Paradise Regained

July 21, 2008

It was an incredible high to be speeding to Leopold Sedar Senghor airport two days after graduation (I am delighted to report that we had a 100% pass rate, despite those students who were notorious partisans of least effort, see story http://www.traveling-stories-magazine.com/notes-from-a-conseil-de-classe/#more-610). On my way to catch a flight to Athens via Madrid, all I could think of were the sidewalks – the recycling programs – AC and mosquito-free
sleep - no haggling in stores = bliss.

In Madrid’s airport I feasted on different tapas of smoked salmon,
anchovies, etc. and killed time buying beautiful but useless items
such as Agatha Ruiz de la Prada lip balms because of their colourful
decorative tins http://www.agatharuizdelaprada.com/.

I looked at all the magnets featuring bulls with a rueful smile,
remembering how during one trip to Granada I convinced myself to attend
a bullfight so I could try to understand something about this bit of
Spanish culture. I cried when the first bull was killed, leading the
Spaniards around me to think of me as slightly cuckoo. To bolster my
spirits they offered me strong wine from an animal hide flask and we
emerged from this shared experience as the best of friends, but of
course that is another story entirely.

At the Athens airport, I was picked up in a taxi: a Mercedes taxi. For
a girl who has been accustomed to cracked windshields, malfunctioning
speedometers, malodorous fellow passengers and holding the door closed
in curves, this was a very new and very agreeable situation:
http://www.traveling-stories-magazine.com/on-the-road-again/#more-638.

I leaned back in the leather seat, adjusted my (intact) seat belt and
let the cool air of the AC engulf me. At the hotel was a clean and
functional elevator and my room had a small balcony with a view of a
very blue sea. I made my way to the immaculate bathroom and enjoyed
the luxury of the first steaming hot shower I’d had in quite some
time, then flicked on the TV (!). It was all very
Alice-through-the-rabbit-hole sort of thing, but I was not
complaining.

Showered and dressed, I decided to off in search of a fine Greek
salad, which I eventually found in the heart of the Plaka district at
the foot of the Acropolis. The salad was bursting with vine-ripened
tomatoes, flavourful olive oil and smooth feta. I feasted on it and
the crusty bread which I used to mop up the herbs and the oil and
thought I would burst with happiness.

Next morning, however, after indulging in a marvelous breakfast buffet
featuring a cornucopia of fresh fruits I had not seen in almost a
year, from peaches and apricots to cherries, I was sick as a dog: all
over, both ends. It was a miserable time, and the value-sized pack of
Imodium I had purchased for my big trip to Africa was very usefully
located back on my bathroom shelf in Dakar. I have no idea at all why
I no longer seem to be able to process healthy food: my only hope is
that my body will fare better with the inevitable Schnitzel and fries
once I hit the German part of my itinerary.

Once I had recovered sufficiently from my bout of illness, I had to
engage in some retail therapy. Sandals and wraps and linen outfits
were available in a wide range of styles and colors, and all that was
required of me was to plunk my money down: no negotiation, no
bartering, no hard luck stories, it was fabulous. Exhausted but happy, I returned to
glitzy Glyfada in search of dinner but had to make
a concerted effort to avoid places like Pizza Hut and Applebee’s, which seem to have sprung up everywhere. When
I finally discovered the homey sort of taverna place I wanted that
served local dishes such as stuffed tomatoes, the waiter immediately
addressed me in English. Though I was relieved not to have to use my
two words of Greek, it struck me profoundly that here, too, I was an “other,”
every bit as much as if I had never left Senegal…

About the Author : Tamara-Diana Braunstein brings us her stories from Senegal every week. She was born in Brooklyn, New York. She is a restless wanderer who earned an MA from the University of Freiburg and has worked in a youth hostel in the French Alps, a law firm in Montreal, the Metropolitan Museum of Art as well as in university press publishing. At the moment her home base is Dakar, Senegal, where she is supposed to be teaching but is doing far more learning, as you will see by reading her blog at www.senegalschoolmarm.blogspot.com