i see the sea

I thought I'd wait until this story had a resolution before sharing it with you all...

So, of course, I was punished for bringing too much stuff with me to Senegal by having Air France loose one of my bags on the way from Paris to Dakar. Apparently, an 8 hour layover in Paris wasn't quite enough time for them to get both of my bags across the tarmac and onto the second plane.

When I got to Dakar, I waited, and waited, and, well, my bag didn't show up. I went to the window and tried to explain my problem, but the man didn't seem to believe that I'd looked hard enough for my bag. Once he was satisfied that my bag was not, in fact, there, he started to help me and then told me that I actually needed to go to another office in the back. So, I warily walked back behind the convater belt, through a pretty sketchy hallway past a bunch of abandoned bags (yeah, that helped boost my confidence about the situation) and into another office where a woman was helping some other white folks whose bag the airline had also lost. They, however, did not speak a word of French (or Wolof, for that matter) and were having a pretty hard time communicating their concerns.

When it was my turn, I gave the woman my name and she already had received confirmation that my bag was, in fact, in Paris and not Dakar and that it should arrive the following day. She gave me a number to call to check on it and the name of some man who I needed to contact, as well as a file number. It all seemed very official and well-organized, so my fears were alleviated and I went out to meet Karina, who brought me to my host family's house.

The next day, I called the number the woman from Air France had given me and it just rang and rang. So, I tried again later...same thing. After trying several more times, I went to their website and got another number, which I called. The woman who answered told me she couldn't help me, and gave me the same number I'd been trying. I tried to tell her no one was answering it but she didn't seem to care.

Later yesterday afternoon, Rosalie, another woman from my office, called someone (I'm still not sure who) who assured her that my bag would be on the flight from Paris to Dakar that night and that I should call in the morning to check on it.

Which I did. But, again, no response. It was getting to the point of absurdity, so I decided that if I hadn't gotten through by noon, I'd just go to the airport and try to find this mystery person in person. And so, I hopped in a cab and headed back to the airport.

When I got there, they let me back in through security (something they would never do in the US because I had no boarding pass and was going in through the exit) and immediately found the man I'd been trying to reach. He explained to me that they were moving his office from one side of the baggage claim to the other and had not yet moved his phone.... Yeah. I started to ask whether they'd thought about how people like me were supposed to get in touch with them in the meantime, but thought better of it. Instead, I asked if he knew whether my bag had arrived. He thought it may have, but wasn't sure. So I followed him back to the back again, past all of the abandoned bags, and into the office. And, sure enough, my bag was sitting on the floor of his office, seemingly untouched and in one piece.

So, bag in hand, I got into another cab and realized that I had very little idea of where my office or house were. I knew they were in Mermoz, a suburb of Dakar, but that's about it. The address of the office is Immeuble Rose...which just means Pink Building. And the address of my host family's house is just the number of the house, no street address. Neither of which are very helpful when you're in a car trying to drive to either place. But I remembered a little about my surroundings enough to explain where I thought we needed to go to my cab driver. At first, he thought I was French and wasn't very nice to me. But when he found out I'm American, he became much nicer. Apparently, out of all the people he drives around Senegal, Americans are "the best." So he was more patient with me and helped me find my way back...

Anyways, long story short (I know, too late) I have my second bag and made it back to my house with it, both of us in one piece.

But I left out the best part of the story, which is that on the way to the airport I saw the ocean for the first time. And it took my breath away.