My first run in Dakar...

So I knew better and should have looked more for my other shorts but I couldn't find them so I put on my running skirt and a tank top and decided that that was the best I could do and out the door I went.

I should have looked more for my other shorts...the longer ones that go all the way to my knees...

In this primarily Muslim country showing arms is ok, breastfeeding in public is not a problem, I can show my hair and ankles and calfs but thighs are considered VERY sexual.

I got as far as one or two blocks before I started to notice the dirty looks from women and the hooting, hollering and honking from men. Mortified (because I knew better) I turned back towards home only to discover that I could not remember which way I had turned to get onto this street. The street with the elementary school kids gawking at me, the street with more cars than ours, the street with the small store where the women bringing in her fresh bread to sell for the day had stopped mid step to stare.

You have to understand that there are very few street signs here and that all the houses look the same from the street, they are all behind a cement wall and a gate. There are no numbers on the houses and I could not for the life of me remember if I had gone one block or two before turning left...or was it right...crap!

Eventually I found my way home and have since been hiding here as I don't want to be recognized...I'll be going shopping for new running shorts once I have the guts to leave the safety of my cement wall with the guard at the gate.

Perhaps tormorrow I'll go for a walk, in a moo-moo, with a map.