Canopy walks are no longer an exotic promise from a singular lush rain forest but an expectation too easily realized. The 21st century travel landscape has morphed into a dreaded sameness in the form of ubiquitous craft cocktails, gourmet small plates and high-tech hostels designed to look and feel like an MTV wonderland. Then, sometime in the past decade, authentic flavor became hard to find. Whenever I’d sacrificed comfort, I typically earned a double shot of authenticity and inspiration. The road was alive, and each destination had its own distinct flavor. I’d been to 45 countries on six continents, reporting, adventuring and partying. The truth is, I was the jaded traveler incarnate. In this export-dependent, corrupt, dangerous city, whether you’re living high or low, one job never feels like enough.Īnd the never enough is why I was there. This was Lagos (pronounced “lay-gos”) after all, and one conceit is that everybody here has three hustles: An oil mogul may also own a restaurant while bankrolling a recording session with an up-and-coming MC. Many of them, still in their 20s and 30s, were already millionaires, and all of them were hustlers. Bottles of Dom Pérignon set in buckets of dry ice left vapor trails as they streamed from the bar in the arms of statuesque African beauties conveying them to booths manned by oil or telecom executives, real estate developers, entrepreneurs and their guests. Beams from a bank of rotating lights glinted off gaslight chandeliers and mirrored ornaments behind the bar. It was my second night in Lagos, Nigeria, and once more I was in a room of clinking glasses and rumbling bass, a room filled with Nigeria’s upper crust bouncing to indigenous Afro-pop. They leaned on the bar in double-breasted sports coats and Windsor knots, and glided across the dance floor in high-dollar sneakers, draped in silver and gold chains, eyeballing women of all shapes and shades who dazzled in designer gowns, slinky dresses, short shorts or miniskirts, by turns accentuating or revealing ample curves, long legs or an elegant neckline. Some men were decked out in black tie, others in Ankara print caftans and matching fezzes. It was midnight on Saturday and the club was heating up.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |