Breakfast at Jamm was a wonderful way to start the day. There was choice of grapefruit or bissop (hibiscus) juice followed by a fresh baguette with butter and several kinds of Jam (bissop and mango), a made-to-order egg, and fresh coffee. Yves joined me and the other guests for breakfast which was prepared by Rosemary.

I set out to explore Saint Louis. The guesthouse was located a few blocks north of the center and main area of the island. So I set out to the center with my first stop at the tourist office to arrange a trip for the next day to Djoudj, the bird sanctuary. I was able to make a reservation for a private English speaking guide and driver to the park and paid my deposit. I then set out to walk to the south end of the island. I passed many young people in school uniforms walking to school. The buildings were colorful with old wooden doors and windows. I came across what appeared to be a mosque a few blocks from the far end of the island which I walked by and then reached the far end. There was a museum there for which I could find no entrance as there was construction all around it. I walked along the street to the other side (east) of the island and then back to the center. I could see across the water the fish market that Cheryl from AJWS had told me about and said it was not be be missed. As I neared the center again there were men repairing fishing nights adjacent to a large pile of garbage with goats on top of it, Senegalese recycling, I thought. I passed and photographed the men and came to a bridge that crossed over the next island where the fish market was, On the opposite side of the bridge was a central area that seemed to be the center for public transportation. Senegalese buses, brightly decorated but not in such good repair were lined up on various sides of the square. Then there were many wagons pulled by horses, sort of the local non-motorized taxi.

I started In the direction of the fishing boats passing many streets where the locals lived. Unlike the island where I was staying, these streets were not paved and were filled with men, women, children, sheep, and goats. Women were cooking on little stoves on the sidewalk. As I would glance in the courtyards of the homes I could see women washing clothes and men working such as woodcarving to make furniture. Along the sand, men were working on partially constructed fishing boats. Then I came to the fish market which seemed to stretch endlessly along the beach. Fishing boats were in the water and the beach was covered with people and some horses and horse drawn carts. Lined up on the street next to the beach were many trucks with back ends pointing to the water. Some people were sitting in large plastic crates. Many women were grouped together under shelters, often cooking. Children seemed to be everywhere and of all ages. Some shelters which were open and covered with cloth had groups of men. There were dead fish scattered about. Men and women from the shore who would walk out in the water with these large plastic crates which would be filled with fish and then they would carry them over to the trucks with ice and the fish would be loaded onto the trucks. There was noise and talking and chaos and color and activity, an unbelievable place to be. I walked though taking some pictures. Women, especially, did not like having their pictures taken; conversely,, children were very friendly and often approached me to have their pictures taken. After walking some distance on the beach, I went back up on the street. Across the street was a cemetery. I then cut back up to another street and walked back through the area where the people lived. When I got back to the center I went on the beach on the ocean side and walked, observing the people and animals and activity. I was trying to stay dry above where the waves broke. As I was walking suddenly out of the corner of my eye I saw a wave coming in to me with a dead goat that nearly crashed into me as the wave broke. I jumped and nearly landed on a dead cat. With that, I decided I would abandon my trek on the beach. (I had actually brought my bathing suit thinking I might be able to find a little time to enjoy the beach but that idea rapidly vaporized after my little stroll.)

So I went back to the transit square and found on the opposite side the market. I wondered through observing the sights and sounds and smells and activities. It was pretty obvious that I was a tourist a) I had a camera and b) I was the only white person around. I got to one shop and there were several young women/teenage girls in the shop. This was a shop that had several heads with wigs on a counter and then behind it a whole wall of shoes. They invited me in to the shop and, after some discussion, wanted me to try on a wig. I did (see photo). Then they wanted me to try on shoes. The shoes were of all sorts, with heels, bright colors and glitter. I didn't think they would fit. The whole experience was very funny and we were all laughing a lot. Then a man came to the shop who was the owner. I have no idea what the relationship of the girls was to this man, but he seemed to be a good sport about the whole thing. Then there was group photo and I bid them all adieu.

Continuing on, I found myself in an area where there were many shops with large bolts of fabric and many other small shops with both men and women sewing on sewing machines. As I walked by one, one of the men started talking to me and actually spoke some English. He explained to me that people would by the fabric and then bring it to the sewers to have their clothes made. He employed three young men and told me they were paid about $5/day. He had a relative, I think, in the U.S. He gave me his telephone number but I couldn't think of a reason why I would call him.

So out of the market and back across the bridge where I found a small vegetarian crepe restaurant for lunch. It was located in what appeared to be an inexpensive hotel or hostel. A few women came in with backpacks while I (the only person in the restaurant) was eating. When I was finished, I needed to use the restroom and got in just before one of the backpackers who was going to take a shower.

I walked around a bit more, found some small galleries, and headed back to the guesthouse. Just across the street from the guest house when I arrived an artist had hung up a number of pictures on the wall. He invited me to look at them and told me inside that building were more pictures. He invited me in, and we went upstairs where, indeed there were 3 or 4 rooms filled with pictures. In one room, another man was actually painting and working, and then there were a few other people just hanging around. I asked them if they belonged to Yen a Marre (the artist group we had met the first day with AJWS), and I got a resounding "Oui." Well, they were so amazed that I knew about Yen a Marre that I became their good buddy. One of the men told me he worked locally with children that had no homes. I liked some of the work there, but had very little cash with me so told them I would try to come back another time when I had some money. Then I left and went across the street for a little rest in my room.

Once rested, I went out and walked a couple of blocks and found this one block long alleyway that was lined with artists and vendors selling their wares - primarily beads, masks, and some artwork. I chatted with various people using my best French. There was a man in the first stall who spoke English and with whom I spent a fair amount of time talking. He had a booth with many very interesting masks. There were a few I liked but, as noted before, I had very little money with me and I told him I would come back. He told me he would not be there the next day because his son who was six years old was being circumcised. I was really interested in learning about this. He told me 22 boys in the village were being circumcised and there would be a big celebration. I asked him how it was done and about the pain. He said a doctor did the circumcisions and used anesthetic and that it was all very clean and they did not have complications. Had I not had the reservation to go to the national park for the next day, I would have asked him if I could have come to his village. He was a very intelligent and thoughtful man and we had a very good conversation. As I got to the end of the alleyway, there were a couple of men there who asked me how I was doing. I was actually very tired so told me that; I said I had been walking all day. One of them who was this sort of Rastafarian looking person dressed almost in tatters told me he knew the cure for my problem. He told me there was a local product that you rubbed on the skin and made sore muscles feel better. He said he would take me to get some. I asked him if it was far and said no, it was not far. So I nearly had to run after him because he was tall and had a very long stride and walked very fast. So where did we end up going? All the way across the width of the island I was staying on and across the bridge and back to the market. He took me to a stall where a man scooped up some kind of goo and put it in a plastic bag. I knew I was being overcharged, but I just wanted to get it over with and leave and go back to the guesthouse at that point. So I paid, walked back across the bridge with this well- meaning man and then parted company and returned to my room.

I decided to go out to dinner that night and went to a small restaurant about a block away and had one of the local specialties Yassa Poulet and then back, ready for bed.