Throw Caution to the Wind

Thursday

The alarm went off at 8 am.  Senora was already up and about.  Senora and Lisa decided to throw caution the wind and drink fresh pineapple juice. No  signs of ill affect. Kristen, Bridget, and Shema joined the others and we planned out the day.  We decided that we needed to go to the bus depot and  buy tickets for tomorrow's trip to cape coast.  Fortunately Kojo was our drive and thoroughly entertained by the Ghana girls.  We exited the taxi on the side of the road with the intent of taking a tro tro to the Makola market.  We could not find a tro tro to take us to the market, so Senora and Bridget found a taxi and Lisa, kristen and Shema walked the rest of the way.  The walk to the market was an experience to remember.  We first crossed a bridge that spanned a river that was actually full of garbage.  People were scavenging through the refuse looking for anything usable.  The sewers were filled with a rancid sludge that emitted a noxious odor.  People were sitting under trees and selling everything from watches to bananas.  On the hill were tin roofed shacks for as far as we could see. We are confident that this was  not the neighborhood most tourists see.  This was our first exposure to the extreme poverty that plagues third world countries.  Yet not half a mile away is a banking center and gas stations on the corner (1.65 CED/ litre). 

Once we finally met up at the Makola market we agreed to stay together and meet at intersections in case we separated.  The main street of the market made China town look like a well organized and reserved neighborhood.  There were women lining the street selling a range of items beyond our imagination.  The first surprise were the cow feet that were on low tables.  When one was purchased, the vendor would hack them into pieces with a machete on the pavement.  

Shema had to call Kristen over to see the enormous snails.  The shells were easily as big as a softball.  They were gliding along a large platter and Kristen asked if she could take a picture.  After she took it, the vendor wanted 20 cedes.  No, just a joke.  We continued down the street and found a cloth vendor.  We stopped to let Senora sit under an awning and Lisa learned about local soap.   It's not for the body, but a face soap to clear blemished, to which the woman pointed to lisa's age spots on her arm.

Shema decided to stop and look at cloth. Fortunately we had a woman who was eager to sell and help her with a head wrap; she did receive many subsequent compliments. After a dozen or so yards later between head wrap and material for our maestros at morning meeting, we continued along the blocks.  We did stop for more fabric, to which  Bridget was in direct sunlight wondering at what point #50 sunscreen is no longer effective.  

It was time to leave and go back to our more familiar market at the cultural center.  We entered the market  to  grand welcome.  "Ah, the Americans are here.  Welcome friends!". After a cool reprieve, we met up with our drum friend, David.  We didn't leave the market for a few hours; only after meeting Colin Powell who knew facts about each state, a welcoming drum circle from david and his drummers, and being reunited with our long lost "friends".

Our dinner destination was the only Italian restaurant in Accra, an homage to Bridget's grandmother.  In true American fashion, we arrived an hour before Mama Mia's opened and  sat ourselves at an empty table.  After the restaurant filled with obruni (white people), and a cold Star, we ordered dinner.  Admittedly, these pizzas could rival those at home.

This would be a good time to try and explain driving in Accra.  Kojo assured us that a drivers license is required, however we have our doubts.  Although there are lanes and stop lights, drivers seem to make up their own rules.  There are three main vehicle types; taxis, tro tros, and motor bikes, none of which would pass inspection inn NY. The horn is used liberally for various reasons.  While there may be two lanes of traffic, there will be at least 4 cars across, a motorcycle rolling in between, and vendors weaving through the cars.  The vendors carry sundries at top their heads in wide aluminum bowls.  One can buy anything from chips to dog leashes (of which Senora was offered and she explained that she doesn't have a dog).  Seat belts are optional as are turn signals. Cars pass so closely together that hitting a neighbors mirror is common place.  Drivers inch into traffic with no regard to oncoming traffic.  The up-side to this mode of transportation is that you negotiate the fare before you depart and aren't charged extra for traffic.    With the exception of our drive this evening, we have had good luck with taxis.   

Our next destination was the Labadi Beach Hotel. Senora insisted that reggae night at the beach was on Thursday night.  Much to our insistence and her chagrin, senora sadly learned that reggae night was on Wednesday.  The drive to the Labadi Hotel was well worth it for no reason other than having filtered ice (or so they said).  You would have thought it was the last day of school to see the grin fixed on Senora's face.  We eagerly treated ourselves to frosty libations that were well worth the premium prices.  The other option would be to stay at the Labadi Hotel at $1000 per night which was a little beyond our budget.  

 Considering we spent our cedis at the  Labadi, we decided to bargain with the cab driver.   We knew that we shouldn't pay more than 10 cedis to get back to the Afia,and walked away when he only went to 15.  So with a short walk across the median and after hailing a taxi, Senora gave direction back home.  

When we finally made it back to the Afia, the desk clerk was impressed at our learning curve.  He said, "Yesterday, you called to get picked up because you were lost, and now you give direction. That's very good!"  Sometimes we even surprise ourselves.