By the time I get to Phoenix I said "no thanks"

Greetings from Accra. Yay! The last "Road to..."

So, you may remember that one of my difficulties with Ghana is "the agenda thing." The lack of ability to make and stick to a plan. I don't know if I've mentioned it.

When I last left you, I was wasting away in Ho missing many buses.  I finally did catch the 2:00 p.m. bus.  These Metro Mass Transit buses don't leave until they are full; so "2:00 bus" is a bit misleading.  It was more like the "3:15 bus."  The "3:15 not-air-conditioned-and-not-many-people-speak-English-and-only-obruni-on-the bus" bus. Thank God it was cloudy today...otherwise it would have been like riding in a toaster.

We missed all those buses because, frankly, George is a big time putzer.  He's a lovely, dedicated, honest, driven awesome guy but...CRIKEY, as my friend Heidi might say.  We left the house in time to make the Noon bus, in theory.  However, after George stopped at the market for bread and still more papayas, stopped to drop off papers and talk to people at an office, and STOPPED FOR A HAIRCUT, the Noon bus was long gone and the 2:00 bus was the last bus outta Dodge. I had the distinct feeling he was trying to make me miss the last bus.  But it's only a feeling.

The bad news is that it's 10:51 p.m. here and I still don't know if Bea is joining me tomorrow.  The good news is she sent her brother Van to pick me up at the bus station and deliver me to my beachside destination, The Rising Phoenix.  Owned by a guy named Phoenix.  But I bet that's not his real name. And then there was more bad news.

It was dark by the time we reached "The Rising Phoenix" hotel.  It doesn't really rise anywhere that I could see, by the way.  Long dark stone walkways, creepy-looking people in the restaurant and bar, a creepy room with a fan that didn't work and a shower that was basically a drip -- and an even extra creepier owner. Yes. Phoenix.  He's Irish and kind of lecherous. Or at least he seemed lecherous.  The room was scandalous. Both Van and I disapproved. I was now at Van's mercy. An obruni alone in Accra with no hotel reservation. Awesome.

Fortunately, Van knew of a couple of other beachside resort-y places where he'd eaten before so we tried both of those before negotiating a deal with the Osakan Beach Resort.  Even in the dark it was nice, and run by an accommodating man named Maxwell who said, "You are no longer a tourist, Miss Judy. You are a member of our family!".  Hey! Phoenix! You can learn from this guy Maxwell!

The stairs are stone are uneven, but the people are nice and the creepy-factor is low to non-existent. And they had ice cream bars and giant bottles of ice cold water. I took 2. That bus drive was long and washroom-free, so I went light on the water and was seriously dehydrated by the time I got to Accra.

Once I was settled I wanted to buy Van and his wife Mabel a drink or some dinner, but they refused and insisted on buying ME something to drink and eat.   So, I had a dinner of a giant bottled water and a banana ice cream bar. Yummy! Not exactly "dinner of champions" but it still hit the spot.

I can hear the ocean crashing on the shore and will take photos and upload them tomorrow.

I have both the ocean and a GREAT Internet connection here in Accra!