Senegal had never crossed my mind as somewhere to visit until I met their national surfing team eight years ago. The West African nation became the poster child of what Olympic inclusion could do for surfers — the Senegalese could access funds from their national Olympic committee to send surfers to compete in international events.

When I first met the Senegalese surf team in France, I couldn’t really speak to them. My French was about as good as my Russian, and I don’t speak Russian. But their positive-vibes-only team manager spoke English quite well, and we used him as our official translator to communicate with the team’s surfers. They instantly became a fan favorite for their colorful, traditional clothing, painted faces, and expressive dancing at the opening ceremony. Two years later they even brought a traditional Senegalese two-piece wood chair to give to Kelly Slater.

These guys did a good job as ambassadors because, since that moment in France, Senegal had captured my imagination. Years ago I mentioned this desire to friends, and even to my Senegalese contacts. For better or worse, I have a propensity (maybe to an unhealthy extent) to follow through on these big ideas. I always knew I had to scratch that itch and end my current Africa journey with a stop in Senegal.

I’ve been in the nation’s capital, Dakar, for 10 days now. Here are my first impressions:

Life

As with many places in the world, there are two very different realities in Senegal for those who have money and those who do not. The gap between the two is vast, not dissimilar to what I experienced in other places like India and South Africa. There are quite a few foreigners living in Dakar, most of whom work for NGOs, the U.N., or international companies. In fact, in the Almadies neighborhood on the extreme west point of the continent, the majority of residents are foreigners. There, the streets are wide and generally well-paved, the apartments are nice, even luxurious, and the restaurants, with oceanfront views, reflect a more European palate.

I am staying in the Ngor neighborhood, which borders Almadies. Here it’s more of a mix. There are modern apartment buildings adjacent to labyrinths of basic, cinder-block structures that house most of the locals. There is a dusty, dirt soccer field without any lines where local teams play in the evenings and on weekends. Cars and buses navigate the streets around goats and horse-drawn carts.

I’ve made two observations of living in such an environment. First, the Senegalese (at least in Dakar) are very used to seeing foreigners. People don’t bat an eye at me, even though I stand out like a sore thumb. That doesn’t stop the child beggars from honing in on me in hopes of some spare change, but I genuinely don’t feel like as much of an alien as I did in some parts of say, India.

Second, Dakar is surprisingly expensive. If you want to live with the comforts of ‘Western’ life, i.e. a clean space, hot water, a flush toilet, decent wifi, etc., you have to pay. I rented a room in one such apartment — because it’s imperative for me to do my work — for around USD $670 per month. Yes, it’s a very good deal by California standards, but compared to the locals who earn on average $200 per month, it’s like living in an entirely different world, even though we are all neighbors. I admittedly could have found a cheaper living arrangement farther from the ocean, but even other West Africans who I’ve spoken with have told me that Dakar, especially in its nice neighborhoods, is notoriously pricey.

This duality shows through in my daily purchases. Some things are absurdly cheap. I can pay $1.30 to have someone wash my clothes. Yangos (the equivalent of Uber) cost $1-3 on average. A boat trip to surf at Ngor Island is $3 round trip. On the other hand, anything imported is going to be expensive. My fancy European granola costs nearly $10 at a grocery store. (I’m debating changing my breakfast habits.) And, as I mentioned, if you want a nice apartment for yourself, they exist, but it’ll cost you a couple grand. Compare that to the $500-per-month pad that I had for myself in Morocco.

Food

I’ve been to 20 countries since I started the nomad life. Throughout that time, I’ve stubbornly attempted to maintain my vegan diet. I made a few concessions here and there to find protein when it was not readily available in plant form, like eating fish in Tahiti or eating eggs in Morocco. But my run has officially come to an end here in Senegal.

Vegetarian dishes simply are not part of the local culture, at least here in Dakar. I ordered a dish labeled “lentils and vegetables” the other day, only to discover that it had chunks of meat. I gave up and ate it anyway. An all-vegan diet would have to be done strictly by cooking at home, and what fun is that when you visit a new country? The cuisine and the social life of restaurants are key parts of absorbing a new culture. And strictly eating grocery store food might end up costing more than mixing in restaurant visits.

I’ve honestly had a difficult time finding the right places to eat during my first ten days here. The fact that it’s Ramadan (a majority of Senegal is Muslim), which affects business operating hours, might play a role. But also the aforementioned wealth divide is certainly a factor.

The restaurants on the main, busy streets of Ngor tend to be more foreigner-oriented. Prices are probably going to start around $10 for a meal and go as high as your heart desires, depending on how fancy you want to get. There are not a ton of “local” hang-out cafes like those that I enjoyed in Morocco. I suppose that’s because, observing the locals, they tend to get their meals from street vendors or very discreet, hole-in-the-wall restaurants that are basically in grandma’s kitchen and semi-hidden among the neighborhoods of narrow streets. Yesterday I hesitantly tried the street food local style, ordering a pea sandwich (of course, it had pieces of meat added) for about 50 cents. My stomach has responded well so far, and I am confident enough to make a return trip. It will certainly save me money.

Many of the local dishes have French twists, evidence of the country’s colonial history. Sandwiches are made with baguettes and street vendors will throw anything on them like noodles, peas, potatoes, beans, chicken, or meat. You name it. When the sun gets low and it’s almost time for the locals to break their Ramadan fast, it’s typical to see people walking the streets with armfuls of baguettes that they take home to feed their families.

Other highlights of Dakar street cuisine include dates (not as good as those in Morocco) and peanuts. I see the locals buying these little peanut and date bags for on-the-go snacks and I have followed suit. I prefer to buy my peanuts in bulk, selecting one of the recycled alcohol bottles that street vendors repurpose as a peanut container.

Connection

Despite the melting pot that is the United States, I can’t say I’ve ever met someone from Senegal living there. But every ride with a cab driver here starts with: “Where are you from?” “USA.” “Ah, my (insert family member) lives there!” Despite my disconnection with the Senegalese diaspora in my country, our countries are quite intertwined through our rather unfortunate shared histories. Senegal, as the westernmost point on the African continent, was a geographically strategic place for the slave trade.

Wikipedia tells me that roughly 500,000 slaves from Senegambia (Senegal + Gambia region) were bartered in exchange for goods from the European powers vying for control of the area. Some of those people inevitably ended up in the U.S., and who knows, maybe are the descendants of people I know today.

I paid a visit to the island of Gorée, just a 30-minute boat ride from downtown Dakar, which was perpetually fought over by the Dutch, English, French, and Portuguese for its use as a trading post. While historians debate to what extent the island was used for slavery, at least some slaves passed through the island. Today it’s a popular tourist destination to learn about the island’s history and the slave trade while enjoying rare views of Dakar from the ocean.

One more connection between our two countries that I’ve noticed: Elon Musk’s USAID cuts. Living in California, you probably don’t notice the cuts happened at all, but here in Senegal, some NGOs depended on that funding. I’ve heard rumors that some organizations were funded 100% by USAID and now are desperately searching for support. It’s just an example of how our countries — and the world — are interconnected no matter how nationalistic you want to be.

Surfing

I often mention how dramatically my life changed once I strayed down the path of becoming a surfer. My presence here in West Africa is just another example of that impact. Surfing sparked the idea to visit Senegal and continued to nourish it.

For the same reasons that Dakar was/is ideal for trade, it’s also ideal for surfing. As a peninsula that juts out into the Atlantic Ocean, it has a wide range of swell exposure. It pulls in swells from both North Atlantic and South Atlantic storms, providing waves to ride year-round.

Since my arrival the wind has not stopped howling from the north. Thus, all the spots on the north side of the peninsula have been pretty junky, while the spots on the south side have been groomed and offshore. It takes a South Atlantic swell to get the offshore spots working, and the South Atlantic is just beginning to wake from its summer slumber. So, all in all, the surf has been mediocre at best

I’ve surfed several spots now, paying close attention to how the locals navigate the paddle-outs on the urchin-infested reefs. And I even surfed Ngor Right a few times, the wave that was famously featured in the 1966 film ‘Endless Summer.’

The lineups tend to be mostly expats, but the locals have caught onto surfing too. There are a few guys who surf incredibly well. Check out Cherif Fall if you get a chance.

Money

The currency in Senegal is the West African Franc (CFA). Senegal is part of a monetary union that includes eight countries in West Africa — mainly those that were part of the French empire. I’ve learned that I have to be quite strategic with how I manage my money to make sure that I have small enough bills for my transactions.

The ATMs only spit out bills of 5,000 and 10,000, worth about $8 and $16, respectively. But almost no one has change for such bills. The secret is to find the places that typically do have change, and then cherish those small bills for your micro-transactions, like buying from street stalls, paying taxis, etc.

When I went to Gorée Island I tried to buy my CFA 5,200 ferry ticket with a 10,000 bill. The woman behind the ticket window looked at me with a ‘what-do-you-want-me-to-do-with-that’ expression. Apparently, her not having change was my problem, not hers. She was literally willing to let me miss the ferry because I had too much money — an interesting concept. Thankfully a friend was able to lend me some small bills to work it out just before the boat departed.

I’ve been learning how to avoid this issue in Senegal by using their money-exchanging apps. There are two main services that everyone uses for transactions: ‘Wave’ and ‘Orange Money.’ I downloaded Wave so now I can go to any store that acts as a Wave agent and put cash in my account. Once I get my account loaded, I can make payments for anything with a QR code. It’s quite convenient. I’ve been buying my taxi rides, meals, and laundry service with Wave.

Language

Senegal has 11 national languages. Here in Dakar the native language is Wolof. I’ve learned a few phrases, such as ‘thank you’ and ‘How are you?’ Most everyone speaks French here as their second language, to varying degrees. English is scarcely spoken, so French is pretty crucial to get around. I get by just fine with my two years and counting of French classes, although I often have difficulty understanding the thick Senegalese accent, just as they often have difficulty understanding my American-accented French. It makes for some pretty comical phone calls when the rideshare drivers call me asking where I am. (Like English, French has many subtle vowel sounds that can completely change the meaning of a sentence.)

One interesting facet of Wolof is that it has borrowed words from Arabic. The typical greeting among the Senegalese is done in Arabic, ‘salam aleikum.’ They also love to throw the Arabic phrase ‘inshallah’ around, literally meaning ‘God willing.’

I am living with a French/Senegalese couple, so it’s been a good chance to practice my French. I think I would be completely lost without it.