“Parlez-vous anglais?”—Adventures in Togo & Benin

I spent the weekend with two non-French speaking travel companions in the francophone nations of Togo and Benin. Despite being hopelessly confused and constantly misunderstood we had a great time. Preparing to go took forever. We needed to change money, get Visas, and buy bus tickets. And we needed to do all of this on Wednesday, the day after we had stayed up all night to watch the election. We managed to get everything done, still basking in the glow of the election results. After staying up for the previous sunrise, this time we awoke with the sunrise and left the hostel at 6 to catch our 8:30 bus to Aflao, the town on the Ghanaian side of the Ghana-Togo border. We were among the last to board even though we had left so early. The trip went smoothly until the very end when we got stuck in traffic for at least half an hour, only to find out we were about 50 feet from our destination.

I’ve never been to a border before, so I’ll try to describe it in case you haven’t either. First of all there were people everywhere. A lot of people were selling things—food, drinks, Kleenex packets and q-tips, currency, belts, t-shirts, and underwear. A lot of people were trying to fill their cabs. A lot of people were coming and a lot of people were going, but it was not immediately apparent where we should go first. It was really chaotic looking and not well-signed at all, but it was simple enough to navigate because the immigration officers told you where to go.

We had to negotiate for a cab, in a new currency, in a new town, and with someone who spoke minimal English. It didn’t really go that well, but it definitely could have been worse. We arrived at our hotel in Lome in midafternoon. We walked into the reception at Hotel le Galion, which was incidentally the same room as the bar, to a roomful of old European men smoking and drinking. The speakers were blasting Bruce Springsteen’s “Born in the USA.” I felt pretty conspicuously American. We left on foot to explore the town, with the goal of finding the market and the art market.

Notable differences between Lome and Accra:
1. There are motorcycles everywhere, they’re used as cabs, and women will ride them with their babies strapped to their back. I’m pretty sure I saw a family of five on one motorcycle. Women even drive the motorcycles sometimes. Women don’t drive anything in Ghana.
2. Everyone speaks French, duh.
3. There are baguettes everywhere!
4. There aren’t as many street vendors…probably because all the available road space is taken up by swerving motorcycles.
5. There are way more smokers. In Ghana, smoking in public is rude. There’s also more alcohol in Lome
6. Lome and Accra are both coastal cities, but you would hardly know that Accra is because it doesn’t really face the ocean. The beach areas are used only used by fishermen and foreigners. But in Lome, real life happens at the beach. One of the main streets runs along it and people hang out there. And it’s not covered in trash.
7. The market is less intense…people don’t grab you, and no means no.

Lome is a great city to explore on foot, which is good because walking is my favorite way to explore a new place. We did find the market, and the artist market. They were both interesting and worthwhile and it gave us some time to get accustomed to saying “Bonjour” and “Pardon” and other French things that seem really silly at first. We went to an African restaurant that the guidebook recommended and the owner opened early for us. He was really nice and spoke just enough English for us to feel confident we were ordering things we wouldn’t be violently opposed to eating. I ordered the special of the day because it seemed like a good value and because the owner said it was a Togolese specialty. I can’t even remember the name of it, but it was fish, crabs, shrimp, and beef cooked in a spinach sauce and served with rice. It was fantastic.

After dinner Nicola talked me into, and then we talked Mitch into riding back to our hotel on the motorcycle cabs, called zemi-johns. They weave in and out of traffic. They don’t have helmets. Every mother in America would advise their kid against them. But it was so fun and exhilarating to ride through the streets of Lome at night. And it was less than half the price of taking a taxi.

Hotel le Galion was charming enough, but our room definitely had ants or bedbugs or something that kept us scratching all night. We woke up and began planning our day over espressos. Espressos! It was amazing (for anyone who doesn’t happen to remember every word of my blog, coffee does not really exist in Ghana except in instant form, which doesn’t count, in my opinion). We headed out with the intention of walking towards Independence Square (the actual name is in French…I can’t remember it…and if I could, I definitely couldn’t spell it) and grabbing a baguette for breakfast whenever we saw one. The square was really cool. There was a big monument in the center with a giant Togo shaped cutout that the blue sky peeked through. The modern and artsy looking parliament building that you can’t take pictures of was on one side, and other important looking buildings were on the other side. The national museum was on the backside of the parliament building.

The museum had a pretty interesting collection of early iron works, the coolest of which were the musical instruments. There was one thing that was like an oversized xylophone made of iron bells. It had sharp and flat notes like a piano and you struck the bells with a wooden stick. There were textiles, ceramics, weapons, beads, and sections about slavery and colonialism. The best part was our enthusiastic guide who didn’t speak fluent English, but tried really hard and gestured and laughed until we finally caught her meaning. She even danced for us—she was basically adorable.

We left the museum and were pretty much starving. We headed in the direction of the town center and wandered into a grocery store where we found the three elements which would form the most amazing sandwich of my life: crusty French bread, greasy salami, and salty garlic and herb goat cheese spread. We took our groceries to the beach to assemble, divide, and consume our ingenious creation. Sitting under a palm tree, with the hectic Lome street behind us, the calm of the ocean in front of us, and a delicious sandwich in hand was just one of those indescribably perfect travel moments. Everything was going right and the sun was shining.

After a lot of chaos and confusion we managed to negotiate for a cab to take us the hour and a half drive across the border to Cotonou. It’s cheaper to take taxis if you’re willing to share it with some strangers; it’s called a “shared” or “dropping” taxi. It gets cheaper the more people you cram in, so the three of us shared the backseat with a rather enormous woman while two people sat in the passenger seat. The drive was uncomfortable, but very beautiful because in some parts the ocean was on the right and a maze of lagoons was on the left. I think this might have been the long cab ride where the driver played Dolly Parton the whole way.

We made it to a hotel recommended by the guidebook and they even had room for us, but when we got up to the room it was absolutely sweltering hot. It felt like an oven. Here might be a good point to mention that my life in Ghana is about 99% un-air conditioned. But nearly every building I go to is really well-designed to have good air flow. With the ceiling fan on high and the windows on two sides open, my room is only uncomfortable for a few hours on only the hottest days. And even then it’s not noticeably hot unless you’re running around or cleaning or something. This room was not like that. I really think it might have worked better as a pizza oven or a kiln or a reptile house. I also think the fan blades might have been upside down. Anyway, we got into our first standoff because after being eaten alive the night before, Mitch didn’t think we should open the non-screened in windows. I just couldn’t bear the thought of trying to sleep in that heat—to me there is just nothing worse than being hot when you’re trying to sleep. We ended up opening them when we returned that evening to find the ceiling fan had made no gains in cooling off the room.

We went to dinner according to the guidebook and once again were the first people there. I guess Togo and Benin are on a more European meal timetable. We were a bit more expert at decoding the menu, but I still was only somewhat convinced that I had ordered mashed potatoes as my side dish (I had!). Dinner was good, but pretty simple, and a bit expensive for what it was. We decided to check out a bar called Le Repaire de Bacchus recommended for its live music. We had our doubts because the place was nearly empty and when we walked in the band was playing a really long dramatic version of the Titanic theme song. Eventually they picked up the pace and the music was really enjoyable. It was kind of bluesy, but with sort of a South American feel, and it was in French! I discovered that I liked Beninese beer a bit better than Star, the Ghanaian staple. Also, bars and restaurants in Togo and Benin serve complimentary little dishes of peanuts with drinks or while you’re waiting for your food. In Ghana, you get exactly what you pay for, nothing more, and sometimes less. Even more exciting than free peanuts was the arrival of four girlfriends for a night out. Girls in Ghana do not go out. Some older women go out with their husbands, and some bars have a plethora of prostitutes, but the average young Ghanaian woman doesn’t go out with friends to have fun. It was so refreshing to see these girls dancing together and having a good time.

The next morning we walked through the road construction near our hotel in search of a Patisseries (pastry shop and seller of amazing things not easily found in Ghana). Somehow we attracted the attention of a man who seemed like he must be the site manager, and he walked with us through the construction maze and showed us to the closest patisserie. After a breakfast of delicous chocolate croissants and espressos we were ready to head to Ganvie, a stilt village about an hour away. We took zemi-johns to a taxi station, where someone walked us to the taxi station where we were actually supposed to be, and boarded a taxi to a village called Abomey-Calavi. We got dropped off and began looking around confusedly. A man started trying to tell us where to go, then realized we didn’t speak any French, and so he had as join up with a couple who he had been giving directions to before we got there. They offered us a ride, so we got in. The direction man decided that they hadn’t listened well enough to his directions and so he shoved himself into the front seat with the girl! She was Parisian and seemed really annoyed—it was funny.

We drove for a few blocks on a terrible road until the obstacle of a small trash fire and a few large rocks put our driver past his tipping point. We walked the rest of the way, which was very precarious because there was road construction there as well. We finally got to the boat rental place and arranged for a boat to take us plus the French couple on a two hour tour of the village. As we were paddled across the lake in an oversized canoe with a colorful sail our guide told us the basics of Ganve.

Ganve is a village of 27,000 people who live their lives entirely on the water. All the buildings are propped up on wooden stilts a few yards above the water. Fishing is the primary industry and it’s done by sticking branches into the water and coming back when the leaves start to decompose and the fish start feeding on them.

We traveled a considerable distance on the lake before we got to the village. The lake was beautiful, but I’m not going to try and describe it because I took a ton of pictures. There were plenty of boats going in either direction and we saw a lot of the fish-attracting sticks on the way. The stilt village was unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Everybody was living their life literally on the water. There were small boats parked outside many houses, and kids were swimming and boating around. The kids all shouted yovo, yovo! at us as we rode by, which means white person. It was really cool. I was almost convinced that it was an appealing lifestyle for me—to always be near the water, to swim over to your best friend’s house, for a good swim to be more accessible than a jog—until I began to think about how I would really feel about being at least a boat ride away from a hospital and a bookstore. It was a really nice tour and it made me want to live near the water someday.

Incidentally we went to Togo and Benin the same weekend that there was an optional $350 ISEP-organized trip to Togo and Benin. We opted out in favor of more adventure, and hopefully less money. As we were leaving Ganve we came across an empty University of Ghana bus, so we left them a little message on a post-it note.

Ever-reliant on the kindness and patience of others, we searched for transportation to Ouidah, a coastal city we had passed on the way to Cotonou. By then it was rush hour, and our helpful stranger flagged down three zemi-johns and explained to him that we needed to go to the station that would have taxis to Ouidah, and we needed to stay together.

We had the ride of our lives. I seriously thought I might die on that motorcycle. Traffic was terrible, and our drivers would drive between lanes of traffic, pulling off the road onto the shoulders when that was too slow, and edging way too close to oncoming traffic. A huge truck was wetting down the dirt road to keep the dust down, providing both a large obstacle and a bit of a road hazard—mud. While I was fearing for my life and keeping my eyes peeled for Nicola and Mitch, a zemi-john driver pulled up next to me and started talking to me! While he was driving! He could have killed both of us! He didn’t stop endangering our lives until I told him I was married (still not married, guys. No marriage comments please.). We were all pretty thrilled to make it back in one piece. The ride to Ouidah was pretty uneventful in comparison.

Ouidah is a tiny city about an hour from the Togolese border. It has quite a few tourist attractions for its size. We got dropped off near the best sounding budget hotel (Edelweiss Les Retrouvailles, in case you’re planning a trip). First of all, “budget” does not seem to have the same meaning in Benin as it does in Ghana. Cheap hotels in Togo and Benin were a bit closer in price to cheap hotels in the states. Cheap lodging in Ghana is actually cheap. But this hotel was at least worth the price we paid. The hotel was made up of quite a few clay buildings and a cute outdoor bar and patio under and awning. The grounds were really well-kept and there were trees and plants all around. The hotel had a pet monkey, two fierce looking kittens, and three really sweet puppies that had just started walking. Our room was air-conditioned, which we were really thankful for after the previous night.

We left the hotel to explore Ouidah on foot and search for the History Museum of Ouidah. The streets of Ouidah were so calm and pleasant after Cotonou. People were friendly but not intrusive. After stopping to sample a yummy looking freshly fried dough ball snack (Delicious!) and to question an old woman about why so many people were dressed up (This was a funny interaction because I was trying to ask if it was because there was a wedding, but I think she thought I was asking if she was married, and she responded by miming things like death, sleeping, and burial. I assumed she was telling me it was a funeral…until I realized that she was probably just telling me that her husband was dead…and was most likely really confused as to why I was asking)we found the museum.

Learning a bit about the History Museum itself is a pretty good introduction to the history of the area. The museum is housed in the old Portuguese Fort, which is interesting in itself because it remained in possession of the Portugese throughout the French occupation. Like the forts in Cape Coast and Elmina, they became shipping ports for human cargo. The slaves housed in the Portugese forts were sent to Brazil and the Caribbean, where the traditional religions became mixed with Catholicism to form voodoo. Many slave families returned to Ouidah when slavery ended and now there is an interesting Brazilian-influenced neighborhood in Ouidah. The museum was interesting and well put together and there were even signs in English.

From the castle we walked the Route des Esclaves, the route the slaves from the castle would walk to board the slave ships. It wasn’t much more than a pretty walk. Our guide wouldn’t tell us anything unless we asked, but he was at least good at answering our questions. We passed about a dozen or so statues in honor of the tribal kings, who each have their own symbol. In the late afternoon sun we crossed a bridge over a swampy lagoon that had a few fishermen’s stilt houses on it. It was beautiful! I guess the point of the walk was to see the Point of No Return Monument…which was sort of cool I guess. We took zemijohns back to town and I got on rather clumsily and burnt my leg on the muffler. Ouch! We went to the rather cheesy-sounding Temple of the Sacred Pythons where there was a room of about 30 sleepy venomless, fangless pythons. I wore one around my neck and even picked one up myself. Picking up a 3 foot long snake made me feel like my hands were just tiny. He still looked really angry after I put him down, which kind of freaked me out even though I knew they weren’t dangerous.

By then I was starving because we had kind of bypassed lunch. A lot of places that looked like restaurants said they were out of food—maybe they were just lunch restaurants and bars by night? We finally found a place serving food and the owner sat down with us to pantomime her menu. We all ordered spaghetti that came with an omelet…which is strange. It was cheap, delicious, and really filling. We sat at a table right by the street so we got to do a lot of people watching after we watched the sunset. We went back to the hotel and relaxed before making an early night of it.

We had a sleepy slow breakfast at the hotel before we headed out to the Brazil House, another museum. The museum housed an exhibit dedicated to African women. It was incredibly well done and made good use of art, crafts, cultural artifacts, models, and photographs. It taught about women’s role in traditional African society, the important role African women are playing in agricultural development projects…lots of things. It was really cool.

After that all that was left was the return trip, broken up by lunch in Lome. We tried to find this one place in the guidebook and accidentally asked a crazy guy for directions. Oops. The people who told us he was crazy told us that the restaurant we were looking for had closed a few years ago and directed us towards another restaurant with kind of surprising confidence, as if there were no other restaurants besides the one they were pointing us towards. They also mentioned something about our University in Legon, which wasn’t that unusual because a lot of my fellow exchange students make the same trip. But when we got to the restaurant, the entire ISEP group was there eating lunch. They were perfectly happy and cheerful and even pretty clean looking. We were filthy, sunburned, and exhausted. We perked up after some food, drinks, and AC, but the initial difference between the two groups was pretty incredible. It seemed like they had had a really fun trip, but I was really happy I had gone without them. They were touring, we were traveling. It’s definitely difficult to have to do everything yourself, but it’s much more satisfying too.

They left us to finish eating and travel back on our own. I had to pay way too much for my Visa to get back into Togo, but everything went smoothly otherwise. I was really proud of us for being such successful travelers. I felt really satisfied and accomplished watching the sun set over the ocean and lagoon from the backseat of our tro-tro.