6 June Continued

After spending most of the afternoon working on photos and the blog, I decided to do a little walk-around solid with the M5.

The cadets had gone out earlier to do a little shopping and later said that they’d been robbed by hawkers.  Austin had finally bought a Senegal Lions football Jersey for the World Cup, but they’d bought little else and had returned to the hotel to play cards and relax.

I stayed close the hotel and worked on the M5 whose controls are quite different really from the 5D.  I found it tougher to set Auto ISO and really just need practice with the touch screen.

I had my first less-than-friendly encounter with a local when I took a photo of a fruit stand and the back of the man selling fruit.  I don’t photograph his face, so I thought nothing of it. However, a man of about 30 walked up to me and said (in French) “Why do you think you have the right to take a photo?”

I think he was trying to shake me down for money, so I quickly shot back at him, while walking, “C’est un pays libre, n’est-ce pas?” (Isn’t this a free country?). He was clearly taken aback by my response, stopped walking towards me and said no more as I turned and walked away.  I do need to be more careful.

I walked around shooting more doorways and asked a few kids if I could take their photos. Some agreed, some did not.  I returned to the hotel at 1915 and shortly thereafter we left for the restaurant in the Hotel de la Residence just a block away.

Dinner was again good--a Prix fixe menu already arranged with salad to start. We we a little hesitant to eat the lettuce and tomatoes, but ultimately convinced each other to go for it, in part because of the balsamic vinegar.  Not foolproof, of course, but it worked for us.

The main course was either chicken brochets or grilled snapper with a choice of vegetables, rice, or frites.

The snapper was good, but bony and the veggies we're better than at La Flamingo the night before.  For drinks, we a few of us ordered Flag and then we had two large Kirene water bottles (1.5L) that we shared. Service was outstanding again--very friendly but not overbearing.  The sliced baguettes, which, I think may be the cadets’ favorite thing to eat on the trip, we're great.

For dessert, our waiter brought out little wooden pirogs with a scoop each of mango and strawberry sorbet, plus some small shortbread cookies.  The total bill came to about 7600CFA so we asked for 10,000 each and threw a 1000 CFA bill to each of the non-Flag drinkers. Both Idri and Augusto ate for free again and were clearly well-acquainted with the wait staff.

On the way back to the hotel, we bought two more 10L bottles of water for only 1000CFA apiece to recharge our bottles.

Becky and I returned to a rather chilly room as osur a/c had been running all evening, but it felt good while we pre-packed for the morning and climbed into bed.

7 June

The next morning, after sleeping fairly well, I woke up at 0530 ( the alarm was set for 0550), showered and tried to load more photos.

We met for breakfast at 0630, everyone dressed in long pants and long-sleeved shirts as instructed the night before by Augusto.  He’d told us that we would be leaving the next morning at 0700 for a three hour drive to Touba, the second largest city in Senegal and the home of a very large mosque.

According to our trip notes, Touba is the home of a particular Sufi Muslim sect and city with its Grand Mosque operates almost autonomously in the country.  Nearly 4,000,000 pilgrims visit the mosque each year from across West Africa.

Georgia wore a long black skirt and Becky put on her long grey convertible pants.  All of the men wore long-sleeved T or collared shirts.

Breakfast was again good with the same name as the day before. Matt and Evan shared another messy mango, while Becky and I had plain yogurt, pastries, coffee, and some cheese.

We left on time just after I hit the ATM for

100,000 CFA to get us through to Banjul over the next couple of days.

The route southeast from Saint-Louis was typical in that the quality of the road surface was outstanding and we went through a string of small towns that seemed identical.  Kids walking to school, women waiting for transportation to markets by communal taxi buses, goats along the road, and overloaded trucks.

It was cloudy and humid, with a few light sprinkles muddying the windshield.  The countryside for progressively drier as we went inland, with mostly bare ground and acacia trees by the time we’d traveled 30 km.

Senegal continues to amaze me because, despite the dirt, dust, and poverty, the hundreds of little kids, the trash, and the shacks, horse carts and abandoned cars, half-built and collapsing homes--very little that would suggest development past what you’d expect in the US during the Depression of the 1930s, men and women are often well-dressed if not overdressed in terms of style and colors, they make amazing French-style pastries, service and food is excellent, and kids are all walking long distances to school with backpacks full of books, often in uniforms.  While the boys are often barefoot, in shorts, with T-shirts, the girls and women are wearing very clean, very vibrant, colorful, full-length dresses with matching scarfs on their heads. Those without scarves have intricately coiffed, often tightly braided, hair.

All seem very honest and hard-working.  At La Hotel de la Posted, when we left our 'payment box’ at the table and forgot about the 2000CFA change from two Flag beers, the waitress presented the boss to me two hours later when I returned to order a second beer.  I paid her all 2000, tipping her 500 after the 1500 CFA beer.

So far the cadets have been outstanding--we couldn’t ask for better travel buddies.  Despite very different backgrounds at USAFA, they get along very well and we’ve had zero conflict.  There’s plenty of good-natured ribbing for little mistakes--as you:d expect on a France-led tip--and everyone seems willing to give and take in good humor.

They’ve all been on-time or early to every call and haven’t backed down from strolling through the worst back alley.  They’re asking good questions, are observant, trying to use a few French words, and are friendly and respectful of everyone they meet.

We’ve seen VERY few European/American/White tourists so far.  We stick out even more than I thought we would. The hawkers are very aggressive and pounce on us almost immediately upon leaving the hotel or mini-bus.  It reminds me a bit of Tanzania in that respect. Kids automatically ask us for money, candy, or ink pens. I wish we’d brought hundreds of ink pens!

I’ll say it again and again… you just can’t escape all of the plastic trash here. Everywhere. Bags stuck on virtually every Bush and tree along the roads. Piles of trash in every village. Some of it is burning, but Augusto tells me that it’s now illegal to burn the trash--apparently preferring one type of pollution over another.  I think we all need to get rid of plastic bags if we’re not going to assiduously commit to recycling them--and certainly containing discarded bags to real landfills in which they can degrade. Or we need to find new formulations that will degrade in days or weeks instead of years and decades.

In small villages that we passed, often the town was on one side of the road and the other side of the road was the town trash dump.

Along the road we saw increasing numbers of Falani grass/thatch huts mixed in with the usual block buildings.  We also saw Falani tribespeople wearing the typical woven conical hats.

We arrived in Touba from the North just before 1000, passing through a large concrete arch.  Idri told me later that all of the major roads leading to Touba had these large gates.

We saw many signed referring to “Bon Magal” and learned that Magal referred to the pilgrimage that almost four million per year make to Touba.

We arrived at outside the mosque and we're greeted by a tall gentleman dresses in a white boubou with caftan.  He was very friendly and pleasant, explaining to us that we needed to leave our shoes in the car and then gave Becky and Georgia wrap-around skirts plus carefully arranged and positioned head scarves.

The grand Mosque was huge. Our guide told us that it was the 'largest in Black Africa,’ with the only larger one in Africa found in Morocco.

Our guide was very clear that in Senegal they practiced a very tolerant, moderate sorry of Islam and that Islam meant peace and tolerance.

The grand Mosque was started in 1927 with the caliph of a particular Sufi sect.  The mosque is like the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona in that it may never be completed and was still be renovated AND built at the same time.

The mosque has seven minarets and will not get any more because it’s improper to have more minarets than the Grand Mosque in Mecca (8).

There hundreds of women in deep blue-purple robes cleaning, artisans were recarving patterns in cupped ceilings, and two of the larger minarets had scaffolding around them for work being done.

The floor tiling was all in white Italian marble not unlike Terrazzo strips at USAFA while the exterior walls were all in Portuguese pink marble. It was amazingly opulent and contrasted starkly with the abject poverty and filth that was only meters away on the exterior.

Our guide told us that there had been eight caliphs since the founding of the mosque and sect and that the eighth had taken his place just a few months ago. All were sons or grandsons, or great-grandsons of the original caliph. The names of the caliphs were all over the city, on taxis and buses, shops and homes, all invoking their specific favorite caliph’s name in hopes of blessings and good fortune.

Our guide told us of the annual pilgrimage or “Magal” that occurred in Touba, brining almost four million there every year from(mostly) across West Africa. Pilgrims were housed by locals and fed as well as part of the hosts’ Muslim obligations, though many chose to stay in hotels. He was quick to point out that this was a huge boon for the local economy, but that it wasn’t a true pilgrimage in the sense that it replaced the requirement of all Muslims to go to Mecca for the Hadj--rather this was more of an annual commemoration or celebration of the Weather African sect or caliphate centered in Touba.

At one point, our guide got into an argument with a younger man who took offense at him wearing a cap in and around the mosque. It got somewhat heated as we watched and walked. I think it was all conducted in Wolof or another local language because I could only pick up the occasional transliterated French words.  Apparently, our guide told the younger man that he did not understand his own religion and needed to study more. That was not well-received. Eventually others joined in and the younger man exited through a gate to the other side of the iron fencing around the mosque proper. We thought, at first that it might have something to do with us, as infidels with women, being there, but that was not the primary issue according to our guide.

The tour ended after about an hour and we made our way back to the bus. I gave our guide a donation of 2000 CFA.

On leaving Touba, we did a quick water and toilet stop at a gas station and Becky and I again marveled at the nearly spotless shoppette with it’s Kum-N-Go type selection, minus the clean bathrooms--those were still outdoor squatters with a big bucket of water and large Dipper to 'flush.’

We drove for another two hours to Kaolack, which, Idi explained was the crossroads of Senegal. In the city several national roads met, going to Dakar, Saint-Louis, The Gambia, and parts East.  It was a town of peanuts and salt, too, with the salty Saloum River passing through it on Nearly flat plain and mountains of salt and peanuts at processing facilities nearby. He explained that you could always tell someone who was from Kaolack because of their teeth stained brown from the salts and sodas in the water--something we saw soon enough.

We arrived at the hotel along the river and we're again somewhat impressed by it.  The Relais de Kaolack was part of a chain (Relais Bleu) in the area and had huge outdoor verandas, a nice pool, and an excellent bar serving Flag for only 1000 CFA (about $1.80)!

We were roomed in small bungalows that had two rooms each.  Augusto said that we were free until 1700 when we would go on a market tour downtown.  The cadets used the time to play pickup water polo in the pool and have a few drinks (beer and soda).  The hotel was hosting a government conference on information management for the sanitation profession with about 100 attendees that moved in and out if the pool and outdoor seating areas as their sessions progressed.  Easily 90% of the participants were male. There were two other groups of European-American tourists, both either French or Quebecois, one being a family of four with grown children and another a group of female college-aged friends. There was also a group of Chinese business people.

Becky read and did puzzles while I worked on photos and tried with limited success to get internet access.  Eventually, I went for a short swim, too.

At 1700 we went to the market and met a local guide took the lead through what turned out to be a typical covered, crowded, find-it-all, African market, complete with narrow passageways, sewing machines, freshly butchered meat and poultry, produce, and just about everything else.  It was maze-like and we were quickly disoriented. Since it was a market for locals, there weren’t a lot of pushy people trying to sell us things here. The cadets handled it well despite the mess and heat that was approaching 100F.

From the market, we walked to an artisanal village of small sales shops.  I saw some interesting paintings and batiks, Charlie bought a small carving, but that’s about all.  As we walked back to out minibus, Eddie asked me what sort of souvenirs we liked and I said that we didn’t buy many souvenirs these days because we had so much already at the house.  We preferred photos and memories and maybe something useful like a bolt if unique cloth or fabric that could be turned into a tablecloth and napkins and ultimately a story to tell friends when they visited us for dinner.

We returned to the hotel at about 1830 and, as we did the day before, ordered dinner in advance planning to eat at 2000.  Becky and I had a drink at the bar and watched the Bislett Games track meet from Oslo on the television above the bar.

Dinner was not particularly good, but the veggies we're acceptable and the baguettes nearly fresh.  Eddie wasn’t looking too fresh and he admitted that he was suffering from some digestive issues. After dinner, we brought him back to our room, gave him dose of Imodium (Loperamide) with a few more pills to last the night, checked that he didn’t have a fever, and refilled everyone’s water bottles.

Our room was chilly from the full-scale refrigeration and, after trying to connect to WiFi and processing the afternoon’s photos, I went to sleep.  We both slept well, waking a few times, but not completely until the alarm at 0620.

8 June

As we started to move luggage outside the door, Georgia appeared looking pekid and said she’d had a rough night with more digestive issues.  She didn’t have a fever, so we gave her Loperamide, too, and plenty of water.

Breakfast was pretty poor with only second-rate French pastries, no fruit, no yogurt, and last night’s baguettes.

On the bright side, Eddie was looking and feeling better. One the downside, Evan and Matt both needed doses of Immodium, too.

We loaded the van, leaving on-time, as usual, and hit a gas station after a few kilometers to get more water.  The shoppette inside wasn’t open, but the guys Manning the pumps were glad to accept 2000 CFA for two 10L bottles if Kirene water.

We're drove about an hour on the highway and then turned off on a dirt road, passing through three Wolof  farming villages to arrive at the Sine Ngayene complex stone grave site. Along the way, Idi explained that they farmed mostly corn and peanuts in the area and each spring burned the fields prior to planting after the third or fourth rain of the just-commencing rainy season.

It was clearly a wetter climate here as the nber are large green trees (not baobab) increased and the acacia disappeared.  The thatch and stubble from last season’s corn was raked into pikea and ling strips and then burned--we could see the black rings and stripes of past fires with several other still burning. Some were attended by kids or adults, others left to burn out on their own.

The drive to the site was about 10 kilometers over sandy roads. IDi stopped once to check the front left tire that he had had refilled two days prior. Happily, it was holding.

When we arrived at the site, the gates were locked. Idi made a phone call and we climbed over the low, rusty, steel tube railed fence and into the UNESCO World Heritage Site--one the only that we will ever visit completely alone, with no other tourists.

The site is quite interesting in that it dates to between 925 to 1305 CE.  It contains 1102 large volcanic, rectangular headstone each weighing a ton or more.  These monoliths are arranged in single and double circles of twelve stones each--52 circles in all.  The volcanic rock has no writing or symbology.  https://whc.unesco.org/en/list/1226

A guide arrived a few minutes later and began explaining the site to us.  He spoke almost no French, but rather conversed in Wolof to Idi who then translated to French.  Augusto and I then translated Idi’s comments to English for the group. Sometimes the guide used obviously French words and we could understand his intent.

He told us that the age of the site has been verified by Carbon-14 dating of the bodies found in the graves.  The largest double circles held 65 bodies with the body of the supposed queen buried 1.5 meters deep and in the outer ring, with the king buried three meters below the stones in the center.  The higher ranking bodies had jewelry, knives, and Spears buried with them and their bodies we're positioned oddly with their lower legs pulled up behind and their hands together, arms straight, down at the waist.

The site was discovered in 1956, uncovered by local farmers like the Terracotta warriors of Xi’an, China, then slowly unearthed by French and Senegalese archaeologists in the Sixties and Seventies before being named a UNESCO site in 2006.

Our guide told us that the stones came from a site over a kilometer away and they were probably transported there during the rainy season in pirogs  or rolled on logs in drier times.

I took plenty of photos and then we walked towards the now-open gate.  Our guide unlocked a small stone shack that held a one-room museum explaining the site, showing some recovered artifacts from graves, and displaying maps showing similar sites in that region of Senegal and The Gambia.

Goats we're playing on the stones under a huge Green tree, plastic trash fluttered in the dry brown sticks of the last rainy season, and we left out the gate to find at least 20 kids and mom's begging for money and candy at the car.  Georgia had gone back to the car not feeling well and was being pestered by the kids and mom's.

We drove back and headed south to The Gambia.

We cleared Senegalese immigration relatively quickly (though we were unaware that we needed to pay a 2000 CFA exit toll.  I paid it as a group to move things along and then we walked across the border.

Gambian immigration was another story entirely.  We couldn’t get Gambian visas in advance as they do not have a functional embassy in the US or any means to do so.  The douane said that we needed to pay 3000 Dalasi to enter.

He gave us back our passports and told us that we should follow “the boy” (actually an immigration office NCO with two stripes) to immigration down the road.

We pulled over after about a kilometer and all entered the immigration office, except for Georgia who again stayed in the van with Idi.

I went to back room with Augusto and we explained to the immigration officer that we didn’t yet have any Dalasi and needed to app in a combination of CFA and USD.  It took quite a while to work this out as he called his superiors (or a local money exchange friend) on his cell phone to confirm the rates I quoted.

We ended up paying 40,000 CFA each for two of us (Evan and Becky) and then $66 each for the rest of us ($400 total) coming from our stashes of USD.

He asked how I would like the receipt written and if one receipt for all of us would do, and I agreed. He really was quite friendly and helpful given our situation.  I thanked him for his help and shook his hand. He asked how long we were visiting The Gambia and seemed disappointed when I said “Only two days.” He responded that he had given us all two weeks on our visas and hoped that we would extend our stay.

We loaded back on to the minibus after the one hour detour and started into The Gambia proper.

Immediately I noticed a few things--besides the signs all being in English--there seemed to be better corrugated steel roofs on the houses and much less plastic trash--apparently least in some areas. That might be because of the wetter climate in both cases, but villages seemed a little cleaner, too.

We passed some cashew farms, plenty of cattle grazing in marshy areas, and noticed many huge mango trees and tall red termite mounds.  The roads, though, are not nearly as good as in Senegal.

I've been trying to take notes as we go, typing with my thumbs on my Google Pixel XL phone and can't keep up because we're just seeing and learning too much.  Let me post the following to catch everyone (or anyone) up on our travels and I'll add to it and edit whenever possible.

2 June

Our flight from Denver was uneventful, but we did spend about 30 minutes waiting and taxiing to the gate because of so much ground traffic at JFK.  When we arrived, our assigned gate for the flight to Dakar was B36, so we took the shuttle from Terminal 2 over there with the cadets and then decided to just split up, walk around and meet back at the gate before the flight was set to leave at 2205, boarding at 2110.  Becky and I got dinner in a pub-style restaurant instead of waiting to eat dinner late on the flight--a decision that paid off later. Afterwards, we walked around the terminal as our gate changed from B36 to B22.

JFK is a 60s or 70s style airport that is very crowded in the older part of the Terminal 4 international  area, with just scads of people lined up for flights and almost no space to stretch out. We were clearly in an older, less renovated area, unlike the newer, more open parts of Terminal 4.  

Later, our gate was changed to B33 and we moved down there, sitting and reading.  We helped a very nice French woman from Nice with some questions about her long-delayed flight at a gate that was expecting a flight from Amsterdam and then eaves-dropped on some conversation in French between a woman in a wheelchair and some porters.  She, too, was headed to Senegal, dressed in a deep yellow floral print. It wasn’t clear why she needed a wheelchair.

We saw her again when our gate again moved to B22, then we endured yet another set of changes to B33 and back before taking off.  It seemed that many flights coming in from Europe were late arriving and Delta was having trouble finding open gates in a timely fashion.

Meanwhile, at B22, Georgia struck up a conversation with our Senegalese friend and was learning a lot about the city.  Her new friend wanted to meet her for dinner and show her around the city and they exchanged contact info.

We finally boarded--or started to board at about 2130.  There were dozens of small children and at least five women in wheelchairs.  Boarding was a complete gaggle and we were joking with an American that lived in Dakar that it looked very French, with no one willing to respect place in line.

Becky, the cadets and I pre-boarded after all of the children and wheel-chair bound were on-board, taking advantage of the offer for active duty military to walk on with First Class.  Moments before boarding, I took my 10mg Ambien and we thought we might make it on time.

Of course, boarding took longer than usual, but we settled into the full flight and made the best of it.  I put on my eye mask, used by bluetooth headphones as earplugs and fell asleep.

I woke up at about 0015 and we hadn’t left.  It seems that someone did not board the plane as expected and they had to search the cargo hold to find his luggage--this took nearly 90 minutes.  Ultimately, this caused us to arrive almost three hours late.

During the flight, we both slept very little due to the many babies crying and a medical emergency.  One women almost directly behind us felt very ill and passed out, requiring calls for a doctor on-board--there was none.  A few minutes later we heard the automatic voice of the AED device prepping to give her a shock, if needed--it wasn’t needed.  She was, however, carried to the first row of coach, nearest the main doors so that she could be evacuated quickly upon arrival.

I woke up another time when a young boy apparently had the night terrors and couldn’t be calmed, screaming like a banshee about three rows up and across the aisle.

We landed about three hours late at 1300 and parked on the tarmac, despite what looked like an empty, new terminal with plenty of jet bridges.  No one getting off the plane required a wheel chair, but there was an ambulance waiting for the woman who had an emergency and she was taken off the plane almost immediately, despite looking none the worse for wear..

We got on the second bus and arrived at the immigration/visa processing door in time to see Georgia rushing back to the plane.  She’d been on the earlier bus but had realized that her passport had fallen out of her pocket while on board. We waited at the door, though the guys had cleared immigration and were awaiting our bags.  

Happily, she came back quickly, passport in hand and our first crisis was averted.  We three cleared immigration quickly and didn’t have to wait too long for our bags. We cleared customs inspection just as quickly and stepped into the lobby to meet our guide patiently awaiting us, sign in hand with my last name and “Tailor Made Travel.”

On Augusto’s advice, we all got cash at ATMs near the exit doors.  With an exchange rate at about 560CFA/1USD, we decided to get 50,000 CFA for each person..

We learn that is now an hour drive from Dakar since the new international airport in Thies opened in Dec 2017.  We thought that maybe that’s why we didn’t use jet bridge--it wasn’t open yet. Augusto led us to a large 16 passenger van and we loaded up with the assistance of Idri, our driver.

We drove along smooth, new roads and bridges coming into Dakar and saw work being done on a high speed train being finished to the newly renovated downtown train station.

Augusto explains that Senegal government being moved out of downtown Dakar to nearer airport, explaining all of the construction we saw along the way.  New hotels, a basketball arena, large government offices, and commercial centers seemed to be going up everywhere. It was, however, very dusty along the way with many homes looking half-built, some goats and herders along the highway and mixed in with the homes and small compounds.

During the drive to Dakar and the Hotel de La Madrague hotel, we passed by an Atlantic beach with excellent waves and dozens of surfing riding their boards waiting for breakers that seemed to be in the six to eight foot range.

City very dirty with dust on everything.

Checked into hotel without problem--excellent view of N’Gor Beach, fishing bay, and N’Gor Island to the west.

Hotel nice and clean with bright colors. Simple decor.

Enjoyed a nice lunch at the hotel with grilled whole filet of sole, rare grilled tuna steak, etc.  We shared several plates between pairs, but made a mistake in ordering and got an extra fillet of sole which was easily devoured.  The beer was good and cold, too, and we tried both Flag and Gazelle, the two Senegalese brews. Flag is your very typical tropical climate developing world light lager comparable to Tiger Beer in Singapore and was perfect for lunch.  With drinks, we paid a total of 7000CFA each.

Depart for City tour at 1500.

Many things closed due to Sunday and Ramadan.

Went to Monument to African Renaissance.

Huge statue of family financed by North Korea and just open a few years.

Very impressive, somewhat like Mt Rushmore combined with Washington Monument and Statue of Liberty.  Very heroic, socialist style.

Augusto said that it offended some Muslims because woman is uncovered and legs bare while man is lifting baby in left arm/hand.

Walked up many stairs to base of statue but didn't pay 10€ to go up elevator top of 'crown.’

Saw cool modern art sculptures nearby, then drove past huge Mosque on the beach under renovation paid for by UAE.

Drove into centre college and past President’s residence seeing changing of the guard.

Passed many ministry offices and residences downtown and we're told again that it’s all moving out of town.

Also went by old int’l airport (Yoff) that is now operated by the military.

Abandoned ministry offices will become apartments and hotels downtown.

Went to Catholic cathedral to Mary downtown, built by French in 1930s. Closed.

Went to city overlook and saw Goree Island in the distance as well as port and downtown, then to a monument to WW1 and WW2 dead in front of city hall..

Returned via main roads lined by street sellers with markets down side roads.

Stopped at grigri booths where shamans were selling herbal cures and weird stuff like goat horns, dried lizards, chicken/turkey feet, minerals, spices, leather strips, fur, etc.

Sellers wanted me to pay for photos.  In general, people are very reticent to have their photos taken here and most women either cover their faces or turn away when I simply ask the question.

Walked down a street and saw other street sellers and small shops:. paint, food, hairdressers, tailors, auto repair, etc.

Walked past large concrete soccer/basketball area with a game going on then returned to bus and Idiot, our great driver.

Back to hotel to arrange dinner with Moussa

Moussa arrived at about 1900 to take us to dinner at his mom’s house.

V2 joined us, here with CSLIP for three weeks as sub, arrived four days earlier and had been body-surfing that day.

Moussa negotiated taxi fair (2500 CFA per car and we went in a total of three cars to his mom’s--where he also lives.

About a 20 minute ride on good streets, then down sandy sidestreet to apartment complex. Upstairs in dark hallway to very simply decorated 2-3 bedroom apartment on second floor to meet his mom and aunt who were cooking in kitchen down long hallway.

TV on with African soap operas (Walf TV) and then Muslim chanting/singing announcing sunset and prayers.

Nice deck on West side facing neighborhood of upscale (relatively) and new apartment complexes that were 2-4 stories.

We could hear muezzin calling prayers.

Dinner was served first courses being finger foods that were very tasty, almost like mini-pizzas.

Served at dining room table buffet style.

We served ourselves and ate in living room, not realizing that other food was coming, so we conserved the food on the table to not wipe it all out.

Moussa wanted his mom and aunt to practice their English with us, but there wasn’t much interaction really. They just brought food out.

Next (main) course was roasted chicken with couscous and a great onion sauce that included spices and green olives. Layered on a plate with sliced baguettes.

Moussa had gone out to get bread earlier and he explained that he had taken his mom to the market earlier in the day to get all of the food they needed to prepare for the evening.

We all are well. Cadets asked Moussa questions about his flying, as did I, and experience with the CN-235 flying around Senegal.  Moussa told us that he likes flying around Senegal and that the Senegalese are planning to buy one or two more CN-235s.

We talked about Boubacar and Moussa told us that because of the T-6 stand-down due to oxygen issues he would be graduating late and probably not back to Senegal before September or October.  Boubacar is now married to an officer in the Senegalese navy that he met before he went to UPT while stationed for several months in Saint-Louis. Moussa was stationed there at the same time.

One of the few decorations on the wall was Moussa’s UPT grad certificate and USAF pilot wings.

After dinner, we stepped into balcony and saw a night football match going on in the streets.  

Cool evening breeze.

We thanked Moussa’s mom and aunt for dinner and presented them with a Colorado photo book Becky brought along.

Walked to corner to get two more taxis and then back to the hotel, exhausted.

No need for Ambien tonight as we were totally exhausted.

Went to sleep easily and slept until after 0630.

Augusto is from Guinea-Bissau and has been a guide for ten years for a variety of companies. Speaks at least five languages including French, English, Spanish, and Portuguese.

He’ll be our guide until we depart for Liberia on 11 June.

Idri (or Idrissa) is our driver and he’s from Dakar, speaking only a little English. He speaks to me in French when I’m in the front seat and is good practice for me.  

He’s an excellent driver always in control of our 16-seat mini bus, very careful and courteous.

The mini-bus is quite spacious and comfortable.  I sit in the front right seat with Becky behind Idri and Augusto beside her on the right.

4 June

I got up and met Eddie for a walk-around the area and photography.

Hazy morning light and fishermen being taken to their smaller boats from a couple of large pirogs.

Several locals in wet suits, some with scuba gear and spear guns going out to their boats.

Colorful pirogs on the shoreline littered with plastic, trash, and blobs of seaweed.

Some people running for exercise.

Many people starting their day.

Walked to point and ducked into neighborhood with very narrow passageways, unmarked, around homes packed into the area.

Some open areas with laundry drying, while there were goats and a few cats as well.

Became a little lost but knew our general direction from sunrise in the east.

Saw kids going to school and small businesses opening.

Back hotel as planned at 0815 for a quick shower and breakfast on the hotel terrace.

Good coffee and pain au chocolate, pain au raisin, crêpes, cheese, salami, and cantalope.

Met Augusto and Idri at the front gate--they’re very timely--and we departed for Goree Island.

Traffic was heavy and thee are very few traffic signals in Dakar--mostly just round-abouts and uncontrolled four ways.

Saw one traffic signal.

Parked near entrance to ferry port near train station under renovation and walked in.

Augusto was buying us tickets when several women (two names Maria) introduced themselves and insisted that we visit their shops on Goree.

Augusto gave us our tickets and we went inside to wait.

About 100 people or more we just outside with crates and fruit and vegetables separated in steel 'pens’ awaiting loading and shipment of their goods.

Several large freighters in the port and a large dry dock.

Weather was nice and cool with a breeze, the sky generally clear but still hazy.

Ferry ride was about 20 mins. Two little British kids sat in front of us on upper deck, outdoor seating calling out jellyfish and 'sharks’ when they saw them--then will really none of the latter but plenty of the former, quite large with reddish tentacles extending ten or more feet behind them in the current.

Sea was calm with only a gentle roll and we could see fishing boats heading to work and more freighters on the hazy horizon.

Goree Island is a UNESCO world heritage site--one of the first so-named.

We stepped off of the ferry and met our guide IDi who lives on the island and was very proud to show us his residence card.

He spoke quickly and moved us along on a tour that only lasted about 90 minutes because we needed to catch the 1200 ferry back to Dakar.

Goree was first settled by the Portuguese and then changed hands many time (mostly in the 17thC prior to becoming French like most of West Africa.

It was a staging place for slave going to Europe and the Americas and at one time had 28 slave houses.

One remaining slave house is well-preserved and our guide showed us around all of the rooms.  There was tourist graffiti on almost all of the walls, some with sympathetic messages but mostly just names and dates.

We saw the island’s old well and an exclusive school for girls named in honor of a Senegalese female author that I’ll try to lookup.

Idi said the best girls were chosen for it and lived there Mon-Fri for school, taking the ferry back to Dakar for weekends.

The island is in two parts and is originally volcanic, kind of like a micro-Maui.  We walked up stairs to the top of the largest part of the island and saw an old (approx) pair of 10” guns that served to protect the island and strait between it and Dakar, built by the French before WW1.  

The barrels had been spiked and destroyed before WW2.

The summit also had a Goree Island monument sculpture that was dedicated to those lost at sea from Goree and Senegal.

There were several artists there and lots of hawkers selling trinkets and the cadets succombed for the first time, with Matt buying these wooden knockers used to keep rhythm (I think Charlie bought a pair, too).

IDi then took us to his old sand painting shop where he used to work and he demonstrated how it was done--then offered us bargain prices on the work.

I think only Georgia bought a small one.

We then huddled through town to get to the ferry on time, passing by a very unique sculpture garden of iron cotton plants with bills of real cotton in them.

One of the Maria's caught us we were leaving and was very persistent about selling bracelets to Becky and me.

She got on the ferry and would not leave us alone.

Her strategy worked and we bought four or five for 5000 CFA just to get some peace more than anything.

I’m wearing two of the bracelets now as a means of fending off other hawkers.

During the visit, my non-Canon OEM battery failed and I had to switch to the M5.

It worked well but I'm just not used to the controls and couldn’t get just what I wanted.

Can’t believe I forgot to get another battery as backup, so I was stuck carrying around useless gear.

We drove back across town after returning on the ferry and north the Lac Rose, almost halfway back to the airport.

Lac Rose is pretty fascinating in that it’s a supersaturated salt lake (ten times saltier than the ocean) no more than a couple of meters deep with a base under the salt water of crystallized salt about a meter thick.

Small wooden boats go out into the lake and you piles to break up the salt under the water and then baskets to collect the Chuck's if salt.  The salt is then brought into shore and piled up for grading, breaking, sorting and bagging. Huge piles of his salt and hundreds of bags are everywhere.

Of course people were selling things and I got another 'free’ bracelet that cost me 200 CFA.

After Lac Rose, we drove back into Dakar and we're told we were free for the evening, but that we would be leaving at 0800 the next morning with bags fully packed and ready.

We relaxed for a little while after returning with the cadets walking along the beach and having a couple of beers. They also enjoyed the pool and Becky read by the pool.

I worked in photos and then joined them.  They said that the security guard advised them not to go too far and Georgia was admonished by locals for walking on the beach immodestly in her bikini, so they came back to the hotel.

Matt and I walked to the South to a point and talked quite a bit. Several ladies selling things approached us but we didn’t buy anything.

Back at the hotel, we made arrangements for dinner with Moussa.

Initially, Moussa implied that dinner with Boubacar’s dad, Gen Ousmane Kane, should only include Becky and me.  I told the cadets and they started to make other plans, including contacting Georgia's friend from the flight.

Just as quickly, Moussa texted back and said that the general expected ALL of us for dinner and that we’d leave at about 1900.

I asked about attire and he told us to wear a little nicer clothes.

We all piled into Moussa’s car and another taxi and arrived shortly after 1930 to his apartment.

Gen Kane greeted us at the door in a flowing white boubou and cap and was very warm and friendly. He invited us in and explained that since he was fully retired he lived in his large apartment complex with his nephew and niece taking most of the house. He also rented out part of the apartment to an American couple who allowed him to use the downstairs area for events like this.

In an undecorated room with chairs and a sofa, the main table was laid out in a buffet with fruit, vegetables, and canned tuna--salad with tomatoes and delicious mango chunks. Also, more sliced baguettes, which the cadets love.

We talked a lot about Senegal, the general’s time in the Air Force and compared National War College stories since I’m class of 2000 and he’s 2007.

Becky spoke of working with spouses of international officers at ACSC and at NWC.

We were introduced to his nephew and niece but they didn’t join us for dinner.

The nephew brought in a large platter of grilled lamb with onions and potatoes which was delicious and falling off the bone.

We had tea as well as soft drinks, juice, and water.

We concluded the evening by presenting him with a book of Colorado photos again and taking pictures--a great evening with a genuinely warm person who couldn’t stop expressing his thanks to us for all we’ve done to help Boubacar and all of the African cadets we’ve sponsored.

We left and took another taxi ride back to the hotel and on the way, in the dark, noticed many people out for an evening run--clearly recreational because they had earbuds in plus they were wearing upscale running shoes.

Back at the hotel, the cadets played cards for a while and then we all went to sleep--or tried to do so.  Neither Becky nor I, nor, apparently Matt and a few others slept well.

5 June

We agreed to be ready to leave at 0800 the next morning and, after breakfast, everyone was set and ready to go--this is a very timely group and I appreciate that.  Breakfast at the hotel was quite good with excellent crepes, patisseries, cantalope, etc. Moreover, Augusto and Idri are very prudent with our time and theirs, so we ended up leaving actually at 0750.

After taking some time to get out of Dakar due to morning traffic, we drove by the towns bordering Lac Rose before heading north only a few kilometers from the coast towards Lompoul and ultimately Saint-Louis.  Each of the little towns looks alike with the same markets, speed bumps, horse carriages, shops, etc.

We went through different agricultural zones in which Augusto and Idri explained that the water table is no more than five meters below ground, so tons of green beans, squash, cauliflower, potatoes, and onions are produced.  Senegal also produces lots of chicken, but I presume it’s all small-time because we didn’t see any large poultry farms along the way. Idri mentioned that Senegal imports zero chicken from Europe or other countries--seemingly due to equal parts concern for health/hygiene and national pride.  Food for chickens and other animals is provided by SEDIMA, the Senegalese equivalent of Purina.

Every village has many, many goats of different sizes, presumably used for meat and milk and we saw herds of large-horned, white African cattle in many places along the way, many time crossing the roads.

We stopped once for water and a bathroom break, buying some snacks instead of having a formal lunch which seems to be the pattern we’ve fallen into, buying big jugs of water, some Pringles, local small roasted peanuts, and other items.  Idri doesn’t eat because he’s Muslim, while Augusto has no issues with that.

Augusto hasn’t told us his religious beliefs but just that in Guinea-Bissau about 50% of the people are animist while 40% are Christian and about 10% are Muslim.  We’re learning a lot about Guinea-Bissau on the trip as Augusto tells us about his life there.

We arrived in Lompoul and after a few minutes rendez-voused with a four wheel drive pickup truck that would take us to the Ecolodge to see the sand dunes and ride camels.  We climbed in through and over the tailgate aided by the driver and a small stool and then moved close to the cab to sit on facing rows of padded seats surrounded by a welded frame.

The drive was over sometimes deep sand for about three or four miles of bumps and slides--without any real danger.  We then arrived at a camp with probably a total of twenty large white tents at the base of a huge sand dune and across the small valley below it.  We got out and learned about the camel riding which would be done in groups of four since there were four serviceable camels.

Becky and I ordered a flag beer each and the cadets relaxed in hammocks.  Augusto explained that there were tents here set up for overnight stays with a complete restaurant tent, a few wood and thatch huts, and en suite bath facilities in each tent.  We saw a few other guests, but not many.

The cadets did see boards for sand surfing and they immediately headed to the dunes since we were told we’d have to wait to ride the camels.  Georgia stayed behind with us and we watched as they headed about 200 meters away in the sand.

Most of their efforts were not very successful, but on the larger dune with the larger boards, they eventually figured it out and did well enough to have some fairly spectacular spills.  They continued to surf while we were called ot ride the camels and Austin joined us to make four

We walked over to a small stand of eucalyptus trees where our guide had led the camels.

When we arrived, they were all lying down on their knees chewing their cud.  Our guide led us each to a camel and one at a time we mounted the camel and he gave them the signal to stand up.  We sat just behind what looked like the cargo saddle and it was surprisingly soft and comfortable.

We were, nonetheless, quite a bit higher than if we were on a horse and that was a little disconcerting.  Still, Becky managed to conquer her fear of heights and climbed aboard the fourth camel. We walked for about twenty minutes over several hills.  The only time that we felt the least bit unstable was when the camels walked downhill, picking up their speed and catching themselves softly with their padded feet in the deep sand.  Georgia, in particular, liked the camel ride and decided to name her camel “Spirit” because of her (or his) nose ring. Of course, I couldn’t help but constantly hum the theme from Lawrence of Arabia while we swept over the dunes.

When we returned, we called the guys over and they climbed aboard while the others went back to relax.  I took photos of them and they climbed aboard and began their slow, guided walk. Suddenly, though, Charlie leaned over to his right and vomited all over the sand.  He sat up and then turned to his right a second time, spewing over his camel’s right hip. We called the guide and we got Charlie down. He explained that he was dehydrated and nauseous from all of their time running up and down the dunes in the heat and begged off of the ride.  He returned to the eucalyptus copse and layed down in the shade before returning to the main camp. He claimed that he felt okay, though, and would be doing better with some water and shade.

I took more photos of Matt, Evan, and Eddie as they returned and then we all walked back to the camp.  A few minutes later, we remounted the pickup truck and were back on our way to the town of Lompoul, though we did all pay the camel guide 2500CFA apiece for the rides.

On the route to Saint-Louis, we had only one stop to see an enormous, almost hollowed out baobob tree along the side of the road.  It was hundreds of years old and could hold several people in it nearly empty core. It reminded me of the large redwood in Sequoia National Park in the US that you could drive through--until it fell in a storm a couple of years ago.

We arrived in Saint-Louis at about 1600 and immediately checked-in, dropped our bags in our rooms and descended the stairs to jump onto two horse carriages for a tour of the town lead by a French-speaking guide that used Augusto and me to help him translate.

I sat up front with my driver, Daode, and we turned north from the Hotel de la Poste to the north end of the island.  Along the way we passed the Grand Mosque (built by donations, in large part, after the French government refused to pay for it).  The mosque doesn’t have traditional towers for the muezzin to call everyone to prayers because the French colonials didn’t want to have to deal with the noise.  They made it condition of construction that mosque have a bell instead.

We rode by former slave holding areas, the local military base for the “Secteur Nord” of Senegal and arrived at the top of the island in about ten minutes.  Here, we could see the branches of the Senegal River with Mauritania to the other side. There was a large sandbar where the river empties into the ocean that separates Senegal and Mauritania and on that island are nine large trees that mark the border right on the coast.  Our guide pointed out several other key buildings and we took several photos. Strangely, in the cul-de-sac at the end of the road was a Vietnamese Restaurant, La Saigonienne.

We turned south and then went across the next bridge to the beachfront side of the city.  Here, on the main drag of old Saint-Louis, we experienced more “Africa” in one place than I’ve ever seen,  Out guide explained that this part of the island is 30 hectares in area and has 30,000 people. It seems that we saw every one of them and more.  

The street was a smelling, dirty, wet melange of hundreds of children from toddlers to teens, goats, horse-carts, sidewalk markets and shops, dogs, cats, fruit, refuse, boat parts, and just about everything else you can imagine.  It was maybe the most chaotic, smelly, poorest area I’ve ever seen.

Still, the horse carts carried women in their finest dresses who preferred to be seenin the open air of the horse cart than be cooped up in a regular taxi.  

Kids waved to us, some turned away.  The cadets seemed more than a little overwhelmed and, frankly, I know Becky and I were, too.

We got off at one point and walked between collapsing brick buildings to the shore.  There, we saw hundreds and hundreds of ocean-going pirogs in all of their color and peeling paint, dragged onto shore with more coming in late in the afternoon with every wave and dozens more waiting for just the right wave.

We saw one pirog ride a wave in with incredible speed and power, almost being flipped as its keep caught the sand and fisherman alternatively ran from shore to stabilize it and were tossed (or jumped) from it in the melee.

Hundreds of women with buckets, baskets, and bins lined the shore making bids on the incoming fish or transporting the fish for their husbands to markets (wholesale and retail) where they would make their daily profits.

We kept a close eye on everyone and moved quickly off the beach when an obviously drunk and/or crazy “gentlemen” started shouting and moving towards us with a giant, shit-eating grin, huge teeth, and his pants half-way down his thighs, sans sous-vetements.

At one point I turned around to chat with Matt and he just looked overwhelmed by it all.  I reminded him that “more of the world lives like this than lives like you do in the US,” and he came back with his typical hockey retort of “100 percent, sir.  100 percent!”

We made our way to the south end of town past more shops and mayhem, then turned north and crossed a bridge back to “our island.”

Our guide led us past city hall to a statue of the French “founding father” of Saint-Louis and he explained how controversial that statue had become with the locals.  Many have called for it to be torn down for reasons similar to the removal of US Civil War statues because of this guys rather genocidal (or at least inhumane) treatment of the locals in establishing order, but the local government also didn’t want to upset the French and insult them by disrespecting someone the French considered a great administrator.  Our guide did admit that this guy had done a lot in terms of establishing government and infrastructure, but that it had some at at enormous cost.

I asked him about the “Lycee des Hotages” that Boubacar’s father had mentioned the evening before and he explained that the subject of the statue and others had, in fact, set up a system of schooling that was in line with what General Kane had explained.  In fact the school’s original dormitory was just to our south and he pointed it out.

French officials had set up a school for the sons of Senegalese tribal kings and the royal sons from other parts of French West Africa, promising to teach them French, engineering, science, and history to prepare them to lead in the region.  The unspoken truth, though, was that these “hostages” were held in quasi-ransom by the colonial French and their status at the school meant that their father-kings would not rebel against French domination.

The story does have some positives, though, as our guide and Augusto listed the names of part presidents of free, West African republics that had graduated from “Hostage High School.”  Becky and I immediately thought of the same situation in the US represented by the Indian Schools (one of the largest being in Phoenix, where I grew up) that served the same purpose even though, by the time they were established, most Native American tribes were relegated to the poverty of their reservations.

We next went to an orphanage, now abandoned, down a side street.  Behind the iron gate that we could not enter was a pair of circular concrete stairs that looked suspiciously like the steps going to the second level of the last slave house on Goree Island.  Our guide explained that the orphanage was run by an order of Catholic nuns that took in abandoned children drop at the gate. Apparently, a rather famous French movie was made about the orphanage starring many top French names.  There was a plaque outside the gate detailing its history. Once again, they pointed out that there were some very positive outcomes from the orphanage as the wife of the second president of Senegal had been one of the abandoned girls there.

After a few more short stops to see the riverside and large fish market on the inland side, we returned to the Hotel de la Poste at about 1800 and went up to our rooms.  Charlie was feeling better, he said, but also told us that he had puked one more time.

We agreed to meet shortly before 1930 to walk to La Flamingo restaurant across the street from our hotel and overlooking the river and bridge.

The Flamingo is a very nice restaurant with a nice maitre d’ but terrible service.  We tried to talk through a prix fixe menu but that didn’t work. We ordered drinks and waited for the chef to arrive so that we could have some sort of proposal.  That took about an hour. Meanwhile, we “grignotee’d” some peanuts and waited to order.

Finally, our waiter came back and gave us menus to order a la carte.  We skipped appetizers and went straight to the main course, hungry by now as it was approaching 2045.  Becky, Augusto and I helped with menu translations and we all ordered after learning (the hard way) what was NOT available, including a few of the supposed “Specialites de Chef.”  

I had the fish-of-the-day, grilled morue, and it was very good once it finally arrived.  Others seemed pleased with their orders. Charlie had Sprite to drink and managed to hold down his dinner, so that was a good thing.  In all the bill was about 8700CFA apiece. Augusto had his meal comped by the restaurant (nice move!) for bringing us all in. He and the maitre d’ were clearly friends.  We would’ve ordered a second round or more of beers, but we were never asked.

We made it back to the hotel at about 2145 and everyone agreed to be ready to go the next day at 0900.  Several decided to join me for a morning walk-around at 0700 followed by breakfast at 0800 and we all repaired to our rooms.  

Becky and I stayed in the center open area of the hotel to do some computer and communication work since the connection was so bad in our room.  We got some work done and then ALL of the lights and power went out shortly after 2200.

We turned the flashlights in our cell phones on and made our way up to our rooms to get ready for bed.  I showered in the semi-darkness and we prepped for bed. A little while later, we heard a generator kick-on (loudly) across the street and our power returned.  It was obviously a hotel-owned backup as the rest of the city seemed to remain in the dark.

In the middle of the night, I woke to find the power off again--I think the silence of no air conditioning and no generator running is what startled me.  Becky was awake, too, and soon we heard yelling at the generator. It seemed to us that someone had let the generator die or run out of gas. After a few minutes of yelling, it started again and a few seconds later La Hotel de la Poste had power again.  We slept until about 0615.

We successfully made it to DIA have fueled up and it's on to the Big Apple.

Starting out this morning on a new adventure with six carefully chosen cadets and Becky.  We'll be leaving the house at 0800 this morning after an evening of repacking, double-checking, pizza, and setting expectations for the trip.  Before we take off, I wanted to thank the Academy's international programs office (DFIP) and especially Mr Brian Brandow for all of their help and support setting this up as well as Lesley and Phoebe from Imaginative Traveler (a part of Tailor Made Travel) of the UK.  They've all worked with me over the last nine months to put together what we hope will be a very good, educational, fun, and adventurous trip.  The focus of this trip is to take our six cadets--none of whom have ever traveled to the developing world--and get them acquainted with a growing, important, and vibrant part of our planet.

We leave from Denver airport today and head first to Dakar, Senegal via New York's JFK, arriving (Delta-willing) on Sunday morning.  The next 19 days will be spent visiting locations in Senegal, The Gambia, Liberia, Cote d'Ivoire, and Ghana.  We'll see some old friends along the way, take a few thousand photos, buy some souvenirs, make some new friends, stay healthy (hopefully), and eat and drink some new things as well.  Our goal will be to stay healthy and happy!

I'll try to update this blog and start adding photos ASAP!  https://goo.gl/maps/RpoMnp2c6KN2

We arrived in Seoul on time and having heard that we might be able to get into the city during out 11-hour layover looked for bus transportation and answers to questions.  As we were walking through the transfer area, we stumbled up on the Transit Tour Desk and a woman there told us about the whole deal.  Basically, the Seoul/Incheon Tourist Board ran buses and tours for very low prices (or free) ranging from two to five hours.  There was a Seoul City Tour leaving at 0800, so we hurried to through the immigration desk to the airport entrance.  The cadets liked this option, too because it meant that they got a South Korean stamp on their passport and could check South Korea off as another country visited.

At the tour desk, we were told that the five-hour tour would cost $10, but included a lunch.  We tried to sign up but the lady there said that the 0800 trip was full.  She did put us on a waiting list, though, saying that a large group of 11 had reserved spots but that they had not yet shown up.  As it turned out, they never did, so we made it onto the 0800 long trip instead of having to settle for a two-hour tour of just the Incheon area.

We joined 15 others and a very animated guide who obviously lover her job.  The drive into Seoul took us an hour and we went directly to the Gyeongbukgong or Royal Palace on the northern part of Seoul.  Our guide explained that only about 10% of the palace is original because “we’ve been invaded many times,” and Becky and I had visited the sites around the palace when we were here in 2010, but it was still a great walk and clear that more renovations had been accomplished since we were there before.  Our guide managed to walk us through most of the palace in just over 45 minutes with some lively descriptions and quick walking.  This was France-style power tourism at its best.

When we made it back to the bus there was one irate guy still on the bus with his two small children.  He claimed that they were the last ones off the bus and by the time they had exited they couldn’t find the guide and didn’t know where to go so they just sat on the bus.  His wife was in the bathroom in the parking lot and we had to wait for her to come back.  The guide told the whole bus, though, with her microphone before we left that if you got separated you just needed to be back at the bus by 1000.  Still, this guy gave her hell for leaving them behind.  Ugly Americans—though they said they were in transit from their home in Hong Kong.  Why someone would take two kids under six years old on a tour like this is crazy anyway.  The guide handled it well, though, and apologized profusely but didn’t really give in.

Our next site was the Jogyesa Buddhist Temple more in the center of town. When we got there, our guide made it clear that we had only 15 minutes at the site and then we would be moving on.  I didn’t see the family get off the bus.  The temple was very impressive and there were many inside following a chant leader.  The exterior was decorated with many hanging paper fish which our guide said was indicative of the season.  Fifteen minutes was plenty of time to walk around and take a few photos.  Luke fell asleep in the back row of the bus and missed this stop completely, much t our amusement.

We reboarded and next went to the traditional street market (Insadong) and shopping area in downtown Seoul that, I recognized, was in the same area as the hotel at which we had stayed four years earlier.  Our guide described the area and then told us that we would be going to lunch first.  We walked down a narrow street (inaccessible to cars) and then upstairs to what looked like a traditional Korean restaurant.  The six of us sat together on rustic wooden chairs and we had a prix fixe menu that included several starters, rice, and then a choice of three main courses.  The appetizers were some very good kimchi that was not too hot, some fermented eggplant, seaweed, and potatoes each in separate bowls that were repeatedly refilled by the servers.  My main course (along with Dylan) was s spicy soup that had an egg plopped into it raw—it cooked quickly in the hot broth—lots of tofu, some potatoes, and plenty of spice.  It was medium hot and very tasty.  Our guide told us that the way to eat is was to have a spoonful of soup and the go for a bite of rice.  The others had dishes that they clearly enjoyed.  Dylan, Winston, and I ordered a bottle of the local beer (0.5 liter) and recognized that we were back in the developed work when the bill for each one was $5 or 5000SKW.  The coupled that complained about being left behind got off the bus, saw a a fried chicken and French fry place and went there directly, skipping the Korean lunch that they’d already purchased.  I liked the fact that the cadets recognized boorish behavior of Americans overseas.

After lunch we broke into two groups—Dylan and I were more into the back alley walking while the other four were window shopping.   The sites and people were fun to see and we covered a lot of ground quickly.  We went to one park that seemed to be populated almost entirely by old men.  The inner walls of the park contained large bronze high relief murals showing key historical events in Korean history, specifically the Japanese occupation period, and there were statues and monuments to key resistance leaders.  It was small and peaceful with some beautiful flowers, too.

We continued our walk around, passing down narrow alleys to see various pork parts cooking in small kitchens, one restaurant clearly dedicated to octopus since they had an aquarium filled with small ones front and center at the entrance and an caricature octopus in their logo.  There was a small children’s science museum with funny statues that showed a large elephant being sucked into a black hole (not clear where the front part of the elephant was located, but I’ll presume that it was another painted black hole somewhere else in the city).  One gentlemen seemed to have stepped out onto the sidewalk midway through a barbershop shave visit.

Seeing downtown Seoul was a revelation to the cadets.  They were amazed at how clean the streets were, that people in cars and on motorbikes actually followed traffic signals and laws, and there were no stray pets roaming the streets.  Dylan and I wondered at what point in the development of a modern society citizens start being conscientious about trash and follow traffic rules.  I didn’t realize at first how amazing the Seoul scenes must’ve been to them since their only Asian experience had been Cambodia, and told them that Singapore made Seoul look dirty by comparison.

The time passed quickly a before we knew it, we were back on the bus and headed through town back to the airport.  The cadets got to see the Seoul tour through the fog, but not much else since the air was thick, but relatively cool.  We were happy to not be sweating much more after all of our travels and glad that the temperature in Seoul was much lower than the 94F (35C) it was the day before.  Here's the slide show of our morning in Seoul:

Back at the airport, we passed through passport and security check quickly despite some lines and took the train to the international terminal.  We were at out gate by 1330 for the 1730 departure so everyone had time to catch another nap, walk around, or work on blogs and photographs.  The airport was annoyingly warm (probably upper 70s despite air conditioning.  I cleaned up as best I could in the bathroom, changed shirts right before we got ready to board, and brushed my teeth.  Some of the cadets got some food before boarding as they planned to just skip dinner and go to sleep once we were on board.  I ate my last Clif Bar as my dinner and had my Ambien in my pocket for easy access as part of my plan.

We when went forward to board the Delta 767, they told us that our boarding passes issued in Phnom Penh were no goo and that they needed to reissue new ones to us.  We stepped aside and went to the customer service agent at the gate and handed over our passports.  Then, things went downhill again—much like they had at Phnom Penh.  I asked why we weren’t either alerted to do this in the four hours prior to boarding or why the boarding passes were not sufficient but didn’t get any solid answer other than “Delta is not Korean Air.”  True, but both flights were Delta/Korean code shares, so that didn’t make much sense.  We really began to worry when the whole plane was boarded and they now were asking for our baggage claim tickets.  Suddenly the thought that our bags may not have made the transfer (in 11 hours!) dawned on us.  They entered the numbers and we asked if our bags would be on the flight, but again the explanation in their best English left significant room for doubt.  Luke had to explain his name again, but this passed quickly.  Luke, Hansena, and Annie boarded when they got their passes as they were all on the same reservation with me, but Dylan and Winston were on a different confirmation code that required even more work and research.  I waited outside for them and we were the final three people to board the plane by about ten minutes. 

Finally, though, we were on board. I popped my Ambien, set the music on my tablet on shuffle, put on my facemask and can’t say I remember much from takeoff until almost five hours into the flight.  Hansena was seated next to me at the window and she slept most of the flight.  I managed to finish my second book of the trip (Willa Cather’s 1923 Pulitzer Prize-Winning “One of Our Own,” about rural Nebraska and World War I) and also got more work done processing and cataloguing photos.  We landed on time at a sunny SeaTac and made our way to customs and immigration.

The lines were long at the passport checks, but they had new kiosks that allowed US citizens to just scan their passports, answer a couple of quick questions on a touch screen, and then have a photo taken with an integrated camera.  The kiosk then printed a receipt that we handed to the agents with our passports.  I was impressed with the entire system.  Annie was less pleased, though, as for some reason not clear to any of us here receipt printed with a big red “X” in the middle and she had to go back through the system.  We’re not sure if it was a random check or some malfunction.  Still, she met us down in baggage claim about ten minutes later.  Dylan, Hansena, Luke and I were already waiting for our bags and we had one of our bigger reliefs of the trip when we saw them on the carousel.

Recheck-in went smoothly and we passed security eventually—I was reminded that we were back in the States because my TSA agent that patted me down after I set off the metal detector with my metal hip offered the kind of stateside attention that I’d missed in Korea and Cambodia. 

We made it to the gate area about four hours before boarding and used the time to set up our typical camp near a bunch of recharger plugs.  Dylan promptly went to sleep sprawled out on a back of nearby seats and he was joined by Winston a little while later who found a parallel set.  The others were watching the Netherlands-Brazil soccer match and they returned later.  Luke went to sleep. Hansena woke Winston three or four times because he was laying on his back and his snoring was audible throughout that SeaTac C Terminal.  Dylan hardly budged for four hours.

SeaTac’s free wifi was blazingly fast and I managed to get all of my remaining photos processed and uploaded to my Zenfolio account, my Microsoft OneDrive cloud backup, and to several smaller Facebook albums.  I also added a few items to our Googledocs spreadsheet documenting some expenditures during the trip, called our shuttle company in Colorado Springs to reconfirm our pickup, and get some pages into “The Book Thief.”

By 1730 we were all cleaned up, awake, and ready to board the final flight leg of our trip.  A call came out for a volunteer to take a middle seat in the exit row (non-reclining seat) so that a family could sit together in this oversold flight and I took it, reasoning that the cadets were tired of me sitting around them, I’d get more leg room, and I didn’t plan to recline anyway since I would be typing this blog.  The family was thankful and it worked out well.

Nothing to report on the return flight and our bags and driver were on time worked out well.  On the final van ride back to the Academy, our driver (a Marine Corps Vietnam vet) had lots of questions about the trip because he was also the driver that took us to the airport three weeks earlier.  (Let me note that it was a 30 minutes longer trip than it had to be because USAFA has decided to close the North Gate after 2200 so our driver had to go all of the way to the South Gate and then back north to the Cadet Area to drop off the cadets)  With all of his questions, and my answers, he was happy that we’d had a good trip and surprised by how upbeat we were about Cambodia and its future.  I realized the same thing, while trying to balance my comments with all of the challenges that we saw.  The conversation really helped all of us focus on what we saw and learned on the trip and was a great way to finish.

Becky picked me up at the South Gate as did Winston’s sponsors.  We all had a few shorts words of mutual thanks and congratulations on a trip very well executed.  This is my fourth official cadet immersion trip and it was the smoothest—even though it was the most physically and culturally challenging and immersive.

Thanks to all who followed us on this trip, checked the blog, and wrote encouragement. Special thanks goes to the USAFA Class of 1981 for supporting this trip through their generous donations to the USAFA Endowment as part of our class gift (If you’re ‘Second to None,’ reading this,and haven’t yet contributed to the Class Gift, I hope this blog and the success of our trip will encourage you to do so). Cadet final reports will be submitted and publically available via the USAFA Endowment's website sometime in early August. I'd also like to thank Developing World Connections (especially Ashley Ekelund), Equitable Cambodia, Intrepid Travel, Mango Tours Cambodia, and our great guides and leaders: Dan Tc, Sotheavy Sov,Sokkheang Ly, Kheng Senh, and Savorn Toem for helping make this such an amazing, memorable, and important experience for our cadets (and me).  All 5000 of my photos are now up at martyfrance.zenfolio.com.

And that’s it folks.  More adventures start soon when I depart for a semester abroad at Nanyang Technical University in Singapore as a Fulbright Fellow.  The Cambodia trip and strengthened my resolve to travel as much as practical throughout Southeast Asia and Indonesia while I’m there as well as making plans to meet Becky in Hong Kong during our Fall Break to see that great city and let Dan serve as tour guide again--for beer and photo discussions.  I’ll run a blog for that trip, too.

All the Best,

Marty

We packed up, relaxed just a little and said ‘goodbye’ to The Beach House, our home for nearly two weeks, at 1400 on Friday.  The drive back to Phnom Penh was at least as harrowing as the trip to Kep, but this time I sat in the front seat and took a few photos.  This also allowed me to use one of the few seatbelts onboard as seatbelts are mandatory in Cambodia for the front seat.

Traffic was noticeably heavier due to the pop-up national holiday, with many families on the road in both directions.  We made the same halfway stop at Takeo for drinks and to see a little more local flavor.  It was there that we saw one of the most packed cars of the trip.  While departing a stop a Toyota Camry passed us with at least nine people inside.  To give you an idea how this is accomplished, the person on the far left of the front seat was NOT the driver.

About 30 km from Phnom Penh, the traffic was getting heavier though it continued move reasonably well.  At this point, though, our lead driver took a turn to an off-road hoping to go around the city and it’s traffic a little.  This led us on about an hour’s worth of the worst paved and semi-paved roads of the trip, back alleys, parking lots, and open fields that couldn’t possibly have save us any time.  Twice the drivers had to stop to try to determine where they were.

By the time we arrived in Phnom Penh, it was almost time for our 1800 dinner reservations at Malis.  We drove “straight” there and were greeted by a security guard that said that it was closed for the holiday.  Clearly, the person with whom I made reservations by telephone the night before was unaware of these plans.  We called a couple of other restaurants and then settled on returning to Khmer Surin, the large guest house and restaurant where we’d dined before flying to Siem Reap (seemingly) ages before.

The drivers got us there easily and we went to the third floor for an open air seat and were soon joined at the next table by six Chinese business men who decided that they needed to chain-smoke through their meal.  Luckily, there was a breeze and the ceiling fans were working overtime, but it was still annoying.

Our flight didn’t leave until 2320 that evening, so we had plenty of time for the meal, ordering drinks first (Beer Lao for Dylan, Dan, Winston, and me) and more frilly drinks for the rest of them.  We were glad Vy was dining with us one last time and I announced that her meal and Dan’s was on me as their “tip” for great, great help and guidance for the trip.  For appetizers, we had fresh and fried spring rolls and some excellent chicken satay in peanut sauce.  Winston was now on stag two of what was his typical diverse choice of beverages:  jasmine tea; beer lao; followed by a white Russian and then a cappuccino. 

Our waiter hovered over us for quite some time, though we resisted him, wanting to stretch the meal out a little more since we weren’t planning to leave until at least 2000.  The waiter actually warned us that a couple of plates would take longer to prepare than others, but they seemed to arrive with the others.  I had a grilled whole tilapia that came out undercooked and raw in the middle.  Three of the cadets ordered Pad Thai, Vy had the frogs' legs, Dan ordered grilled whole catfish, Winston had fried rice in a pineapple, and I can't remember what Dylan got but think it was some noodle dish, too.  My fish came back recooked and was actually quite good.  Most of us ordered dessert, too, and we were ready to go at 2000.  

Outside the restaurant, we said our goodbyes to Dan and Vy.  Both were like part of the team and they fit in well with us throughout their time.  There were hugs all around and promises of visits. (I'm planning to visit Hong Kong where Dan lives in October with Becky)  Both said that they would highly recommend any of us (even me, with some reservations) as team leaders for upcoming Developing World Connections/Equitable Cambodia service trips because of the great work we'd done and how well we'd embraced the culture and experience.  They again expressed their amazement that we'd survived three full weeks in Cambodia without any serious illness and only one person-day of work or touring missed.  I can't thank either one of them enough--we were so lucky to have them on the trip as well as the great guides and drivers.

Once again, traffic was terrible going to the airport.  We didn't arrive until after 2045 and finally pulled up to the curb to get our bags and tip our drivers.  I gave our part-timer $5 for safely bringing us from Kep and then I had to chase down Dee.  The cadets had given him $5 tip already and he'd hugged all of them with just a huge smile.  He'd really adopted us even though he spoke almost no English.  He's a REALLY excellent driver who we trusted implicitly.  Anyway, I ran him down in the drive-through area of the departure gates and knocked on his slowly moving window.  He pulled over and I gave him another $10 and he hugged me and we shook hands to say goodbye.  He also got a USAFA lapel pin.

Things got more interesting at the airport, though, for check-in.  The Korean Air agents were confused by our tickets and the fact that we were traveling to Denver on a total of three different airlines (Korean, Delta, Alaska) even though the Korean Air flight was code-shared with Delta.  When they finally worked all that out and told us that they couldn't give us boarding passes for Seattle to Denver, we hit another snag...  The agent noticed that Luke's passport lists his first name as Lucas, but the airline ticket was issued to "Luke."  She said that she couldn't issue him a boarding pass and apologized.  I started to raise a stink by pointing out that he's made it to Cambodia with the same credentials and ticketing, but she held firm.  We continued to try to explain and she finally got a supervisor.  HE looked very concerned and said that the names didn't match.  We told him that we knew that and I became more assertive.  At this point, I didn't know what we were going to do--call the Embassy?  Call the government travel agent (Manassas Travel) or what.  It didn't help that, technically at least, the airline was right and this was something that we just hadn't caught.  He said that he would check with his manager and he came back with yet another person who finally approved the boarding passes for Luke/Lucas.  By now, our check-in process had gone on for over an hour and we were very glad that we'd arrived early.  We had only about 30 minutes from that point until we actually boarded the flight.

I woke up early and couldn't get back to sleep, so that's how I got the blog posted from yesterday.  We'd planned to meet at 0630 to walk to the Crab Market, but none of the cadets showed up.  I told them the night before that that was no big deal and that I'd leave with whomever wanted to go at 0630.  It's about a 20 minute walk and when I got there, things were just setting up.  Fish were already grilling and vendors were cooking bowls of Khmer breakfast noodle soup.  Restaurants were sweeping out their front entry areas and cleaning up from last night's rain and wind.  It was low tide and about a dozen people were scavenging for crabs, snails, and the like in the tide pools, sand, and exposed rocks.  Crab pots were in and there had already arrived some bucket so live tiger shrimp and other varieties that were being picked through for size by the retailers.  I didn't stay long and paid $2 for a tuk-tuk ride back to the Beach House, arriving at about 0715.  

By then, Dan was up and had ordered breakfast.  I ordered Khmer soup with prawns and went to the room to finish packing and get ready for the morning.  The girls came down and did the same thing, but none of the guys even showed up until Winston came down at 0755, followed by Luke, then Dylan.  They all skipped breakfast or had snacks in their rooms because we were supposed to leave at about 0800 as usual.  Vy was there and she outlined our plans again:  school visit with soccer game; visit women's vocational training center, the a final lunch at the Vine, back to the hotel, checkout at 1400 and then the drive to Phnom Penh.

The weather was excellent with finally some clearing and blue skies as we drove to "Our School," a small K-12 school near the Vine retreat that we'd driven by before Savorn (mentioned earlier) is an English teacher at the school and his wife is the librarian.  The school was originally run by an NGO and funded in large part by the Korean government, but has since been taken over by the local community.

We  learned when we arrived that today had been declared a national holiday by the king and the government and that school would not be in session.  However, many kids showed up anyway at the request of Savorn and the other teachers.  About 30 kids and several teachers greeted us when we arrived.  Savorn showed us around the peppercorn farm that he also manages which is located adjacent to the school.  He said that it had 1125 plants which produced between one-half and one kilo each per year.  He was very proud of the irrigation system that pumped water from a reservoir pond to a small water tower about four meters off the ground, then into the pepper plants.  They also had some pretty large cow manure piles that they used for fertilizer.  He said that as part of his job (his house was next door), he also managed a newly planted mango orchard that had 3000 trees on 10 hectares of land (almost 25 acres).  Savorn's house looked nice and modern compared to most in the area with a steel roof. It was obviously well-maintained.  He said that the community and school provided him with the house as a condition of employment.

From the peppercorn vines, we went back to the school and looked into the classrooms.  They were very basic, with minimal lighting.  They did, however, have a nice computer room with 15 new Toshiba laptops and it was clear from the posters and writing on the board that they were teaching spreadsheet use, some basic coding, and the use of other apps.  The entire school has nine teachers and its annual budget is $12K.  Yes, I said $12K.  That both impressed and saddened me at the same time.  Kids have to pay a small fee, equal to $0.50 per month from their families to attend, but everything else is free.

We then went to the soccer field for about 45 minutes of spirited, but rough (with loose rules) sport on the mostly dirt field.  All of the cadets played as did Dan, Savorn, and one of Savorn's friends.  About 20 kids played.  They split into two teams that were roughly boys versus girls, though Dan and Savorn played on the girl's side.  We had a lot of fun watching the game and everyone was sweating profusely within a few minutes.  The kids (mostly ages 6-12) had a blast and really showed a lot of spirit and enthusiasm.  The cadets ate it up, too.

After soccer, we moved to the front of one of the buildings and Dan sang some songs with his guitar.  We were trying to find some songs that everyone would enjoy (with some participation) and Hansena and Annie demonstrated and taught them to do the Hokey-Pokey.  The kids loved it, though they didn't get the right versus left thing entirely.  They all giggled and laughed when Hansena called them to put their "butt in" and their "butt out," then shake it all about.  I videoed the whole scene with my camera.  The kids like it so much that they did it again to huge applause.  They then sang one of their songs and we cheered.

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Finally, it was time to go, so I pulled out some of our gifts.  I gave Savorn a USAFA pin for his lapel and then pulled out the gross (144) of USAFA emblazoned pencils that we'd brought with us from Colorado.  To my surprise, the kids all lined up--girls on one side, boys on the other--to receive their pencils.  I had more than enough for two each, so I gave them each two and they politely said "thank you" in English of "akun" in Khmer, each treating their new pencils like gold.  I gave the remaining pencils to Savorn as well as some foam rubber baseballs with USAFA logos, some lanyards, and other stuff.  The kids stayed in their lines and we did high-fives down the line with each cadet before regrettably saying "goodbye."

We next went to a vocational training center where local girls and women were learning to weave silk scarves by hand, make coconut shell jewelry, and other artisanal crafts.  This was an example of another NGO that had started a local training shop but had now given it over to operate as a real business.  We'd seen their products for sale in local hotel and really like it, so it was nice to be able to see the crafts being made an then purchase some more souvenirs at very good prices.

It was finally time for our last lunch at The Vine Retreat.  What a great, secluded guest house with just awesome food that we'd enjoyed for almost two weeks.  I probably gained weight on this trip and The Vine is the primary culprit.  We had another great squash soup as well as squid with fresh green peppercorns--both delicious as usual.  I gave one of my Tripadvisor "Excellent Service" pins to the woman who had been taking care of us during our visits.  This was clearly one of the highlights of the trip.  

We all decided to just get back to the hotel as quickly as possible to rest, shower, and finish packing before the arduous and thrilling drive back to Phnom Penh.  Once there, we plan to go to Malis for dinner before Dan an Vy drop us off at the airport for a wonder 2320 departure to Seoul.  

Here's the whole day's slideshow: