December 28 — After a heartfelt goodbye to Becca and Jefferson, and 36 hours of plane travel, I arrived at the airport to meet Jordan, Pat and Markus. The border guard looked over my entry sheet and told me that the address written on the card was not good enough. I had “Ngor”, as my address. I needed more.
Welcome to Senegal…
After some back and forth, he told me to leave the security and find my friends. He would keep my passport. I anxiously entered the baggage claim. No white people. No one holding a sign with my name on it. Only a bunch of baggage porters who were my new best friend… for a price. I went to the next room. No white people. My heart rate accelerated. Did these guys forget to pick me up?
I walked passed security. “Where’s your card?” he asked. “The border guard has it,” I say confidently. “Ok.” He grunts. “Go through.”
It seems the rules in West Africa are simply suggestions. I shrug and keep moving.
I get to the outside. An empty tarmac, with a crowd of people on the other end. None of them are white. I walk towards the crowd, bewildered that security keeps waving me by. I could run away and live in Senegal for the rest of my days… if I wanted to… Not that I wanted to, but I could.
My blood pressure kept rising as I walked towards the crowd and new friends kept offering me their services. How was I going to find Pat, Markus and Jordan? Their address is vague at best. I don’t have a cell phone. Its 2am.
I felt a wave of relief when I saw Jordan in his signature leather hat. Markus wrote down a more detailed address “Surf Camp, Ngor Island, (Staying with) Jesper.”
That address was good enough for the border guard. I got my bags which included 15Kg of hard cheese, a Panasonic Toughpad and a Lumix SLR Camera. No hassles no problem.
Welcome to Senegal.
Its beautiful here. Now lets get to work and get as much as we can done before the boat arrives.