the ocean combine to make a odor that will turn even the strongest of stomachs. However, this is one of the few negative things that I’ve experienced. After our walk we were picked up by our coordinators and taken to the house of the head coordinator. We ate fish and rice on the roof followed by attaye, a meal that lasted nearly four hours. Because of sanitary purposes the Senegalese never eat with their left hand. Nor do they use silverwear. Everyone sits barefoot around a large bowl and the head of the house divides the food accordingly. One then makes balls of rice, meat and vegetables with their hands and in one felt motions swoops the food into their mouths. Like anything that involves talent those who do it well make it look easy. I assure you it is not. By the end of the meal I had more food on my lap that I had managed to get into my mouth. Thankfully I’m that clumsy toubab (white person) that everyone can laugh at. The meal was followed by attaye which is a Senegalese tea that is prepared meticulously and over a long period of time. A pot of tea is boiled and then and then a single two ounce cup is filled with tea. This cup is used to create a froth that supposedly separates Senegalese tea from all other teas. The froth is created by pulling the tea (pouring it quickly over while raising the glass so that by the time all the tea has left the first cup the two cups are nearly three feet away from eachother. Again I can’t even fathom the amount of precision this requites. And time; to make one cup of froth can take as many as sixty of seventy exchanges between the two glasses. Since the glasses are so small everyone is served two, the second intensely more sugary and strong that the first. However, attaye was not the best thing that I drank as I was introduced to bissap juice and boaba juice. Bissap juice is cultivated from the flow of the hibiscus tree and is as deep in color as a red wine. It’s sour, sweet and possibly the most refreshing thing that I’ve drank. Boaba juice looks like a frapachino but tastes much better. Its rich, creamy an almost tastes of caramel. It’s thick and in itself could feed a person. One thing worth mentioning is that the Senegalese do NOT drink anything with their meals. Juice and water before and attaye after. I’m not sure why but when I find out I’ll inform you. After our meal we headed back to the hotel for some much needed sleep.