The Pink Palace
May 17, 2006
Sunday was our 8th wedding anniversary. It’s true we don’t have many options here for places or ways to celebrate. Nonetheless, we had a memorable evening at the Pink Palace!
The Palace is an anomaly. The only holiday lights in Sadiola mark this bar on the dark main road through town; a mud building painted light pink with cement floors and murals.
As we arrived in her establishment, Miriam was summoned from the back. (Is it because we stood out?) She greeted us warmly and we all managed to communicate with a laughable combination of French and English. We take our cocktails to the back courtyard to sit and drink up the light of the full moon.
The Pink Palace is one of many capitalistic ventures of this entrepreneurial, Amazon of a Malian woman. (She stands 6 feet tall with another couple inches added by her ever-present high heels). This lady seems to have quite a head for business. Along with this and one other bar I know of, Miriam imports clothing and fabric from Senegal. That is how I met her first. Miriam caters to the ex-pats, as well as to the locals.
She is also a Madam. She hosts a bevy of lovely ladies in both establishments. These women solicit business at the front and then stroll with the gents through the back courtyard into the rooms that lurk in the dark behind.
On this Saturday at 8pm, business was slow so Mark and I watched the waiting ladies go to and fro; out for a smoke, or just to chat with each other. They were dressed to the nines; a surreal contradiction in spandex and stilettos to the mud walls and dirt floor. They could have been walking along the Grand Concourse in the Bronx.
Though there are no menus, no kitchen to speak of, and no running water, you can also have a meal at The Palace. We were companionably offered “un peu manger?” by a couple of the young men who seem to work there. We declined but were indeed curious. The two men sat and shared a large bowl using their hands to enthusiastically scoop up the evening meal. Talk about family style. It sure looked tasty.
Later, lots of folks came in to eat. One woman cooks everything (while Miriam supervises). Each new order requires her to shake the two tiny charcoal stoves, keeping the flame going. She turns skewers over one, and makes a large plate of vegetables on the other. Only after one order is complete, can another one be started. Nice pace.
We were noticed, but never made to feel uncomfortable. We were well attended to. We had entertainment from the surroundings, good conversation, a full moon, and cheap cocktails. What more could we want for our anniversary in Mali? I wonder where we’ll be on the next one!
CSN
Sunday was our 8th wedding anniversary. It’s true we don’t have many options here for places or ways to celebrate. Nonetheless, we had a memorable evening at the Pink Palace!
The Palace is an anomaly. The only holiday lights in Sadiola mark this bar on the dark main road through town; a mud building painted light pink with cement floors and murals.
As we arrived in her establishment, Miriam was summoned from the back. (Is it because we stood out?) She greeted us warmly and we all managed to communicate with a laughable combination of French and English. We take our cocktails to the back courtyard to sit and drink up the light of the full moon.
The Pink Palace is one of many capitalistic ventures of this entrepreneurial, Amazon of a Malian woman. (She stands 6 feet tall with another couple inches added by her ever-present high heels). This lady seems to have quite a head for business. Along with this and one other bar I know of, Miriam imports clothing and fabric from Senegal. That is how I met her first. Miriam caters to the ex-pats, as well as to the locals.
She is also a Madam. She hosts a bevy of lovely ladies in both establishments. These women solicit business at the front and then stroll with the gents through the back courtyard into the rooms that lurk in the dark behind.
On this Saturday at 8pm, business was slow so Mark and I watched the waiting ladies go to and fro; out for a smoke, or just to chat with each other. They were dressed to the nines; a surreal contradiction in spandex and stilettos to the mud walls and dirt floor. They could have been walking along the Grand Concourse in the Bronx.
Though there are no menus, no kitchen to speak of, and no running water, you can also have a meal at The Palace. We were companionably offered “un peu manger?” by a couple of the young men who seem to work there. We declined but were indeed curious. The two men sat and shared a large bowl using their hands to enthusiastically scoop up the evening meal. Talk about family style. It sure looked tasty.
Later, lots of folks came in to eat. One woman cooks everything (while Miriam supervises). Each new order requires her to shake the two tiny charcoal stoves, keeping the flame going. She turns skewers over one, and makes a large plate of vegetables on the other. Only after one order is complete, can another one be started. Nice pace.
We were noticed, but never made to feel uncomfortable. We were well attended to. We had entertainment from the surroundings, good conversation, a full moon, and cheap cocktails. What more could we want for our anniversary in Mali? I wonder where we’ll be on the next one!
CSN
posted by Bronx to Timbuktu at 5:42 PM
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