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.
This blog is sponsored in part by Campbell Cohen
