Friday was the start of the weekend for me this week as with the power out again at Kasoa I was stuck with no work to do on my mini project. Although the power situation had me slightly stressed, not nearly as bad as Sophie’s life crisis.
Sophie: ‘I don’t know who I am anymore.’
Me: ‘What do you mean?’
Sophie: ‘I used to have straight hair and olive skin. Now I have wavy hair and sun burn.’
Due to the sheer ridiculousness of her statement I did not even humour her with a reply (I think Miss Sofia must have tried the tap water that day!)
As it was a Friday night, Sophie, Elisabeth and I decided to try somewhere new for dinner. The New Timers Hotel was graced with our presence that night, yet once again we were greeted with hostility and rudeness. In our few weeks in Ghana we have all agreed how welcoming and friendly the Ghanaians have been, except in the service industry. It makes no sense, but we have received sour faced, huffy and just plain rude staff at our hotel and from almost every waitress we have come across. The service industry in Britain takes pride on being almost overly friendly and welcoming, yet here in Ghana where the people in the streets would go out of their way to help you, the ones that actually get paid to help you couldn’t care less. A completely bizarre situation, but not something we can really change.
I also enjoyed checking out how the Ghanaian money had changed over time, but found it ridiculous that you could buy and old one cedi note in the gift shop for 40 cedis now. From the museum we went on to the Centre for Culture Market and finally got to do some shopping and more importantly bartering/haggling. I greatly enjoy a good haggle, and having to get my brother a present (as usual) I felt this would be the perfect opportunity. However, I almost fainted when the seller started at 45 cedi, I laughed and nearly walked away there and then. His 45 cedis was the same as me starting with ‘I give you 5 pesewa.’ Clearly the seller did not realise I was an experienced Obruni and was not willing to pay extortionate amounts that some tourists may settle at. After going up and down on both sides, we settled on a fair price of 12 cedis (a long way from the 45 cedi start thankfully!)
Our trip back to the hotel was named to be ‘the best tro ride ever!’ A huge claim, but it was an epic journey. Buying plantain chips from a street seller, the breezy back seat, with the doors slightly ajar (whether broken on accidentally left like that, who knows?) The business class style tro seats, a fan choco and a bumpy shortcut meant we were home in no time. What more could you want?
Sundays adventures included just Sophie, Elisabeth and I, on a mission to get an African tan. Thanks to Marc Beas suggestion we ended up at Bojo Beach for the day; an idyllic paradise island. Although our Shoprite picnic was not allowed, the canoe boat out to the actual beach had all three of us grinning from ear to ear. The beach was perfect, not too busy, golden sands, warm sea breeze and friendly staff. After a solid hour tanning session, Sophie and I found ourselves attempting to swim in the sea, but the waves were scarily strong, and even at knee level it was hard to walk against the current, let alone swim (we also drifted into the red flagged area, and were quickly whistled over by the lifeguard/security guard.) Bojo also had it’s own beach volleyball court set out, and once a game got started I obviously couldn’t resist joining in, and so I spent the rest of my afternoon digging, spiking and diving across the sand. A thoroughly enjoyable day, finished off with our picnic at the hotel. Another weekend gone, but Bojo Beach we will return!
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