Day 1: Accra The Obruni goes to town

Today, I had a very American breakfast of pancakes and eggs - and pineapple that was picked this morning outside. Then I had to venture out to get a mobile broadband card for my laptop.  In Ghana, this means locating the "Vodafone" store, luckily about 6 blocks away from the guest lodge.  I had breakfast with fellow guests - two from Nigeria, one from Liberia and two from Ghana.  One of the Ghanaian guys, Joseph, schooled me on Vodafone, how much to pay a taxi driver and not to worry if people randomly called out "Obruni" when they saw me. Obruni means "white person." Joseph instructed me to call back "Bebeni" ("black person") and laugh so that the locals can see that I have a sense of humor.

I walked the six blocks along Lagos Road...

As you can see, there are no sidewalks, at least not here, which can best be described as a residential area -

 - where every home is gated and walled-in and almost every home is surrounded by barbed wire, which totally ruins the ambiance of these very nice homes.

Women dress in a range from business casual to traditional in whatever they're doing, including walking down Lagos road with a tray of plantains on their heads.

Another pit stop on the road to Wa...

Hello from Accra!

The final air travel leg of this journey went smoothly, except for some turbulence over France and over Algeria...and the aforementioned poor food choices

Kotoka Airport is modern by a lot of African standards but it is still a chaotic place.  In Immigration, I was eye-scanned and electronic-finger-printed. That took some time. As did finding one piece of luggage.  But everything arrived in one piece and I breezed through Customs without having to open my luggage and explain a lot.  Not that there's a whole lot to explain.  Really! There isn't.

I was fortunate that Viking Dietrich, the ELCA Director for Global Mission in West Africa met me at the airport and drove me to the Agape Guest House, where I'll stay for 2 nights. It was a blessing, after 19 hours of travel, to not have to figure out the "taxi situation."  Apparently there is an "official" taxi stand and an "unofficial" gathering of taxi drivers.  But you have to pass through the latter to get to the former. And they are VERY, VERY eager taxi drivers.

The Agape Guest Lodge in East Legon, Accra is run by an American couple - Kathy and Tom Newell.  Four years ago they retired and moved here to run this guest lodge.  Very nice people.  I am in a room with 4 beds, but there's just me.  There a nice bathroom, too - a shower with no shower curtain and no hot water that I can figure out.

Anyway, it's clean and in my budget! My only complaint is that my Sprint service seems to not work here at the Guest Lodge - but it was working at the airport.  So, tomorrow's plan is to try to figure that out.

The Road to Heathrow

Having arrived in London about 2 hours ago, a few observations and notes in no particular order:

1. This place is like a mall.
2. It took me 1-1/2 hours to get through Security.
3. They only make you take off your shoes if you're wearing high heels.  Who travels in high heels anyway?  The woman in front of me.
4. I actually slept for about 4 hours on the flight, which is some kind of flying record for me - since I usually can't sleep on anything that's moving.
5. I was told that the food on British Airways was the best around.  This is a lie.  I had a choice of "chicken" or "pasta."  Choosing the chicken, I expect to see some.  There were 3 small pieces of chicken drenched in some kind of tomato sauce, with some starchy thing that could have been either rice, potatoes, or shredded cheese - and some brown stuff I couldn't identify.  Dinner:  the three  pieces of chicken and some trail mix.
6. Breakfast was a mis-shapened muffin.  Breakfast: Pro Bar.

I had lovely 777 neighbors next to me on my flight.  First, there was the Swedish couple next to me. Anna is a nervous flyer.  Adolf, not at all. Adolf speaks perfect English. Anna not so much.  Anna was very nervous about wing flaps, and my best attempts to explain what I remembered about Bernoulli's principle from my Cub Scout den leader days did nothing to make her feel better, despite Adolf's enthusiastic and agreeable translating prowess.   The woman in front of me was traveling with 2 small children, a very cranky 18-month old and a 4-year old who loves to talk.  Mardesh, the 4-year old, told me all about his preschool and his trip to India to visit his grandparents, and his electronic game and..while his mom tried to calm down his little brother, Mardesh and I played flash cards.  Too bad the Jacks were in checked baggage.

I am thinking of eating lunch here:

Perhaps I should find something a little more British, no?

At O'Hare

As is my usual travel practice, I arrived at the airport 1 hour and 40 minutes before I really had to be here.  That's OK though, because I am NOT the kind of person who thrives on mad dashed through airports.  It is challenging enough for me to remember to remove everything I need to remove from whatever casing it's in, not to mention the hat on my head, while going through a fairly dead Security area.  If Security was backed up and people were crabby and the place was utter chaos, there's no telling what I'd forget where. I am just not good in airports and I admit it. I don't like removing my laptop and I'm not particularly fond of taking off my shoes. I DO like to people watch so I have time for that.  And in the International Terminal, people listening is interesting too. I can only hope the person(s) sitting near me speak English. Or can do good hand signals.

So that was the first piece of good luck, or "travel mercies."

The plane has arrived so that would be the second piece of good luck.

Early today my son asked me if I had everything I needed and I answered, "probably not." 

But here I go.

The "other" bag...

In the craziness of trying to figure out how to most efficiently pack the duffel bag, there was also the issue of the "gift" bag.  This is this is the suitcase dedicated solely to the gifts I'm bringing to Wa.  It looks like this:

Kind of like a condensed version of the Dollar Store, no?

Inside this suitcase are: 500 pencils, a few rubber balls, a few Jacks sets, a few protractors and compasses, sidewalk chalk, pens and Play Doh.  Oh, and I need to throw in the bag of Jolly Ranchers. To be honest, I'm not sure there are sidewalks in Wa, but if there are, some kids will be very, very lucky.

It's enough that any stern-faced TSA agent would think, "Wow, she's going on a mission trip."

Or maybe, "Wow, that woman really cleaned out the dollar store."

Today, packing is my bag. As Martha Stewart would say, "It's a good thing."

Today was a beautiful day and while it was great to spend some time outside, I experienced a nagging concern about my lack of packing progress, and lack of desire to make progress. Or maybe it was that I finally acknowledged that I'm going to Ghana in 3 days and should get crack a-lackin'. So far, I merely passed by the stacks of store bags laying next to my duffel bag with first aid supplies, trail mix, prescriptions, scrunchy hair thingies and all kinds of what-not, barely understanding that this stuff was mine and I should do something about it.

For some reason, today -- after going for a run and taking in some sunshine and visits with friends -- my focus narrowed on packing.  This sudden burst of packing energy could have come from a panicky wake up last night where I was sure I didn't know where my Yellow Fever certificate was. My subconscious was definitely telling me something.

So off I went with my list to sort through my store bags, duffel bag and backpack with a gadzillion pouches, both zippered and bungee-corded to try to make sense of it all. And to make sure that Yellow Fever certificate was tucked into my passport where it belonged. And to make sure my passport was tucked into my travel wallet where IT belonged. And to make sure my travel wallet was....well, you get the idea.  I am LOW on spacial skills but HIGH on obsessive-compulsive placement of my stuff!

Two hours later, I figured out how to stow a change of clothes, a laptop, a travel towel, inflatable pillow, a Ghana guide book, a digital camera, a "Ghana phone" (more explanation later - I think it deserves its own entry!) and 2 novels in a backpack. Because reading Amish romance novels on a flight to Ghana makes sense, right? Ghanaians will gather around me eagerly waiting for an explanation of what Amish means. Perhaps I should rethink my reading material.

And for those who saw the "before" picture of my duffel bag, here is the much-improved "after" shot!

What I'd do for you, Jacks...

No matter what your background, no matter what your walk of life and no matter what you're trying to do, there comes a time when you just have to go to...

The Dollar Store

I go about once every 4-5 years. I am not a fan, if you can't tell. 

But I was on a mission to get Jacks to take to the kids in Ghana.  I am really dating myself but aren't Jacks the gift that keeps on giving?

Remember Jacks? Anybody?

I have many fond memories of Jacks but they're kind of a throw-back so, after careful consultation with my Jacks-locator-friends, I determined I would have to go to the dollar store.  It smelled like old cardboard and stale cigarettes and the owner/manager was kind of...slimy...but lo and behold!...there were rows and rows of Jacks...and plastic guns...and rubber lizards... and some stuff I really couldn't readily identify.  But I digress.

After 45 minutes of Jacks, rubber ball and jump rope shopping, home we came with enough dollar store toys to make make a Ghanaian child wonder.  Wonder :what the heck are Jacks?  So I guess I'll also have to SHOW kids how to play Jacks which will be interesting because I completely lack the fine motor skills to effectively play this game and always have.

So...if you're wondering what I'm doing Saturday, I'm probably practicing Jacks.  Yes, I bought my own set.

And if you're wondering what my so-called "fond memories" are if I couldn't really play, they are mostly memories of me hiding my cousin Mary's Jacks so we'd have to play something else.