#senegalese cafe touba

[everythingaboutcoffee]

[dakardreamsofsheep]

Snapshots of My Daily Life and Routines in Senegal

It took me a little while to settle into my rhythms, I’d say a good two months. Having routines that I can occasionally break is my happy place. Having taught for two stressful COVID years, the sudden freedom to arrange my days felt bizarre. I tried to never let the wonder die down, though we humans are just so freaking good at adjusting our baseline levels of happiness. Generally, many of my days would go like this:

Wake up, tea and stretching on the terrace, writing in my gratitude journal. Going downstairs, loading my surfboard on the bike rack, wheeling it out of the sandy alley and towards the parking lot. Saying hello to Bashir selling coffee, Nombu selling breakfast sandwiches, Abdalla opening his variety shop, Babacar selling sunglasses, Lamin idling his taxi. A ten minute bike ride to one of two shoreline spots, a bit on the paved road but mostly cobblestoned alleys and dirt streets. Construction piles, herds of animals and puddles changed overnight, so the route was always a bit different. If the tide was right and waves were good, I’d start out surfing, occasionally with a friend but usually hitting the water solo. There were almost always other surfers in the water, and if I didn’t get an early enough start one of the three surf schools would show up with a half dozen students. I rolled my eyes but up until the very end I’d classify myself firmly as a beginner.

Getting tossed around in the waves does wonders for the creative juices. Mostly it shook my mind blank, left a tabula rasa for writing. It’s the opposite feeling as when I finish a stretch of doom scrolling, that unpleasant sinking tunnel vision. After I dried, I’d head upstairs to the second floor of a surf shop and cafe. It looked out over the water, and was always perpetually under a bit of construction. The narrow staircase was hidden and the shop itself was set back from the main beachfront venue, so in my whole year there only a dozen or so people ever joined me there. It was the perfect writing spot, and with no phone or internet connection I could pace around with my small, over sugared cafe touba smelling of cloves, until I sat down to hit my daily word limit. Lunch was usually not ready in the shops until about 1 PM, so I could take my time getting back. Since I never brought my phone, lunch plans were serendipitous unless I’d organized something the night before. There were three little restaurants who made excellent versions of mustardy yassa, peanut tomato maffe and the Senegalese national dish, thieboudjiene (rice and fish). Often I’d run into Carolyn at one of the shops, or if I dropped my things off at home, we’d head there together.

In the afternoon we’d have French class, between which I’d sneak off for another workout, or playing on the beach. Intensive language learning is such cognitive exercise you’ve gotta do something to shake it up between classes. In the latter half of the year after French classes ended I’d replace it with a delicious siesta.

Nighttimes varied. Tuesday we’d host a weekly art night at our house, Fridays Shabbat, Thursdays date night with Carolyn out and about somewhere. On Wednesdays one of my friends MC’ed a little open mic show at a beach cafe nearby, where we’d laugh and dance and go outside to look at the waves when it got too hot. I met two of my best friends there, actors and dancers who came up with a new piece of performance art for the dance floor every week.

Candidly, nighttimes were also some of the more challenging for me. Carolyn had her dance community locked in at least three nights a week until the wee hours, but in my unplanned days I sometimes found it hard to motivate myself for a big night out, or even a walk around the village. It wasn’t for a lack of people available, but getting caught in a now familiar Ryan-trap of my own devising. I’d be conflicted about hanging out with American or European friends during my time in Senegal, but my Senegalese friends wouldn’t START their night until at least 11 PM or later, when I thought of getting up early to surf or write. If I could talk myself out of the non-issue I’d usually end up having a lovely time out, or if I could make peace with the slower pace of a sabbatical year have a lovely time staying in.

After the first month of shopping trips to the big markets, I rarely went downtown, and met a goal of almost exclusively getting around on my bike. Mostly that meant staying around the neighborhood, since Dakar is the opposite of a bike friendly city. I could bike ten minutes in either direction to a surfing/writing spot, or put on my wetsuit and swim to Ngor Island to see friends, or just walk to any of my usual haunts in NGor. It was a dreamy commute, and I’m sure as my life revs back up to normal American professional patterns next year, it will seem a dreamy routine.

[iamrubykhan]

Cafe Rue Dix- So let me tell you, I have a list of some of my favorite restaurants in NY. I’m a huge foodie, and extremely picky 😬 I am really into ambience, good food, and great service. Without a shadow of a doubt @caferuedix knows how to bring it! The owners are the sweetest and own a shop next door, called @marcheruedix . You could even your nails done in the shop ��🏾 I mean, what’s not to love? 😅 Aside from this, what captivates me most is the decor. Rich in Senegalese culture, the music and vibes make you feel as though you are actually in Senegal. Lol Serving authentic Senegalese fare, you will enjoy almost any meal you have there- even if it is mashed potatoes (I would know...it is really good). However, I must say that something that surely knocked me out of the park was their prized Senegalese coffee: Touba I don’t even drink coffee but this stuff was such a powerful dose of caffeine. It tasted heavenly, but I was up all night ! Lol If you are in the Crown Heights area in Brooklyn, this place is a must! It’s worth seeing just for the experience alone. | #beyondeden 🌺 (at Cafe Rue Dix) https://www.instagram.com/p/CFLYQDnlbvv/?igshid=ry3vk5pb6awl

[gadaay]

#Repost @amy_sall ・・・ Djibril + Ousmane in their Jummah best 👌🏿✨ #CIDakar I miss the smell of the fresh fish, the cafe touba, the little smile of my mother, my dad aka the hustler from Darou Keur Matar Dramé, miss all those amazing souls and beautiful smiles. Miss the art scene of Dakar. But one the thing that i miss the most is going to pray and seeing those traditional clothes of Senegalese men. (at Dakar, Senegal)

[thelittlebaobab]

Touba

Drinking cafe touba in Touba

After the struggles to get to Saint Louis, we wanted a responsible driver with a reliable car – well, as reliable as possible in Senegal. I spoke with my English friend (and our very first guest) Mam Diarra who put me in touch with her buddy Daouda. Mam Diarra (her Senegalese name) runs a charity in Saint Louis to help the talibe children.  Talibe are young children found all over Senegal who are…