Maren in Dakar

Samay xarit

2005-12-07T07:01:00.000-08:00

Fresh-squeezed orange juice - possibly, even better than milkshakes.

Jenise, me and a couple of the 30-year-old men I hang out with on a regular basis (it's normal, Mom. I swear).

The loves of my life and me.

Izo studying the art of a perfectly roasted marshmallow.

kids at a concert.

Concert at the French Cultural Center in Dakar.

Ewan and "Sama nijaay"

FALL BREAK!!

2005-12-07T05:48:00.000-08:00

Yes, I know fall break was in October, but it's taken some time to get these photos on to my computer. I have to admit though, they are doozies. Here is a brief summary, in case you have forgotten or I haven't written about it yet. Enjoy the pictures. They make me jealous of myself two months ago.

Traveling Companions: Ewan and Jenise
Original destination: Maliville, Guinea
Actual destination: mountain village of Dande, near Senegal and Guinean border
Destinations en route: city of Kedougou, village of Dindefallo (which means, foot of the mountain)
Transportation: station wagon: Dakar to Kedougou; mountain bikes: Kedougou to Dindefallo; foot while carrying bikes (or hiring someone to carry them for you): Dindefallo to Dande

** on photo indicated good story accompanying photo. Ask me later.

Fields of millet; mountains and Guinea in the background.

Biking to Guinea. Maren and our guide in Dande, Doba.

The craziest man in the world.**

Maren and Doba making ataaya (tea).

Jenise, Doba, Maren descending the mountain.

Sorry about the blur. Doba, Jenise, Maren and Ewan in Kedougou, getting ready to go home. **

Our hike to the "teeth" of Dande.

The "teeth" and the view.

Hiking.

Hiking (with Panama Jack).

Because chickens need thatched roofs, too!

Women at work.

Maren and Jenise. The background? The view from my waterfall shower.

Climbing up to Dande.

I like kids.

Also, I like goats.

Wow.

Hotel goat farm.

Our guide and buddy in Kedougou with his family.

Kaolack

2005-11-25T04:44:00.000-08:00

Nightly gathering of my host family. What you don't see is the Argentine soap opera in the background - the reason they're all there in the first place.

What happens when a toubab waves at a village classroom.

Sharif, my little host brother and cutest boy alive.

Isles Saloum (again)

2005-11-25T04:18:00.000-08:00

We went to a wrestling match. Believe it or not, this is one of the wrestlers, and yes, that is Winne the Pooh on his spandex.

To get to our hotel, we took pirogues. To get the water out of one of the pirogues, somebody used a bucket to dump it out. Sorry about the photo quality - action shot, you know.

Pretty typical village kids + toubab shot. These kids were less aggressive than most that I've seen, so it was enjoyable.

Why November 8 was a Typical Day in Senegal

2005-11-10T05:09:00.000-08:00

- my French professor was 20 minutes late for class, then canceled the test that was scheduled for the day.
- My presentation scheduled for Thursday was pushed back two weeks
- I ate ceebu jen for lunch and dinner
- Dinner was in front of the television
- On the television was an American movie, set in Thailand, translated into French
- Madame Melo and Sali both asked Sahnah (my Korean roommate) if she understood the Thai. All Asians are the same in Senegal. Obviously.
- When I went swimming, I shared a lane with seven other swimmers
- I listened to a guy convince me that swimming during Ramadan, after eating nothing all day, is good for you because it "makes you lighter." Riiiiiiiight.
- When passing a neighbor-friend, he pointed to a button on my bag and said, "you're going to give that to me as a gift, right?" Again, riiiiiight.
- I sweated a lot.

See Maren in a bubu!

2005-11-07T01:29:00.000-08:00

This past weekend, we celebrated Korite, a holiday that takes place at the end of Ramadan. As if muslims hadn't ravaged their bodies enough from fasting by day and eating to capacity at night, on Korite, muslims spend the day stopping by neighbors' and families' homes to eat - multiple times.

As my family here is Christian, I spent the holiday with Jenise and her family. Because dressing up in traditional bubus is also a trademark of Korite, I borrowed a bubu from our muslim maid, and Jenise had one made for her. We started the day by eating some millet, milk, and sugar which would have kept us full until dinner, but we ate two lunches anyway.

The first was at Jenise's: a chicken, which we had seen scampering around her courtyard just hours before, onion sauce, and fried potatoes. Adorned in our Korite-best, we made our way to our first visit where we drank bissap and ditakh juice, followed by sheep and couscous, and a rice-pudding like dessert with millet, chocolate and peanut sauces. mmmmmmmmmm.

Jenise and I were fortunate; at the other houses we visited, they didn't feed us, and we were able to return home satisfied, not sick. Here are a few pictures from the day:

Taking out my culture shock frustrations on some garlic and onions. . . and helping cook lunch in the meantime.

Jenise, her brother Idy and our escort for the day, me.

Full-length view. The woman with us is a friend of Idy's that we visited and who stuffed us with juice, sheep, and couscous.

Saloum

2005-11-01T07:03:00.000-08:00

These pictures are almost all from Sine Saloum, or little villages thereabouts. I was there this past weekend with one of my classes to go to a village with ancient shell mounds. . .and we didn't do much else. We did go to a couple villages where children swarmed us and bothered us for gifts, like usual. We also rode in pirogues, pictured below in the sunset, through some mangroves where we saw some pretty cool birds.

Pirogues at sunset

This picture was inserted randomly because I think it's funny. This is Anita, my sister, doing an impression of me. She got a little camera-shy and I couldn't capture the full expression, but I think it might be pretty accurate. And if not, it's funny.

A student, Dylan, from Georgetown and me trying to keep up with the rest of the group.

Allez le Senegal!

2005-10-12T07:34:00.000-07:00

This past Saturday, Senegal played Mali in a match that could have been an important one in qualifying for the World Cup. It wasn't though. I don't understand the logistics, but I think Senegal's entry into the tourney was dependent on Togo losing to Congo, which was near-impossible. So even though Senegal won easily, it was still the last game of the season. We enjoyed the experience nevertheless, and I was definitely surprised by how modern a sporting event it seemed to be. I guess I had expected that it would have more of an "African" feel to it. I guess I should have learned by now that the term "African" is broad to the point of uselessness.

The car rapide en route to the match. From left: Brittany, Jenise, me, the apprenti*, and our Wolof

* apprentis are teenage boys that work on car rapides. They tell the driver when to stop for passengers, when to drop them off, and are notoriously rude. This one's smiling though. Must be a good one.

This is a picture of the stadium from a distance. That's part of Dakar in the background.

My dear, estranged SIT friend Meg and me.

This picture is here because I like it. I made Jenise put her foot up,
because she inadvertantly dressed in yellow, red and green for the
match. Jenise, ladies and gentlemen.

Step aside, Beyonce

2005-10-03T08:27:00.000-07:00

I met these girls at an engagement party and wound up taking dance lessons from them the entire night. A few times, it was just the two of them on the dance floor, sassy and loving the attention. Needless to say, I was in love.

Maren and Sahnah at Touba Diallo

2005-10-03T08:07:00.000-07:00

How does one shower in Senegal?

2005-10-03T07:26:00.000-07:00

I really wouldn't know. I've kind of forgotten, actually. Since Saturday, there has been no running water in several neighborhoods. Why? Nobody really knows. The only thing my family says about it is that "it will come." It's just a matter of how long, and whether or not it will be before the stench of ourselves gets the best of our sanity.

Perhaps it already has. All the other students came to school today completely delirious from frustration. It's pretty inconceivable that something as necessary and mundane as water can just disappear, with no indication of when it will be back. The lucky ones among us have families who had heard in advance that the water would be gone, but Madame Melo and current events might as well be on separate planets (unless, by "current events" one means the latest music video on TRACE TV or the happenings of her favorite soap opera). Therefore, Sahnah and I have gone without showering for two days. Coming from showering regularly twice daily, it's been a tough transition. Last night, I could hardly sleep - disgusted with my own odor.

Fortunately, drinking water is still available; filth will probably be the extent of my suffering. I've been able to find some silver linings, even. The city has probably saved a remarkable amount of water, and the uncleanliness I feel right now will be good preparation for the backpacking trip I'll be taking in two weeks. What is most bothersome about this ordeal is the fact that it is so very different from home. I hope I never lose sight of how lucky I am to have running water, at my disposal, 24 hours a day. Wow. . .it's a nice thought.

2005-09-30T10:45:00.000-07:00

Until today, I had somehow escaped being emotionally confronted by the squalid poverty and utter dispair that plagues this country. Today, walking by my favorite Western-style patisserie, it grabbed me by the wrist. It held my wrist the entire ten-minute walk to the car rapide station, where it reluctantly exonerated me physically, only to take an unforgiving grip on my heart that will not abate.

The horrors of Dakar were personified today by a little boy, a talibe, who walked with me, requesting nothing from me but the grip of my wrist. He was the same little boy to whom I had given a piece of bread upon my exit from breakfast earlier that day. We walked; I in shoes, he in calluses; I with my digital camera, cell phone and small fortune in hand, and he with his coffee can, jingling meager amounts of change. He did not speak French, but I spoke to him anyway, calling him "Petit Monsieur" and thanking him for accompanying me. He didn't give me puppy eyes, he didn't call me "Mademoiselle Toubab," he didn't dolefully outstretch his tiny palm. He held on to me, like a small pet, seeming satisfied with that alone.

When I got to my destination, other customers reprimanded the little boy for bothering me, a "toubab," but I reassured him of my gratitude for his company. Again, I thanked my waist-high escort, and got ready to mount the car rapide. My "Petit Monsieur" wouldn't let go of my hand. I thought about giving him a piece of candy, perhaps another piece of bread, but thought it bad of me to reward his clinging. Other "toubabs" would not be as forgiving, I justified. Trying to express my appreciation, I patted his head, rubbed his back, scantily covered by the threads that remained of his shirt, and said "merci beaucoup," once more. He released me, reluctantly, and I got on the car.

On the 40 minute ride back to campus, I found that I hadn't been released at all. I was haunted by the feeling of his hand enclosed around my arm and the fact that I had done nothing for him. Does he possibly understand that sometimes one has the desire to give but does not give? Do I understand it? I don't think so. Nor do I understand why, why, why he lives on the streets with a coffee-can living or why when I got back to school, I washed my wrist of the grime he had on his hands, the filth he lives with every day. What makes me too good, too clean for it?

It isn't guilt that I feel, really. It's helplessness. If I could, I would buy that little boy my entire patisserie. If it would help him, really, I would empty my pockets into his coffee can. The excruciating reality is that those things, though they would maybe fill his tummy, would not relieve the other talibe, the thousands that are in Dakar, of the burdens that rob them of their innocence.

My hope, though naive, is that somehow, in ten minutes and a bite of bread, I touched a little talibe the way he touched me. That for ten minutes, my company, my words, or my hand on his head mitigated his suffering. I like to think he'll remember me. It is the only thing that eases his grip on my heart.

Eating in Senegal

2005-09-26T09:10:00.000-07:00

I sent an e-mail today about the food I've been eating recently, and thought it might be an interesting thing to include here.

For the most part, we eat rice and fish, as is depicted a few blogs ago. It is delicious, and I far prefer it to most less-traditional meals we have at home. As of late, Sahnah and I have even begun to eat it out of a big bowl (again, like the picture. Except we use spoons, not our hands) with our sisters at lunch time. This is a big deal because the two of us are almost always at the table with Madame Melo while our sisters eat elsewhere - often, in front of the TV. Eating with our sisters at lunch time feels like a rite of passage I am happy to have made.

We do have to live without some things, though. Among them: coffee, milk, cheese, and any kind of bread besides baguettes. So far, it hasn't been too bad. Every once in a while, I can drink some powdered milk heated and with sugar. And I have gotten disturbingly used to instant coffee.

More to come. And editing.

Touba Dialow

2005-09-19T06:52:00.000-07:00

This past weekend, the entire group of CIEE students took a little weekend vacation to Touba Dialow, a small resort about two hours south of Dakar.We spent the day lounging on the beach, taking classes in African dance and batik (a kind of tapestry), and eating amaaaaazing food. All in all, the most comfortable weekend I've spent here, and I had begun planning a trip back well before we even left. The pictures: 1) the dining room 2) Maren, Jenise and Catherine, one of the directors of the program 3)my feet, exquisitely Chaco-tanned, and the ocean.

More pictures

2005-09-13T04:33:00.000-07:00

An aerial view of a road in Dakar. Notice the lack of organization and the disturbing mix of pedestrian and vehicle traffic. Not pictured: The evil motor scooters that come out of nowhere and stop for nothing.

Ceebu-jen. the national dish of Senegal consisting of rice, fish, and lots and lots of oil. Some families in Dakar still eat this way, with hands around a bowl. My family is pretty Western: we eat fish and rice with silverware.

Meet My Senegalese Family

2005-09-13T04:02:00.000-07:00

So, I don't really have the layout thing down yet, but the first picture up there is my youngest sister, Anita. She's 19 and really fun. Next, Madame Melo and me. The last picture, from left: Sahnah, Anne-Marie, Sali, and me before going out and staying out until 5 in the morning. Craaaazy.

Contacting Me

2005-09-12T09:06:00.000-07:00

I've gotten a bunch of questions as to how to do this, so here goes.

E-mail is the best method of contacting me; it is certainly the most reliable. Even so, my course schedule and the sketchy power situation can make even responding to e-mails difficult, so my apologies in advance.

As for writing letters, my address is:

Maren Schultz c/o CIEE Study Center
Km 6, Ave Cheikh Anta Diop
BP 16423
Dakar, Fann
SENEGAL

No, my house does not have a mailbox that I am aware of. I've never even seen mail on the table. It probably exists, but I have far more faith in the system we have going here on campus.

AND you can actually call me! I have a house phone number that I'll put up soon, but from what I hear it is cheaper if you call my cell phone. You can find calling cards and programs online to soften the blow of normally high rates, but the past few times I've had calls from the States, I've heard that the cheapest ones are cheap because they're not good. Just something to keep in mind. The number to reach me is 011 - 221-560-37-94. My phone also receives text messages, so if you can send those for cheap, you can try that too.

That's how to get in touch with me. Hope to hear from you soon!

First Three E-mails

2005-09-08T08:05:00.000-07:00

Wednesday, September 7

Subject:
Mooooore Senegal

Hello all!

It's already/only been two and a half weeks. Things have become pretty routine, so it's hard to know what to say that will be of interest, but I'll do my best. (This next part I wrote after finishing this e-mail) Turns out I did a good job, because this is a loooong e-mail. You may want to read it in a couple installments. Or just choose a few paragraphs.

This past weekend, the entire group of 29 of us went to Goree Island. I've been calling it "Postcard Senegal," as it is the kind of place you would see on travel brochures, etc. It's a little island off the West coast of Senegal that has nice beaches, restaurants, and where pushy artisans abound - particularly in a group of conspicuous Americans. It's also well known for La Maison des Esclaves (The Slave House), a small structure that is said to have housed slaves before their journey to the Americas. Today, its merit is more symbolic than historic, but touring dorm-size rooms that held 15-20 people was a horrific experience, and got me to thinking more about the state of humanity than I would have cared to do on "Postcard Senegal." I learned a lot though, and got my fair share of fun in later in the day, spending most of it on the beach. You can see pictures on the "blog" I've created for my trip here at www.marenindakar.blogspot.com. This site may or may not take the place of these mass e-mails, depending on how well I learn to navigate it. I'll keep you posted.

Another highlight of this past weekend was seeing l'Orchestra Baobab at a club Saturday night. People don't even start going out here until after midnight, so that has been a big adjustment to my usual style of going out, which involves coming home at about that time. I did well this past weekend, though, and the band and dancing were a nice break from the school week.

For all you Anne-Marie fans out there, here's another story that does justice to her character, in my opinion. Last week, I was reading in my room when I heard an eruption of chaotic, almost violent yelling. Wolof is a violent-sounding language in general, so at first I thought nothing of it, but it continued for 20 minutes! Fortunately, the squabble ended before Sahnah and I had to leave for school, and we didn't learn the cause of the fight until later that evening. We learned that Anne-Marie had essentially started a shouting match with the maid of another household. Something about cleaning out the dirty rainwater from the street. The maid's employer had come out and started yelling back at Anne-Marie, whose family from down the street then came to her defense.

The funny part of the story is not that Anne-Marie started a huge argument, but that she was proud of it afterwards. Like a little boy after a fight, she asked us things like "so, did you hear the fight I started outside?" and assured us that, "nothing could happen to her because she has 8 men living at her house." When we told her that the yelling had scared us, she smiled broadly and chuckled, exposing one of her silver teeth. She seldom smiles that way, and it was obvious she felt she had accomplished something. Anne-Marie.

I don't want to cheat the other members of the household, so I'll introduce you all to another of my "sisters" named Betty. Betty is always naked. Our household is all women, so it's never a problem, but it still throws me off sometimes when I'm resting in my room and she sits down on the bed in only a tanktop. She's jovial and giggly, especially when talking to one of her boyfriends on her cell phone. She does this incessantly and has more men than I can keep straight. They spoil her rotten, though, and she shared one of her latest gifts - a box of pastries - with Sahnah and me the other day. Therefore, I may not approve of her behavior with these men, but I don't plan on complaining any time soon. Not about the men anyway. Sahnah found out that Betty doesn't use any kind of birth control or STD protection, so we're hoping to broach that subject soon.

Betty is just one example of how complex and interesting male/female relationships can be. No one yet has understood the concept of men and women being just friends. While Sahnah has been trying to forge said relationship with a neighbor-boy by having tea at his house, she has, Anne-Marie told us, developed somewhat of a reputation. It is rare for men or women to visit each other without the intention of marriage, and because of that, they usually spend more time interacting with the family than with the significant other. Marriage itself is less a celebration of two people than of two joining families. A couple kids here have already been to weddings where the bride or groom was not present. It just isn't important, I guess.

As for me, things have been going well. The settling part of my journey is about over, and the adjustment part has just begun. Things are very different, and I'd be lying if I said I haven't been feeling some frustration with this new culture. I keep trying to remind myself that time here is short, and can't be spent complaining. Once I'm in the groove with all my classes and such, I'm sure I won't have time to think about my frustrations. Sickness, fortunately, is one thing I have yet to stress too much about. The poo gods have been smiling on me, as I have spent the last three days gloriously diarrhea-free, and even that wasn't a big problem. The fact that I can add anecdotes about "kaka" in an e-mail should be a testament to the ease in which all the American students talk about the subject. It's domination of our conversations is second only to the foods we miss in the States (which, is basically ANY food in the states).

Wow. This e-mail has taken a while, and I didn't even write about my daily walk to school. . . until next time. Hope all is well!

Peace and love,
Maren

Monday, August 29

Subject:
Senegal 2

Hello all!

Hope you are all having wonderful days. How is Senegal? Sweaty. Vibrant. Friendly. Polluted. Generous. In short, it is very different environment than what I am used to, but the people are great and I am happy so far.

So much has happened since I last wrote, it is difficult to know where to begin. Culture shock has still yet to set in, and mostly I am in awe of my surroundings. People are consistently kind, very generous, and chatty! One thing I need to get used to is stopping to converse with almost everyone I see. There are two aspects of Senegalese culture I have yet to warm to: wiping with my hand and littering. The way I say it, if I don’t feel like I’ve had enough culture in a few weeks, I can start doing them, but for now, I’m happy to explore Senegal with clean hands and a clean conscience.

I moved in with my host family last Friday night, and my roommate, Sahnah, and I feel comfortable already. The other inhabitants are an old woman named Madame Melo, and three young women about our age, whose relationship to Madame Melo is yet unknown (I call Madame Melo “Meme” – grandmother – but for the purpose of sounding more like a novel, I’ll probably refer to her mostly as Madame Melo. It’s a sweet name). Sahnah and I share a room that is a typical dorm room size, and the bathroom is nearby. We are very spoiled. Our laundry is done by the maid (it is typical for Senegalese families to have a maid), our shower is not from a bucket and is actually wonderful, and the delicious dinners we receive are often supplemented by bottled water for which they refuse to accept compensation. One of our most valuable resources, however, is Anne-Marie, one of the older women in the household.

Anne-Marie is about 26 and does a lot of cooking, cleaning, and smiling. She is also a very large woman, whose physique screams, “Don’t mess with me.” Going out with her makes me feel like I have a personal security guard, as a single glare from her makes the less acceptable men run away with their tails between their legs. It seems that she is in charge of the entire neighborhood. Though I don’t understand the Wolof she primarily speaks with others, from what I gather, she is boss, and generally respected by everyone. This afternoon she is coming with Sahnah and me to Dakar where we hope to do a little bargaining with her help. If all goes as planned, I will acquire a cell phone which will be wonderful for communication with home and for security reasons here.

This morning, we were supposed to have a French class at nine, but arrived to find a less-than-apologetic staff saying that class is actually tomorrow, and that they hadn’t changed the schedule. . or something like that. Collectively, we decided that it’s best not to get worked up about things like that, and to show up on time, prepared for everyone else to be late. I am sure it will happen often.

Real school doesn’t start until next Monday, but we have more orientation meetings, French classes, and Wolof classes this week. When school begins, I will have about four hours of class Monday through Thursday with Fridays off. I hope to arrange some kind of volunteer work at an orphanage near my host home for those free days.

So that’s a little bit about my situation right now. I miss you all and continue to thank you for thoughts and prayers. They are always appreciated and reciprocated!

Love to all,
Maren

Monday, August 22

Subject:
Senegal!!!!

Salaamaaleekum!

(makes ‘hi’ seem really lame, doesn’t it?). In case you hadn’t guessed, this is the mass e-mail list I will be using for my four months in Senegal. It’s just friends, family, and people that I thought would, in general, be interested in my travels. If you happen to know someone else that is interested, please feel free to forward this and others to him or her; as you can probably guess, these e-mails are not too personal to be shared.

First and foremost, thanks very much for all the thoughts and prayers I know I had coming over here. Getting on the plane was much easier when I thought about all the support I had back home. Once I got past the initial worries, the flight was very pleasant, and I highly recommend South African Airlines to anyone traveling to this neck of the woods.

Catherine, a wide-smiling employee of CIEE, greeted us (“us” being myself and about ten other CIEE students) at the airport upon arrival. It was 7 in the morning, and we explored the city/looked for a functionning ATM until lunch at 1 pm. I couldn’t help but sleep for most of the afternoon, and I still found it very easy to sleep that night after dinner and meeting my classmates. They are all wonderful and I was pleased to learn what they are seeking here - adventure, a chance to step outside the comfort zone, understanding of other cultures – are the same reasons I came.

Dakar, though, is very interesting and very different than what I’m used to. Yes, it is exactly what I wanted with my study abroad experience, but it’s hard to imagine that in the following months I’ll get used to being surrounded by poverty and, literally, garbage. Walking down the street, we get pestered by children in threadbare clothing asking for “cadeaux?” (gifts), and my marriage proposal tally is at 1, despite only spending a few hours in the street yesterday. Don’t get excited, it was neither tempting nor romantic.

As of now, I’m still living on campus at Suffolk University, where students for the first semester won’t arrive until October. The food has been quite good so far, consisting of bread and associated condiments for breakfast, usually some kind of meat and rice with what I like to call, “delicious spicy sauce” for lunch and dinner, though I wasn’t sure I’d ever use the words “delicious” and “spicy” in the same sentence. Friday, I’ll move in with a Senegalese family, about whom I still know nothing, but I’m still excited.

I’m not exactly sure what everyone is curious about, so send me questions and I will answer them. Better yet, write me letters at:

Maren Schultz c/o CIEE Study Center
Km 6, Ave Cheikh Anta Diop
BP 16423
Dakar, Fann
SENEGAL

Actually, don’t write me if you have questions. Mail will take at least a couple weeks and that would just be silly. I would love, however to hear about things going on with all of you, so don’t hesitate to send e-mails if you have time.

For those of you who followed this entire e-mail, I hope all is well. You will hear more from me in the following months.

Love,
Maren

Learning the ropes of blogging

2005-09-06T09:40:00.000-07:00

My apologies to any blog-literate people who are appalled at the state of my posts. I'm pretty sure I've figured out a more efficient way to do things. . . . pretty sure. All of the pictures to this point are from our trip to Goree Island this past weekend. It's a beautiful island of the coast of Senegal with beaches, restaurants, and full of musicians and artisans. Enjoy the photos and my future blog slip-ups.

Beach and buildings

2005-09-06T08:25:00.000-07:00

Maren and Jenise

2005-09-06T07:52:00.000-07:00

Friends! Yay!

2005-09-06T07:43:00.000-07:00

From left: My roommate Sahnah, your favorite world traveler, and Brittany. Also, Dakar in the background

Kids on boat

2005-09-06T07:32:00.000-07:00

These kids thought it was pretty fun to dive in front of the huge ferry just as it pulled in to the dock to swim around it, hang on it, etc. Ha ha. Good one, kids. Maybe next time you'll give me a heart attack. . .

Pretty buildings on Goree

2005-09-06T07:25:00.000-07:00

Goree Island

2005-09-06T07:15:00.000-07:00

This is Stephanie and me on the boat. She is cool.