Getting away from it all is not as easy as you think

Ah! We have reached the promise land — the smiling coast, otherwise known as the Gambia. We have come for the relaxing walks on the beach, the sunshine and the refreshing dips in the resort pools, a place to relax after a long two weeks in the interior of Africa. 

We’ve come to the wrong place at the wrong time!

And it’s not because Jennifer’s camera was stolen during an unfortunate incident in which her attention was briefly diverted from the important task of guarding her bag. While disembarking the ferry that leads from Barra to Banjul, the Gambia’s capital, the camera was plucked ever-so deftly from the front pocket of her purse that she normally watches like a hawk.

No, that could happen anywhere.

Instead of the relaxing walks on the beach, we are followed by men everywhere we go. They are known around here as “bumsters,” and they hang around the resort hotels looking for a rich sugar mama to pay them for their services. Whatever you want, they are happy to oblige, whether it’s a tour of the nearby crocodile pool or sex. Yes, sex tourism is apparently alive and well in the Gambia, but it’s not the foreign men seeking the local delicacies — it’s the reverse here, which makes things uncomfortable for those of us who aren’t interested in shacking up with the pool boy.

And because it’s off season at the moment, there seems to be a dirth of young men hanging around, pouncing the moment they see a tourist come out of a hotel. They will call out to you: “Hey, remember me?” And then they will launch into some story about how they are the security guard at your hotel or want to chat. We’ve gotten pretty good at ignoring them and to be honest, I think we got a reputation the first night of our arrival when Jennifer barked at three guys who came just a little too close for comfort after dark. They promptly backed off and for the last couple of days, we’ve been pretty good at dodging them or ignoring them altogether.

At least we have that famous Gambian sunshine, right? Well, it must be there behind the thick blanket of clouds that have been hanging on for the last couple of days. The plus side is that is hasn’t been oppressively hot, but it isn’t exactly what I had in mind for a beach vacation. 

At least we have a pool, right? Well, the first place we had reserved, called the African Heritage Centre, had a pool and I made sure to ask on the phone if it was up and running. Oh yes, he said. When we arrived late at night, the pool was closed. After a long night sleeping in a pool of sweat (thanks to a power outage), I jumped at the chance to swim before breakfast until I saw the algae coating the bottom of the pool and the colony of water bugs skirting the surface. I could handle the electricity shortage, but not the crappy pool.

So, we immediately started looking for another place to stay. The fancy Ocean Bay hotel was perfect, except the pool is under construction and it was slightly out of our budget. So, we settled on the Cape Point Hotel, with a balcony view overlooking the functioning and clean pool and within linesight of the Atlantic Ocean. Jennifer negotiated a better rate, too: $55/night.

Now, where is everyone else? There are only three rooms occupied here, including ours. Everyone keeps saying the high season starts on Monday, but you would never know it.

Two British women, Joyce and Sadie, assure us that this place is full of life during the season, with plenty of people and live entertainment. They should know; they spend one month here in April at the end of the season and then they return at the beginning of the next season for a month. They have been doing this for more than 20 years.

They don’t bother leaving the resort anymore. They stick close to the pool, reading, smoking cigarettes and napping — sending one of the employees out to fetch whatever their hearts desire.

So maybe this personalized attention isn’t so bad after all. Ask and you shall receive seems to be the way things go here. In Africa, anything is possible for a few dalasi. It just took us awhile to catch on.