The fam comes to town

So I wasn't allowed to say anything beforehand, but my parents and Talia came to visit me over spring break! They were unfortunately delayed in Lisbon an extra day or so, but this gave me some time to sort of re-enter the real world after five days of river baths, hordes of children, and goat meat. The morning they came Maman Amitie told me that my taille basse was finished (!!) and so of course I had to try it on, at which point she made me wait half an hour so that she could take in a couple of seams before I went over to the hotel to meet the fam. Pictures should be up on facebook soon - its a long skirt and top that flares out plus a head scarf. I don't like the model much but as it was really done mostly as a gift I can't complain. Mamitie expects me to wear it a lot more than I would like to...In any case I showed up in full Senegalese garb at this fancy shmancy hotel and got to the room where it was so wonderful to see my family that I got all teary. My mother brought an entire suitcase full of stuff for me and the family, most of which I really can't give to them and either sent back with the family or am still hiding in my dresser (suitcase, that is) waiting for the opportunity to very slowly distribute things so as not to create more insanity than usual. Read on for that. We had a huge breakfast buffet at which I could barely eat anything because I'm so used to having just bread and tea. We spent the day relaxing a bit and took a pirogue over to the beach island of Ngor, and just walked around. Any time we took a taxi from the hotel it was a fixed price which was way higher than anything I can bargain for, so a couple of times we walked way down the road so I could show off my skills. Later we went out to dinner at an Indian restaurant which I thoroughly enjoyed, probably a lot more than the fam who are used to eating all kinds of delicious things all the time... also Talia and my mom took out all of my braids, and then I washed my hair about twelve times (until the water wasn't coming out black anymore, gross) and I am convinced I lost half of it. Oh yes there was HOT WATER (I stayed in about half an hour) and BIG TOWELS and any number of excellent hotel luxuries. The next day we spent on Goree, taking a taxi which took just about six minutes too long due to traffic so we missed the boat and ended up just getting a bit of coffee in a cafe near where the boat leaves. I paid for the tickets, three tourists and a resident (me!), and argued over getting Talia a children's ticket but was refused...sometimes that kind of thing works. Then we were crowded in to the station with no room to breathe and were afraid we wouldn't make it on the boat, it was such a huge group of pushing sweaty loud people. On Goree I was a terrible guide, and where we had to pay some kind of tourists' fee that I didn't understand, and fend off dudes who wanted to guide us around the island for a fee. The museums there are very odd, but we had a nice lunch and got the speech in the slave house. Unfortunately it wasn't the old guy Joseph Ndiaye, but another guy gave way more information anyways, and we saw Ndiaye who was in an awful mood and yelling at everyone in Wolof or else I would have gone up and reintroduced myself. It was a nice time and afterwards we met Hannah downtown to brave the marche Sandaga. My mother will insist this was a great time, but personally the whole experience of the market there gives me the heebie-jeebies, every time. As a family of Toubabs we got dragged around to the tourist-trap shops but I'd like to say that my minimal Wolof and decent French and bargaining skills brought the prices down a bit. People are so insanely aggressive that you can't help but buy something at times. After Sandaga we spent quite some time wandering the downtown streets of Dakar in search of the French Institute, a cultural center, store, restaurant, and performance space that I've been meaning to get to. A random vendor offered to walk us there and later demanded that I pay him for it, how rude. Yet how typical. Once there, we watched a bit of sabbar dancing, looked around the shop, and ate dinner. The merchandise had actually come from that town I had visited outside of Bambey where there is a sort of commune of tailors who make beautiful stuffed animals and blankets and clothing (for comparatively exorbitant prices, but really amazing nonetheless). The dinner was the best meat sandwich I had tasted in three months. They wouldn't make us drinks because there were apparently too many people in the restaurant, and it took us a good forty minutes to actually pay for the meal, what with us not being sure we had enough cash and practically nobody having the means to take credit cards anywhere in the city. A taxi ride took us back to more hot showers and giant soft beds and noiseless sleeping conditions. The next day we got up and prepared ourselves to take the walk I make daily starting from WARC and ending at my house in Amitie 2. We stopped along the way to buy street breakfast and coffee and bananas and to greet the various characters that I have met on my commute. The boutique man near WARC gave us free cafe Touba and bread with butter, the Talibe left us alone, we crossed the main road with no incidence of broken bones or spirits, stopped to say hi to Ibou and company at TRG, and finally arrived chez moi, where Mamitie had gone out to get provisions for a very special afternoon. I mean she broke out the bissap juice AND the bouille juice AND small bowls of table munchies. Awa made a seriously excellent cebbu jenn, and we spent a very nice afternoon chatting and playing with baby Farou and translating and watching TV. Mamitie took out the woven blankets for my mom to goggle over, and one of her grandkids (aged 31) showed up (I'd never met her before) and miraculously made English conversation all afternoon. Everyone loved the photo album my parents had brought full of photos I'd taken of the family that they'd printed from facebook. All in all it went very nicely and we spent the rest of the day lounging around at the hotel and then ate dinner there (oh em gee, vegetable soup). The next morning we packed up all our stuff, stored it with the hotel, and hit the marche HLM where despite the fact that most of the stores were closed, we bought something like thirty meters of fabric and several pieces of cheap jewelry. I think my Senegalese garb helped with the prices, but bargaining for fabric is a lot easier than bargaining for anything else because you go in knowing what each kind is worth. Stuck in the hotel without a room, we hung around the lobby (next to a giant group of Arab men and photographers that I recently found out was the Libyan president and his entourage) until later that night when we ate dinner there again. Then my family was off to the airport and I caught a ride with the hotel's airport van to somewhere that the taxis would be cheaper. Unfortunately I was spotted by all the taximen coming out of this fancy hotel's van and bargaining was not much easier than it would have been at the hotel. I didn't want to be out on a road in the middle of the night so I finally hopped in a taxi for 2000 cfa. We proceded to have the typical French-Wolof exchange which involved this 18-year-old driver telling me of how he dreams every night of marrying a white woman and going to America, and me telling him about how I have a Senegalese boyfriend who I will be marrying next month and then staying in Dakar to have babies. This works every time I use it in response to any expressed romantic interest, and has thus become the story that I use. Probably not every other day - I'd say every third. At least twice a week. At least. At the end of the ride the driver did not have any change for the bill I had, and none of the boutiques I asked at would give me change for a 5000, so I ended up paying him 1000 and an empty water bottle. How do you not have change dude, you drive a taxi!!! Small bills and coins are so scarce around here that everyone holds on to it. I mean sometimes I'll go to a big store and try to buy a can of juice for 450 francs with a 1000 and they just don't feel like making change so I just can't have any juice. Infuriating. Okay anyways I got home and the family had recently arrived, most of them tipsy from the annual Mendy family Easter party. Poor Hannah was the object of much cousin-ly attention and numerous dancing requests, and when I came home was doing the dishes. I'm kind of sorry I missed out on more family insanity but oh my oh my there was more the next week. In any case that ends my story of the end of spring break so now I'm only a week or so behind in my blogging. Mom, dad, and Tali: I hope the account of our adventures was to your satisfaction and that I didn't leave out anything you esteemed to be worthy of the blog. Go in peace!