If you give, they will take

This turned out to be a fun but pain in the ass trip. We negotiated a price of $100 USD each for me and Joe for the day; this was to include the ferry price, boat price, lunch, and any museum entrances. The guy that we negotiated the price with wasn’t the one who ended up picking us up. We had to politely but firmly tell him that the price we paid included the museum price, included lunch, included the ferry trip, no we were not going to accept joining a large tour group, etc. etc. It was annoying. That’s what the people here are like. More and more money, if you give, they will take. We were suppose to take the 8 am ferry, but our tourguide came back to tell us he couldn’t get on this ferry and it might be another 2-3 hours before we could get on. Not OK. So he parked his car and we went across. We were going to join a large tour. Also not OK. We ended up hiring a driver to take us to the place where we would take a boat, and this was NOT going to be extra money from us. OK. It went on and on from there, and then all the extra people who come in and want tips – other drivers, boat captain, entertainer – Joe refused to pay them and told them to see our tourguide if they want any money from us (it would come out of our already negotiated price).

Aside from that, the trip was pretty cool – the best part, and the part that took up the most time, was the jeep ride through the back country in Gambia – through all the little villages. The children see white people and are taught to refer to them as “2 bob” - which apparently represents the 2 pence coin that the people from the UK use to throw at the African people years and years ago when they would come to visit. As soon as the children see a vehicle coming from way down the road, they start running towards the road from everywhere – literally, I have no idea where they came from – their little huts, working in the fields, etc. Following 2 bob, they would yell “sweets!” In English. I gave in. This was nothing short but a racist form of entertainment, as I saw it – maybe racist on both sides of the spectrum, but I bought candy to give to the children and really felt satisfied being the Mother Theresa of candy for the day. Seeing how excited they became to see a butterscotch candy was intriguing, sad, motivating and beautiful– all at the same time. If they didn’t get candy from you right away, they would sprint after the car. Literally, until they couldn’t keep up any longer. Though, while I was roaming through the absolutely beautiful countryside, I wondered how bad it could really be. It would be a simple, probably fairly short life – but If you didn’t know any better, life would be so simple. You would grow what you eat, fetch water everyday, and enjoy the company of your neighbors and family. Maybe these people wouldn’t really like/adapt well to our way of living.

After getting back from our excursion, and the guide offering me a back massage (creepy), we took a really nice dip in the pool as the sun was getting low. Our resort really was eye candy. Absolutely beautiful. After a quick dinner, we met up with our expat friend we had met who, by the way, just through some small bits of information helped us finish a half-day of the information we needed to collect for our survey over a lunchtime meeting. It was incredible. We had decided to meet him out for beers tonight. We went bar hopping (his well-dressed driver drove us everywhere in a really nice SUV) to about 5 or 6 different expat bars which I had no idea existed. I sang karaoke for the first time ever by myself; the Monkeys. I only did it cause it was the monkeys. Beer after beer after beer came my way, and I only paid for one round. We met up with expat’s friends (expat’s name is Gary) and in the last bar we ended up with talking to a hooker for about 20 minutes. It was foggy, but Joe was my husband and Gary was my father and some funny, jokingly inappropriate things were said here and there which made us all laugh hysterically. Gary thought it would be entertaining to talk to her, and it sure was. We made a run for it when she went to the bathroom.

That night I woke up numerous times thinking I was going to be sick. I think this was my first beer hangover ever. The next day I didn’t get up until 2 pm. My head hurt so much, and I was still feeling really nauseas. I took some Tylenol and felt better, but that didn’t stop me from seriously needing a nap later in the evening. It was all better when Joe and I split 3 mangos we had bought at the local market. I had never tasted mango so sweet.