The French are going back, so it’s the two of us again, heading south. Just outside Saint-Louis, we stumble upon the (apparently infamous) police post that succeeds in ripping off every unexpecting tourist for not using the indicator light when pulling over. It doesn't make a good impression of this country, plagued by corruption and bad governance as it is. Dakar is the city to be avoided, as we are told, because of its touts, hustlers and pickpockets. We will try to avoid the worst by finding a nice place to sleep and leave the luggage near Lac Rose, the all famous arrival of the early Paris-Dakar, and then ride into town. Potholed roads or just dirt tracks, heavy traffic, chaos, people and animals everywhere, but no sign of aggression yet. We follow the GPS all the way to the port, park the bikes, go into the customs office, are being helped around and an hour later, we cannot help to feel that this city isn’t all that bad. There is a lot of genuine interest in our bikes and our journey, and even the youngsters at the port are rather polite. Back at the camp site, we decide to take the test and move into town, tomorrow.
With a little help from a friendly man, we find a basic and affordable room in Dakar. Again, we are surprised by how far away our experience is from what we were told. We have been here for a couple of days now and the only bad experience is that after dark, some T-shirt sellers have tried to pickpocket us while we were taking a short walk on a side street. With a firm voice and hand movement, it was not so difficult to get rid of them. All other street sellers have been polite, friendly and readily accept a “no”. People at petrol stations (cleaning the bikes and air filters), shops, markets and on the streets in all kinds of neighborhoods, posh and poor alike, have been just as everywhere else on this planet. We have given Dakar a definite “go through”. It’s just a pity that we did not really have the chance to get under its skin at night. And they should definitely do something about the daily power cuts.
So, that’s where we are now. It’s already been a fantastic journey, but as the local Yamaha importer told us: from Dakar on, there are no 17’’ rear tires anymore, reflecting the relative distance to the Developed World. We are planning to visit The Gambia and then go East towards Mali, another country on the Black List. In Bamako, the bikes will need to be serviced; at least another oil + filter change (over 10k kms!). The rear tires are approaching the Autumn of their all too short lives, and Isabel’s chain set is showing wear signs. The Yamaha guy warned us not to grease it anymore, as long as we don’t meet water. In the dust, it survives longer without than with a fancy European chain spray… TIA, this is Africa!
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