Sending the dogs to and from Dakar was by FAR the most stressful part of our African adventure. None of our belongings mattered compared to these two. Here is some brief information of how we brought them along, just so you can hear it from another pet owner. Consult with your airline and their cargo company and ask a million questions, since information often changes.

The best direct flight for pets from D.C. to Dakar is with South African Airways. Dogs are sent as cargo, but are kept in a climate-controlled area. Caution: if you’re flying in the summer months, still be careful. I was annoyingly persistent with the SAA cargo team and insisted on knowing where my dogs would be when. A dear friend in Dakar experienced the loss of her dog when her plane unexpectedly sat on the tarmac in D.C. for three hours in the hot summer sun. “Climate-controlled” might not mean at all times. Ask questions and be assertive and avoid flying your pets during the hot months if at all possible.

It’s not cheap to send pets here. Greta and Perry cost $1,700 on the way down and $1,200 on the way back (unsure why the price changed for the return flight). Costs with South African are calculated by volume weight. Try to let customs in Dakar know ahead of time that you are bringing two live animals. We weren’t aware of this and waited THREE HOURS to claim our dogs at the Dakar airport. Not fun, but because Senegal isn’t a strict country, we were allowed to take them out of their crates for potty breaks and give them water.

Health entrance requirements for pets coming to Senegal are relatively lax. Have a valid rabies certificate, microchip and vaccination record and you should be ok. Again, check current regulations before you fly. For returning to the States, you’ll need a rabies certificate issued more than 30 days but less than one year before your flight, and a simple health certificate issued within 10 days of travel. Dr. Serigne Cisse is the preferred vet in Dakar, at least for the pet owners I know. He does all routine vet services and got us the travel paperwork we needed.

Keep copies of everything and take it in your carry-on luggage. Be prepared to pay a few thousand CFA to get your dogs through customs in Dakar. Ask questions and don’t worry about being “that guy” at the airport. Your pets are worth it.

Please comment or write me an email for any specific questions about bringing pets to Senegal!

A lot has transpired over the past month or so: I’m joining Josh as a direct hire with the same organization; I start training in D.C. for said job in a week; and our future locale is very much up in the air, as we try to find a spot abroad that has positions available for both of us. But in the (very) immediate term, the big news is this: tomorrow is my last day in dear Senegal.

It’s tough to believe I’ve been here nearly two years – and it will be even tougher to say goodbye tomorrow. Although many of the great friends we’ve made have already moved on to their next adventures, we’re leaving behind so many beloved pals. One thing to know when you move abroad (and I venture to say this is even truer if you’re living in a third-world country): your friendships will be intense. My friends here aren’t like family, they are family.

When I moved here, my plan was to be a freelance writer and to complete a graduate program in professional writing. Instead, I took a part-time job, which then became full-time, and I fell in love with the work. I completed part of the graduate program and have since gone on hiatus from earning the degree; honestly, I wasn’t gaining much from the classes and it doesn’t mesh well with my newfound career choice.

This change was unexpected but, in the end, so very welcome. My career has purpose again, and I have Dakar to thank for that. And so much more. Thank you Dakar, for, among other things:

1. Teaching me to love donkeys. They’re awesome and underrated.

2. Giving me a more open mind. Before we came here, a person who shall remain nameless asked us rather breathlessly what percentage of Senegalese people were black. Uh, nearly all of them – and it doesn’t freaking matter a bit. And the country is 90 percent Muslim. Again, doesn’t matter. There are annoyances here, but there’s peace and love, y’all. Don’t judge it ’til you’ve been in it.

3. Reintroducing me to my first great love, softball. Sure, it was a social slow-pitch league, but it was awesome. Nothing better than spending hours each Saturday on a sunny softball field right next to the ocean. I got to be both player and coach this year and soaked it up, despite some bloody knees and elbows along the way.

4. Lumping me in with people from all walks of life. I befriended people here I might not have in the United States. I’ve appreciated getting to know all sorts of people from all sorts of backgrounds. It’s not worth trying to name everyone who’s meant a great deal to me or taught me something here, because making such a list could take all night.

5. A reassurance that this life is for me. As I’ve said many times on this blog, not everyone seems to enjoy Senegal as much as I do. I love it here and I’m now confident I can make the best of anywhere. I’m determined to and I don’t regret choosing this vagabond (yet spoiled, awesome, privileged) lifestyle a bit.

I could go on and on during this, my last night in town. But I’ll simply say thanks again, Dakar, and a la prochaine. I know I’ll see you again someday.

When we moved to Senegal, we heard people talk and joke about the “Dakar bell curve” for expats. Basically, it’s the idea that after the excitement of being somewhere new wears off, people often experience culture shock and depression/homesickness about six months into being here.

I never experienced that. I’ve loved every minute in Senegal. Until now. Here’s a highly scientific comparison of bell curves to illustrate:

And now me:

I actually don’t hate life, not at all – but I’m not riding high like I was once in Senegal. The horrendous driving and lack of knowing how to form a waiting line is getting old. I’m stressed about my new career path (which will take me back to D.C. who-knows-when for training). Josh travels a lot – to crappy places, making him understandably grumpy upon his return. I’m not homesick or depressed – more just tired. Perhaps I’m comparing too strongly to my first 1.5 years here (has it really been that long?!) when I was pooping gumdrops every day.

I have a history of going through brief funks, then snapping out of them rather quickly and going back to my woo-rah self. Here’s to perking back up in 2013 and putting more gumdrops in the toilet.

I was taking a dear (very dear – miss you already, Little Brother) friend to the airport for his forever departure from Dakar when he realize he’d forgotten important paperwork at his house. I immediately whipped our car around – and a 1997 beat-up Altima can whip, lemme tell ya – the closest roundabout to head the other direction. And I nearly hit a man.

This man was standing in the pitch dark in the middle of the road on the blind side of the roundabout. Wearing dark jeans and a black sweater vest. He was both stupid and stylish. I braked to a near stop and he pounded on my window, shaking his fist at me. At ME.

And that’s when the blind rage happened. Without thinking, I rolled down the window and screamed this likely incoherent bit of French: VOUS ETES AU MILIEU DE LA ROUTE! AMENEZ-VOUS, ASSHOLE!

Roughly translated: You are in the middle of the road! Move yourself, asshole! (Asshole is not a French word, although funnily enough I could easily say “pardon my French” right now.)

Then I sped away from the scene and was literally breathing hard. It was an involuntary, blackout-level of momentary anger. And it was sort of fun to stand up for myself, which I tend to do, oh, about once each decade.

Get out of the middle of the street! Or I might snap!

I’ve gotten into a routine in Dakar, leading to a distinct lack of adventures. I still have a boatload of fun, but it’s doing all the typical stuff: work, softball, dinners, parties, running.

I haven’t been traveling. I’ve been mildly (or very) stressed about various things.

I’ve hit my rut in Dakar. And I hope I break out soon.