Gambia

Sunshine and golden beaches have long made the Gambia a winter getaway for Europeans. But beyond the European-flavoured resorts are African-style wildlife reserves and the ruins of long-abandoned slaving stations. The Gambia is blessed with so many species of birds in such a compact area that even those who would struggle to identify a pigeon can’t fail to be impressed. lts size, people, language and foos make the Gambia the perfect gateway to West Africa.

November to April (dry season)

Being surprised by the colonial elegance and unhurried pace of the capital, Banjul Sunning in Serekunda, where there’s a beach-and a beach bar-for every taste Birdwatching in the Abuko Nature Reserve-home to 250 bird species Relaxing in the southern fishing village of Gunjur, much quieter than neighbouring resrts to the north Cruising down the Gambia River with an amazing array of birdlife for company Soaking up sleepy, crumbling, ex-colonial atmosphere of Georgetown

Read Chaff on the Wind by Gambian author Ebon Dibba, which follows the fortunes of two rural boys who com to work in the city

Listen to ever-popular band lfang Bondi’s most recent effort, Gis Gis

Watch Roots, by Alex Haley, who traced his origins to Jufureh, a village on the lower Gambia River

Eat domodah (peanut stew with rice) or benechin (rice baked in a thick sauce of fish and vegetables)

Drink the refreshing local beer, JulBrew

l be naading (hello)

Beaches; birdwatching; riverboats; nightclubs; package tourism

lt’s a taboo in the Gambia to whistle after dark; Banjul lnternational airport’s main runway was partly built by NASA as an emergency runway for space shuttles

The apocryphal story of the country’s origins help explain why its people are so laid-back: the borders were fixed when an English gunship sailed up the Gambia River and fired cannonballs port and starboard-the border was drawn where the cannonballs fell. Few countries better typify the artifice of the postcolonial nation-state. The grim realities of polities of politics and economics, such as the downs of tourism, are the ultimate theatre of the absurd-best taken with a fistful of salt.