For the first time in my travels, I was really embracing Lonely Planet's suggestions, pandering mostly to a great deal of personal uncertainty about traveling in Dakar. La Brazzerade got a pretty good write up including some golden words about its grill and ocean side rooms. $60/night after a week of not paying for accommodation was well within my budget so I went for it.
This was a good decision. My room was great, the staff friendly and immensely patient, food excellent and ample cheap beer was at hand.
Relief overwhelmed surprise or suspicion at being able to walk straight in at 3AM to check in and find the bar still open with a handful of locals chattering away. I dropped my bags off and headed back down for a nightcap.
While buying a beer, an African lady dressed to the nines peeled off the main group, stationed herself beside me and asked if I'd just flown in, in near enough to good English. Suspecting that conversation might be scarce in Senegal, I went for it, bought her a beer and spread the word about hoopsnakes and drop bears for as long as half a litre of beer lasts. At the end of it I said I was going to bed and got up and left.
She followed me. It wasn't until I was at my door that I realised she was behind me. Perplexed, I asked her why she was following me.
"For your massage"
She wasn't a guest at all. I was staying at a hotel that was moonlighting as a brothel.
My three days at La Brazzerade were really enjoyable. The bar always had something interesting going on and the grill - as Lonely Planet had suggested - was pretty excellent. However, this all comes with one large caveat. If watching middle aged Frenchmen with fat wallets and fatter guts go on a sex tour of West Africa is going to leave you feeling uncomfortable, maybe stay at home.
Amusingly, it's the hookers that speak the best English here and for the most part, the ones that I've rubbed shoulders with (figuratively) have been good company right up until they learn that I didn't want to shag them.
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