21_12_07

The first of many offices.

Waiting for a little bit more of a wait.

The friendliest officials ever.

HGV’s and handcarts.

Every road is a market.

You want a bus, we’ve got a bus.

New country, new flag.

The Saharan dust has one upside.

We shouldn’t be able to see daylight through there.

All ready for some fixing.

Everyone gets involved in fixing our sails.

Oceangoing fishing boats like we’ve never seen before.

Some docks fill you with confidence, others however….

There should be teeth on those gearwheels.

Thankfully we have the finest new metal teeth.

These are seriously brave fishermen.

Waiting our turn for local fare.

Water finds its way inside.

They sell fish in the fish market.

Yet more finding and fixing of leaks.

The cooker moves.

Dakar shows off its colonial past.

Larry is loving the new continent.

More busses, more people.

The presidential palace.

If only the photo opportunity wasn’t guarded by AK47’s.

The coolest birdlife just hangs out.

Catholic churches sit happily next to mosques.

Local artists with their amazing work.

Pumping up tyres and filling the radiator. Another impeccably maintained taxi.

The call to prayer comes out high above us.

An oasis of calm in a city of chaos.

Doors of any shape, as long as it’s this shape.

The biggest bronze statue in the world.

High high high up.

Finally, the desert isn’t in the sky.

Goree Island: The last home of so many sad souls.

If buildings could talk, this would talk horrors.

Classic fort, classic layout.

We could almost hear the sound of chains on cobblestones.

Memories of El Ferrol.

We find a true artisan.

Faded grandeur.

Defence from a different age.

Cerulean’s seamstress – Mama Bijou

Ruffian and friends in new waters on a new continent.

Returning home with the catch.

Doing what we can to get rid of the desert sand.

The sand only covers the windward side.

We wash and wash.