London Heathrow is the most entertaining airport I've enjoyed. Miles and miles of shopping and interesting food choices. You can buy Gucci and Prada at Heathrow, or a bagel, or visit Starbucks, like me.
In Ghana, I had the traditional Ghanaian breakfast of egg and bread almost every day. After a 6-1/2 hour flight which was delightfully frigid, and still smarting over the disappointment of no oatmeal at Shugar's the previous morning, I was determined to find some oatmeal at Heathrow. Oh, they call it porridge. Even at Starbucks.
After an hour of security screenings, I found my faithful Starbucks just where I left it when I had flown through 19 days earlier, and I was thrilled to learn that they did indeed have porridge, honey and a decaf, no whip light cinnamon cappuccino ready in less than 5 minutes. Tastes like home. How I savored my simple cardboard container of porridge. I don't want to see an egg for awhile.
Heathrow is the intersection for a lot of travelers going to a lot of places, so there is the constant chatter of various languages permeating the air. The airport was quite cold and porridge was the common order, both at Starbucks and at the place next to it, Pet's Perfect Porridge. I love that name. But not as much as I loved the pre-loaded Starbucks card, you know. Anyway, my point is that people from many countries were enjoying their porridge, or whatever they called it...
Oatmeal
Porridge
Havernut
Farina
Zobena
zabpehely
Yulof
...while sitting the sun-soaked splendor and hearty air conditioning of Terminal A.
Four years ago, my church started supporting needy children in the Upper West region of Ghana by sending money for school uniforms, shoes and supplies. After years of emails, letters, cards and sparse phone calls, the time has finally come for me to step boldly where no one from my church has stepped before ... on the road to Wa.
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