I awoke with a thought: either the spices, the amount of food consumed, or brushing my teeth with tap water throughout this trip had kept me regulated. Sometimes twice a day, but not diarrhea. Supposedly, a healthy digestive track is SUPPOSED to eliminate after every meal. Could it be that even down to my bowels, I know I’m free? No longer having to hustle and bustle as a cog in the plantation wheel of the States. No contorting my body and entire lifestyle to keep the economic machine afloat.
I brought my umbrella for this morning’s walk. No Rain Goddess, no rain. We walked the rained-out route to see it without squinting. Another member caught up with us after we’d left, stating that she’d been with us the whole time.
My brother-in-law and I both rushed to pick up what looked like one-cedi coins. As soon as our fingers felt the plastic, we immediately dropped the trash.
As we passed the shell of a resort, Dr. Kofi explained that the funding for the project had run out about 20 years ago.
Dr. Kofi suggested that Ghanaians still associated the ocean with slavery, which was why they didn’t visit or spend leisure time there.
We witnessed trash wash up on the beach via the waves. One tour member stooped over a pile of washed up trash, hoping to find some writing that gave her a clue as to where it was from. An intriguing endeavor, given the network of ocean currents.
Even if the source of the trash could be traced back to the country of origin, could the Ghanaian government charge the culprits to clean it up? Realistically, pollution was a worldwide problem when other people’s trash harmed another country.
A Ghanaian man working on the beach greeted my sister, niece and me, asking us if we were Americans. We agreed. He asked what we were going to do to help Africa. I kept walking. They stopped to engage with him. If he couldn’t see the connection between our tourist dollars helping the country, then surely I couldn’t explain the complicated story of how our consumer dollars helped when we were back in the States. As a matter of fact, being in Ghana meant more of my money compensated workers versus the importers when we purchase products in the States.
Instead, I spoke with another tour member about the benefits of self-selection. Of all the things for two women to talk about while rinsing the sand off our feet. I proposed that explicitly telling people they may have to take a bucket bath at some places, but may take a hot shower at other places would help manage expectations.
The other member cautioned that some people would opt out of a wonderful experience over something like that where the overall benefits outweighed any temporary inconvenience.
I thought I had to eat breakfast alone, but three other members joined me later. Another member sat by himself, relishing his alone time. He wanted coffee and a muffin before heading back to his room. He had been the first one at reception, ready to walk.
We met the Ghanaian mother-in-law of a cousin who wasn’t vacationing with us. She was fabulous and referred to my cousin’s mother as “Mama BJ.” We visited with her for a few hours. Fortunately, one of the tour support staff joined us. He took our group pictures.
Also, he and the Ghanaian mother-in-law advised my two cousins, RC and Rain Goddess, and me about where to buy locally-made chocolate. I was a little disappointed to discover that the best place to buy local chocolate was at a regular grocery store where expats shopped. On the other hand, I didn’t want to tour the chocolate factory because it seemed too time-consuming and pricey.
Then the support staff member suggested going to a high-end grocery store. Both his and the Ghanaian mother-in-law’s eyes lit up as they spoke of it. RC downloaded an Uber app and our ride was just a minute away. The support staff member rode with us.
Being in a small sedan versus a large bus made the whole experience 3D. I shared traffic videos with one of my sisters back home. She was blown away by all the near misses and no traffic lights in sight.
We thanked our support staff member for escorting us there and back since that was better than him being part of the rescue team.
Before shopping for chocolate, we first ate at a restaurant that was on par with Hard Rock Cafe with a lot of pictures of famous musicians. After eating a lot of local Ghanaian food, I broke down at this place and ordered a burger and fries. Contrary to popular belief, not all Americans love ketchup. I asked the server for hot sauce before the food even hit the table. Besides, it’s never a good idea to go grocery shopping hungry. We treated our support staff member to his meal of a very spicy medium-sized pizza.
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Properly sated, we entered the grocery store that was a combination of Whole Foods and the Sears appliance section. I steered my two cousins past the appliances. No browsing for irrelevant things. This shopping trip was dedicated to three things: wine, chocolate and other wine snacks. We hit the motherlode all the way in the back, the direct opposite of where we’d entered.
And wouldn’t you know it, the wine section was beside the chocolate area. Someone was truly thinking.
For the first time ever, I saw fresh strawberries. Cost nearly a whopping $12 a carton. A picture was all I took, but someone must be wealthy enough to enjoy that luxury fruit.
For years, my dessert at home was a piece of dark chocolate and malbec. So, I confined my selection to that.
On the other hand, my sister had given me $80 to stock up on a variety of chocolate for her family. I chose at least one of every kind I saw, especially the vegan chocolate. I bought several of those bars for my niece. I knew that everyone would want to sample it, so I bought enough for her to share.
Once we were ready to go, our support staff member had us wait on the sidewalk nearest to the grocery store while he went outside the gate to the main street to hail a taxi. As fate would have it, my seat was the only one that didn’t have an “oh shit” bar to hang onto like my cousins.
We returned to Lizori’s Place for dinner. Our appetizer consisted of spicy sweet groundnuts. Yet, the atadwe milk (tigernut pudding) was the intriguing dish of the evening. Made with tigernuts, dates and rice, the pudding straddled the line between a sweet and a savory.
One member had requested a singer en route to the restaurant. So, another member started singing a bad rendition of “Do-Re-Mi.” Returning to the hotel, several members broke out with an even worse “Wheels on the Bus” singalong with the wrong lyrics.
Then, for the umpteenth time we heard the song, “Countryside,” by Sarkodie, featuring Black Sherif, where that word was repeated many times during the chorus. We finally had a decent singalong.
While at dinner, many spoke of local chocolates and were invited to our room to sample some. The enticement of chocolate scored us a non-Strange to join us for happy hour.
We tried five different chocolates with malbec and Rain Goddess bought a sweet white for my sister. Again, lots of laughs as we swapped stories, viewed new earrings and discussed caring for aging parents.
Adding to the night’s entertainment was my sister and me trying to figure out how to open the mini fridge. I wish I could say that it was the alcohol.