Impluvium

Eleven days! I’m enjoying the Basse Cassamance, but I can’t stop counting the days! In fact, it’s nine days until I’m in Accra, exactly two weeks until I have a home. Oh, I can’t wait!

After a yummy lunch, a long nap and some repacking, I walked down through the village, into the market and around to the chichi hotels where I browsed through their souvenirs. At the Artists Village, I mostly stuck to the line that I was just looking and would return before I left so I could buy things but not have to carry them. I bought a piece of fabric for a skirt that I think Mom will love, and befriended a seller named Boubacar, who took me around to all the stalls and spoke to the vendors in Wolof or Jola when my French failed me. They had lots of interesting stuff and almost no pressure to buy. In the end, Boubacar and I swapped addresses. I gave him a Canadian flag pin and he gave me a little caving. I left feeling rather in love with humanity generally.

By the time I got back, it was already dark, so I had a shower, did some laundry and headed for bed, remembering it was Saturday and I was staying at the hottest place in town only after I was in bed and could hear the faint backbeat. I was tempted, but didn’t want to spoil my generally good mood with a night of fending off unwanted advances.

But I had one last encounter at the gare routiere, which spoiled things anyway. It’s like now that I’m wise to the ways of travel here -- or getting wiser, perhaps – I’m far less jovial about being ripped off by hustlers and touts. Or maybe these guys are just simply paying for months of built-up frustration.

Either way, after a rather cantankerous exchange, I finally got in the car hand headed to the very tranquil village of Oussouyme, where the living is easy. Most people have been incredibly warm, welcoming and friendly. And the auberge is one of those rain huts, so that’s kinda cool.