Fira and Oia

By day three, we were sufficiently relaxed and took it upon ourselves to commence exploration.  In Fira, I committed a sin of omission and didn't tell Paul that descending the 500 stairs to the port would be hot, painful and exhausting.  We commenced the journey in 35 degree heat only to be stopped dead at stair 224 by a donkey traffic jam:
                                   
                                             
Paul fancied himself as a bit of a donkey whisperer and managed to pass, narrowly avoiding a hoof to the leg. I waited until a group of tourists on donkey came barreling up the steps nearly ten minutes later, which forced the donkeys to log jam themselves towards me, pushing me back into the stone wall.  It was actually terrifying.

But we eventually made it to the port where I consumed the most deliciously arctic fanta i've ever had.  And after our excellent calf workout we opted for the cable car back up the hill and continued wandering through the narrow cobbles of Fira before setting off, via bus, to Oia.

                                     

                                              

                                     

Oia, Oia

The geologic wonder that is the Island of Santorini is best seen from the West, particularly the towns of Fira and Oia.  To make a long story short, the Greek Islands find themselves on the centre of a tectonic plate, a particularly volcanic zone where the African plate is subducting under the Aegean subplate.  The geology nerd in me loves this!  Anyway, in 1630 BC, a massive eruption occurred and created the caldera (and stunning scenery) you see today.

The entire west of the island is a picture of sheer cliff faces, volcanic soil and whitewashed buildings.  It's hard not to be impressed and a little bit awe inspired.

                                         

                                         

                                         

                                

                                          

Towards late afternoon, Paul and I found a bar-cum-swimming pool at the north westernmost part of the island and guarded chairs for the onset of sunset.  And when the sun dipped under the horizon and people clapped, we felt the full force of Oia's beauty.  

Night hit...

                                              

And wandering back,  it became clear that, night or day, Oia had the wow factor. 

Kamari Beach

Our trip to Santorini was made beautiful by a series of foodstuffs, beachy views and relative peace and relaxation.  We checked into our accommodation, located a sightly 50 meters from a strip of black, volcanic sand.  It came with the free beach chairs, a swimming pool and the world's tiniest shower.  And our little beach home-away-from-home provided us with the opportunity to do something I struggle with: relax.  

                                       

We camped out on the beach with cocktails and quality literature (Brett Easton Ellis's 'American Psycho' for me and some quality Agatha Christie for Paul):

                                       
                                                                   our strip of sand.

At night, we wandered the loved-up strip of bars and restaurants looking for (and finding) good grilled fish and greek salads.  In terms of reunion tours, it did not disappoint.
                                       

We also found Cinema Kamari, an amazing open air cinema clad in white canvas directors' chairs and playing slightly-past-new-release films.  We spent two hours, with a 10-minute intermission in between, giggling at 'The Dictator' played in English with Greek subtitles.  Lizards skittered past, a cat jumped in front of the screen and the snack bar churned out a bizarre combination of cocktails, nachos and chocolate desserts.  

                                      

Photo courtesy of trip advisor. 

It wasn't exactly my normal kind of running from point-to-point trip and I was slightly nervous about this.  But a suntan, back massage and foot rub later, I managed to find my way back to calm and rested. We did take it upon ourselves to tour the rest of the island on subsequent days but we always made a little space of time for our chairs on the beach at our little hotel paradise.  

Santorini!

I stepped off a plane into London on the morning of August 11th into a city transformed.  I was greeted by official London greeters getting off the plane. People smiled at me.  The tube staff were friendly. And helpful.  It was creepy but nice.  I guess the Olympics do hold transformational powers.

Alas, I didn't get to appreciate this kindness fully as Paul and I hopped on a plane early the next morning for the next leg of summer travels. Santorini, a place made magical by its clappable sunsets, delectable food and Hollywood portrayals of heaven on earth.  Thankfully Hollywood got this one right.  More of that to come.  In the meantime, I leave you with pictures of me and the monkey who accompanied me this time around...

As you might imagine, it was a slightly ridiculous trip...

Our Last Day

We were meant to be teaching our final masterclass in school on our last day in Ghana, but tragedy struck the country a week before we arrived and the Ghanaian president, John Atta Mills, died.  Though he died of cancer, his death came relatively suddenly.  We were met with constant reminders and effigies in the form of red and black ribbons, the colours of President Mills' native tribe, across all parts of the country.

Mills' funeral took place on our last Friday in Ghana and funerals are a big deal in Ghana.  Heads of state flew in from across the world, families gathered together to celebrate Mills' life and all national, public and private services were closed for the day.

That's how we found ourselves back at Kokrobite Beach for a final day of sunning and appreciating the  wonderful two-week experience that Warwick in Africa afforded us.  

                                         

Dora and Beth, my kind of people 

beach restaurant with a sea view and a sand floor 

the sea view

beachside shopping

colourful!

African beach football 

The weather played nice for us, and for the first time in two weeks we had properly blue skies.  We spent the afternoon taking in the sun, playing cricket with some local kids and listening to the drumbeats, friendly artist touts and appreciating such beautiful surroundings.  It was cheesy, in a good way.  

And later we said our goodbyes to the staff at Yiri Lodge before heading to the airport and crossing our fingers for a free upgrade.  Which, naturally, didn't happen.  Six hours later, we were transported back to the olympic-friendly London and into our real lives.  

Ghana Masterclasses 2013? I hope so.  

Teacher, Teacher!

Ghanaians love a celebration and they're a people after my own heart because they also love a certificate of participation. So on our last day of teaching, we spent the am session teaching and the pm session having a small party/picture taking session/certificate ceremony.  It also helped that most of us dressed in our finest (read: most ridiculous) African prints: 

                                        

chasing the wild chickens

in the chicken dress! 

Juliet and I with one of our pupils 

English teachers

Team Ghana English teachers 

Meryl, Dora, Wendy and Juliet Azontoing their afternoon away

Ian, Paul, Bethan, Meryl and Dora 

all of team Ghana--Paul, Ian, Bethan, Charlotte, Meryl, Dora, Wendy, Juliet and me 

And rather ceremoniously, our time in the dust and chalk ended.  Fortunately we had one day left to unwind and enjoy our surroundings. Plus, I left feeling pretty lucky to meet some pretty inspiring teachers from across the UK.  People crazy enough to Azonto along with me! 

God in Ghana

Ghana is a country big on its religion.  Its Christian majority goes back to the time of colonisation by the Portuguese, then Dutch and later the English.  But Ghana also prides itself on its belief of religious freedom and has a Muslim minority that is also well represented.  People go about their business alongside each other, like many other places in the world, and it's nice to see that sectarian violence isn't one of the lasting remnants of colonisation. 

In fact, in Ghana it's hard to forget that God is beside you.  In the shops.  Walking down the streets. In the taxis (where you'll really need Him). On the beach.  On the motorway. On the tro-tros (mini-bus like vans acting like taxis across the country).  God is ever-present. I started taking a list of the names of the myriad shops on my last day here and came up with the following during a five mile stretch of road to the beach:  

**Divine Mercy Communication Centre

**Life Without God is Dead Shoe Shop

**The Body of Christ Licensed Chemical Seller

**Lord's Enterprise Phone Shop

**My God is a Consuming Fire Jewelry Shop 

**Narrow Gate Frozen Food

**Heavenly Expectation Book Shop

**God's Time is the Best Shoe Shine 

**By His Grace Frozen Food 

**Hand of God Beauty 

**Victory of God's Son Plumbing

**God is Still at Work Refrigeration 

**St Anthony's Pharmacy

**Godly Favors Eye Care   

Here's a smattering of the roadside establishments I was quick enough to snap: 

                                               

God even made His appearance on a bag holding the chicken dress I bought at a roadside market stall.  

in my hotel room 

Jehovah Alone. A Christian Enterprise. 

                                     

In one of the classrooms at school 

back of a tro tro 

front of a tro tro 

                                                  

at the beach

my personal favorite. because, you know, the Virgin Mary admonishes  non-swimmers.  

Perhaps the best brush with religion happened to our programme coordinator, Charlie. She went to say goodbyes and give thank you gifts at the Ministry of Education and the woman there gave her a huge hug and bid her a: 'May God bless your family, may he bless your relatives and may God bless you and may He bring you many, many children before you are too old!'

Because I have a religious mother, I know that you just can't argue with that.  

Things You Can Buy at the Side of the Road

In Ghana, you don't go to the market. No, no.  The market comes to you.  When you're at a stoplight or stuck in traffic, when you're turning onto a smaller road, when you're braking for a pothole.

The market talks to you, it gestures and smiles and puts on the charm. The market is magnificent because the market is full of magnificent people carrying every product, large or small, on their heads.  

You forgot to buy bathroom necessities? You're craving a tidbit of Ghana's biggest export?  You just find out your boss is coming home for dinner and there's no meat in the fridge? It's okay! Just wave down the man, woman or child walking with a basket of toilet paper/toilet bowl cleaner/chocolate bars/live chickens down the road.  It's totally legit.  And the prices are competitive.  

                                                    

In the last two weeks, I have seen people walk past car windows peddling the following:

• chickens (dead, alive and roasted) 
• spare tires
• jump ropes 
• sweat suits 
• kleenex 
• papayas 
• drying racks
• deodorant 
• dvds
• badly done art for your wall 
• decorative tables 
• maps of Ghana 
• Mobile phone cards
• torches
• sandwich bags 
• tshirts 
• baskets 
• toilet paper 
• chewing gum and mints 
• backpacks
• friendship bracelets 
• mangos and pineapples (cut up, whole and dried) 
• bedding (including pillows, blankets and duvets) 
• chocolate bars 
• mini toolsets
• sleeping bags 
• spices and seasoning 
• cooking pots 
• LED lights 
• sweets 
• slippers 
• flags
• Cold drinks 
• sticker books 
• scarves and fabric 
• sunglasses
• decorative plates
• eggs (boiled and raw) 
• 
  

This list is in no way comprehensive. And given the traffic, the state of the roads and the haphazardness of Ghana's drivers, it's no small feat to throw yourself into the middle of traffic:

                                         

But the best part of all this selling is the non threatening tone it takes.  In Accra, at least, there's no harassment.  They nod, you nod, they point, you point and then it's a quick deal or no deal. Money changes hands. And away you go.  

The derivative of all these street side sellers are the roadside and beachside sellers: 

                                        

                                                    

But more on that later.