Finding inspiration in a blood-red hotel room with gaudy
fleur-de-lis-print carpet can be about as trying as a picking out Waldo back
when I was an ambitious 8 year old who thought a nightly sit with Where’s Waldo? counted as “reading.”
He's right THERE...
The Senegalese hospitality has me feeling quite welcome, but
my head is still reeling a bit as I grasp the concept of being thrown four
hours into the future and on my two feet in Africa. Africa might as well be the
moon for all I know; it’s a new land with new people and new languages – the
things that make it all so exciting, yet daunting all at once. The soothing
lulls of French roll from the tongues of everyone from the random taxi driver
waving for my attention at the airport to the receptionist at my hotel, and I’m
inspired to translate that warm feeling if I could only find the right way as to how.
Stepping into a new country where I do not speak the
language is a new experience for me, and an uncomfortably frustrating one at
that. It’s an inexplicable experience that truly flips my perception of life
upside down while taking the already massive concept of what we call Earth and
multiplying it by 10,000. If you think you’ve seen it all, met as many
characters as you think you can in this lifetime, or tasted every spice your
palette can handle you’re wrong. Throw a dart at a map, catch the next
flight/boat/donkey out of town, and go. While it’s anyone’s guess as to whether
what you find will be shocking, disappointing, or exhilarating, it’s undoubtedly going to be new.
Pangea?
And so it is in this foreign land that I find myself at a
loss to do even the most elementary of tasks, like take a taxi to my hotel. I settle
myself in to what now feels like my desk in kindergarten as I rely on my hands
and fingers more than my words to strike an agreement with the driver. Four
thousand of anything sounds mighty steep, but we agree on this fare and make
our way. I know we agree because he mirrors a handful of four digits over his
shoulder and gives me a smile in the rearview mirror. “Oui.”
Thankfully my knowledge of Spanish allows me to recognize
many words, especially those scrawled in graffiti as we make our way along the
Atlantic Coast and into the streets of Dakar. However, ironically enough, this
same knowledge, that gives me at least a semblance of understanding as I
eavesdrop on those all around me, is just another frustrating dead end keeping
me from communicating with my new acquaintances. My knee-jerk reaction is to
respond to all inquiries in Spanish, however, this is just as foreign as my
English in Francophone Africa. However, as much as I feel like I’m really not getting anywhere, I manage to at
least arrive at my hotel.
So, while I’ve seemingly been silenced by my temporary inabilities, I’ve gained a more powerful skill. Listening.
Listen to the world around you. Listen not only with your
ears to the words others speak, but also with your eyes, your sense of touch,
and your mind. Enhance your connection to the simplest sounds around you and allow
no barrier of spoken word to keep you from the warmth that others radiate, which is spoken in thousands of different languages.
