Sisimbo Beach Resort

On our first weekend in Accra, Warwick University organised a tour to Elmina, Cape Coast and Kakum National Park.  Since Wendy and I had gone last year and because I had less than 24-hours between the end of term and the flight, we instead opted to take ourselves away for a weekend at the beach.  With the help of Cross Cultural Tours, we hired a driver, Kwame, who whisked us away to lovely, lovely Sisimbo Beach Resort.

If we would've planned things better, we would've stayed somewhere a lot closer because driving through the market town of Kasoa on a Saturday is the equivalent driving through the combined traffic of New York, London and Paris back-to-back.  

But Sisimbo was a truly peaceful paradise and entirely worth the drive.  

Never far from home

Fishing 

pre-teen with coconut and machete

Wendy and her coconut

spacious accommodation with jungle shower

We had a hell of an adventure on the way back when the presidential convoy rushed past us stopping traffic on both sides. Kwame took this as an opportunity to jump onto the back of it, zooming through the opposite side of the dual carriageway and past a backup traffic ten miles long.  Ace.  

This Time Is Not Like Last Time

Last summer, my first, and scariest, memory of Ghana was its airport. An assault on the senses that left me weary and concerned about what I'd signed myself up for. This is also what i told the newcomers on the trip. Be prepared. Get psyched up. Take deep breaths because the terminal is madness.

Imagine my surprise when we were met with orderly yellow fever checks, a roped off calmly winding passport queue and revamped luggage conveyor belts.  The exit out of international arrivals was wide and easily passable. And on the other side, last year's drivers, Clement and Ellis, awaited us like old friends. 

But I wasn't fooled; the worst part was yet to come. Men, tall, short and fat, trying to grab at your luggage to 'help' you carry it to your vehicle. They were on us immediately upon exiting into humid city air last July. So I stepped out, gear strapped to my back, suitcase handle firmly in hand and was greeted by...no one. In the place of leery touts stood a set of picnic tables, a series of outdoor food establishments and a fence hemming in the car park. Progress. Way to up the game, Ghana.

Winding our way through Accra, I was also surprised to find that I knew the way to our accommodation. And that it kind of felt like I never left. That's a nice feeling when you're somewhere as far away from your norm like Africa.

That quickly changed when the cluster of disorganization happened upon arrival at Yiri Lodge. Rooms weren't ready. The staff seemed to know nothing about what was going on. When I finally opened the door to room 14, I was greeted with a series of 14 damp towels strewn across the bed, desk and chair, a wall stained with brown such and such and bloodstained sheets. The lock didn't really lock. A hooded man-cum-security guard lurked around the courtyard with his face covered. 

In typical Western fashion, I complained and was moved rooms, only to be moved again a day later. 

It appears the management here has changed and everything has lost last summer's shiny veneer.  One of the girls got shouted at: 'move your laundry from your balcony! It's an eyesore!' music pumps late into the evening and there's a general sense of unease. Nothing huge, but a definite shift.

Above all of this, I feel a shift in the group dynamics as well. Nothing bad. Just different, very different. We're a group of 10 women meeting a team of summer school teachers who have already been here for a week. And there's some very strong personalities that make me feel less inclined to show the real me. I feel somehow old. Not in age but mentality. 

I am aware that this trip is nothing about our accommodation or the airport or the dynamics of the group.  But it has set me up for an uneasy start. And that's not fair to my very lovely group whose only failing is that they are not the Beth, Charley, Charlotte, Dora, Ian, Jen, Juliet, Paul, Meryl, Wendy powerhouse combination of last year. 

But if  Ghana's taught me anything it's to be flexible and resilient because change comes barreling down your door whether you like it or not. 

With this in mind, I forge into the next two weeks of adventures in teaching. 

Awaiting Another Adventure

It's just about happened. I've just about survived the 2012-2013 academic year.  As per my self-imposed rules, I've only cried once on the school premises, tried the whole force yourself to leave by 5:30 every day only to abandon it after three days and managed to keep my one-cup-a-day habit in check.  I still don't like tea.  I still take every advantage to eat chocolate biscuits.  I still have those moments where I question, re-question and re-re-question my own sanity.

Alas.

This is the time of year when people ask me how I like my job and I can, hand on my heart, say that I love it.  Six weeks off doesn't hurt.  But in reality, it's more than that too.  I love teaching.  It drives me crazy, it makes me worry, I have sleepless nights.  But I couldn't imagine doing something I'm not passionate about.  How do you fill 40+ hours a week with something that just makes you feel meh? 

But this is not the forum to entertain philosophical thoughts.

Because it's time for another adventure and I'm big on adventures.  So whilst I have three more days of school left, I also prep for Ghana 2.0.  I'll spend another two weeks of summer with the Warwick in Africa Masterclass Teaching Programme.  Two more weeks with a group of nine other teachers as we sashay our way through Accra and into the environs of the Agona Swedru province.  

I didn't need to get any jabs this time around; they're all boosted up.  I'm stoked.  I'm slightly afraid of gigantic African mosquitos and severe heat--the forecast predicts two solid weeks of humidity and thunderstorms.  I'm probably more afraid that I'll have nothing to offer these teachers. But i'm working on that.

And after two weeks in West Africa, I come home to five days in London and a little jaunt across a few time zones to make my way to Cambodia and Vietnam for another two weeks.  I look forward to noodles, tuk tuks, temples and beaches.  I look forward to away.  Away is good. 

I may one day blog all about it.  It'll take me time--I've just about finished journeys from two years ago, only to have not touched most of my travels this year.  But my two summers ago Thailand travel is finally blogged so that's progress.  And going back in time is fun.  

So from my continent to yours, happy summer everyone!