Major Ketchup.

I miss ketchup.  Like, real ketchup.  There's this other version here that's sickeningly sweet and just missing the mark in flavor but is the only thing served at places that might sell things you would want ketchup with (not very many places).  You can buy the imported stuff in Accra, but I can't seem to justify paying six dollars for a small bottle of Heinz when I barely make stuff to put it on.  There are certain things I'm willing to regularly pay the high price of importedness on like: olive oil, twix, potato crisps, sachets of sauce mix, and chocolate covered digestives, but ketchup?  Get outta here.  

Wow, I just started with a tangent.  Welcome to my brain.  Clearly what I mean by the title is that I haven't written in a couple weeks and I have a lot to catch-up on.  Catch-up, ketchup...ya know.  By now, you must know my never-failing love of word play.

I do apologise for neglecting the blog for a bit, but life has been slightly insane and the more time that piled on since my last post, the more daunting the task of posting became!  Go procrastination!  Who knows how long I would've gone on if I didn't have a few friends poke me to update.

Right after my birthday, I went on a little holiday with my friend Rianne who was on her way back to Holland.  We were supposed to go on a trip earlier, but my malaria spell decidedly changed our plans.  We were now headed to Accra and Cape Coast for the week as she was flying out from Accra anyway.  This trip was filled with the most intense ups and downs that came with a heavy shake-up of reality, but I can get to some of that later.  We shelled out more coinage than I would’ve liked, but we excused the wallet-emptying with my birthday and Rianne’s farewell.  We actually took a plane ride which cost $50 from the Northern Region capital, Tamale, to Accra to cut down one day of travel.  We normally would take the 16 hour bus ride that ends up incapacitating you for one more day after the journey as you de-zombify.  Though the short one hour plane ride significantly condensed our trip, we still had to take the 1.5 hour trotro ride to Bolga, 4.5 hour trotro ride to Tamale, 45 min cab ride to the airport, 1 hour plane ride to Accra, and 30 minute cab ride to our guesthouse.  Sounds exhausting, but I’ve really gotten used to the nature of travel here.  It is what it is.  We stayed in my favourite guesthouse in Accra for the first night, met some other ex-pats and I was overwhelmed by the ease of connection when allowed to speak your native tongue freely (though my English is getting wonky as I'm usually speaking to people who use Ghanaian/British English and most of the people I meet here have heavy British influence or are Canadian).  The south is a different world than up north, each having their pros and cons.  A feeling of empowerment surged through me as I was able to navigate the city easily and felt comfortable and confident in my traveling skills.

The next morning, Rianne and I got on a trotro heading towards Cape Coast and arrived at our beautiful hotel in Biriwa, the fishing town neighbouring Cape Coast proper.  The pricey 25 bucks a night I was shelling out was totally worth it.  We had the beach to ourselves and a quiet pool to relax in after a morning of waves.  The beach was really rocky and rough, something I’m not used to, but was nonetheless lovely. 

The quiet nook I journaled at in the mornings and where Rianne and I took our lunch

 

The required traveler's cheapass lunch--baguette with cheese and chocolate (not together)

Rianne treated me to a nice birthday dinner at the hotel restaurant!  (which they obviously served with the weird ketchupy stuff)

After a day and a half of doing absolutely nothing but swimming, sunbathing, and eating, we decided to do the canopy walk at Kakum National Park (we saw no animals but scampered across nifty high bridges) and visit Cape Coast town.

Lizards are EVERYWHERE here, but this one was huge and boasted some cool coloring.

Our adorable guide who was jazzed to inform us about every type of tree in the park.

Obama's name and face is plastered everywhere here, but especially in Cape Coast where he visited.  I'm used to seeing it and loving it, but this just made me laugh. 

Cape Coast slave castle

I love being back in a culture where giving your babies to strangers to chill with for a while is totally copacetic.  This small guy (I think he was a boy...) was lovable, bubbly, and incredibly friendly.  His parents who were a housekeeper and maintenance guy just gave him to me while they worked.   Babes.  Adorable.

Our daily breakfast table

Our breakfast view of the fishing boats

After four wonderful days in Cape Coast filled with sun, good meals, and interesting people, we headed back to Accra for a final day before we went our separate ways.

A couple people asked me to show the what Accra looks like, so here's a photo from the ride into the city

Kineche market and station, one of the central areas in the city

Trotros on top of trotros on top of trotros

I'm STILL impressed by huge loads being carried on heads

This photo is for the books.  Being a vegetarian for about five years up until two months before I left, as well as my father and uncle both owning Chick-fil-As, has made it so I haven't had KFC in probably a decade.  My traveling companion REALLY wanted to eat here and I happily agreed after seeing a spicy chicken sandwich on the menu (something I've always craved even during my veggie years).

The view from KFC's second floor (it's a mega store) of Osu, the area I stay in

Of course things weren't that simple and I ran into my second major medical issue dealing with some stuff I don't think is appropriate for public posting.  I decided I had to go see someone and ended up at a really nice Western-world style clinic that a lot of ex-pats apparently frequent on the recommendation of a friend I met at the guesthouse.  It was worth spending a lot more and relying on getting reimbursed by my travel insurance as this place rang of confidence and modernity.  Because I had to wait on my test results and morning flights only happen every other day, my trip was extended by two days.  I ended up spending the time with my new friend Jason who recommended the clinic and who's stay in Accra was also extended, which was a total blessing for me.  He's this British dude who works on this cool bicycle project and has made Ghana his home for the past 2-3 years and is planning to stay for another few.  Him and I roamed the city and had lovely chats over deliciously packed sandwiches and PROPER coffee, went to the grocery store that seemed like heaven to my rural north accustomed eyes, and enjoyed some local beers.  We also got my test results back which indicated I had an infection that would be cured with some good ol' cipro (for my backpacker friends who just travel with a pack of the stuff, go you!). 

Some of the reality shaking I hinted at in the beginning of the post is a bit difficult and slightly too intimate to get into on such a public forum, but a short version of a part of it has to do with connecting with new people in the city that were taking in this side of me that isn't revealed much back in The States.  Everyone I meet here is getting this "traveler Tippy," a make-up free, crap clothes clad, fearless, slightly smelly gal who can go weeks living out of a tiny back-pack.  With this image of me comes these assumptions I've never really worn before that feel itchy and new though they sort of fit as well.  The physical cues of my identity from home are stifled under the way I live here that folks I have been meeting on this adventure see a different facade of a person than they would at home.  It's no surprise that all of us make snap judgments about people based on the way they present themselves physically, where they hang out, who they associate with, and even the food and drink they take.  I just didn't realise how much I was holding all the strings of an image together at home, not inauthentically, but in an effort to be seen or judged as closely to what lies underneath.  Or what I hoped lies underneath.  Being the District city dweller, hip creative, music lover, non-profiteer, vegetarian, liberal, etc. etc. etc. was subconsciously important for me to convey to an onlooker.  [I understand that by putting this all out there I'm vulnerable to critical eyes who will see me as some image monger, adolescent in her personal growth and identity, but I hope some will see I'm just trying to be honest about something many of us, dare I say ALL of us to some degree, do.]  It was when Jason said something indicating his dislike for girls who wear makeup and are caught up in caring about clothes and fussing over their hair, that I realised he was saying this to me in solidarity as I am cleeearly nothing like that.  It struck me like a blow to the head as I saw myself in the way he saw me.  It's crazy because I'm not being anyone else but myself--I'm just being who I am in the current situation.  And through my lack of home image maintaining, I had stumbled into a new image with a different outside perception.  This was a completely uncanny experience that I am working through.  We get so tied to different identities through our jobs, location, religion, political party, passions, talents, etc. that we forget there's a core outside of those boxes.  Or a core that doesn't fit into any boxes.  Or something like that.  I strive hard to be as authentic as possible, but it gets confusing when interaction with others challenges what you have set in your mind.  Letting go has been a theme throughout my time here.  Letting go of things I need to move on from and letting go of the identity I so tightly wrapped around myself at home.  I guess this is all just a part of the process.  Some kind of pruning.  It also got me thinking that we need to slow down with our hasty judgments and take a bit more time to get to know someone beyond their initial impression.  Jason would probably have no interest in knowing who I was if he met me in The States, but since my rough and low-maintenance exterior got him to want to be friends, we had the opportunity to see that we get along smashingly and have a lot in common.  I'm not sure how I'll reconcile all of this when I'm back home one day, but that's a bridge I'll cross later.  Anyway, this is just ONE of the many many soul-churning obstacles I stumbled/am stumbling through sparked by this trip, but I'll stop with this one as I believe this post is becoming record-breaking in length.

The rest of my time in Accra was lovely aside from being followed by this strange man and nearly getting assaulted...ahem...ummm...yeah, but that's a story for another time.  Overall, it was great to indulge in the city luxuries of cheese, restaurants, pubs, and easy conversation.  It's nice to know it exists if I need it.  When I headed back home, I was hit with culture shock part deux and the weight of all my ground-shaking thoughts, but it also felt good to be back in my peaceful town.  That's the thing about living here, my highs are sky-shattering, but my lows are just as deep.  And when I travel, it gets even more intense.  It's like life...on crack (I'm guessing as I have no clue what crack is like). 

An illustration of the peace of Sandema

It feels amazing to be back in a place where you unexpectedly run into an hour of fun at the borehole :)

Thanks to the amazing friends who helped me debrief from this trip and for those of you who made it through this post!  Life gets confusing out here, but it's nice to know I have stabiliser friends all over the world.  Thank you for loving me.

Love from Sandema,
Tippy