By telling us your country of residence we are able to provide you with the most relevant travel insurance information.
Please note that not all content is translated or available to residents of all countries. Contact us for full details.
Shares
The Smiling Coast of Africa. A piece of my heart. The beach. My peace on earth. After a long day of being an intern, I sought refuge at the beach. The calming sound of the waves crashing onto the sand is always enough to ease my nerves. I can always count on the breeze to arrive, even on scorching hot days. The screams of children playing with one-another puts a smile on my face, and the countless beach bars scattered along the coast (insert a feeling). The different animals that are at the beach like the dogs barking, the horses cantering accross the sand or the monkeys screeching as they fight with one another. Pure bliss. I had been going to the beach everyday after my internship in order to end my day on a peaceful note. For a month, it was my alone time. My moment of solitude and mindfulness. I had no intention of meeting anyone, and often heard stories of “bombsters” at the beach, as the locals called them which were boys on the beach who are notorious for sometimes being invasive of personal space. I adopted a very hostile attitude towards them. However, I met two that changed my opinion forever. One day after work, there were two men trying to get the attention of my friend Jaleh and I. Initially we ignored them because of previous warnings of “bombsters”. I was used to ignoring them but the persistence of these men was convincing enough for us to decide to give them a chance, and we approached them. My friend Jaleh walked in front of me with one of the guys, who I later found out were just friends. As I walked with the other one, we introduced ourselves and realized we shared the same last name, Manjang. Yanks Manjang was how he introduced himself. I was so excited to share this with Jaleh, and when I started telling her, she smiled because the same was for her. He was called Ali Jallow. Manjang and Jallow. From that moment, they became family. It was an instant connection. They invited us to their beach bar. We walked for what felt like forever, but that always seems to be the case when you are unsure of where exactly you’re going. It was approaching magic hour. That’s what I like to call golden hour, the hour before the sun sets, when my brown skin is glowing, my hair shining, and my skin soaking up all the vitamin D. I felt magical and so did the atmosphere around me. I was marveling at the beauty around me, attempting to capture all the moments. The sand was glistening, the golden color beaming as the sun was shining on it. The sky, a brilliant blue, with the clouds scattered all over. Small, but big enough to make an appearance. You could tell that incoming was an idyllic sunset, due to surpass our expectations. We arrived at the local beach bar, and were welcomed with the most heart-felt hospitality. There was a group of drummers, playing and singing traditional music. Ali was one of the drummers. Adjacent to Yanks was a group of dancers encouraging Jaleh and myself to join them. The ambiance was vibrant, positive, and jovial. The air filled with laughter and genuine happiness.. As the sunset approached, the breeze got cooler. It almost felt like it wasn’t even a hot day. The dancing went on until sunset. The sunset was impeccable, a shade of indigo, with some orange undertones complimenting it, and light grey clouds. It was impeccable. We decided to name the local bar, “Good Vibes” because that’s what our experience was, and continues to be.