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If you’ve reached my site because you are searching for sex tourism in the Gambia (and my site statistics tell me that a fair number of you are), I’m afraid you have come to the wrong place. Sex tourism is a complex subject and the following represents my views, but I urge you to consider them in the hope that the lives of many, yourself included, can be improved by more thoughtful consideration of this issue.
Unlike Thailand, however, sex tourism in The Gambia isn’t raging with 50-something Western men paying to get their rocks off with seemingly barely pubescent Thai girls.
In The Gambia it is middle-aged Western women that are throwing down rolls of Dalasi, the local currency, in exchange for a grapple with the firm bodies of the young Gambian men.
I have not led a sheltered life and my friends would place my behavior closer to sinner than saint.
Consequently there is very little that tends to shock me, but the extreme levels of male prostitution in this country have done exactly that.
I did little research before coming to The Gambia other than to check it had an under 7-hour flight time from the UK and had sunshine in March.
The images of eco-lodges promised lazy days idling in a dug-out canoe and temperatures capable of changing my skin from grey to pink appealed.
Add to the fact that Africa is on my Travel Wish List for 2013 and I booked without much further thought.Tickets were purchased and travel took place four days later.Had I planned a bit more I would have realized I was wandering into a country that has a dark side shady enough to blot out the sun.For two days I grappled with some unfinished work, caught up on some missing sleep and lay horizontal on the beach for several hours turning only with the shift of the sun, but last night, with the company of my good female friend and travel partner, I ventured out.The very use of the word Strip used to define the street with bars and restaurants was enough to inspire shudders as banished memories of trips to Spain riddled with Brits Abroad hit my mind.However, craving something more lively than the promise of bingo with the geriatric holiday-makers and a cup of Horlicks that awaited at our hotel, we hit the Senegambia Strip and were taken completely by surprise.