Guest Blog

So today I thought since Caroline is visiting, she could write a blog about something about our travels to southern Senegal (Casamance region). Voila:

I’ve been home for one day, and my favorite story that I’ve been telling to debrief friends and family on how my trip to Senegal was, is of the boat ride that Steve and I took from Zuiginchor to Dakar. We bought fourth-class (the lowest class) tickets because they were the cheapest, and we figured that the level of discomfort that we would experience in the lowest class would be on par with the rest of our travels.

The boat that we took was named “Osama,” and like its name indicated, it was evil. Our fourth-class tickets landed us in the basement of the boat in a room with about 70 other members of our caste. Until it got cold, Steve and I enjoyed sitting out on the deck with a few other volunteers, soaking up some sun and comparing travel stories. The other volunteers were smart enough to spend five dollars more for third-class tickets that included showers and beds. We split with the other volunteers when it got cold and we were forced down into our
basement seats with the luxury of a flat-screen television that played French-dubbed, awful American movies.

I took a Dramamine so that I would be able to sleep and avoid motion sickness, but Steve was wide awake and stuck in his chair between me (asleep) and a weird couple. We called them a weird couple because the guy looked like Kevin Federline and the girl smelled strongly of
smoke and alcohol. However, the weird couple didn’t really act weird. In fact, everyone in our fourth-class area acted much the same. We all tried to sleep. Some people were retching and puking in plastic bags, stuck in their seats. While others were able to sleep and snored loudly.

Steve had one moment of hope when Return of the Jedi came on the TV. However, just as his favorite scene came on, the Ewoks’ fight scene, the TV was turned off. An hour later after Steve beat me in the Smart Dots game (he cheated), the weird girl asked Steve for a stick of gum.
Steve got the gum from me and I gave her a piece begrudgingly. I told Steve he should have told her he didn’t have any. Throughout the trip, Steve and I were able to recognize when we got mad at each other for circumstantial reasons, like being stuck in a room full of retching snorers, or whenever we were hangry (angry because we were hungry).

Steve ended up reading Zen and The Art of Motorcycle Maintenance in different hallways of the ship, and in my Dramamine-induced state, I was able to sleep most of the night. That’s how we made it from Zuiginchor to Dakar aboard the noble Osama.

Thanks Caroline! Here's a picture of her on the roof of our house in Saint-Louis

Also, stay tuned for the next blog, in which I will explain this picture: