Welcome to Senegal. Dakar, the capital and largest city at over two million inhabitants, has been our home since September 20. It’s been almost five weeks, and it has started to feel like our own place now, however temporarily.

Like any place in the world, Dakar has its good points and bad points. When travelling on a limited budget, as we are, unable to seek refuge in certain comforts we take for granted in the United States, it is often the bad points that first become apparent. So our first weeks, while fascinating, were not always easy.

We spent the first five days in an aging downtown hotel, L’Hotel Oceanic. Dakar is located on a two-pointed peninsula, meaning the city has limited space to expand. Thus, land and property are becoming increasingly expensive, and hotel rooms go for a premium. The large, fancy hotels were well out of our price range. That left us with the Oceanic at $45 USD a night. Forty five dollars bought us a hot room with an old, barely functioning air conditioner, a window that would not close, and a shower that leaked water onto the rest of the bathroom floor.

The next day we changed rooms and received one in slightly better condition. Still, we had to deal with downtown. Oppressive heat and humidity meant we were constantly bathed in sweat. The simple act of walking meant maneuvering through an obstacle course of gaping holes in roads and sidewalks, pushy street vendors who don’t take “non” for an answer, honking taxis who would never dream of yielding to a pedestrian, and clouds of black fumes emitted by vehicles who have never heard the words “emissions inspection.” When we returned to our hotel room we took our showers to rid ourselves of the grime and then collapsed onto our beds in exhaustion.

We dealt with this for five days as we registered at the embassy, got our cell phones, made initial contacts for Abraham’s project and found a place to live. The number one criteria for that place was that it not be downtown. And so we found an apartment, with the help of the Baobab Center (who would become our touchstone in Dakar), on a hill above the city in the neighborhood of Sacre Coeur 1. 

That’s where I am now, writing you from my laptop on our big, solid wooden dining room table. Our breezy, top-floor terrace looks out over the city. The sounds float up and fill the apartment — not only of cars and motorcycles, but also Muslim calls to prayer, the occasional church bell, voices of children from the school across the street, music, and the sound of chirping birds from the surrounding trees and rooftops. I hear all of these sounds, often simultaneously, and the feeling I have is one of being alive. Dakar is very alive, in a way that few places are.

I recently returned downtown, and I actually liked it. It was exhilarating. I didn’t mind the obstacles as much. I have begun to take them in stride, to see beyond them and appreciate the many wonderful aspects of this city and its people. I am glad I will be here long enough to get to know them.