This week was all about the World Cup. No one can talk or think about anything else. Ghanaians have taken K'naan’s theme song to heart and there are flags waving from 9/10 cars, buses and tro tros. There are TVs everywhere: in the ice cream parlor, the pharmacy, the depanneur equivalent, the bus station, hair salon, gym, every bar and restaurant...you name it. Thank goodness I love football because it is inescapable.
I went to watch the Ghana vs. Germany game at this bar called Epo’s. They set up a giant screen outside to accommodate the hundreds of people that showed up. I got my face painted with the flag and donned an official Black Stars jersey (much to the amusement of many locals - a few came up to me and thanked me enthusiastically for my support) Even though we lost the game, there was jubilation in the air since we qualified for the second round regardless. The party took to the streets of Osu where I joined in the singing and dancing.
I witnessed Ghana’s victory over the USA in an entirely different venue. A gang of us decided to take a weekend trip to the Green Turtle Lodge which is approximately a 7 hour drive West of Accra. We stayed in spacious beach huts and fell asleep to the sound of crashing waves. It was utterly blissful. Even when it poured rain all day Friday, the beauty of the place was undeniable. Saturday evening we gathered round a generator-powered television (did I mention this place was remote?) that was propped up on 2 chairs and a table. People poured in from the surrounding villages – it was quite the scene. Drum beats varied along with the intensity of the game as did the songs sang by the crowd to encourage our players to keep up the good work. When Gyan scored the winning goal in overtime, the straw roof nearly blew off the dining hut. Everyone was cheering, screaming, dancing --- it was a fabulous night. I’m already getting nervous for Friday when we meet Uruguay – hopefully my birthday will bring them good luck! Send vibes please…
There will be a significant gap between this blog entry and the next as I will be leaving on a cross-country adventure come Friday. Thursday is also a national holiday here so we end up getting Canada day off as well (yay!) and I’ll likely pass by the Canadian Embassy with my Canadian friends to see if there is anything going on there. (I’ve heard that they keep a stock of Canadian beer and maple syrup in the basement…I wonder if that’s true?) Friday the other CLA interns and I will head north. First to Kumasi (the second biggest city in Ghana), then up to Mole National Park (Africa’s only walking safari – elephants and hippos!! So excited), on to Bolgatanga from there where we’ll meet up with our friend Fish, a drumming instructor and time/money depending we will end our excursion with a trek up to Ouagadougou in Burkina Faso. We’ve had such a debate on whether or not to go… the visa is quite chere and I’ve heard mixed reviews of the city itself – the best places to go are on the periphery of Burkina which we do not have time to visit. Do we take the risk and go see a city just for the sake of it? On the other hand, how many opportunities will I get in this lifetime to go to Burkina Faso? Carpe Diem will likely win… stay tuned to find out…
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Monday, June 21, 2010
Lessons Learned
The ultimate lesson to be extracted from the ordeal I am about to recount is: sort out any visa applications BEFORE you arrive at your destination. I was told that I could save some money by purchasing a single entry visa to enter Ghana and once inside the country, it would be less expensive to purchase the multiple-entry visa I actually needed. This was in fact true but what the person advising me didn’t realize was that you have to pay for the cheaper multiple-entry visa on top of the single-entry one you already purchased and it therefore ends up costing the same. Most of the time my attempts to save money are beneficial, however, in this case, my plan backfired completely. In addition to the fact that I ended up paying the same visa fee, the process caused many a headache. As I mentioned in my last entry, I was warned before I came to Ghana that many things take longer here than you would expect. In Canada it took me 2 days to receive my visa even though the office was in a different city! I dropped my passport off at the Ghana Immigration Office in Accra the week after I arrived and was told to check back in 2 weeks. Emphasis on “check back.” That should have been my first hint of trouble to come. I returned on the indicated day, only to be told that there was something missing on my form: the date of my proposed trip to Togo/Benin. Due to this omission, it would take another 10 days to process my visa. Fair enough, I thought, it was my mistake. I returned on the designated date, handed in my passport retention slip and sat down eagerly awaiting the call of name. 45 minutes later and regretting that I had left my book at home, I was called to the desk. “Your passport is not ready, come back next week.” “Why isn’t it ready?” I inquired. I am met with a blank stare. “Come back on Monday.” Not one to cause a scene, my chest tightened and I walked away. How is it humanly possible for it to take over 3 weeks to put a sticker in a little book? I hear the voice of my mother in my head reminding me to apply my yoga practice to my life: deep breaths, Annabel. Today, was the appointed Monday. In preparation for another possible failure, I began composing angry speeches in my head along the lines of “you are a government institution! What kind of example are you setting for the rest of your country?” I was the first to arrive when the doors opened at 8:30. I handed off my slip – “you are too early,” the official said, “come back later.” Very calmly, I replied “I have come every week for the past four (slight exaggeration there), please give me back my passport.” She told me to sit down. This time I brought a book. I am shortly summoned to write my name down and initial next to it. Then she handed me my passport. I was in utter disbelief. I opened it to see if it was too good to be true: multiple-entry visa valid for 3 re-entries into Ghana. I said 'thank-you' in Twi (meh dah see) and strutted out the door in victory!
Another important lesson to learn in Ghana is how to weed out the people who are genuinely kind and trying to help you and the people who just want something for their own gain. I have been shown so much generosity since I arrived: just to name a couple of examples, the passengers of an entire tro-tro joined forces to ensure I alighted at the appropriate spot, and a gentleman walked me right to the door of the immigration office when I had no idea how to find it. There are a lot of people, however, who just want to sell you something or marry you. The best technique I have for fending off aggressive vendors is to tell them that don’t feel well. This usually receives the reply that they will pray for me and hope to see me again soon. The latter “request” is a bit trickier. I can’t lie so when a man asked me at the bus station yesterday where my husband was, I said that I didn’t have one. “I will take you as my wife then,” he stated. Caught off guard, I wasn’t sure how to reply – no thank you?
We had a fabulous weekend in exploring the Volta region. We bused it to Ho Hoe (pronounced Ho-Ho-Ay before you get too excited) which is normally a 3-hour journey but took us 6 due to the traffic getting out of Accra. Our arrival was somewhat chaotic – I had booked us 2 double rooms at the Pacific Guesthouse but when we arrived the receptionist had no record of our reservation. We were utterly confused because our friend Alayna had already arrived and informed us that all was in order and she had the keys to rooms 3 and 5. As we relayed this information, the receptionist said that was impossible – those rooms were occupied by some men. Before we lost our patience and started accusing the receptionist of providing an unacceptable service, I got on the phone with Alayna and asked her to come sort this out – she couldn’t find us. She then realized that the taxi driver had dropped her off at the Taste Lodge instead of the Pacific Guesthouse. The strange thing was the Taste Lodge had our booking. We eventually deduced that I had reserved the Taste Lodge by mistake and it was by complete coincidence that Alayna had ended up at the right spot. Bellies filled with kele wele, (I am now obsessed: the perfect combo of sweet and spicy plantain only found after dark at roadside stalls costing less than 1$) we fell into bed exhausted. The next day we hiked for roughly 2 hours to see the Wli falls. Beautiful. It was so lovely to be back in nature. Ever since I stopped going to summer camp, I have really missed that aspect of life. We were rewarded at the end of the hike with freshly cut up mangoes the size of miniature footballs. I crowded round the TV with the villagers to watch Ghana tie Australia while my friends shopped at the surrounding stalls. Sunday we toured a tiny village called Helekpe where we saw how Kente cloth is woven (quite a process) and were privileged to a drum and dance performance.
My Twi is coming along nicely – I now know how to say I’d like to buy one pineapple please (Meh peh abrobay bakoon may pow ocho) and how to insist that I do not need a plastic bag (Mem peh rubber bag) I realized that was one of the first phrases I learned in Cantonese which I still remember to this day (Mm sigh gow doy). My next challenge is to learn what a marriage proposal sounds like so that I don’t get into trouble when I politely smile and nod (as I did when the “mate” in the tro-tro asked for my hand last week prompting the other passengers to burst into laughter).
And just in case you think I’m not doing any work – I am currently researching lessons that can be learned from other countries regarding the efficient management of oil revenues. On the agenda today is Norway. Their government’s initiatives are quite remarkable.
Another important lesson to learn in Ghana is how to weed out the people who are genuinely kind and trying to help you and the people who just want something for their own gain. I have been shown so much generosity since I arrived: just to name a couple of examples, the passengers of an entire tro-tro joined forces to ensure I alighted at the appropriate spot, and a gentleman walked me right to the door of the immigration office when I had no idea how to find it. There are a lot of people, however, who just want to sell you something or marry you. The best technique I have for fending off aggressive vendors is to tell them that don’t feel well. This usually receives the reply that they will pray for me and hope to see me again soon. The latter “request” is a bit trickier. I can’t lie so when a man asked me at the bus station yesterday where my husband was, I said that I didn’t have one. “I will take you as my wife then,” he stated. Caught off guard, I wasn’t sure how to reply – no thank you?
We had a fabulous weekend in exploring the Volta region. We bused it to Ho Hoe (pronounced Ho-Ho-Ay before you get too excited) which is normally a 3-hour journey but took us 6 due to the traffic getting out of Accra. Our arrival was somewhat chaotic – I had booked us 2 double rooms at the Pacific Guesthouse but when we arrived the receptionist had no record of our reservation. We were utterly confused because our friend Alayna had already arrived and informed us that all was in order and she had the keys to rooms 3 and 5. As we relayed this information, the receptionist said that was impossible – those rooms were occupied by some men. Before we lost our patience and started accusing the receptionist of providing an unacceptable service, I got on the phone with Alayna and asked her to come sort this out – she couldn’t find us. She then realized that the taxi driver had dropped her off at the Taste Lodge instead of the Pacific Guesthouse. The strange thing was the Taste Lodge had our booking. We eventually deduced that I had reserved the Taste Lodge by mistake and it was by complete coincidence that Alayna had ended up at the right spot. Bellies filled with kele wele, (I am now obsessed: the perfect combo of sweet and spicy plantain only found after dark at roadside stalls costing less than 1$) we fell into bed exhausted. The next day we hiked for roughly 2 hours to see the Wli falls. Beautiful. It was so lovely to be back in nature. Ever since I stopped going to summer camp, I have really missed that aspect of life. We were rewarded at the end of the hike with freshly cut up mangoes the size of miniature footballs. I crowded round the TV with the villagers to watch Ghana tie Australia while my friends shopped at the surrounding stalls. Sunday we toured a tiny village called Helekpe where we saw how Kente cloth is woven (quite a process) and were privileged to a drum and dance performance.
My Twi is coming along nicely – I now know how to say I’d like to buy one pineapple please (Meh peh abrobay bakoon may pow ocho) and how to insist that I do not need a plastic bag (Mem peh rubber bag) I realized that was one of the first phrases I learned in Cantonese which I still remember to this day (Mm sigh gow doy). My next challenge is to learn what a marriage proposal sounds like so that I don’t get into trouble when I politely smile and nod (as I did when the “mate” in the tro-tro asked for my hand last week prompting the other passengers to burst into laughter).
And just in case you think I’m not doing any work – I am currently researching lessons that can be learned from other countries regarding the efficient management of oil revenues. On the agenda today is Norway. Their government’s initiatives are quite remarkable.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Dancing in the Streets
Another eventful week in Ghana has gone by and I cannot believe that I have already been here for a month!
I had my first Accra Mall experience last week – there is only one mall here and it was built last year. Quite small, but modern and it has everything you need: supermarket, food court, clothing shops, bookstore and cinema – all at western prices. We indulged in a film (though on Mondays they have a great deal where you get a movie ticket, popcorn and coke for 10$) – the only thing playing was Prince of Persia which I did not want to see but the urge to see a movie overcame my better judgment. Since I had such low expectations, however, I was actually surprisingly satisfied with Disney’s latest offering. I also found granola and yogurt in the supermarket and had to restrain myself from doing a happy dance right there and then.
In Montreal, when the weather is at its worst, the cab drivers seek to benefit the most. Such is not the case over here which we reluctantly discovered last week. As we were exiting the British Council, having just seen a depressing movie on climate change and adaptation, we were caught in a torrential downpour. Torrential meaning that you are soaked to the bone in less than 5 seconds whilst you hopelessly clutch your umbrella. You cannot call cabs to come pick you up so we were stranded helplessly waiting in the rain trying to flag one down. Forty-five minutes later (and just as we resolved to complete the hour-long trek home on foot) we finally grabbed one. Whenever we don’t need taxis they are everywhere and eager for clients so we wondered, why the drastic change when it rains? The taxi driver told us that in the heavy rain it is difficult to tell where the crater-sized potholes are hiding and if your car falls in one, it could be damaged so severely that it is more financially sound to wait out the rain rather than driving around customers.
A highlight of the week for me was watching the World Cup kickoff concert at a local sports bar – the mood was infectious; everyone was getting so excited. We played trivia afterward (I was all over the “food and drink” category but sadly our team’s lack of World Cup knowledge held us back) good fun all around.
You can buy anything from a car window here (top-up cards for your phone, plantain chips, mentos, flags of countries from around the world, suit jackets, ties, shoes, water, nuts) – Ghanaians are very entrepreneurial. I have challenged myself to find the most unusual item being sold on the road. So far: a stretchy elastic band used for exercising sold in a box that clearly indicates the item was fabricated in the 70s.
The strength of the women and children here never ceases to amaze me. They carry pounds of goods on their heads, weaving in and out of traffic, often with babies tied onto their backs as well! Last week I saw a woman dashing across the street with 12 dozen eggs on her head – no joke. These women are hardcore.
Friday we were given permission to leave work a tad early so that we could head west on our trip to Cape Coast. We stayed at a guest house recommended by a friend called Sammo’s. It was in the ‘shoestring’ section of our guide and shoestring it was. No sheets on the beds, shared washrooms for everyone and best of all – no running water! We were offered the chance to shower with a bucket but no one seemed too into that idea…
Our trip was action-packed. It was the 4 usual suspects (CLA interns) plus Amanda, an NYU law student and Nicola, an Italian who lives with us in Accra. We woke up bright and early to visit Kakum National Park. We didn’t see any animals unfortunately (who makes a tourist site out of a park with nocturnal animals?!) but we did do the canopy walk (designed by Canadian engineers I might add) with breathtaking views of the surrounding landscape. It was also extremely pleasant to be inhaling such fresh air and listening to the never-ending birdsong. Our guide, Ben, took us on a nature walk informing us of the medicinal value of many of the trees and plants we saw. We stood by a tree that was 350 years old and one that you can make black pepper out of using its bark We then passed by an ostrich farm and couldn’t resist the urge to go visit these strange beasts. They remind me of dinosaurs. It was fun feeding them until one went at my head and I ducked just in time.
We spent the afternoon touring Elmina’s St-Georges Castle and Cape Coast Castle. Both were used to hold slaves before they were shipped across the Atlantic. It was a sobering and educational experience. I was particularly struck by what the tour guide told us about the female slaves. They only took a bath once during their captivity and this was just before they were displayed and chosen by the “Gentlemen” to serve as their mistresses. The babies born as a result of rape were taken care of and educated in the Castle school – the mothers were then shipped across the ocean without them. If the women were discovered to be pregnant on the journey overseas they were simply tossed overboard for two reasons: a woman who had just given birth couldn’t work as hard and the British didn’t want the outside world knowing what their (mostly married) men were doing to the slaves. We saw a group of African-American teens from South Carolina visiting the Castle. I couldn’t help wondering how they must have felt being direct consequences of the slave trade themselves.
We ended our day in a lighter manner with a delicious dinner by the oceanfront with some other foreigners we met during the day. One of the loveliest meals so far: fried plantain to start, veggie pizza and a pineapple crepe for dessert! Yum.
Sunday morning I made everyone eat at this vegetarian café I had spotted the day before which promised fresh fruit smoothies and crepes. We somewhat regretted our decision when it took two hours for the food to arrive. I had been warned before I came to Ghana that the experience at restaurants is not quite the same as back home. What perplexed me the most was why it took so long for 4 crepes and an omelette to appear. We were the only people in the entire place and even a semi-competent cook could whip that up in under an hour. At least we knew our food was fresh~ we were so hungry by the time it arrived that it did taste fabulous.
We witnessed quite an amusing scene on the minibus ride home. No one wanted to sit in the seats situated above the tires due to the lack of legroom. But every new person who mounted the bus was initially drawn to that seat, later rejected it and tried to get the next person to sit there. Meanwhile we had the driver and the “mate” peering through the bus windows to evaluate the amount of legroom available as if this was the very first time this had ever happened. It was like something out of a play.
On the journey home we were not treated to a Nigerian film (read in a hint of sarcasm here) but to the radio commentary of Ghana’s first World Cup game in Twi. Even though we had no idea what was going on we were clearly made aware of the winning goal by the sudden deafening cheers coming from inside and outside the bus. We actually whipped home to Accra in record time – there was no traffic because everyone was watching the game – and witnessed a celebration that could rival any Habs victory in Montreal. People were ecstatic, dancing and singing in the streets.
World Cup games (and the irritating South African horns that sound like mosquitoes buzzing) now provide a soundtrack to our workdays and we are already looking forward to watching Ghana take on Australia next Saturday. GO BLACK STARS!!
I had my first Accra Mall experience last week – there is only one mall here and it was built last year. Quite small, but modern and it has everything you need: supermarket, food court, clothing shops, bookstore and cinema – all at western prices. We indulged in a film (though on Mondays they have a great deal where you get a movie ticket, popcorn and coke for 10$) – the only thing playing was Prince of Persia which I did not want to see but the urge to see a movie overcame my better judgment. Since I had such low expectations, however, I was actually surprisingly satisfied with Disney’s latest offering. I also found granola and yogurt in the supermarket and had to restrain myself from doing a happy dance right there and then.
In Montreal, when the weather is at its worst, the cab drivers seek to benefit the most. Such is not the case over here which we reluctantly discovered last week. As we were exiting the British Council, having just seen a depressing movie on climate change and adaptation, we were caught in a torrential downpour. Torrential meaning that you are soaked to the bone in less than 5 seconds whilst you hopelessly clutch your umbrella. You cannot call cabs to come pick you up so we were stranded helplessly waiting in the rain trying to flag one down. Forty-five minutes later (and just as we resolved to complete the hour-long trek home on foot) we finally grabbed one. Whenever we don’t need taxis they are everywhere and eager for clients so we wondered, why the drastic change when it rains? The taxi driver told us that in the heavy rain it is difficult to tell where the crater-sized potholes are hiding and if your car falls in one, it could be damaged so severely that it is more financially sound to wait out the rain rather than driving around customers.
A highlight of the week for me was watching the World Cup kickoff concert at a local sports bar – the mood was infectious; everyone was getting so excited. We played trivia afterward (I was all over the “food and drink” category but sadly our team’s lack of World Cup knowledge held us back) good fun all around.
You can buy anything from a car window here (top-up cards for your phone, plantain chips, mentos, flags of countries from around the world, suit jackets, ties, shoes, water, nuts) – Ghanaians are very entrepreneurial. I have challenged myself to find the most unusual item being sold on the road. So far: a stretchy elastic band used for exercising sold in a box that clearly indicates the item was fabricated in the 70s.
The strength of the women and children here never ceases to amaze me. They carry pounds of goods on their heads, weaving in and out of traffic, often with babies tied onto their backs as well! Last week I saw a woman dashing across the street with 12 dozen eggs on her head – no joke. These women are hardcore.
Friday we were given permission to leave work a tad early so that we could head west on our trip to Cape Coast. We stayed at a guest house recommended by a friend called Sammo’s. It was in the ‘shoestring’ section of our guide and shoestring it was. No sheets on the beds, shared washrooms for everyone and best of all – no running water! We were offered the chance to shower with a bucket but no one seemed too into that idea…
Our trip was action-packed. It was the 4 usual suspects (CLA interns) plus Amanda, an NYU law student and Nicola, an Italian who lives with us in Accra. We woke up bright and early to visit Kakum National Park. We didn’t see any animals unfortunately (who makes a tourist site out of a park with nocturnal animals?!) but we did do the canopy walk (designed by Canadian engineers I might add) with breathtaking views of the surrounding landscape. It was also extremely pleasant to be inhaling such fresh air and listening to the never-ending birdsong. Our guide, Ben, took us on a nature walk informing us of the medicinal value of many of the trees and plants we saw. We stood by a tree that was 350 years old and one that you can make black pepper out of using its bark We then passed by an ostrich farm and couldn’t resist the urge to go visit these strange beasts. They remind me of dinosaurs. It was fun feeding them until one went at my head and I ducked just in time.
We spent the afternoon touring Elmina’s St-Georges Castle and Cape Coast Castle. Both were used to hold slaves before they were shipped across the Atlantic. It was a sobering and educational experience. I was particularly struck by what the tour guide told us about the female slaves. They only took a bath once during their captivity and this was just before they were displayed and chosen by the “Gentlemen” to serve as their mistresses. The babies born as a result of rape were taken care of and educated in the Castle school – the mothers were then shipped across the ocean without them. If the women were discovered to be pregnant on the journey overseas they were simply tossed overboard for two reasons: a woman who had just given birth couldn’t work as hard and the British didn’t want the outside world knowing what their (mostly married) men were doing to the slaves. We saw a group of African-American teens from South Carolina visiting the Castle. I couldn’t help wondering how they must have felt being direct consequences of the slave trade themselves.
We ended our day in a lighter manner with a delicious dinner by the oceanfront with some other foreigners we met during the day. One of the loveliest meals so far: fried plantain to start, veggie pizza and a pineapple crepe for dessert! Yum.
Sunday morning I made everyone eat at this vegetarian café I had spotted the day before which promised fresh fruit smoothies and crepes. We somewhat regretted our decision when it took two hours for the food to arrive. I had been warned before I came to Ghana that the experience at restaurants is not quite the same as back home. What perplexed me the most was why it took so long for 4 crepes and an omelette to appear. We were the only people in the entire place and even a semi-competent cook could whip that up in under an hour. At least we knew our food was fresh~ we were so hungry by the time it arrived that it did taste fabulous.
We witnessed quite an amusing scene on the minibus ride home. No one wanted to sit in the seats situated above the tires due to the lack of legroom. But every new person who mounted the bus was initially drawn to that seat, later rejected it and tried to get the next person to sit there. Meanwhile we had the driver and the “mate” peering through the bus windows to evaluate the amount of legroom available as if this was the very first time this had ever happened. It was like something out of a play.
On the journey home we were not treated to a Nigerian film (read in a hint of sarcasm here) but to the radio commentary of Ghana’s first World Cup game in Twi. Even though we had no idea what was going on we were clearly made aware of the winning goal by the sudden deafening cheers coming from inside and outside the bus. We actually whipped home to Accra in record time – there was no traffic because everyone was watching the game – and witnessed a celebration that could rival any Habs victory in Montreal. People were ecstatic, dancing and singing in the streets.
World Cup games (and the irritating South African horns that sound like mosquitoes buzzing) now provide a soundtrack to our workdays and we are already looking forward to watching Ghana take on Australia next Saturday. GO BLACK STARS!!
Monday, June 7, 2010
Hitting the Road…
Last weekend we decided to take a break from the city and visit the Aburi mountains and botanical gardens. We invited our new friends Alima and Kofi to come with us. Little did they know what they were getting themselves into… Our plan was to do a bike tour of the mountains and then take a leisurely stroll around the gardens. After sampling some palm wine at a roadside stall en route, we arrived at Aburi and rented mountain bikes from a shop at the entrance to the gardens. The guide assured us the trail was well marked so we chose a 2-hour route that seemed picturesque and set off on our way. Thankfully the guide agreed to escort us to the beginning of the trail because once we saw what he meant by ‘well sign-posted’ we decided to hire him to navigate our entire journey. Best decision we made that day. There was only one sign the entire route! It said “German Haus” and it was hidden behind some shrubbery. How that indicates the start of a bike trail is beyond me. Our guide proved to be a marvelous addition to the group in a multitude of ways. Aside from picking up fallen participants, fixing my bike seat (which would collapse after rolling over any large rock or root = ouch) he pointed out pineapple trees (did you know that it takes 12 months to grow one pineapple here!?), the village where Rita Marley (Bob Marley’s widow) now lives and he cracked open a cocoa bean pod for us to sample. Coolest thing ever – there was a white gooey substance encasing the beans which was really sweet though the beans themselves were bitter. What we did not realize about our dear guide before we set off was that his definition of an intermediate mountain biking trail was not the same as ours. I consider myself a fairly competent biker but on this trail I felt FEEBLE. The first half of the trail was as wide as my front tire, steep downhill, rocks and roots sticking out everywhere and grass slapping your legs as you careered down the path at, literally, breakneck speed. Once we reached a resting point, the guide assured us the rest of the trail was wide and flat. Hmm.. maybe by flat he meant uphill? Then the rain began to bucket down creating a whole new challenge. We were still in good spirits though especially when the guide offered to cut our trip short. It took us 3 hours to complete a “1-hr” trail! Freshly cut pineapple welcomed us upon our return to the bike shop – we couldn’t help but smile. We survived.
How I almost hit the road.
You may be wondering how we get around in Accra. They have a fabulous system here made up of tro-tros. Tro-tros are 15 passenger vans (that somehow sit 25) in various states of disrepair. They head off to their destinations once they have reached their capacity. To date, I have taken approximately 96 tro-tro rides and have seen only one other foreigner. They stop at various semi-designated areas where you listen for the mate’s call indicating the direction in which the van is going. (The mate is the guy who collects your money when you enter and who you tell where you need to get off). The mate shouts the same destination repeatedly all day so understandably, he has lost the desire to enunciate. Therefore, ‘Station Thirty-Seven,’ which is our first destination in the morning, comes out sounding something like: “terrrty sen”. We’ve got the hang of it now.
Heading home from the gym last week, I was seated at the end of my row squashed against the sliding door (which I neglected to realize was only attached to the vehicle with a rope.) We took a sharp turn and the door I was leaning on swung out revealing the blurry concrete below. I would have headed straight for it were it not for the two strong arms I suddenly felt around my waist pulling me back in the van. Thank goodness for the kindness of strangers. I had quite a laugh after I’d recovered from the shock.
Road trip to Tarkwa
Work continues to be very interesting. This past week we had the opportunity to observe a court case one of the lawyers at CEPIL was arguing. The case has been going on for 7 years and regards the abuses of a mining company towards a local community. We had a very scenic 6.5 hour drive along the coast and stayed at lovely little hotel. (We not only had air-conditioning, a TV and hot water but toast and jam for breakfast! I was thrilled.) The next day we drove to the courthouse. The lawyers and judges here have to wear white wigs in addition to fancy black robes in court – it is interesting to see which colonial traditions Ghanaians continue to observe. A lot of the trial was in Twi so we couldn’t grasp all of it but it was still cool to see. The drive back wasn’t so much fun for me – what I thought were the typical tummy adjustments one must expect on a trip to a foreign land developed into full blown Gastro. I spent the next 3 days in bed but I went to see the doctor yesterday, got some pills, and life is back to normal again. Sweet.
How I almost hit the road.
You may be wondering how we get around in Accra. They have a fabulous system here made up of tro-tros. Tro-tros are 15 passenger vans (that somehow sit 25) in various states of disrepair. They head off to their destinations once they have reached their capacity. To date, I have taken approximately 96 tro-tro rides and have seen only one other foreigner. They stop at various semi-designated areas where you listen for the mate’s call indicating the direction in which the van is going. (The mate is the guy who collects your money when you enter and who you tell where you need to get off). The mate shouts the same destination repeatedly all day so understandably, he has lost the desire to enunciate. Therefore, ‘Station Thirty-Seven,’ which is our first destination in the morning, comes out sounding something like: “terrrty sen”. We’ve got the hang of it now.
Heading home from the gym last week, I was seated at the end of my row squashed against the sliding door (which I neglected to realize was only attached to the vehicle with a rope.) We took a sharp turn and the door I was leaning on swung out revealing the blurry concrete below. I would have headed straight for it were it not for the two strong arms I suddenly felt around my waist pulling me back in the van. Thank goodness for the kindness of strangers. I had quite a laugh after I’d recovered from the shock.
Road trip to Tarkwa
Work continues to be very interesting. This past week we had the opportunity to observe a court case one of the lawyers at CEPIL was arguing. The case has been going on for 7 years and regards the abuses of a mining company towards a local community. We had a very scenic 6.5 hour drive along the coast and stayed at lovely little hotel. (We not only had air-conditioning, a TV and hot water but toast and jam for breakfast! I was thrilled.) The next day we drove to the courthouse. The lawyers and judges here have to wear white wigs in addition to fancy black robes in court – it is interesting to see which colonial traditions Ghanaians continue to observe. A lot of the trial was in Twi so we couldn’t grasp all of it but it was still cool to see. The drive back wasn’t so much fun for me – what I thought were the typical tummy adjustments one must expect on a trip to a foreign land developed into full blown Gastro. I spent the next 3 days in bed but I went to see the doctor yesterday, got some pills, and life is back to normal again. Sweet.
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