colonial architecture – Snapping The Globe

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.

Yes, this was Puerto Rico…pandemic style!

For more pictures, check out Facebook, Snapping the Globe and Instagram, @snappingtheglobe.

Old San Juan

https://sanjuanpuertorico.com/old-san-juan/

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!

For more pictures, check out Facebook, Snapping the Globe and Instagram, @snappingtheglobe.

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

Tag: colonial architecture

Puerto Rico Pandemic Style

The Slave Island