Hostile hostels and watch for the chicken on the road to Ho

So, yeah. About that hostel...this morning the view outside was good at least!

When you've been on the road for 13 hours, and it's dark when you arrive to your destination, and you're exhausted, and starting to not feel all that well...a room's a room. And a bed's a bed.

I am usually a laid-back traveler and I'm not the kind of person who expects the place I visit to be just like home.

But, as my high school friend, Sharon Morgan Cecil remarked..."Ew.:"

On our travels yesterday we stopped at a delightful "rest stop"  on the road.  Lots of food, lots of buses stop here. Good people-watching. Kind of like an outdoor food court where you eat under a big thatched roof.  Lots of ambiance, and ambiance is in short supply in Ghana from what I've seen. It was too hot to eat the traditional Fufu - a soup covering ground yam and casava with chicken, so I had the chicken with fried rice.  It was good.  Really good. I ate all the chicken and half the rice. Virgin finished it off.

But by about 9:00 p.m. it was gradually becoming oh, not-so-good. And each time I used the facilities, the situation and the room looked worse.  It's a hostel - so no top sheets and - may I quote again? - "Ew" I didn't like what I found under the sheet that loosely covered the mattress. The bathroom leaked and pooled water attracted these strange rain foresty insects that looked like worms with wings.  Downing Imodium and a Cipro, I vowed that if I was going to be laid up in bed, it would NOT be here. I vowed and vowed as more of those flying worm thingies gathered in the bathroom.

Personal note: I just want to mention that the hostel wasn't my idea. Do you hear me? Not. My. Fault. George insisted on "putting me up" somewhere since his Government house near Ho did not have running water at the moment. Doing without running water would've been a piece of cake compared to this joint. And calling it a 'joint" is wrong - that's an insult to all the little "joints" I've come to love.

In the morning, I took out my Ghana guide book and located a hotel in the middle of Ho called the Bob Coffie Hotel - The rooms have sheets! Towels! Air conditioning.  A small fridge. All for 40 Ghana cedis.  OH, and that includes breakfast.  Sold!

I don't think Virgin was too happy moving my stuff again but he was in good humor, at least to my face.

Later, George had me over to his house nearby in Kpetoe and we made lunch together, though I limited myself to one small piece of chicken, a little white rice and a Malt.  Love that Malt.  And needed it at one point where I felt like I was going to pass out. In Ghana, it is impolite to refuse food; George seemed put off by my eating so little. I explained that I wasn't feeling well, but was hoping to feel better, and that chicken stew that road in the back of a pickup for 13 hours was probably not a good idea for me (or for anyone else, but that "refrigeration optional" thing is the prevailing attitude among Ghanaians).

The day ended by visiting the Kente cloth weavers in Kpetoe to see how my orders were coming: 2 pastor stolls and a scarf. George suggested we do this because the weaver (also named George) is prone to confusion. Bea and I will pick these things up Tuesday morning before heading to Accra for the last leg of this journey.