Lazy Saly

The best kind of places are the ones which inspire both conversation and quiet contemplation, and the best kind of travel companions are the ones with whom you can do both. I am extremely lucky in that regard. Holidays generally make me anxious - anxious that I'm not being "productive" but the getaway in Saly went by surprisingly fast.

Saly is a small seaside town on the "Petite Côte" (riviera) of Senegal, about 50km away from Dakar and only 20km from the new airport. The Petite Côte runs through many lovely villages, but Saly is perhaps one of the better known. Once a Portuguese trading post, it is today a getaway destination for people seeking to escape Dakar... or Europe. Tourism is now the biggest source of income, although it has another side to it, when you see locals with foreign "tourists".

Not hard to see why: time slows down in Saly, at least it did for Fraser and I. The long stretch of beach was made for lazy, lovely walks by the waves of the Atlantic.

We checked into the cute little guesthouse and greeted our lovely (though clingy) host, Billie, who didn't miss any opportunity to get close to her guests.

^Meet Billie

This place is adorable, and would not be out of place in the Mediteranean, but there are also full blown resorts and boutique hotels (all foreign owned) claiming space on the Petite Cote. After we'd checked in, we headed out on the beach. Not white sand and turquoise lagoon, but it had a charm of its own. Having grown up with the limpid lagoons of Mauritius, the first time I encountered bottle-green waves and dark cold sand had been a shock to me (the Black Sea in Romania, if you must ask); since then, I'm somewhat in awe of the shifting personae of the oceans and seas I encounter.

Saly is literally designed for walks on the beach. There was much to talk about; life, travels, our experiences. And there was much to see as well.

Like the beautiful seashells strewn on the beach, in a range of colours - pearlescent opal, pink, lilac, or bright orange or red...

... Or weird things, like this spongy fan coral thingy...

... And the long, sleek pirogues, painted in colourful patterns. Saly is a landing spot for fish including pelagics like marlin and tuna. Fishing is the lifeblood of this community, and when walked past the rows and rows of colourful pirogues, it was clear that artisanal and semi-artisanal fishing remained the heartbeat of the coastal towns. I read somewhere that there are over 20,000 of the pirogues.

Senegal is also ridiculous: seriously ripped and toned men work out without breaking a sweat on the beach... or scrub their goats as close as possible to a level of sparkly whiteness in preparation for the Eid.

On the beach, you can find restaurants and hotels, but also little shacks advertising drumming performances later in the night which Fraser felt was a tourist trap and serving "touba" coffee - a coffee beverage spiked with local spices, which became so popular in West Africa after the 2008 economic downturn that it drove down sales of instant coffee and the corporate brains of Nestle had to come up with versions of spiced instant coffee to compete. performances later in the night.

We came across someone praying, or conducting some ceremony into the wind:

Friendly doggos trot alongside you. Like Patrick, who shared some stalkery traits with Billie...

As the sun goes down, the flower-and-seashell strewn sand turns the colour of muscovado sugar.

More people start coming out, families and dogs, people playing football...

This side of the continent isn't well known for sunrises but getting up and out at 5am has its perks. The sun peeks timidly from behind the wall of palm trees, casting a glow on the pirogues.

Fishermen come in with their catch while women armed with buckets come to claim the fish that they will resell in the market.

The gendered division within the fishing industry is very clear here.

Our time in Saly went by in a lazy dream of walks on the sand where we stopped occasionally to listen to the tinkling sound of seashells in the waves....

...breakfasts and brunches and more conversations by the ocean...

....dipping in and out of the Atlantic - and here I learnt to NEVER trust a Scotsman when he says "it's not that cold".

Fraser jumped in immediately like the fish or Loch Ness monster that he is, but when I did.... this ain't no Indian Ocean warm waters.

I died from the cold.

Saly was so mellow and lovely, and a welcome respite from our hectic lives and I could see why people love coming to Saly.