City comparisons

After another afternoon of sweaty, backbreaking dancing, I was taken out for dinner at an Ivorian 'Maquis', a semi open-air restaurant in a ramshackle little street in the local neighbourhood. To one side, some rough wooden tables covered in plastic Guiness table cloths and to the other side, some grills and a table covered in skewers of beef and large fresh fish.

We chose our food, which came with friend plantain, had some beer, and listened to the upbeat Ivorian pop music spilling out of a bar behind us. The waitress was pleasant and polite, the food was fantastically fresh, good tasting and not expensive, and I now find myself looking at Dakar as if she were the ugly sister who can't quite get stuff right. And disliking, immensely, myself for it.