DAY TWO
Now in the past I've not really been one to attend the 'welcome meeting'.
I used to think you'd be forced into joining in the knobbly knee competition and signed up to visit all the time-share developments within a 100 mile radius.
But more recently I've changed my mind, realising the worst that can happen is you spend 20 mins in the shade in return for a complimentary cocktail for your troubles.
Before we'd arrived we'd been told that the cheapest - and possibly best - way to see the sites was to use one of the local guides. Even by the end of the first evening we'd had a few Gambians offering to take us to see the crocodiles and trade markets.
We were undecided whether we should or not so thought we'd attend the welcome meeting and make up our minds once we'd heard what was on offer.
Amber was our Italian (and quite flirty) rep. She was an ebulient character. Well suited to her job. And by 11am we'd decided - for all sorts of reasons (not least of all holiday insurance) to go with the group tours. We booked three.
The rest of the day was spent on the beach where I frazzled to a cinder!
First Day; Sunburn, Last Day; Sunstroke - but more on that later!
SLAP IT ON
I'm rubbish at sunbathing. I love blue skies and sunshine and I thought that Factor 15 would keep me safe but I should have gone for double that. And more importantly, I should have applied it evenly!
Maybe it's my shape that makes some areas a little more difficult to reach....
By the end of the day my back looked like a map of Europe! My face looked like a tomato and the backs of my legs could be used to fry your breakfast on!
A cold water bath turned into a steaming sauna as soon as I stepped into it! And it hurt when I laughed!
And before you ask - there are NO photos! (One of the rules of a holiday with JG is no naked - or near naked - photographs! Well not of me anyhow!)
ALL GOING SWIMMINGLY
One of the things we'd been amazed by before we left home was that in every picture we'd seen of the beaches in The Gambia - nobody was in the sea.
Apparently - according to most of the literature I read - you take your life in your hands dodging the strong river currents, the stingrays that lay in wait ready to stab you with their tail when you tread on them, the jellyfish that brush past and sting you just for being in their vicinity and the shells that have been sharpened to a needle-point and jostle in the sand beneath the waves hoping for your vulnerable bare tootsie to step on them so you become impailed and bleed to death!
However, when the sun is beating down at 35C and you're crisping up nicely, the cool crashing waves of The Atlantic Ocean are just too inviting to turn down.
The green flag was flying so we just had to take a dip.
Thankfully - at least on this visit - the stingray, jellyfish and shells had taken a well-earned break and the only thing we DID have to battle was the current.
But it was a healthy and well-matched fight and so long as we kept our eyes on the beach it was easy enough to notice when we were drifting too far. And, boy, how exhilerating!
The hotel pool was lovely - but I don't particularly like getting the flab out in front of an audience. And in anycase the family from hell had commandeered the rubber rings and were doing bomb-drops from their sunbeds! (We did think someone would do well to start a website called "Tossers On Holiday dot com" - but decided against trying to take any photo evidence to start it off!)
LIFE'S A BEACH
The hotel's private beach area has security guards to keep the 'bumsters' away from the guests.
Bumsters are locals who 'befriend' you before trying to sell you something. Anything.
From fruit to football shirts to tours to... well ANYTHING really! If you've got the money, they'll find the goods.
Almost all of them are friendly. But you do have to be quite forceful if you don't want to spend the rest of your holiday with them. Don't say "maybe later" or "not today". Any chink in your armour and they'll keep at you until you give in.
One of the best sports is to watch your fellow sun worshipper trying to make the short journey from sunbed to sea without getting stopped just before the water's edge. They come from nowhere.
The local kids have their own sport too. How close can they get to the tourists before the security guard turns and catches them and ushers them away.
It sounds worse than it actually is. So long as you're not the type to take things too seriously. Just say no - and mean it.
One of the more unusual sights you'll witness is when the locals herd their livestock from one end of the beach to the other.
In the morning they are taken from the abatoir to the cemetary where there's grass for them to graze on. Then in the afternoon they are taken back again.
The spectacle of ox and goats at the water's edge has the tourist cameras snapping.
DAY THREE
The first of our tours. Truck Safari!
There was good news and bad news on day three. The good news was that we were going on the first of our tours. That meant I could stay covered up and wouldn't have to make excuses why I didn't want to spend the day on the beach.
The bad news was we were about to spend the day bumping up and down in a Swiss Army Truck. The sunburn may have been covered up - but it still took one heck of a bashing!
Self-inflicted pain aside - what a great day!
We were collected from the hotel at 8am GMT (have I mentioned GMT yet? Gambian Maybe Time! There's no real call for accurate time-keeping in The Gambia. So 8am GMT became about 8.20am by my reckoning - but hey, you're on holiday, who cares?).
We piled into a very battered swiss army truck. The four of us took the back seats which was actually quite a good move; sit in the front and you end up sniffing diesel fumes all day!
After picking up at a couple of other hotels en-route we rendezvoused with two other truckloads before travelling in convoy to discover the real Gambia.
Our first stop was a school where the headmaster told us how difficult it was to fund staff and equipment.
We were shown around the school and watched the teachers in the classrooms. It was the first of a couple of occasions that brought a lump to my throat.
In the Gambia poverty lives side by side with affluent hotels and tourism.
I'm not sure how 'well versed' the head teacher was at coaxing donations from visitors, but even if there is an amount of scripted emotions, beneath it all it's not difficult to see conditions really aren't great.
We handed over half of the books and pens we'd taken with us and added our financial donation too.
FROM POVERTY TO PARADISE
The rest of the day involved dodging the branches that whipped faces if you didn't duck at the guide's instructions to "Mind De Sides"; the bumpy roads ensured we enjoyed the "Free Massage" and "Dancing Without Music"; and the open air toilets were all part of the "Fully Inclusive Gambian Experience!"
From the school we visited Uncle John's Palm-Wine Distillery.
"It smells much worse than it tastes," we were assured when passed a taster. That may be so but they can still keep it, thank you!
Then it was on to Paradise Beach (it does exactly what it says on the tin!) for lunch and a swim.
Laura and I ventured up the beach towards the brightly coloured fishing boats.
We were welcomed by a couple of young fishermen who chatted to us about their work, told us what fish could be caught and then gave us - as a sign of friendship - a couple of huge shells which Laura promptly put to her ear. "Gambian mobile phone," laughed one of the lads.
In return for their 'free' gifts. It was suggested we make a similar gesture - and so we sealed our new found friendship with 300 Dalasis! (They'd have been 500D in the shops - we were reliably informed!)
The day ended back at the hotel (about an hour and a half later than originally scheduled - Gambian Maybe Time coupled with a flat tyre) where the beers, a shower, supper and evening entertainment rounded off a fantastic day.
I enjoyed reading your blog