Wednesday, October 12, 2011 Paris, Flight to Dakar

Air France decided that it would give me a free night in Paris on my way from London to Dakar; not complaining.  However, since I had packed for Africa exclusively, I was so scrubby for being in one of the most fashionable cities in the world.  I nevertheless set off, walking through Paris' charming little streets, lined with tables and seating.  I walked over to the scenic Seine River, followed by a jaunt to the grand Louvre, the exterior just as beautiful as the interior.  I can't get over the fact thqt qny given dqy from London, I cqn tqke the trqin right over.  I walked through the world-famous Champs-Elysses; one of the world's best shopping arcades amongst the throngs of international tourists and beautiful Parisians.  After finishing the day off with the Arc du Triomphe and falafels in the Jewish Quarter, I picked up my bag at the hostel.  The guy was pretty funny and said that the majority of their guests are Germans, who love Paris [evidenced by the fact they have invaded France multiple times].  I took the Metro to the ,ain Paris du Nord station, which was basically West Africa already; everyone was African speaking pidgin French.  Charles de Gaulle airport is huge and so it took a bit to get to the gate.  The flight to Dakar, Senegal was mostly Senegalese, and the odd European businessman.  I was without a doubt the only American on the wide-body plane.  The short 5-hour flight was boring, partly in fact because the TV screen was not functional.  The plane flew over Spain and the Canary Islands before landing on a strip of land jutting into the Atlantic Ocean known as Cap Vert.  Of course the first thing I see when landing is the window immediately steams up.  Then, fire crews are scrambling to extinguish a huge fire in one of the hangars; welcome to Africa.  Immigration, an unorganized clusterfuck, took an hour in a non-AC room, but Senegal is just about the only West African nation that does not require a visa, so I'm not complaining.  Then this guy wouldn't stop following me and so I got some money and was going to tip him 50 cents (more than most Senegalese make in a day), and of course he took my large bill and ran away without giving me change that I requested.  So things were off to a great start on my trip so far: First 15 minutes and someone already robbed me.  As if that wasn't enough, his friend got in the front seat of my cab and was going to "show me hotels" aka getting a commission for the hotel I was already going to.  I told him I didn't need him to come, and the cab driver and him got in a heated yelling match in some pidgin French language; so serious that I was opening the door getting ready to find another ride.  Finally the guy got out, and although I was slightly sketched out, I made it to my hotel, a place above the late-night shawarma stand, Ali Baba.  It was a clean hotel with my own room (I'm pretty sure I am the only guest) but was 30 dollars, which seems like a lot for West Africa, considering that's almost as much as a motel in the US.  I got some Senegalese food called tjibouienne which was a fish and couscous and vegetables, and was pretty tasty.  Then I took a cab to a Senegalese bar in the suburbs (meaning outside the city center, on the side of the "highway"), which was dead, so I went to a different one called Vicky next to my hotel, where a 23-year old Senegalese prostitute was trying to get me to take her back to Ali Baba.  Oh, and she also had a HUGE herpes cold sore on her lip.  I had to basically step over sleeping bodies on ,my way back to my hotel; homeless people EVERYWHERE.  So impoverished and heartbreaking.