Happy 2009!

Welcome to the 2009 version of Pangolin Watch! It’s not actually a different version. Just now the date reads 2009. But no matter.

We’ve just been hanging out in Bamako, enjoying the fast wireless internet and decent food. Tuesday night, we went to check out a restaurant/bar called the Crazy Horse, a strangely red- and white-themed place with plastic tables and chairs with a hidden Indian menu. The Indian food didn’t taste very Indian, despite the restaurant being owned by Indians, but we had a margarita and some stir fry-esque food.

The next day for lunch, we went to the Broadway Café and melted in ecstasy at the taste of their cheeseburgers. To boot, I had a delicious mint chocolate milk shake and Kevin had a Coke float. They were playing some great new top 40 hits on their slightly ambient speakers, setting the mood just right.

In the late afternoon, we went up to a local market not far from the hotel so I could try to find some fun clothes for New Year’s partying. We took a taxi up the hill and he dropped us off, instructing us to penetrate the market via a dimly lit alleyway. The market was a maze of little stalls selling all sorts of clothing and shoes, light filtering in through the tarp and tin roof covering the whole place. It was like an oversized child’s fort, only full of second hand clothes. Despite all that, it was remarkably not overwhelming. We weren’t swarmed by hawkers, just a few people calling out to have us look at their stuff. I was in the mood to bargain, so I got myself a little dress for 15 bucks and some funky pointy shoes, silver with some multi-colored straps across the toe.

After successfully completing the market mission, we went back to the hotel to hang out until festivities time. We had agreed to meet the other Fulbrighters at a place called the Harlem City Bar, run by Brandon (whom I had never met)’s landlord. It was nice to see Jeremy and Paul and Marie again, and I got to meet Brandon, but the vibe was kind of off. Everyone was speaking in French, even though Marie and Kevin don’t really speak any French, and it was lots of talk of Senegalese politics. I’m okay with going local, but when I get together with my American friends here, I just want to be American. Marie didn’t seem to be feeling it either.

We got some beer, but once that began wearing off, I suggested we move the party to a club called No Stress, where Dave had told me the Bamako Peace Corps kids were going. We couldn't really rile the troops, so Kevin and I headed off solo to start the party alone. After all, midnight was fast approaching.

No Stress is the club above Amandine, the restaurant I always used to hang out at when I stayed at SIL. Amandine was crawling with people. There wasn’t a table to be found. We finally busted inside and ordered a couple drinks directly from their bar and just stood outside drinking them. The club itself apparently wouldn’t open until midnight, which seemed kind of like the climax of the night to me. But what do I know?

After paying a hefty $50 to get Kevin and me in, we found ourselves upstairs in a club as swanky as an LA one. Couches, full bar, strobe-lit dance floor… midnight passed uneventfully. Kevin was in the bathroom, I think. But then the music started up, playing all of the best hip hop you could expect in the States, and we danced the night away. At one point, they played this thumping song about Obama, accompanied by a video with pictures of him (“Obama obama obama obama obama”). A non-ironic song about the American president in a hip hop club in Mali on New Year’s. Rather surreal.

The others never did come to join us. They showed up while we were waiting in line, but then they never came up. No matter, we had a great time. It was a fun way to ring in the new year.

Kevin leaves late tomorrow night. I’m dreading it, but now I’m in the home stretch. 2009 is the year I come home. Thanks to everyone who made 2008 such a good year for me.