Deep in the heart of San Juan’s Old Town, there are about a dozen churches scattered throughout. For church fanatics like me, it is a dream come true! Many are decently sized, but there is a compact one, a chapel, built on the city’s ancient stone walls.
One of the most photographed, the tiny Capilla del Santo Cristo de la Salud is located at the south end of Calle del Cristo. Constructed in 1753, the chapel is oft visited by locals and tourists alike and sits beside the Parque de Palomas, a gated park overlooking San Juan Harbor.
Many times, I have visited Old Town and walked past the chapel never to find it open. On this particular Sunday, however, luck was on my side as I learned it is only open on Sundays and particular holy days.
Legend has it that many years ago, there were horse races on Calle del Cristo. One of the riders, Baltazar Montanez, was galloping through the city at such a breakneck speed, he could not stop in time and tumbled over the city wall to his death. To commemorate his demise and prevent a similar occurrence, the chapel was built on the site.
Little did anyone realize how many visitors would descend upon the Chapel of the Holy Christ of Health to pray for cures and miracles. Tens of thousands come to the site, which contains a silver and gold leaf altar surrounded by oil paintings by Puerto Rican artist Jose Campeche and tiny silver milagros, which represent ailing parts of the body. But it is not just those of human form who come…there are hundreds of pigeons who descend upon its roof and front plaza!
The church is cared for by a group of local women, volunteers called “La Hermandad del Santo Cristo de la Salud” and you can care for the pigeons on your visit with birdseed available for purchase!
Truly one of the religious gems of the Old Town!
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Capilla del Santo Cristo de la Salud (Chapel of the Holy Christ of Health)
Covid 19 was something we didn’t see coming. It literally stopped us in our tracks.
Being in the travel industry, it prohibited me from doing my job as people were allowed to travel only for essential purposes only. While I could have remained employed, just getting to and from work proved to be problematic and it was easier to remain home.
After a year of lockdowns, however, things were starting to open up in the world and people were ready to put their toes in the water once again. Not able to travel across the pond, as Europe still wasn’t ready to welcome Americans, there were other locations that were eager to crack their doors…with a few restrictions.
As for me? I was ready to get back out there and return to work!
While many passengers weren’t even ready to sit for eight or nine hours in a metal tube with others whose inoculation status they were unsure of, they were willing to take shorter flights. Hence, the islands of the Caribbean became their go-to spot as evidenced by overbooked flights even with mandated tests to enter and depart.
Finding myself with a long layover in San Juan, I was a little unsure of what I would experience in the Puerto Rico capital during these first few months. Hearing stories of curfews and numerous restrictions, I packed my bathing suit, suntan lotion some just-in-case meal options and prayed that at least the beaches would remain open.
When I arrived, what I found at my bustling resort were pools and beaches filled to capacity with everyone happy and eager to enjoy the great outdoors and their first, in many cases, vacations in a pandemic world.
So, what would that mean when I left the resort and ventured into one of my very favorite places, Old San Juan?
Old San Juan, known for its cobblestoned streets, colorful Spanish colonial buildings and massive 16th century forts, bars and restaurants is also a busy cruise port which yields millions of dollars in revenue for the island along with millions of visitors. With no cruise ships docked at the piers and none of those passengers walking the streets, how was the old town faring?
As I watched the passing architecture from my Uber’s window, I wondered what it would be like making my way through the old town area…would shops, attractions and restaurants be open? My research had shown yes, to a degree, but just how many visitors would I encounter in the normally crowded city and how difficult would it be to wear a mask in the hot, humid climate, even outside, as was mandated?
As my driver dropped me off at Plaza Colon, the first thing I noticed was that many restaurants were not open and the ones that were, were closing fairly early. There would be none of the casual browsing in the countless shops as each only allowed three persons inside at a time, with lines slinking up the adjacent sidewalks. But the crowds one normally encounters, were not there.
Wandering the charming narrow streets, I fell into my normal routine of photographing the beauty that surrounded me. I rather enjoyed not having to wait for a group of tourists to pass so that I could get my photograph and when I finally decided to partake in Happy Hour, there were tables readily available.
I must admit, however, the mask was difficult. It was extremely hot, aggravated my asthma and I was not accustomed to wearing it for such long durations, especially in the outdoors.
Nevertheless, happy to be out and about, I made my way through the city, enjoying the architecture and city’s highlights.
Though I realized the impact of not having the number of visitors that the city was usually accustomed, it wasn’t too bad for me. If it weren’t for the masks, I could have been lost in my reacquaintance with the city, enjoying its sights and sounds. However, if I could have forgotten about the mask’s hinderance on my breathing, I think my overall experience would have been hiked up more than a notch. But there was definitely no forgetting…
I was sure to be reminded by some of Old San Juan’s landmarks.
Plaza de Armas
Yes, this was Puerto Rico…pandemic style!
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Many may remember Grimsvotn, the volcano that caused havoc in Iceland in 2011. Disrupting air travel, not only in Iceland, but throughout Europe for the better part of a week, due to the enormous amount of ash it spewed into the air, it suddenly went dormant a short time later.
After ten years, the problems it caused was still fresh in many people’s minds when Fagradalsfjall began rumbling. Located only twenty miles from the city center, it made world headlines and airlines wondered what havoc this new volcano might wreak within their airspace and beyond.
Realizing that I would be visiting Iceland, a friend and I decided that we would rent a car and hike the area to watch the birth of this new volcano. While waiting for our arrival covid tests, we struck up a conversation with our van driver. He asked if seeing Fagradalsfjall was in our plans…much like every visitor…but suggested that we call one of the other drivers to take us. It seems that two other groups that arrived before us had arranged for this driver, Kat, to drive them out to the site in a large multi-passenger van. Since we were not much into the idea of all of the hassles of renting a car, we decided to check with her also when we arrived at the hotel.
A quick call to both Kat and the person in charge of the other two groups, confirmed my friend’s and my seats, along with a couple of others from our own group. After a short nap and the receipts of our negative tests by text, we were gathered in the lobby ready for our adventure.
The drive was not extremely long but not quite as picturesque as I remembered other parts of Iceland. As we turned into the parking lot, I wondered what the hike would be like, spying the many visitors making their way up the inclined rocky path. The wind was kicking as we exited the van and we quickly posed for a group shot…since so many of us didn’t know the others, we though it prudent to have a record of who was making their way into this vast unknown.
No, not really!
We just thought we would do a “before” and “after” shot!
Soon into our journey, it became apparent who was going to lead the pack and who would be finishing last. I already mentioned the steep inclined path…did I mention the wind? Yes, and it was worse as we made our way up the hillside. It was evident that I could not keep up with those who were a good twenty years younger (or more), but there were a couple that were behind us. After feeling like the leaders were always having to wait for us, we told them to keep moving and we would make our way in our own time. We were all anxious to make our destination, but it wasn’t a race.
About forty-five minutes into our hike, we finally got our first glimpse of Fagradalsfjall behind its lava field. It was making a commotion in the distance, but the best shot was achieved by our captain who caught it from this distance at its angriest!
Continuing around a hill, we spied another lava field on our right. Attempts at keeping the lava contained were obvious, but I would guess that would be a losing battle in the end.
Finally, we came to a large peak. This would be the final push to the best viewing area nearest to the volcano. Now, if we thought the winds were bad before, that was nothing compared to what was happening on this climb. I grew up in Louisiana, so I am no stranger to the hurricanes and tropical storms that descend upon my home state during their season. These winds definitely mirrored those of a strong tropical storm or even the beginnings of a category 1 hurricane. The gusts were so strong at times that we could only take a few steps at a time and then have to stand firmly in place, often squatting to avoid being pushed off of our feet. It was slow going, but eventually, the five of us who brought up the rear, made it to join the others who had been enjoying the show.
The best part…they had brought beer!
Fagradalsfjall was putting on a great display of emotion. For some reason, I related to the volcano as a “she” and I thought that she was in a fury, only to be calmed to a semi-agitated state. Lava spewed violently from her cone every twenty minutes or so and then flowed like a river down into the valley below us. Smoke and steam filled the air, at times obscuring the view.
We enjoyed our beer and rested our feet and I could only imagine how much more resplendent she would be during the darkened hours of night. Other friends had made the hike a few days before ours, however, after realizing the difficulty I had during the day, I was glad that we had tackled it the way we had. Only one thing could be worse than our climb up here…the climb back down! Of course, I was correct in my assumptions as I watched people knocked off of their feet on the path.
But what comes up must eventually come down and that would be the five of us, once again, bringing up the rear. We helped each other as much as we could, giving physical assistance and words of encouragement and finally, we all made it down that rocky gradient, with the only casualty being my hat, which was blown away to Greenland.
I knew there were some tough parts ahead, but most of it was downhill this time around and we took our time, even stopping to touch the cooled lava rock and pose for pictures.
Tired and bedraggled, we dealt with the final stretch of the journey back to our van and “what the mountain taketh away, the mountain giveth”…I found a nice 66degreeNorth hat to replace mine that was snatched so forcefully! Of course, I needed to wash it first!
You know that pictures we said we would take together when we all made it back? Yeah…that didn’t happen. There were those that were frozen from having the lack of adequate clothing, warming up on the bus and refusing to set foot outside.
Anyhow, we had come and we had conquered and seen Fagradalsfjall.
After a quick pitstop in town, for restrooms and more beer, we headed back around the rear of the volcano area. Kat had decided to take us to the Krysuvik Geothermal Springs. A steamy, bubbling place reminded us of our trips to the Blue Lagoon, however, these hot springs were not for bathing, nor did they smell all that great, unless you love the smell of rotten eggs. Still, we made our way on the wooden walkways to enjoy the beauty of Iceland one last time, relishing in the fact that it was now after nine o’clock and still not dark.
Many of my friends made their way to the natural wonder that is Fagradalsfjall after our journey, but many did not get to enjoy it as we did. I have heard that the lava flow obstructed that last peak which gave the closest and most fantastic views of the eruptions. Others still encountered weather worse than we did and had to turn back. While I thought it one of the toughest things I have ever physically attempted, I am so glad that we were able to do it when we did and with the people we did it with. Yes, we didn’t all stay together, but in the end, we all did it and saw Fagradalsfjall during its glory!
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Within a mile from Madrid’s Plaza Espana stand many notable architectural masterpieces.
These include the notable Royal Palace of Madrid, home to the Kings of Spain from Charles III to Alfonso XIII, a popular tourist venue in the Spanish capital.
If your interests, however, lie in the palaces where the lesser members of royalty reside(d), you can also find the Palace of the Duke of Infatado and the Liria Palace in the area.
The Liria Palace, located only a few blocks from my hotel, caught my attention as it was described not only as the residence of the Duke of Alba but also as an art museum.
Heading there in the late afternoon for its reopening at four o’clock, I paid my admission and joined three others to receive our audio guides and join our host. Dismayed to see a sign stating that photos were not allowed except of the exterior, I vowed to be as sneaky as I could to capture at least a few things on film.
Ticket Office
Although not being allowed to capture the beauty of this royal residence was disappointing enough, I soon discovered that although my audio guide was in my native tongue, the tour guide would only be speaking Spanish! Well, I haven’t been studying the language for the past year and a half for nothing!
Making our way to the front of the neoclassical palace and entering through the front double doors, we began to watch a short film on the palace’s history. Again…in Spanish, but my studies are paying off because I understood a great deal.
After the film’s completion, we followed our guide up the magnificent staircase to the second level and paused to listen to the narration describing each of the artistic pieces that graced the landings and nooks and crannies.
Following our guide, we then made our way from room to room on the ground and first floors, analyzing each’s unique features and artwork, gleaning what we could from the additional narratives that our guide contributed.
An art museum? Yes, but more of an extensive art collection set in an exquisite home. Hundreds of paintings filed the walls, highlighting intricate architectural features, and many personal photographs were displayed on desks and mantles. Of particular interest was the library, home to more than 18,000 prints, including the first edition of Don Quixote and the largest collection of handwritten manuscripts from Christopher Columbus.
The Liria palace was built in 1770 by architect Ventura Rodriguez and commissioned by James Fitz-James Stewart, the third Duke of Berwick and Duke of Liria. Over the years, the palace survived fire, losing part of its archives and the Spanish Civil War, where part of its façade was demolished. It was passed on to the House of Alba in the early 19th century and was the location where the last empress consort of the French, Eugenie de Montijo, spent her remaining days.
Today, the palace is the residence of Carlos Fitz-James Stewart, son of the 18th Duchess of Alba, and is open to the public to display its remarkable private collection of European art, including painting by Goya and Rembrandt, engravings by Durer and Van Dyck, marble and bronze sculptures from the Roman Empire to the neoclassical period as well as ceramics, armor, weapons, tapestries and empire style furniture.
While the palace is an interesting stop on Madrid’s list of countless attractions, I think it is one for those solely interested in art and the palace’s historical value. For me, the entrance fee was a bit steep, however, it was an attraction that I could squeeze in during the afternoon on my short visit. For those interested in hitting the city’s highlights, the Royal Palace is a short distance away and the city’s prestigious Museo Nacional del Prado may be the starting point for visitors whose interests lie in art. All in all, the tour was extremely informative and gave me a different insight to the residences of Spain’s royal families and for that, it was much appreciated.
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The Hollywood Walk of Fame in Los Angeles is one of the state’s top attractions.
The Walk of Fame in Madrid…a forgotten attempt at imitation.
While checking out places of interest near the Plaza de Espana in Madrid, something caught my eye! A few blocks from my hotel was the city’s own version of the iconic Hollywood attraction!
Opened in 2011, the Spanish Film Academy, wishing to pay tribute to Spanish actors, actresses and filmmakers, laid the groundwork for the installation of twenty-five stars (one for each year of the Academy’s lifetime). The site was chosen for its proximity to the “Golem” and “Renoir” cinemas and also the bookstore, “8 1/2” that specializes in cinematography, however, the site selection wasn’t without controversy. Many thought it would be better to place the “stars” on the Gran Via, a busy avenue more frequented by tourists. While the plan was to install a star per year after the initial induction, only one other was embedded in the sidewalk.
Excited to see Madrid’s cinematic tribute interpretation, I headed out to walk the few blocks to its location. Thinking that it would be easy to spot, I discovered that it was tucked away on a side street and I actually walked past it…twice.
Finally, I turned onto Calle de Martin de los Heros.
Oh, what a disappointment!
Instead of a Walk of Fame, I discovered a Walk of Shame!
Stars dedicated to Luis Buñuel (filmmaker), Pedro Almodovar (filmmaker, producer, screenwriter, former actor), Fernando Rey (actor), Penelope Cruz (actress), Javier Bardem (actor) and Antonio Banderas (actor) among others, lined one side of the street. The sidewalk was dirty, cracked and unkempt. Cigarettes were stuck into the edges of the squares and even one star, that of Luis Garcia Berlanga (director), was crossed with barrier tape. Even poor Javier Bardem’s star was missing one of its appendages!
Although I am positive that certain actors and actress are proud that their country of origin has honored them, I am sure that they are more proud of their five-pointed, terrazzo and gold stars on Hollywood Boulevard.
My advice?
No pierdas tu tiempo (don’t waste your time)!
Go visit the stars of Penelope Cruz, Javier Bardem and Antonio Banderas in California!
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Paseo de la Fama de Madrid
Address: C. de Martin de los Heros, 13, 28008, Madrid, Spain
Hours: 24 hours, daily
Admission: free
Getting There: Metro, Plaza de Espana, lines 3 and 10. Bus, 001, 1, 133 and 74. Train, C1, C10, C3A, C7.
Over the course of more than a decade, I have spent considerable time in Dakar, Senegal. A vibrant city with much history and friendly people, there is no shortage of places to visit and things to do.
One of the most sought-after destinations for most visitors is Goree Island and that was the first place on my agenda when I arrived more than 11 years ago.
A short walk from our hotel was the ferry port and a twenty-five minute choppy boat ride had us approaching a colorful island nestled in the Atlantic waters off of the coast of Senegal. It was quite the adventure! Over the years, I made many trips to Ile de Goree, but some time had passed since my last. Walks around the island always revealed the Portuguese, Dutch, English and French influences. I always found photographic opportunities at every turn and I had been toying with the idea of a return.
As I overheard two of my co-workers, on their first trip to Senegal, questioning whether or not to venture out to the island on their own, I decided that maybe it was time to reacquaint myself with the beautiful island and I offered to take them there.
Noting the ferry schedule, we decided to leave our hotel (now much farther from the city center) about an hour prior to our selected ferry. Little did I realize how much more congested the city’s streets and roadways had become. Sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic, we inched forward along the coast, ultimately realizing that we would not make it in time. Our two taxis finally arrived at the port only to discover that COVID and security restrictions had personnel limiting those who could enter and demanding identification. While I had my driver’s license with me, I discovered that two others had not brought any identification…at all. This certainly put a kink in our plans!
A gentleman, who had been hovering nearby, suddenly stepped in and introduced himself as a tour guide. He went on the explain that those wishing to visit Goree with a tour guide leading the way, could enter without identification.
Smelling a rat, I questioned him further, wanting to know the cost of his services.
“You pay me at the end of the tour what you think I am worth.”
Although he had the official tour guide badge, I have been in this situation before and it never ends well. But what other option did we have at this point? Jump into two more taxis and go back the way we had come, enduring more than another hour’s worth of traffic?
Reluctantly, I made an agreement with him. We paid him the cost of the ferry tickets and the cost of the admittance to the island along with the tour guide tax (paid to the island) and took a few seats in the nearby restaurant to wait out the time until the next ferry departure.
At two-thirty on the dot, our boat pulled away from the dock and we enjoyed the salty breeze on our journey, punctuated with pleasant conversations with some of the local women. Though these conversations seemed innocent enough, it wasn’t until we arrived that I remembered their purpose.
“Enjoy your visit. My name is Fatou. I have a stand in the market. Come see me and buy something.”
Making our way with our guide along the dock and to the crescent beach area, we waited patiently for him to settle the necessities for our tour.
Finally, we were on our way.
Everything was still quite familiar to me with a few remodeled buildings and a new market area. We listened as our guide gave us a detailed history of the island, including its role in the slave trade from the 15th to the 19th centuries, and we followed him in the direction of the House of Slaves.
The House of Slaves, is the most famous landmark on the island, built by the Afro-French Métis family from 1780-1784, and is one of the oldest structures on the island. This is the location where more than 33,000 slaves, torn from their families, were held and then shipped to the western world to work, wage free, never to return.
We made our way through each of the small rooms of the house, taking in our guide’s haunting stories, aware of the atrocities that took place where we now stood. But, until you stand at the Door of No Return at the rear of the structure, you don’t realize what each of these people must have encountered until gazing out at the water beyond the portal. That ocean was their uncertainty. Their new future. One that they could not have envisioned.
Leaving the House of Slaves, we wandered the streets, with our guide, making our way to a small shop where the art of sand painting was demonstrated. Years ago, I remembered seeing this on the hilltop area of the island, however, this store was a little nicer and allowed the artist to exhibit multiple paintings, all for sale.
After a couple of purchases, we once again entered the streets, heading to the Catholic Church of St. Charles Eglise. With my distinct fascination of religious structures, I found it odd that I had never been here before or even knew of its existence.
Remember Fatou? Well, you don’t think she or the other women were going to let us forget our promises to visit their shops. These women began to follow us, asking us to make purchases from them. Although I have more than enough African art, fabric and crafts, it is hard to continually say no when they begin to follow you, interrupting your tour.
And if that wasn’t enough, after our guide led us to the area near the fort (now a museum), relieving himself on a wall as we looked on, he then demanded his payment.
All five of us put up 10,000 CFA each, a total of almost $50.00. Unbelievably, he was not happy about that amount and demanded more, which we refused to hand over. And this was in addition to what we paid for admission to the island, the museum and for the guide tax, which he had assured me a portion would be given to him! A frustrating situation, all due to two people not having identification.
After his hasty departure (in order to make the next ferry), we made our way through the back alleys, eventually losing a couple of our group to the demanding ladies in the market. Gathering our group once again, we made our way to the highest point on the island with its winding walkway lined with giant paintings. This has always been one of my favorite parts of my visits as it is like an art gallery in nature.
On the island’s highest peak, La Castel, we found ourselves in the presence of two large cannons, remnants of the French occupation during World War II. The Vichy cannons were the largest ever made of this type and their turrets now function as homes with artwork and handicrafts for sale near their entrances and clotheslines strung with the occupants’ freshly laundered clothing swaying in the wind. Also topping this pinnacle is the WWII Commemorative Monument which is in the shape of a white sail.
Spending a few minutes in this area, we looked out on the waters that surrounded the island, remembering that the grand cliffs leading down to the ocean were the ones that Gregory Peck scaled to attack Nazi troops in the 1961 movie “The Guns of Navarone”.
Noticing the late hour, we headed down the steep walkway toward the bay and ferry dock for the next boat to Dakar, carefully evading Fatou and the others. Although we would have loved to purchase more to help their businesses, time and funds were running short.
Making our way to the front of the ferry, I suddenly realized how tired I was. It’s a lot to take on the responsibility of a group and to ensure that all goes well and that we everyone achieves what they want from their visit!
So, to wrap up this adventure, if someone asks me for recommendations on visiting Goree Island, I would give them three important pieces of advice.
Hire a reputable guide.
Make sure everyone carries identification. Pack your patience.
Well…that and a camera!
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Dakar-Ile de Goree Ferry
Ferry Schedule: Sunday, 1200-2300, Monday-Thursday, 0645-2300, Friday, 1200-2300, Saturday, 1315-2300. Ferries run every one or two hours.
Fares: Special ferry boat, 1,750,000, Resident, 2,700 CFA, Non-resident, 5,200 CFA
There was a time when I used to spend multiple days in Senegal.
Having so much time to explore, we saw a great deal of not only the city of Dakar but of the neighboring areas.
One morning, after having been up for most of the night, enjoying a few (or maybe more) cocktails, we convened in the lobby of our hotel for a day’s adventure. Though my eyes may have been a little red and my head throbbing somewhat, I made it downstairs in time to greet our tour guide for the day.
It had always been my desire to go on an African safari. I longed to roam an African nation in an open top vehicle on the search for the Big Five while shooting frame after frame with my telephoto lens. So, when my friend suggested we go to the Bandia Reserve for a “mini safari” experience, I was eager to join her, however, hearing the words, “reserve”, I must admit, I didn’t have many expectations. What I envisioned was more like a zoo.
But as our tour guide, Mass, arrived and herded us into his van, his excitement for the place he was taking us was a bit contagious. After a quick nap in the rear seat, I woke to spectacular sights during the long drive…colorful villages, Senegalese women balancing things on their heads, gaudy buses emblazoned with kooky paint jobs, men driving horse-drawn carts, huge baobab trees.
Though I was still a bit skeptical, the way Mass had described this place…3500 hectacres of grand nature…had me curious as to what we would find.
As we drove around the park, I was amazed. Although I knew this was extremely different from what I would find in say, Tanzania, Kenya or South Africa, I was impressed, especially when we came upon a large group of giraffes lounging in the road, blocking our way.
Fast forward to 2017, for my 50th birthday and 25th wedding anniversary, my husband and I finally went on safari in Tanzania. While vast acres of wilderness spread out before us in the Serengeti, Ngorogoro Crater and Tarangire National Park, my memories of the Bandia Reserve were not so different, except that we didn’t have as much expanse to drive around and that we never found the elusive rhinos that reside in Bandia.
Coming back to Dakar after being off for a year due to Covid, I was excited to see, once again, the city that holds such a dear place in my heart. I was even more excited to learn that a good friend would be flying with me and we, both avid photographers, made plans to go to revisit the Bandia Reserve.
I had made arrangements for Mass to drive us to Bandia Reserve and two other members of our work group decided to join us. After a long night of no sleep, (this time due to work…no cocktails!), we all dozed during the long drive, reminiscent of my first expedition. However, I was awake long enough to enjoy the colorful sights!
As we pulled into the park and exited our vehicle, the first thing I noticed was a gigantic baobab tree (sacred to the Senegalese) and a few monkeys scampering around its base. Mesmerized by these small apes and their antics, we were unaware that our vehicle was ready to be loaded and we had to be collected by Mass as our safari driver was ready to take us through the park.
Heading out on the bumpy, dirt roads, we passed through the part of the park that houses the giant tortoises and the hyenas. The hyenas have a place of “honor” behind a tall, secure chain link gate and are the only carnivores within the park. As you can imagine, since the park is secured by towering barricades at its borders, the other residents would be sitting ducks for these fierce, doglike creatures during their comestible pursuits.
Continuing into the wild, it wasn’t long before we had our first encounter. A group of giraffes were enjoying the shade of a robust baobab tree and the nearby thicket. One stood warily as we approached, seemingly ready to defend its turf if we ventured too close while others merely ignored our presence. A short drive away, we encountered a group of three young males eager to show their prowess by fighting each other by using their necks.
As we made our way down each of the dusty roads, we encountered, ostriches, giant eland, oryx, antelope, waterbuck, western Buffon’s cob, greater kudu, nyalas, impalas, gazelles, warthogs, buffalo, more monkeys, more giraffe and many species of bird.
Not long after an encounter with a pair of zebras, we were driving along and noticed another jeep parked down a narrow lane. Our driver quickly turned and approached slowly. What had eluded us on my first visit was sitting lazily under the tree in front of us…the park’s two rhinos! Resting in the shade, these magnificent creatures, used to being gawked at by visitors, merely looked over at us through heavily lidded eyes with much disinterest. Finally, one stood and took a few steps toward our vehicle, giving us more photographic opportunities and the impression that maybe we had worn out our welcome.
Backing slowly, we retreated the way we had come in search of more adventure in Bandia.
A short time later, after countless sighting of smaller animals and more giraffe, we came to another giant baobab tree and a sign, Tombeau de Griots (the Tomb of the Griots). This tree is one of the last baobab trees that house griot remains. The griots are considered masters of knowledge and keepers of historical records across generations. They include singers, poets, instrumentalists, musicians and storytellers who maintain a tradition of oral history in parts of West Africa. Because the baobabs are considered sacred and represent longevity and knowledge, they were chosen to be the appropriate place to store the remains of the griots.
I had remembered this place from my first visit and as I jumped out of the jeep and peered into the opening at the base of the baobab tree, I once again saw the skulls of the griots. They are protected by a metal screen so that the bones cannot be disturbed. Although these remains have been allowed to stay inside of this particular baobab tree due to it being on private property, since 1962, the burial of griots in baobabs has been banned due to the health risks of the decomposition of bodies.
After a couple of photos with my travel mates, we jumped back into our safari jeep and headed back to the front of the reserve. Inside the restaurant, we took a look at the crocodiles in the lake and skirted the monkeys looking for a handout from the diners.
Restaurants, shops and public areas at the Bandia Reserve.
It had already been a long day, but Mass decided that it was not over. Though we toyed with the idea of dining at the reserve, our guide promised us that he had a much better place. A short drive took us to the beachfront in Saly for some fresh seafood and picturesque views.
Once again, Senegal did not disappoint. Nature at its finest…on all fronts!
If you are visiting Dakar, make sure to book a trip to the Bandia Reserve, one of Senegal’s highlights. Also, right across the street is the Lion Ranch…your opportunity to see the big cats of Senegal. Definitely on my to-do list!
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Admission: Payments can be made in FCFA, Euros or by credit card. Adults, 12,000 FCFA or 18.50€, Children under 12 years, 7,000 FCFA or 10.50€. Use outside vehicle (personal, taxi, car), 10,000 FCFA or 15€, Safari truck rental with up to 11 seats, 40,000 FCFA or 61€, Safari truck rental up to 24 seats, 60,000 FCFA or 91€, Guide (compulsory)per vehicle, 6.500 FCFA or 10€.
Getting There: Coming from Dakar by motorway, take the Sindia/Popeguine exit number 14 to Sindia in 2 km, then take a right on the National Road (N1) Dakar-Mbour for 3,3 km, turn left at the signposts, continue the track in laterite for 800m. Coming from Saly, you will have 15 km to travel and 18 km from Mbour.
I had missed being in Accra and was excited to show my friend around on her first sojourn. Once we had visited Black Star Square, a new locale for me, it was time to reacquaint with some “oldies but goodies” and see what else we might discover in the process.
When you walk around the city, you never know what you might encounter…fighting cows, someone’s laundry on a city bench or wall, someone sleeping under a tree, countless vendors hawking their goods. It is always a surprise and usually quite entertaining.
Dodging the hazards of the crumbling sidewalk, we ventured back along 28 September Road towards the Accra Arts Market. Speaking of not knowing what you might find or walk away with, this is the place. I was in search of face masks made of kente cloth and I knew exactly where to look, however, it is quite difficult engaging with the locals who invite you into their booths and remind you that it’s always “free to look”. Although I have countless masks and other oddities from my previous visits, I steeled myself to say no, however, my friend, on her first visit, couldn’t and walked away with a small table!
Purchases aside, we were able to reconnect with my old friend David, a drum maker who works in the market, share a soda and some great gossip!
Since the Kwame Nkrumah monument was a short distance away, I decided that we should stop in for a visit. Although I had been there before, it was nice to see it once again, even if the fountains were all drained and the property a bit unkempt. One of the most interesting things I discovered was in the museum at the back of the property. I had just finished watching the Netflix series, “The Crown” and remembered the episode when Queen Elizabeth danced with President Nkrumah at a ball in Accra in 1961. Right there on the wall was a photo depicting that particular event!
Leaving the property, I suddenly realized a major mistake we made upon our arrival. I really am out of practice… Never tell some of the locals your name unless you want a personalized ornament, shell, bracelet…the possibilities are endless. I understand that they are desperately trying to make a living, but once they had our name (in our case) they made bracelets for each of us with our monikers woven into it and wanted to sell it to us. Sadly, I didn’t have enough money for their asking price (which was quite high) and I felt bad for the amount of time spent making it, so…we came to an agreement of a purchase with a discount.
Continuing on, our next stop was the Holy Trinity Cathedral. This beautiful, stone church was completed in 1894 and was funded by the colonial British government. Fifteen years after its completion, it was deemed a cathedral by the Diocese of Accra.
Having lain my eyes upon many a cathedral in the world, I would say that this one was in no way equal, however, mass was just finishing and the priest warmly welcomed us inside and told us to make ourselves at home. The design was quite interesting with a dark, barrel-vaulted ceiling, a stone-walled interior and red velvet-covered pews, but it was stark in contrast to some of the Italian, Central and South American gilded temples I have set foot in. Nonetheless, it was nice to see the interior and even speak with some of the parishioners who were still gathered outside.
Heading into the Jamestown area, I was hoping that we could tour the Ussher Fort, one of the three forts that Europeans built in the region during the middle of the 17th century. This fort was built by the Dutch and was completed in 1649 and I suspected that we would be able to get some interesting photos in the bright, sunny day. Blaming incorrect internet information, we found the place to be closed, but were still able to sneak a peek at the interior through the barred doorways. Definitely another place for one of my future trips.
After stopping for a cold drink at the colorful Jamestown Cafe, we cut through the area that houses the Makola market. Having seen the market in operation during its peak operations during the week, we found the streets to be relatively deserted…Sundays are really a day of rest for many Ghanaians. A little further, after passing the monument to King Tackie Tawiah, (king of Accra from 1862-1902), we ended up on Independence Avenue with its countless vendors and local market. While Makola was quiet, we found a flurry of activity while hastening our own travels back to our hotel.
Hobbling back to my room, I suddenly realized how much ground we had covered that day. My friend was thrilled to have seen so many interesting sights and met so many interesting people. Me? I was just happy to rediscover one of my favorite African cities!
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Accra Arts Centre
Address: Prof. John Evans Atta Mills High Street, Accra Ghana
Hours: 0900-1800, daily
Admission: free
Kwame Nkrumah Memorial Park and Museum
Address: Prof. John Evans Atta Mills High Street, Accra Ghana
A year is a long way to be away from the things you love.
My job, my friends and yes, Africa!
Africa is absolutely one of my favorite places to travel to. I had not been to Ghana in a year and a half, so when I learned that I had a trip during my first month back to work, I was extremely excited!
Having spent so much time there in the past, I feel as though I know the city like the back of my hand. While looking through a map of the city, however, I realized that there are some things I had never seen except from maybe a cab window.
Rising bright and early in the morning, I had breakfast and then set out with a friend to investigate one of Ghana’s major landmarks…Black Star Square.
The public square, also known as Independence Square, hosts the city’s annual celebrations and other national events, including civic and military parades.
Completed in 1961, by prime minister and President Kwame Nkrumah, to celebrate Ghana’s independence from the British, the square boasts stands to accommodate 30,000 people, the Independence Arch, the Liberation Day Monument and the Black Star Monument, also known as the Black Star Gate.
We made our way down 28 February Road approaching the square, spotting closed gates. These gates were low enough to step over, however, and noting other people in the square, we decided to join them.
Immediately to our left, we noticed one of the highlights, the statue of a soldier, facing the Independence Arch, which symbolizes the Ghanaians who lost their lives fighting for their country’s independence.
We then walked around the parade grounds, passing by and then under the Independence Arch and the stands reserved for the notables where we were stopped by a security guard. Though we were trying to take a look at the view of the ocean beyond the square, I guess we found out that this part was off limits. The square, however, is massive with lots of other ground to cover and it would be a sight to behold to attend one of the country’s celebratory gatherings, especially the Independence Day parade which is held March 6th every year.
Moving on, we made our way across 28 February Road to the Black Star Gate. As we approached, I noticed two gentlemen under the gate stand and one begin to approach. I steeled myself for a scam, however, he was very friendly and asked us if we wanted to climb to the top. The small admittance fee allowed our entry and he would accompany us to answer any questions we might have.
Climbing the inner staircase to the top, he chatted amicably and gave us a history of the square.
Standing on the pinnacle, we had an amazing view of the entire square, the nearby Accra Sports Stadium, the coast and parts of the city. The best part, however, was when our guide, Abraham, positioned us under the huge black star and photographed us with the appearance of holding it in our hands!
We chatted a bit, took some pictures together and then headed down for views of the arch from below.
There was a great deal of visitors while we were there and I silently wondered why I had never made it here before with it being so close to my hotel and many other attractions I had visited before! Now I can mark it off the list, with the intent of possibly returning on March 6…that’s something I want to see!
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Black Star Square
Address: 28th February Roundabout, Accra, Ghana
Hours: 0600-1800, daily
Admission: free. Climb to top of Black Star Gate, 5 Ghanaian Cedi (about .83 US)
Wow, two weeks have come and gone very quickly! On my last morning, I was up quite early so after getting dressed, I headed over to the bakery around the corner to get breakfast. As I turned to return to my apartment, I caught a glimpse of Volcan de Agua. With nary a cloud in the sky, it stood out against the blue and was one of the clearest views I had had since I arrived. After breakfast, I took one last walk down to the Plaza Mayor and snapped a few photographs along the way. It was simply stunning!
It was finally time to grab my bags and wait for my ride back to Guatemala City. Handing over the keys to Esperanza, I felt a twinge of sadness. My trip was finally over. Last night, on my ride back to Antigua, one of the guys from my tour, who had shared transportation back with me, asked what my favorite thing was about being here in Guatemala this time. I think most people would talk about the adventures that they had but my response was this, “I simply loved having adequate time to investigate every little nook and cranny of the city, taking leisurely walks, greeting the locals and feeling like an actual part of another culture. Because of the nature of my job, I see other parts of the world in short bursts. This time, time was on my side and it was an amazing gift”.
What I learned: My husband is a saint for helping me to realize one of my dreams.
Photo of the day: Volcan de Agua
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