We're all tourists

We've never before been in a country where we felt so clearly tourists. 

But we were, and as you can read in my blog it took some time 'outside the tourist resort' to get used to the feeling - and get over it. If ever we really can, that is. 

One major drawback was that we could never travel on our own to discover the country by ourselves. Leaving the resort for an outing, or even to buy something, meant a driver and a guide. Two non-NGO whites in a car is too strange, and we knew we couldn't talk ourselves out of trouble if anything happened. 

So tourists we were. That wasn't too bad when it was only the two of us and our Gambian guide, strolling along the market stalls. 

It was pretty horrible when we toured with a group. That was extremely embarrasing, to be honest. 

The Gambians changed too, when confronted with a truckload of white people. 

Not kind, welcoming and modest anymore but getting to the point immediately and demanding money. 

Well - can't blame them, really. The safest way to see dire poverty is a holiday in the Gambia, I can assure you. In between the monsoon and harvest time  - well out of the tourist season - people inland still die of hunger. It's a horrible thought.

We end this strangest of strange weeks. 

I do hope I've given you a good impression of this amazing African land. 

We've only scratched the surface and we do want to go back. Learn more. We made friends with two very kind and affectionate Gambians, and they, Aisha and Sheriffo, want to show us their country when we return: a Gambia beyond the strip near the sea, that was developed for the white people.  

See their pics at the end of this post. I do hope they manage. I hope the Gambia does too.