Ok, full update. Mostly.
At the start of last week my roommate and I ventured to a wonderful vegetable market. They had everything this little California girl could want. Cilantro, serrano peppers, onions, tomatoes, and avocado. You can fill in the blanks.
I have to be one of the messiest cooks of all time.
But there's no arguing with these results.
Taste the happy!
California in a bowl.
Then I lost everything. Found somethings, but the most important things stayed lost.
Post-missing-debit-card-induced throw-everything-around-in-panic episode.
Then take a picture just to document how ridiculous you're being.
What my room looked like a short 6 hours later.
I don't think I've posted photos of my room yet.
This is it.
It's actually pretty comfy.
Then a group of eight of us took off for a weekend in Kokrobite. We had made reservations at the hotel the night before. We split into two rooms of four. When Mariel was on the phone the night before, the guy running the place informed us that they were out of four bedroom rooms but had a three bedroom room for 40 Cedi. Perfect. We’ve developed this system for sleeping in tight quarters. Namely, the Super Bed. When there’s not enough room for everyone, we push what we have together and make it work. Four people can’t fit on three twin sized beds, but they sure can fit on three twin sized beds pushed together. Oh to be young, eh?
So we show up and the guy freaks out at us for having four people. As if it’s news or something. Ghanian logic and service is often vastly different than anything we are used to at home. Just know that. So what happened next wasn’t even all that surprising. He wanted 50 Cedi because there were four of us, even though he didn’t have a room with more beds. From the American point of view- Why would we pay more for less services? And how does having more people put you out in any way? From the Ghanian point of view- There are four people. Four to a room costs more. Sometimes I’m patient. Other times I’m not. This was an “other time”.
After some conversation that got us no where (a lot of him interrupting and me saying DO NOT INTERRUPT ME), I marched over to the hotel across the street and asked if that had any open rooms.
They did not.
But they did have tents. Sold.
The gang in front of our accommodations.
Notice the rain cloud in the background.
This is what the beach looked like.
As a tropical monsoon threatened to descend I just kept thinking "Yeah, we really showed him."
Except it never rained! So there!!
At every beach resort in Ghana, you pay for everything that the end. A running tab gets added up during your whole stay. We got quite the kick out of saying “put it on the tent”.
It was not the most ideal accommodation. However, we spent the afternoon buying awesome pants and swimming and spent the night dancing, so I don’t think any of us minded too much. On the beach I met this 13 year old boy named Joseph who was selling bread. He sells rolls on weekends and after school to pay for his school fees. He saw that I had my camera and stuck by me to make sure no one stole it. That beach has a giant problem with things getting stolen and Joseph constantly called me back to attention when I wasn’t watching my back close enough. He was too cute. I told him to go to college, even if it takes selling a billion rolls, and he told me about Kokrobite. We talked about the rastafarians. I bought a bunch of rolls, and they were quickly suckered away from me by some skinny little girls. It was lovely.
Photo cred Joseph.
The man sitting next to me bought me a roll.
I still didn't buy one of his paintings.
Oops.
Work it.
Dancing that night was a blast. It doesn’t get much better than live reggae on the beach. Once our feet got tired, my roommate and I took a little break. That of course meant we were constantly berated by requests to dance. At some point we gave in or caught our second wind or something. My roommate looked over at me and whispered in my ear “I just want you to realize right now, that you are dancing with Freedom.” That was his name. She’d been talking to him earlier. The idea of dancing with Freedom was just too funny for this American. What a crack up. Freedom was a crack up too. He shook his dreads on me and I almost threw up in his face. Then he tried to convince that God must exist otherwise how could you explain babies. Oh Ghana.
Also typical to Ghana, I tried to make it back in time for church only to find out that the time listed for the ward I was trying to make was wrong. Bummer. My friend suggested I just take twice the bread and water next week to make up for it. Ghanians appreciate sarcasm. I appreciate that they appreciate that.
There were ducks under our feet on the bus home.
This is Eliya straddled a duck and some fish.
Such a trooper.
I was on the verge of a panic attack the whole ride.
The idea of a duck touching my exposed ankles when I least expect it is just too much, even for me.
Bowls of live ducks being unloaded from under our seats.
The thing that absolutely made my week, though, was hearing about the baby brother! Kevin had his first college meet where he competed in a decathlon. (That’s ten track and field events.) The kid killed it! First place and he broke 7,000 point! I can’t even fathom being that good at something. Kid has it going on. I was honestly so giddy for him. I bragged to everyone I could think of. A freshmen kicking all the seniors butts!
I had a dream the other night that I broke the world record in pole vaulting and received a Nobel Prize for it. I think my brain got confused about my life goals.
And when I mentioned awesome beach pants, this is what I was referring too.
I can only imagine my mother's face upon viewing this photo.
Think about this too Mom- I got them for like two bucks off a beach. I don't even know who wore them before me!
The horror!!
