what’s to eat #2
Beef brochettes – some of the best in Mali! At Hotel l’Auberge in Ségou: great food, kind staff, great location– and delicious honey for sale!
All posts filed under: Travel
on a dance
Last weekend we rose before the sun in Bamako, hopped on a bus in the darkness of the early hours, and arrived to the town of Ségou for Mali’s annual Festival sur le Niger. The Festival is comprised of four days of musicmusicmusic derived from the smorgasbord of cultures that thrive in Mali: from the Senegalese border to deep in the Sahara desert, from Kayes to Timbuktu. And to celebrate the magic, there was dancing to delight in. Around 6:00pm on a Friday, under a crafty pavilion, the musicians got the itch, and the dance troupe got to swinging. They swung, they swung! Until some couldn’t keep their feet on the ground, and others just could not get enough! The joy was palpable, the rhythms infections, and even the tiniest of onlookers showed great appreciation. The Festival Sur le Niger is greatly advertised throughout Mali, and event are easily found online. It’s truly an event not to be missed.
what’s to eat: a christmas repas in west africa
I spent Christmas Eve and day in Bandiagara, some 65 kilometers outside Mopti, in Mali’s eastern pocket. I was stuck somewhere between wanting to Christmas (ahem, I verbed that word) and wanting to avoid it altogether. Regardless, the night sky insisted I be at least grateful for family, friends, and good fortune, even if I felt momentarily far from all three. I recently read a few words on the magic of Christmas Eve, beyond religion, and this was the spirit I kept with me through the chilly night and the frosty beers. In the morning (well, more like lunchtime) the eating options in Bandiagara were scarce. All the brochette ladies were sold out; no one’s rice had come in yet. In the Christmas spirit of hasty mangers and serendipity, we made do at a small boutique with a front porch and a picnic table. Fresh baguette, omelette for three, and the kind of fried, canned meat whose mystery should remain just that. Actually, this was some sort of pressed chicken, although the Malians in my company insisted that all meat …
on heading eastward
In an effort to avoid another lonely Christmas in Bamako, I headed eastward. First to Mopti, an island among floodplains sprouted with rice and replete with boats, fishermen, birds, and beautiful Sudo-Sahelian (Sudo like Sudanese) architecture, with a mosque to rival the best. On to Bandiagara, gateway to Dogon country, for an escaped Christmas Eve. 65 kilometers by moto on a mostly deserted-road [we did spot a camel!], but quick as a whistle if you ask me. We toured the town on foot, had our fair share of Castel beer, and I thanked the stars as often as possible for sticking with me through thick and thin, but mostly thin. Bandiagara and the villages around it feature truly stunning stone architecture, a distinct departure from the mud brick and adobe that defines so much of Malian homes and other buildings. it’s unexpected, and distinguished, and I daresay downright magical. For a final excursion, we headed to Djenné, old trans-Saharan trade partners with Timbuktu, and accessible by ferry most of the year round – a ferry piled with …
on what’s to eat, and a respite
This was a respite within a respite, so to speak: A 10-hour layover in Paris between two long-ish flights, the bookend of a holiday. I was fortunate to have a French-fried friend to ease the airport doldrums, and even more fortunate that she is a great hostess (from as early as 6am!). One day, I’ll do Paris (maybe even the rest of France) slowly. I’ve only ever done it fast, which is entirely inadequate. But for now I only know the city in increments of 18 hours, 10 hours, cramming whatever I can taste/see/smell/hear/enjoy in the smallest window of time. Arriving in the city by 7:30am, we set out to eat. First a pain au chocolat at the Marché des Enfants Rouges, only just awakening on this Saturday, then a walk about, and a leisurely breakfast in the sun at La Chambre des Oiseaux. What’s to eat? “Breakfast à la campagne” – an assortment of breads, cheeses, charcuterie, and jams, along with a warm and gingery drink. Evidently Paris sleeps in on Saturdays, so we strolled to …
on unions
I’ve been appreciating unions of all sorts, lately. Union of the self’s many parts—finally, momentarily—into agreement. Re-union with friends and loved ones to celebrate birth, death, enduring loyalties, and good food (Maryland crab, true tacos, Korean BBQ, and the autumnal Brussels sprouts for which I’ve longed going on 2 years). Integration of mind, body, spirit…at least for a few days there, and I’m grateful. Coming together with families of all sorts to celebrate unions of love. A merging of what is and what could be, to—at last—catalyze change and shake things up a bit. Those unions stretch and grow and birth their natural successors in a longer cycle: partition, separation, division. And so it goes, riding the momentum I begin to separate the necessary and the true from what is inessential, extraneous, and damaging: The useless thoughts, the unclean foods, the toxic people, the burden of insecurity. It is the morning after a grand celebration; it is time to clean up, and move forward into daylight. Images from the weddings of: A close colleague, in Bamako, …
outerNotes 