The Blog I Started to Avoid “Unsubscribe” Responses to My Mass E-mails

Yeah, I know this is all out of order — that I have yet to post many pictures or summarize our Moroccan leg — but it has taken surprising efforts to finally find working internet in Accra, Ghana and as luck would have it, I have to leave town in an hour, so a disjointed, messy update it is. Luck you!

I left Morcco on Saturday night, flew into Lome, Togo at 2 in the morning and — after getting fleeced by immigration officials and taxi drivers alike — found a hostel room with cold water and a fan that moaned painfully with every arthritic turn. But at least it worked and let me tell you, a cold shower has never felt better.

The next morning I ran across the border (literally, on the very stern advice of my worried cab driver) to Ghana. As soon as I finished passing through the numerous checkpoints, I was approached by a group of eager men who claimed that “the boss” wanted to take me to Accra in a private car, free of charge. As I reluctantly followed the search party to a dark car in the middle of town, I figured out that a Yemen ummmmm “business man” was heading back to the capital city and was requesting my company.

Now before you start lecturing, let’s review the facts.

I’m stuck in a bustling, sweltering border town (which are rarely known for their gentle hospitality or quaint charms. This wasn’t exactly Minnetonka, is what I’m saying.) in a developing nation, saddled with a large back pack, waiting for the next bus, whose departure is delightfully, unexpectedly six hours away.

So, I can sit, sticking out like a sore thumb, and try to make friends with the local crowd.

Or I can hop in an air conditioned car and get a free three hour ride.

I made a few of the recruiting gentleman promise me that “the boss” was a good, trustworthy man and that I would be safe. They vowed their assurances. Now I know this was hardly a fool proof security system, but it was enough for me to make a quick judgment call.

When the portly middle easterner rolled down the window and said “I just want some company for the ride, awwright?” — I said, “why not?”

The ride back was interesting — plagued by his angry Arabic cell phone calls, a heated discussion of global politics, Bin Laden and Hussein, Togo (the bush), Iran (idiots) and Bush (who he adored, hilariously). Ali was his name, and he had moved from Yemen to Africa to run a “transportation business” (I didn’t ask for details) and he punctuated his more emotional arguments by beating on the steering wheel. Repeatedly.

Though he once mentioned the possibility that I might grow to love him in time, he was a perfect gentleman after I assured him I was very faithful to my (fictious) husband. In fact, he refused to drop me at the bus station in Accra, instead putting me in another private car and sending me another three hours to the coast in A/C-ed luxury. My intial refusals were shouted down, so I decided to set aside my women’s lib sensibilities and enjoy the gift. I know. I am weak.

I spent the next few days in Cape Coast, Ghana - eating local food, visiting Kakum National Park and their amazing system of canopy walkways above the jungle floor, and the Cape Coast fort - a one time slavery trading post… a surprisingly emotional, sobering experience.

I took a very hot, very dusty school bus back to Accra yesterday for a little birthday luxury — a new crop of books to read, a hotel with hot water and CNN! and a dinner out with an Indian friend of a guy I met in Barcelona. We had dinner at a great Italian restaurant, that subsequently caught on fire halfway through the meal. Despite the power outage and the smoke rolling from the kitchen, they even let me order desert as long as we promised to sit near the door and stay out of the firemen’s way. The chocolate mousse was worth it.

And now, I am headed to Bechem — a little village north of Kumasi, Ghana, to spend the next two weeks with a very kind and wise older gentleman who is a friend of my father’s.

I expect that I’ll be out of communication for a couple of weeks, but I hope you are all well and I promise when I get back to civilization I’ll redeem this rambling post with the hilarious stories of my humiliations in Morocco (Here’s a teaser, it involves a public bath house. Good times), the many sketchy food-products I bought and consumed on public buses (to Christine’s continued horror), and my melodramatic ponderings on Morocco and Africa so far.

In conclusion, life is good, but not altogether comfortable. Which I don’t suppose it ought to be right now. It is more difficult than I had imagined to stand out so fully…. and more rewarding than I expected to spend time with any friendly face. I continue to be amazed by the generosity of the locals and expats I have met - I feel deeply fortunate to have encountered so many tour guides, helpful advisers and dinner companions.

Anyway, I miss you all and promise my next entry will be of a much higher caliber! Take care!

Tags: Travel

This entry was posted on Wednesday, February 1st, 2006 at 5:32 am and is filed under Travel. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.