This weekend we went on an ISEP trip to Liati-Woti, a village in the Volta region at the base of Ghana’s tallest mountain, Mount Afadjato. Instead of staying in hotels, our program director organized for us to do homestays to get a taste of village life. We left Saturday morning for what became a very scenic drive through the mountainous Volta region. We crossed the Volta River and then…we got a flat tire. While the drivers worked on jacking up the huge bus, I went with some friends on a quest for Fan-Ice (frozen treats in a little cardboard packet that you eat like a freeze pop kind of. Either vanilla ice cream, strawberry frozen yogurt, or frozen chocolate milk). It gave us a chance to appreciate how much more relaxed the tro-tro station and market were in this particular town. It was noticeably less crowded and less chaotic, I guess because it was a smaller town than we’re used to being in. 

After a lot of relatively easy freeway driving, we turned onto a pothole-laden, hilly dirt road. After way too much rocking and scraping, our poor bus and brilliant bus driver finally got us to the village of Liati-Woti around two in the afternoon. We were served a traditional lunch of boiled yams with palava sauce and fish. Palava sauce is made of some spinachy greens, tomatoes, and maybe pumpkin seeds. It was delicious! Something important to know about me is I Do Not Eat Fish. But I ate this fish to be polite and it was pretty good and not fishy at all. I think I only swallowed one bone. 

We met our families and were shown to our rooms. Our host was a middle-aged man and his 23 year old nephew. The nephew had only moved in about three weeks ago to work with his uncle’s construction business. The uncle did not introduce a wife or children, but he seemed to own a lot of property. Two other girls and I slept in two rooms in one building, and four other people slept in a different building. He also showed us another empty room in another building. I was pretty confused about what was his, where he lived, and with whom. There was a bit of a language barrier and I didn’t know quite how to obtain the information I wanted politely. Also, none of the other students staying with this man seemed that curious, so I would have felt even more nosy for asking. Even though I felt a bit confused about how the house(s) worked I was happy because our hosts seemed really nice. 

After we met our families and put our stuff down, the whole group met up to hike to the nearby Tagbo Falls. Our guides rushed us through the hike so that we could make it back before dark. I really hate rushing hikes, but it was kind of fun to make my body work hard for the first time in a while. The falls was beautiful. It was very tall and skinny and there was mist everywhere. It felt like we were in another world. The mist made it impossible to take good pictures of the falls, but we all had each other take pictures of ourselves in front of the waterfall anyway. It was pretty magical. 

We hustled back and barely made it before dark. Even though we had just eaten two or three hours before, our hosts served us dinner right away. They served us the local specialty, banku with okro (okra) stew and fish. I had a slight problem with this because I wasn’t hungry, I think banku tastes sour, I think okra is slimy, and I don’t really eat fish. Additionally, the stew looked like some throw-up I cleaned up once. I literally ate for fourty-five minutes, trying to make my food disappear, but I had to give it up after only eating about a third of it. I really think I put a good effort forth, but I still feel kind of bad for not finishing it. Despite all the issues I had with it, I could still see how someone could like it, which I think is a real testament to the quality of the food. It was good, but I just couldn’t like it.

After dinner we walked towards the town center where they had set up a bonfire for us. It was the best bonfire I have seen in my life—it was like six or seven feet tall and stacked like a teepee. There were men playing African drums and singing. Men, women, and children started dancing around in a circle. It was kind of cool but kind of awkward because we were just sitting there. Oh! And they had palm wine for us to drink. Palm wine is a rural Ghanaian home brew made from palm trees. You drink it out of a gourd. It tasted kind of like Squirt soda, but also kind of weird at the same time. 

After sleeping through a few roosters crowing we woke up and were served breakfast—tea, bread and a sweet porridge made from corn. And hard-boiled eggs. I also don’t eat hard-boiled eggs, but I ate mine! The whole thing! It was really gross, but I did it without even making a face. Sorry this post is so food-oriented, but these were big accomplishments for me. Seriously. We packed up and said our goodbyes to our hosts. As we left, the nephew ran after us and handed us slips of paper with his name and e-mail address. He wrote “friend” above his name. It was really cute. 

Then we left for the hike up the mountain. Basically, we hiked straight up for about an hour. We took some breaks, but I felt like it was easier to keep going than to sit down. Some parts we had to go sideways, some parts we had to crouch low to grab onto something, some parts were muddy, some parts we were almost crawling. It was intense. I’ve never done anything like it. After a long long time I started to get kind of angry that the sun was shining bright on my neck, but then I realized that must mean I was getting close to the top. Though I was dripping in sweat and my calves were sore I was totally invigorated by this realization. The terrain of the final summit was loose gravel that would slide out from under you if you didn’t step carefully. 

The sun was hot at the top but the view and the sense of accomplishment were amazing, not to mention not having to climb anymore. We stayed at the peak for about an hour, resting, looking, and taking pictures. There were a lot of butterflies fluttering around. After a while we got some cloud cover. We could even see the waterfall that we had hiked to the day before. It looked so small! Eventually the guides convinced us it was time to go back down. I was really reluctant because I didn’t want to leave and because I was dreading the climb down. Stretches that seemed dangerous going up would only be more so on the way down. I was right, but no one got hurt, and going down went a lot faster. We drank some water, ate some lunch, and headed out.

Just a quick note to say that I finally shelled out the time and money for an internet cafe so I uploaded some pictures. Here’s the link to the facebook album: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2018359&l=b312f&id=57301634

Three weeks after being turned down by Green Turtle, we decided to give it a shot again. This time they actually had room for us, but in their tents, not the dormitory style accommodations that we wanted. Since the tents had mattresses in them we decided they would be fine. The whole thing was a bit stressful because a lot of people became interested in going with us but couldn’t leave as early as we could. I did my best to connect them with each other, but people still asked me about whether or not the lodge had room for them. Because the only way to get in touch with the lodge is to send a text message and hope it goes through, I really had no idea, but people asked me anyway. It was weird. Anyway, there was room for the four of us!

Maybe at this point it would be good to explain why it was so essential to stay at this one lodge in particular. Mainly, it is an “eco-lodge” that relies on solar power, has self-composting toilets, is built mostly from local, sustainable materials, and they rescue sea turtles. Environmental consciousness is not really something that has caught on very much in Ghana, so this lodge is pretty unique in even considering environmental costs. You can also go on hikes, turtle walks, and canoe trips with local guides that the lodge management trusts and recommends. They have a reputation for good food, a relaxing atmosphere, and a positive relationship with the neighboring community. So, we had to go.

One of our fellow travelers was friends with the proprietors of Han’s Cottage Botel in Cape Coast, so we decided to split up the journey by traveling there first. It’s called a Botel because it is built on stilts and sits on a man made lake, so it’s like a boat, get it? The main appeal in staying here was seeing the crocodiles that live in the lake. Crocodiles! Traveling went smoothly and we got to the hotel, ate dinner, and went to bed. We were staying in the “hostel” section, so it was a big room with a bunch of beds in it, but we were the only guests. Also present in the room were two paintings of nude white ladies, one of a fat redhead lady that seemed like it was supposed to be funny and another of a slim buxom brunette that was pretty suggestive. The room was nice despite the strange decorations.

The “Botel” also grows its own passion fruit on site, and so we had freshly squeezed passion fruit juice with our breakfast. We searched for crocodiles and found a big fat one sleeping and lazing under a tree. We all got to pet its spiky tail but were told to steer clear of its head. Then we took a short but scenic walk up the road to the only ostrich farm in Ghana, where an enthusiastic young man showed us around and told us about the ostriches. There were some that were only three months old, and one that was ten years old. The babies were really cute, but still big for something only three months old. We came back and paid a few dollars to have one of the staff members feed the crocodiles so we could see them in action. She speared some chicken skin onto a long stick and dangled it, letting one young angry crocodile snap and stretch for it. It was really cool to watch and I have some good pictures. Then we went for a swim in the hotel pool. It was my first pool in Ghana, and so I had a great time. I even attempted some Butterfly, but that ended up being kind of depressing. Then we embarked on the rest of our journey. We took a tro-tro into town from the hotel, then walked a bit to a station, then took another one to Takoradi, where we walked again to a different station before finding a tro-tro to Akwidaa and getting dropped off at the lodge. It felt like we sat in the last tro-tro forever waiting for it to fill up, because every time I thought it was full enough to leave they squeezed more people into it. We finally pulled out of the station, only to stop again for more passengers who took their seats on top of the tro-tro, with their feet dangling in front my window. I couldn’t believe his flip-flops stayed on. Apparently there are laws against overcrowding and top-loading, but they’re not enforced in rural areas like where we were.

We arrived with enough time to get settled before watching a huge orange glowing sun sink behind the ridge. Then it was time for a fresh, delicious dinner under a grass awning overlooking the beach. We all went around and named our favorite parts of the day, the big and the small. That was Harmony’s idea and it helped us remember just how amazing of a day we’d had. After dark we went on a walk along the beach with a guide looking for turtles. We didn’t see any, but did find one new turtle nest, where a turtle had come onto shore, laid eggs, and then gone back to sea. The guides kicked the sand around the nest to disguise it from locals who might dig up the eggs to sell.

We spent the next two days in complete vacation mode. Laying in the sun, laying in the shade, sitting in the shade, laying in the hammock, reading in any of the above locations. Bracing against the waves, jumping with the waves, diving into the waves, diving under the waves, swimming in with the waves, crouching and letting the waves rush over…these were some of my favorite activities.

One of the most important things about Green Turtle is that they have Real Coffee. Pretty much everywhere you go, even nice places, serve instant coffee, Nescafe. It’s pretty terrible, but I’ve learned to drink it (between bad coffee and no coffee, bad coffee wins). But at Green Turtle they have real coffee, from coffee beans, served in little French presses. It was amazing.

The only downer was our sleeping arrangement. It was fun to sleep in tents so close to the beach but they were sandy and windy the first two nights and sandy and hot the third. But our days weren’t really that strenuous so it worked out.

By Saturday we finally took the initiative to sign up for one of the activities, a canoe trip through the mangroves leaving at 6:30 the next morning. We met the guides at the lodge and then walked about ten minutes along the beach towards the neighboring village. We veered inland and were suddenly on the banks of a stream surrounded by mangrove trees. We got into long canoes with the guides who did all of the steering and paddling. All of the canoes had small holes in them and the guides had to periodically scoop the water out of the bottom. We saw a lot of crabs-red, black, white, or some mixture of those colors,- these small fish that jumped on land, white ducks, a few different kinds of cool-looking birds, a big dead fish that the guides scooped out of the water for their lunch, and a brief glimpse of a monitor lizard. We didn’t see any monkeys but were told that sometimes you could see them swinging from tree to tree. I tried to use my imagination instead. Our guide was pretty informative and told us how the villagers used the mangroves for all kinds of things from furniture to herbal remedies.

After a really delicious breakfast of French toast with bananas and honey and one last cup of real coffee we said our goodbyes to the beach. We caught the tro-tros quickly, but one got a flat tire, which could have been dangerous if the driver hadn’t noticed it as quickly as he did. He changed it fast and we were back on the road, which was uncomfortable because tro-tros are always uncomfortable, and because the guy sitting next to me kept on talking and talking to me even though I told him I was married and that I could hardly hear him over the bumpy road. We arrived in Takoradi at one o’clock but found out the two o’clock bus was full and we had to wait until four. The bus was on time but we hit traffic into Accra and finally arrived home over ten hours after leaving the lodge.

I was really glad to get home to my own bed after three nights of mediocre sleep. I had such a nice time. Green Turtle is such a great value in terms of vacationing. Really, most of Ghana is. I spent around $100 for transportation, food, and lodging from Wednesday through Sunday, and I ate and drank whatever I wanted. It’s safe, uncrowded, relaxed, and beautiful. The staff is friendly and helpful and they all seem to really like working there. Everything from the food to the furniture is simple but just right. The shower is a stone circular room that opens to the sky.

I’ve realized I’ve gotten into a pattern—returning from a trip with enough time to sort of get my life in order and wash some underwear before packing for the next trip. I’m starting to get nervous that I’ll run out of time or money to go everywhere I want to. I’m right at the halfway point as far as time which I’m both happy and sad about. 

This past Tuesday was Eid ul-Fitr, a holiday celebrating the end of Ramadan. Although Ghana is predominantly Christian, there are quite a few Muslims. So many, in fact, that Tuesday was a national holiday. Which meant no class. Which, for me meant traveling, since I don’t have any classes on Wednesdays either.

I got together with a few friends and we decided to attempt an abbreviated version of the trip from a few weekends ago, Boti Falls and the bead market, with the possibility of going to Shia Hills Nature Reserve.

Boti Falls is near Kofiridua, the town (city?) that BASCO is near, so I felt confident getting us there. The journey was quick for the most part, but traveling by trotro is usually cramped, hot, and bumpy, and this was no exception. At one point, we had been stuck in traffic for a while and had finally started to emerge from it when our driver suddenly pulled over to the side of the road. I watched him jump from the van and run back to help push the vehicle that had been the source of the holdup. I was simultaneously amazed that he saw it as his duty to assist another driver, and annoyed that we were still not moving towards our destination.

The drive was beautiful: just an hour or so north of here the landscape becomes hilly and mountainous. My friend Harmony was trying to figure out what it is that makes the mountains and hills here different from mountains in the US and decided that these were greener. I’m not sure if that’s quite all of it, but I don’t have another answer yet, and they certainly are very green. At some point I’ll get some pictures online so you can see them for yourself (kind of).

The trotro dropped us off right inside the grounds of Boti falls, which was actually a bit inconvenient since we hadn’t eaten lunch yet. After a “lunch” of bananas and cookies we embarked on our journey to see the falls and to another attraction called “Umbrella Rock”. The hike was beautiful, but very treacherous in some parts. The people at the gates had insisted we hire a guide (it was only $3) and he was moving at breakneck speed. I didn’t really have the capacity or desire to keep up with him, and I think he was kind of annoyed at my incessant picture-taking and water-drinking breaks. I’m not sure if it was because I was lagging behind, or if he was a poor communicator to everyone, but I had no idea what was going on and I thought we were hiking in the direction of the falls. We were actually on a pretty long hike to Umbrella Rock and to a nearby village. It was really beautiful, but really exhausting, and we were all pouring in sweat by the time we reached Umbrella Rock.

Umbrella Rock turned out to be the most Lion King-esque thing I have seen since arriving in Africa. Meaning, it was sort of like Pride Rock. The view from on top of this rock was amazing! I could have stayed and just looked out for hours, but our tour guide edged us on. He led us past grazing goats, tomato plants, and a small cemetery to a nearby village, where a local showed us what he insisted was a most unique and amazing spectacle: a three headed palm tree.

We went back the way we came, up the downs and down the ups, and no one got hurt even though we were exhausted. The falls turned out to be just a short distance from the entrance gate, and down some stairs. I had mixed feelings about the hike because I hadn’t really known what I was in for and didn’t appreciate being rushed by our guide, but I forgot about them as the falls became visible.

I fell In Love with this waterfall. There were actually two separate streams of water rushing down and there was mist everywhere. We ditched our tour guide and stayed in the basin until we started getting worried that the sun would set before we made it to the top of the stairs.

We decided to travel on to Shia Hills and stay at the resort there so that we could wake up and hike before it got hot and then go on to the bead market. We opted to hold off on dinner in order to fully enjoy a big dinner at the resort. We got directions, but the trotro mate forgot to tell us to get off when we reached the place we needed to switch cars, and so we rode all the way back down to Kofiridua. We thought Shia Hills would be within a short cab distance of Akosombo, so we boarded a trotro headed in that direction. We learned that Kofiridua is actually quite far from Akosombo. We finally arrived, only to find out that Shia Hills is also quite far from Akosombo. After a tiring day, we agreed to call it a day and a cab driver took us to a nearby hotel.

It was at this point that I really began to realize the amount of trust we put in cab drivers. In a country where we are foreigners, in a town where we had never been before, and at night, this cab driver drove the five of us down an increasingly dark and bumpy road, further and further away from the bustling town center, towards what seemed like the middle of nowhere. It occurred to me that he could just take us out to some abandoned road, rob us, and leave us there. My traveling companions looked nervous as well. It was strange to be afraid for my life while upbeat Ghanaian hip-life music was blasting from the speakers.

It turns out the driver had good intentions and brought us to a safe, well-maintained hotel. The only problem was we were absolutely starving, but the kitchen had closed at eight. The time was 8:05. We must have seemed pretty pathetic because they agreed to make us dinner anyway, and I swear it was the best food I’ve ever tasted. We fell asleep immediately and awoke to an amazing view off of the balcony and complimentary egg sandwiches.

We asked the lady at the desk for directions to the bead market and she told us it was within walking distance down the road we had come in on. We set off on foot and were met by two men, one of whom insisted on accompanying us to the market after we told him where we were going. He took us on a path off of the main road and we walked past mud houses, children bathing, clothes on the line, goats, and chickens. For the first time since I’ve been in Ghana I felt like I was getting a real view of how most people in the country went about their lives.

We got to the market and found tables upon tables of beads. I wanted to look at everything before I bought anything, which is both a really good thing to do and a really difficult thing to do at markets. For the most part, one shop’s inventory is roughly identical to the nexts, but if you shop around you can see the small variations in quality and selection, and you can usually get a better price if you leave and come back. We spent a long time buying gifts for ourselves and others. We decided not to bother going to Shia Hills because of the heat and the distance, and we decided not to go to the bead factory because we were beaded out. So we went home.

The next day, I found out from one of my fellow travelers, that we had not actually gone to “the” bead market, the one that was in the guide book. I’m a little bit bummed out that we didn’t go to the big one, but the selection was overwhelming enough as it was, so maybe it’s a good thing.

I’ve been on two more adventures since my last entry.

The first was to an orphan care center in a village near Kofiridua. Some of my fellow ISEPers got involved working with this orphanage/ school after being connected by our program director. This week the plan was to build a roof for a building under construction at the school. I left for the journey with a small group on Friday evening (after a day spent shopping and ice cream eating in Osu). We switched vehicles twice on the way there with a fairly long wait each time. We were all exhausted when we got there even though it wasn’t very late. That turned out to be a good thing, because Jen, who had been there the weekend before, told us they were only keeping the generator running for us. We peed and brushed our teeth outside and then fell asleep on the mattresses they had provided us. After the drive up the mountains in the dark, I had the feeling that I would wake up in the morning to be absolutely amazed by the beauty of my surroundings.

I woke up and fell asleep again and reawakened to the sounds of roosters, goats, and children all starting their days. I stepped outside and realized that my suspicions were correct: the place was beautiful. The school buildings were situated in a forest clearing on one of the higher hillsides (I’m really bad at deciding when to say mountain and when to say hill. They were pretty big, so maybe mountains would be more accurate). The view was absolutely incredible.

The children were all going about some chores, pumping or carrying water, cutting or raking up grass…they were all busy doing something. I learned later that they get up with the sun at 5:30 every day.

After breakfast we were all ready to get to work, but after waiting around a while for instructions we were told that the mason was sick and wouldn’t come to show us what to do. We ended up doing a few small painting projects, but mostly we just played with the kids.

These were some of the sweetest kids I’ve met. They love to give you high fives. They love to be picked up and jokingly nearly dropped on the ground. They love to teach you “secret” handshakes that every kid there seems to know. They love to play football and “volley” with you even when you tell them you’re not good. They love to pick fruit for you. They love to show you which bed is theirs. And on and on. Seriously, they’re great.

Even though we hadn’t done the heavy lifting we came for, we still went to bed exhausted. On Sunday we went to the on-site church service. Sometimes I really think I have narcolepsy—I wasn’t even that bored, and I wanted to pay attention to the sermon to find out more about what preachers want kids to believe about God, but I just kept nodding off. It happens in class a lot too. And on trotros.

After church our day was pretty much identical to the previous one, with a lot of waiting around, playing with the kids, and a little painting. I had the goal of taking lots of pictures, but I ended up letting some of the kids borrow my camera to take pictures, so I’m not sure how many good ones I got.

The best part was getting to eat dinner with the Pastor (who is one of the main people in charge of the orphanage because it’s a Baptist school). He talked to us for a long time about why he felt called to the work he does, and about some of the future goals and plans for the school. He told us, in his own way, one of my favorite things to hear when I am volunteering: You have no idea the difference you make. He said that a lot of the village kids want to be pastors when they grow up because pastors are the most educated, successful people they come in contact with. Then, if they meet a doctor, they will want to be doctors. The more people they meet, the more dreams are planted in their head, and the more they are driven to study hard.

One thing I noticed in comparing BASCO to Peace and Love (the orphanage I went to the beach with) is that the rural, village setting at BASCO means that the kids at the school are surrounded by other children who aren’t in school, who aren’t getting as much to eat, and who aren’t as well cared for as the kids at the school. Most of the children grew up in the surrounding villages and are very much aware of their relative comfort and opportunities. I wonder, but am not certain, if the kids at Peace and Love, in a more urban setting, are more aware of people who have more opportunities than they do, and if that makes a difference in their behavior.

One other really cool thing came out of this trip. For a while I’ve been wondering if volunteerism is as valued in Ghanaian culture as it is in the US (There is a voluntary year of national service where college graduates can receive a small living stipend to do work for the government. Most people participate, and no one would elect someone to public office if they didn’t complete their year of service.). I came to the conclusion that…it isn’t really. No one has required volunteer hours, churches don’t really go on mission trips. At least, that’s the impression I got.

But, Jen convinced a few Ghanaian guy friends to come along with us and they both had a really great experience. Neither of them had ever done anything like this and were completely unaccustomed to the traditional, simple, lifestyle that we witnessed and took part in. They both expressed that it had been really meaningful to them and made them appreciate what they had. One of the boys even said that he wished the school would organize trips like that for everyone to go on. This made me hopeful and excited and proud in the way that every promising, hopeful bit of news about Ghana makes me feel. Wouldn’t that be such a cool job, to organize service trips and village stays for city kids in Ghana?

Well, that’s all for now. I have another adventure to tell you about before I go back to BASCO this weekend to help out with their donor appreciation program.