Road trip to Dakar
Every week brings new adventures and challanges. Now that I've gotten the standard cliche out of the way, allow me to share the week with you. This week: Dakar, city of cities, the crown jewel in an otherwise dusty, rural country. City of big hopes and expectations, conspicuous consumption at its best. Going to Dakar reminds me that Senegal is a middle-income country after all, and one should think about it as such.
What does Dakar look like? Lonely Planet describes the city as urban Africa at its best and worst. From the first moments off the plane at the airport in the suburbs of the city you get a look of urban Africa at its worst. Beggars, street children, trash, and the bustle of crowded, polluted arteries are all trademarks of the suburbs surrounding the city on the stretch connecting the peninsula to the rest of the country. Once you cut through the hour-long traffic jam and finally make way down the peninsula, you're afforded a different view altogether; highrises, tall mosques, new apartment blocks sprouting up. The roads are packed with Mercedes and BMWs, of various model and calibre, as well as the normal Senegalese fare, expired Mercedes trucks and old Peugots. You're finally deposited in or around the gare of the city, which is a big mixing bowl, combining humanity in all forms with cars and animals.
Once out of the chaos, you get to experience a normal urban setting. The roads are paved and packed with cars, strewn with apartment complexes in a rather ordinary fashion. There are air conditioned gas stations, book stores, and pharmacies. And a canal, quaint though acrid. There's a rocky, scenic coast with beaches and a lighthouse. There's a posh downtown with banks, plazas, luxury highrises, and restaurants. The downtown has the feel of something tropical, not distinctly African.
Then there are the neighborhoods. Patron life is reflected not just in the choice of cars but in architecture as well. Housing is sometimes an expression of ornateness, with corniches, balconies, and Gauddiesque detailing. It is about status as well as aesthetics. There are little touches, too, including actual grass, imported no doubt from someplace much more temperate.
Nightlife gets moving around 1 in the morning. You shouldn't even bother arriving before midnight. As you swing by the streets you can see Lebanese teenagers spring by in Vespas, shouting at crowds and smoking cigarettes, wearing their American best.
I spent my stipend for the next two weeks on two beers and a chawarma. Enough said.
What does Dakar look like? Lonely Planet describes the city as urban Africa at its best and worst. From the first moments off the plane at the airport in the suburbs of the city you get a look of urban Africa at its worst. Beggars, street children, trash, and the bustle of crowded, polluted arteries are all trademarks of the suburbs surrounding the city on the stretch connecting the peninsula to the rest of the country. Once you cut through the hour-long traffic jam and finally make way down the peninsula, you're afforded a different view altogether; highrises, tall mosques, new apartment blocks sprouting up. The roads are packed with Mercedes and BMWs, of various model and calibre, as well as the normal Senegalese fare, expired Mercedes trucks and old Peugots. You're finally deposited in or around the gare of the city, which is a big mixing bowl, combining humanity in all forms with cars and animals.
Once out of the chaos, you get to experience a normal urban setting. The roads are paved and packed with cars, strewn with apartment complexes in a rather ordinary fashion. There are air conditioned gas stations, book stores, and pharmacies. And a canal, quaint though acrid. There's a rocky, scenic coast with beaches and a lighthouse. There's a posh downtown with banks, plazas, luxury highrises, and restaurants. The downtown has the feel of something tropical, not distinctly African.
Then there are the neighborhoods. Patron life is reflected not just in the choice of cars but in architecture as well. Housing is sometimes an expression of ornateness, with corniches, balconies, and Gauddiesque detailing. It is about status as well as aesthetics. There are little touches, too, including actual grass, imported no doubt from someplace much more temperate.
Nightlife gets moving around 1 in the morning. You shouldn't even bother arriving before midnight. As you swing by the streets you can see Lebanese teenagers spring by in Vespas, shouting at crowds and smoking cigarettes, wearing their American best.
I spent my stipend for the next two weeks on two beers and a chawarma. Enough said.
posted by Unknown at 10:27 AM
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