Since I’d slept in my bathing suit last night, I put on a cover up shirt and skirt once I woke up. I shared with RC that I came to rock the beach, not walk the beach.
Tiny off-white sand crabs scurried along the beach. We took a longer walk than normal because we had a free morning.
As if in a surreal dream, a man approached us on horseback. None of us took him up on his offer to ride along the beach, but this was the first time I’d seen such a thing out of all the beaches I’ve ever visited.
We posed by a rock formation before walking back to the resort.
By far, this was my favorite morning since all I had to do was rinse the sand off my sandals and feet, then enter the dining room for breakfast. The fruit buffet included pears and a prune compote. The “pancake station” actually served up crepes. Coffee drinkers boasted about sipping the real thing.
Didn’t expect to see a table full of US military wearing fatigues at breakfast. I wanted to ask them if they were stationed in Ghana since they were in their casual uniform, familiar to me since I grew up as a military brat. Yet, I wasn’t ready to suspend my vacation away from the US as such an encounter might have done.
While at breakfast, one tour member stated that he could’ve done all of our past excursions from that current luxurious accommodations. I countered that if we’d only remained there, we wouldn’t have appreciated staying there as much as we did. I then added: when he told others about this trip, he’d recount things we did the first week, including our hotels. “War stories” were the best.
Since a touristy day was planned, RC and I wanted to wear sandals, but her ankle brace was still wet. I suggested using the blow dryer to speed along the evaporation process rather than not taking it at all.
The search was on. After not finding the blow dryer in the bathroom nor in the closet, we went on an easter egg hunt. RC finally discovered it in a drawer already plugged in, underneath the coffee machine. Go figure.
Once reunited with SF, she told me about her horse ride. As she was about to mount the horse, the guy attempted to help. She was apprehensive. He reassured her, “I’m strong,” then he hoisted her onto the horse in one swoop.
“Here’s your 100 cedis.” She promptly handed him the money. She confessed that it had been a long time since a man had done that.
Since this was a five-star resort, I wanted to make the most of the accommodations, including the balcony. I turned a blind eye to the parking lot that peeked between the lush foliage. Not too hard to do since I spent most of my balcony time writing in my journal.
Of course, that didn’t last too long since my sister, who believe she’s my mother, called, inviting/ordering me to join her and her family poolside.
(Please click on individual pictures to see the full view, then click on the browser back arrow to return to blog view.)
Soon as I rolled up poolside, my sister told me that another light-skinned woman of color was mistaken for me. Truly a compliment to me since that other woman was at least 20 years younger.
The infinity pool was surrounded by literal lounge lizards, which scurried in between and around the lounge seats. Some people were wary of them, but I welcomed anything that helped keep the bug population in check.
I wasn’t in the mood to join the impromptu water aerobics led by another tour member, but they looked as if they had a fun work out.
Soon, we ordered food. I thought “chicken shawarma” with fries and coleslaw would be a light lunch. I was mistaken.
Another bug-repellent strategy was placed on our table in the form of a burning candle.
Afterwards, we visited the Artists Alliance Gallery at Omanye House. Although the gallery had a very interesting collection, I didn’t buy anything because I wasn’t a homeowner. My souvenirs were in the form of pictures.
Our tour guide was so excited to escort me to the postcards, which unfortunately were damp and overpriced. I’d searched for postcards since day one, but there was truly no market.
I beat all the tour staff back to the bus for a nap while listening to my audiobook. Other tour members stayed so long, I worried perhaps I was missing some demo about an artistic skill such as printmaking. Not at all. Just the usual slowness of the group who enjoy shopping/browsing. Had I known how close the gallery was to the resort, I would have walked back.
I immediately decked out in cover up and headed for pool. I did several leg exercises that felt especially good on my low back. I contemplated getting an hour long massage at the resort spa, which was just $60.
The decor of our dinner restaurant reminded me of an Austin art gallery exhibit.
The restaurant had the food ready as soon as we sat down. Platters upon platters of food. The platters were huge; our individual plates were small. An embarrassment of food that potentially went to waste because we slowed down, then stopped eating altogether. Servers packed up the leftovers at tour members’ request. I think the food was given to the bus driver, his attendant and perhaps other staff.
Rain Goddess had splurged at the mall. Although I don’t care for sweet wines, I chalked it up as liquid dessert. I retrieved the wine from her room and went upstairs to host a small happy hour in my room.
When I changed into my pajamas, RC said that my attire signalled, “Hurry up and leave before you get here!”
We sipped both red and a bottle of the pink blush, which was even sweeter. RC provided pumpkin seeds to go along with the wine. An unusual pairing that worked.
We took the first of several “Strange Happy Hour” group pictures. My great grandfather, Jesse Strange, was emancipated at age 13, had married twice and fathered a total of 12 children.
We Jesse Strange descendants, out of nearly 1000 living relatives, were blessed in so many ways. Too bad all the laughter wasn’t captured in our group picture.