Cape Coast Castle

I am flying home today and while this trip was incredibly short, I was lucky enough to accomplish many things (work and fun). 

One of the best days was yesterday, despite the insanity that I wrote about from the afternoon. 

Early in the morning we made the three-hour journey out to Cape Coast Castle, which was used to hold slaves before they were shipped off to the Americas. 

The grounds are bright and beautiful with an excellent view of the ocean.

But below the castle, where soldiers were stationed and where many people even attended church services, are dark dungeons where the captives were held. In "rooms" no bigger than my apartment, people were held in the masses. Approximately 150-200 people were crammed into a small space for anywhere from two weeks to three months before being shipped away. They had a tiny source of light, no washroom and were fed very little.

We were also taken to the "door of no return," which is exactly what you imagine it to be. The rocky pathway down to the ships was thought of as the last time the slaves would be in Ghana. Most would die along the way and many more would never return to their homeland.

Now on the other side of the door is the every day hustle and bustle of fishing life.

Our tour guide was absolutely incredible. He was very knowledgeable and provided great insight into a very dark period of time.

Despite the intensity of the tour, he even did a little photoshoot for me and Beth. It felt slightly inappropriate but we had fun and got some good shots from it :)

"Let me just hide the car from the police!"

Now that I have had a glass of wine, I can write about the scariest moment of my life. Today started off normally. Beth and I decided to do something touristy since it is my last full day (I will do a separate blog on that because it is well worth seeing the photos).

We had hired a car for the day, which came complete with a crazy driver named Dixon. On our way home Dixon decided it would be a good idea to join a convoy that had a police escort for the Chinese ambassador.

We thought it was quite fun at first because we dodged all the traffic. At one point, I asked Beth if our driver could get in trouble for this. Before she could answer, Dixon was being pulled over by a policeman on a motorcycle. He yelled to another officer that was standing on the side of the road, "Come here! Arrest this man!"

Beth and I looked at each other, terrified. Before Dixon got out of the car, he told us that if the police ask we should say we joined the convoy because we were late for a flight.

When the officer opened Beth's door, he asked us what we were doing and that he needed to take us to the station. We pleaded innocence and Dixon shut the car door and walked away with the officer.

What felt like an eternity passed. Finally, Dixon returned on his own and as he slowly walked up to the car Beth said, "I don't think this is good."

Dixon jumped in the car, looked in his rear-view mirror and sped away. To our surprise, he was dodging cars yet again. But this time there was a mischievous look in his eyes. Going faster and faster down the road, Beth and I became nervous.

Out of nowhere, Dixon decided to take an abrupt turn off the highway. We turned around and saw that the police were in fact following us. Could they be looking for a bribe? Could they be looking to arrest all of us? The more he sped up, the more I feared I would lose control of my bladder.

We shouted that he needed to stop the car for him to let us out but he refused. The more we shouted, the faster he drove, nearly hitting cars and barely missing children coming home from school.

Beth got on the phone with his boss while I begged the driver to stop. "Let me just hide the car from the police," he said repeatedly.

He took us down some back roads in an area we didn't know and pulled into a hotel that was shielded from the road by trees. Before he fully stopped the car, we opened the doors and jumped out.

Of course as soon as we started running through the parking lot, a man from the hotel decided it was a good time to hit on me. If ever there were a time to say "I can't even..." that was it.

We ran to the closest taxi, jumped in and were chased down by Dixon. He - after all of that - wanted us to get back in his car.

In complete shock, we left the taxi because it seemed as though Dixon was trying to convince the taxi driver of his side of the story. As we power-walked up the street, the same cab driver came up behind us, motioned us in and he took us home. Safe and sound.

We are OK. No injuries. 

Just another story to tell.

Wli Falls (Photos)

Numbering the houses

"Go straight through the roundabout, turn right when you see the blue restaurant and my house is on the left-hand side just past the big tree. You'll see it."

This is a common way to give directions in many countries where the streets are not named and the houses are not numbered. 

It may seem like an adventure-book-come-to-life for those who have not experienced it but without this infrastructure in place, as it is in many areas of Ghana, it can be difficult not only to provide directions to friends trying to visit you, but also for emergency services, postal services and accurate land taxation. 

One of Amplify's programs is to work with local governments and community members to resolve this. 

We were in Sunyani for the past couple of days, meeting with team members walking around a couple of neighbourhoods, chatting with community members about the program and painting numbers on buildings in the area. I had the pleasure of photographing some of these exciting activities. Most of my photos will be used solely by Amplify but I wanted to give you a glimpse. 

Numbering a primary school

The team

Me! (Photo credit: Bethany Borody)

Life as an expatriate

There are many different ways to live as an expat in a foreign country and within the expat communities in some of the the countries I have visited, I have noticed a lot of criticism and judgment of one another. 

Some expats seek each other out. Yesterday we drove past one guy who waved immediately upon seeing us. 

Others stick to their cliques and avoid eye contact altogether. A couple nights ago, we went to a karaoke bar and we spoke with many friendly strangers there, but none were expats. 

The most common discussion among the expat community is not about who is waving to one another but rather what type of lifestyle each other has created for themselves. 

Most expats identify their way of living with one of two main categories: 

1. "Living like the locals"

2. "Living comfortably"

For the sake of this blog, I will only classify the two ways of living but want to make it clear that these are certainly not the only ways. 

"Living like the locals" typically assumes that an expat is staying in a rural village out in the middle of nowhere, with no running water, no electricity and the toilet situation...I won't even describe. 

This way of life is chosen by expats that think all "locals" live in such conditions and while many of them feel like they have an upper-hand in the expat circles when it comes to learning about the culture of any given country - and they may - they often don't realize that they are lumping everyone from one country into one group. The very phrase, "living like the locals," which many NGOs encourage, is impossible to achieve. That is unless you are switching your way of life every day to try various types of food, live in various styles of housing, stay in the city and rural areas, and so on. If saying you are "living like the locals" equates to you that you are living in discomfort, you probably deserve it. 

On the flip side, many expats like to "live comfortably." These groups of people often have nice, big houses that are gated off, some with guards and they often have cars. These expats are often perceived by other expats as not fully integrating themselves into a new country and that they likely don't know any nationals, which is nearly impossible. 

When I am living in a new city, I like to explore it, take the public transit, walk around, meet new people, but I also like to be able to go home and have a shower or relieve myself into something a bit more structured than a hole in the ground (yes, I have tried it. No, I don't like it).

Regardless of the life an expat chooses to live while abroad, the fact is that in most cases they have all chosen to live that way. Whether living in a house with a grass roof or in a house with a barb-wire-lined wall around it, the choice is up to the individual so despite the decision, it would be great if everyone stopped the pretentious comments about knowing better than everyone else. 

The fact is, most will go back to their home countries eventually and either live in a massive house or a tiny apartment, not by choice but as a result of the economic situation they have built for themselves - just like everyone else in the world. 

First few days in Accra

I am just going to get this out of the way: It is 31°C. 

It is hot here and I love it. Luckily, water sachets are everywhere and the beers are massive so there is no need to worry about dehydration.

While difficult to make judgments about a city after only a few days, it is easy to say that I am enjoying my time here in Accra. The people I have met are lovely, the food is so delicious and my wonderful hostess is doing an excellent job keeping me busy and showing me around. 

For now, here are some shots from around the city. 

24 hours in Istanbul

Note: This post was written while still in Istanbul a couple of days before publishing.

We arrived in Istanbul after one of the best flights I have ever had. It was 8.5 hours on Turkish Airways and I slept for most of it (surprisingly, without taking Gravol to help lull me to la-la land).

When we got to the airport, there were no lines so we slid right through passport control and into the car that picked us up to bring us to our destination: Cheers Hostel.

I have been on some wild rides through busy streets in the past but this one in particular will stand out for years to come. Not because the streets were crowded, but because our driver was nuts. He was swerving between cars, driving very fast and eventually got tired of the main road so took us up the tiny, cobblestone backstreets that at first glance appear to have been made as one-way streets. Somehow, numerous cars - parked and driving - manage to navigate one another without crashing. It truly felt like we were in a video game. Even more confusing, when we (thankfully) became pedestrians again, was trying to determine where the sidewalk ends and the street begins. 

Beth and I left the hostel to walk around a bit and just a few doors down was a beautiful shop full of pottery, scarves, rugs and blankets. 

After a tour around the store and a long conversation with an excellent salesman, I purchased a blanket of sorts that I will use as a cover on my papasan chair. 

We kept walking and came across a beautiful mosque. Though we were not allowed inside, because we were there during a time of prayer, we stood as close to the door as possible alongside the other lurking tourists.

We continued onward through the streets, men calling us angels, watching cats dodging cars, and us dodging men. We tasted delicious pomegranate tea from a lovely store that was difficult to leave. 

We finally ended up at a restaurant in a little nook, where we had beer, some flatbread/pizza deliciousness that I don't know the name of and has some apple shisha (when in Turkey, right?!). 

All in all, it was a great visit. We are heading to the airport now and will be in Ghana late this evening. There is something very exciting about arriving to a new place at night and waking up the next morning to discover it with a refreshed mind.