At the moment I'm basking in the air-conditioned paradise of my friend's downtown apartment and recovering from one of those days when taking care of a few silly errands feels like running a marathon during a heat wave.  I just walked to the embassy to mail a letter and then to a copy place to print out a few things.  Then I was going to cab out to Guediawaye, a suburb, to interview the rapper Fou Malade (his stage name means "Crazy Sick"!).   Since I didn't feel like wandering around Guediawaye in the insane heat without knowing where exactly to meet Mr. Malade, I thought it better to wait until I heard back from him with some directions before heading out there (I had called and texted for directions but so far haven't heard back).  In the meantime I decided to head back home, and the closer I got to the apartment the more I felt like a dying wanderer in the desert crawling toward imagined mirages of air conditioners. 

The phases of recovery after such errand-running are:  1) drop everything I'm carrying on the floor right by the door as soon as I walk in; 2) chug two full glasses of icy cold water; 3) peel off sweaty clothes; 4) take luxurious cold shower; 5) change into non-sweaty, non-stank-infested clothes; 6) get another glass of icy water; 7) plop down on the couch and let the AC do its work.  I'm on #7 now and feeling much better.

When I was out running my errands, I made a poor decision on which short-cut to take and ended up on a street completely filled with worshipers for the Friday afternoon prayer.  At prayer time, people line up their prayer mats side by side so that they are touching, and the width of the entire street becomes impassable.  I was walking upstream and soon found myself awkwardly trying to tiptoe around a gridlock of mats and worshipers.  Someone whispered to me that it would be better for me to just wait until they were done, and of course I immediately felt like an insensitive idiot for not coming to the same conclusion on my own.  So I stood by a car with my head lowered and waited for the prayers to finish.  Meanwhile, I reflected on the scene of so many people, of all ages, ethnicities and socio-economic backgrounds, from homeless people to businessmen, all kneeling side by side.  When the prayers are over, people get up, dust themselves off, shake each others' hands and greet each other, wishing each other peace.  Beggars are respectfully given a coin here, a coin there.  And then people go on about their day.  The street commerce starts up again with gusto, and as I walked upstream once more, the vendors had re-set up their little vending mats on the street - with random  things like watches, pants, baby shoes, flashlights, toy airplanes, mangos... - and hawking their wares in a sing-songy tone, "nyaari deux cents, juroom quatre cents; nyaari deux cents, juroom quatre cents..." ("two for 200 (CFA) five for 400..."). 

Last night I finally got the chance to play with William's salsa group (William is the violinist from the National Orchestra) at l'Endroit.  They are such a fun group of people (the group is called "World Musiciens"), and their music is real, old-time Cuban fare - they sing all of their songs in Spanish (some salsa groups here sing in Wolof instead).  They sound like the musicians from Buena Vista Social Club - very similar repertoire and vocal style - to give a point of reference.  I had a great time and learned a lot about playing salsa just from the one evening - William coached me a little and he told me that by the last tune I had "gotten it," that I was "in" the salsa.  Yay!   I have to say, as much as I have enjoyed playing jazz here, there's something about salsa that I love even more - and the combination of violin and soprano sax work really well together.  Contrary to jazz's complex harmonies (at least some repertoire, anyway), salsa is relatively simple harmonically.  But rhythmically - man!  Not exactly straightforward for a toubab like me.  But, I felt that by the end I was feeling it much better - I know it'll just take practice.  Anyway, I had a great time with the band, of course, and I'm looking forward to playing with them again on Tuesday (at Janeer, another club I've played at a few times).  So, yay salsa!  And thanks, William and the rest of the gang, for inviting me and letting me sit in.  As they always tell me, "on est ensemble."