Flashback - January

My days in Ghana are almost numbered ...

... and I still haven’t really reported on my trip around the Northern, Western, Volta region in January. So here’s my fast forward through January:

After my sister Paula arrived one day late –delayed by a storm in Europe– and her luggage two days later – commonly happens on the way to Ghana– the first thing I did was take her on a four and a half day trip to the Northern Region, thas is, 660km far Tamale and then Mole National Park. My sister is surely one of the coolest travel buddies, she learnt how to buy food from the bus window straight away and tried everything from bofrot (I’d call them Ghanaian donuts) to giant pawpaws and even my beloved kenkey! 

With her new friend Frimpong, 
who loves Bananas

Tamale

She made friends with almost everyone whose way she crossed and stayed calm even after the 20-hour ride back from Mole via Tamale to Accra with minimal space in trotros playing the most annoying radio stations on maximum volume.

Mole National Park was dry, dry, dusty, dry and hot, yet at night it got so cold that I saw myself freezing for the first time in Ghana. The baboons stole our dry biscuits, poolboy Jerri then chased them away with his slingshot and the elephants appeared at the waterhole right after we arrived at the Mole Hotel. On our bike/jogging trip to nearby Larabanga, a small village hosting the 

apparently oldest mosque in Ghana, we got to know the locals and later on a lot of strange looks as we biked/ran back to Mole, past a lot of women and their children who were carrying water or firewood on their heads and probably wondered who could be so stupid as to voluntarily run in this heat.

After two relaxing days at Big Milly’s in Kokrobite –after 5 months in Accra I had finally made it there and found the best coffee in Ghana– my Australian sister Erica arrived in Ghana and on went the travelling. 

We spend one night at the Hideoutlodge in Butre (Western Region), and the next one at the Green Turtle Lodge, which is somehow unbeatable, even though the beach in Butre was magnificent.

Boat tour on Butre river

Then came the Volta Region – 
Mt Afadja, the highest mountain (900-something m) in Ghana was awaiting us.

Rootsyard, Peki. The bar, kitchen and house.

A sidestreet in Peki

The best thing about the Volta Region, apart from the nature (mountains, green, waterfalls, ...) and people, was our accommodation. We stayed at Rootsyard in Peki, an ecofriendly-vegan-rasta accommodation run by a lovely family, Jaqueline, Bob and their adorable kids. We felt so much at home that it was hard to leave and we took the good food as an excuse to stay a few extra hours– Accra could wait. Anyone reading this and planning to go the Volta Region should stop in Peki! I have never tasted vegan food before but what we had at Rootsyard was just delicious. Chocolate cake, sorbets, hummus, red red, samosas (they’re the best!), coffee, juices, I don’t know where to stop. If anyone needs further reference: The chief of Peki here who lives next door comes over for a beer every now and then...

Samosas prepared by Jaqueline

The Rootsyard family with their obviously delighted guests

Here* is ghana // Hier* ist ghana

in the centre of the world

on a roof-terrace in achimota, in the shade of corrugated iron: i am listening to the rustling of the surrounding palmtrees and feeling the warm breeze on my body. in germany a single day like this  - it would be an early summer’s day -  would fill me with endless happiness. right Here* and now, i have this very same feeling in my tummy (ever increasing by the jollof with spicy shito).

and even though Here*, unlike today, i don’t always deliberately praise the sunrays in my face, the constant warmth wrapping around my body and the un-necessity of a warm jacket…

…i carry this happiness within me every day, ready to smile it into someone’s face, to snap it throught my fingers with a handshake, ready to stir it into my stew or to transform it into a love-infused kiss.

every day counts!

or, how long till germany is part of supra-sahara and summer the only season?

auf einer dachterrasse in achimota, im schatten des wellblechdachs, lausche ich dem rauschen der palmen und fühle den warmen luftzug auf dem körper. in deutschland würde mich ein einziger solcher tag - dort waere es wohl ein langersehnter  frühsommertag - endlos glücklich machen. jetzt spüre ich auch Hier* dieses gefühl im bauch (was aber auch am jollof mit reichlich shito liegen könnte).

und obwohl ich mir Hier* nicht jeden tag wie heute bewusst mache, wie gut die sonnenstrahlen im gesicht, die konstante wärme um meinen körper und der überfluss einer warmen jacke mir tun...

...ich trage diese freude in mir, tag für tag, bereit sie jedem ins gesicht zu lächeln, mit einem handshake in die finger zu schnipsen, mit hingabe in mein stew zu rühren oder voll liebe in einen kuss zu verwandeln.

jeder tag zählt!

oder, wie lange noch, bis deutschland zur supra-sahara zählt, die den sommer zur einzigen jahreszeit macht?

P.S.: In case someone is wondering about my taste: shito is a sauce made of black pepper and shrimps. I know this is pretty lame, but here the wikipedia link: http://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shito 

and a recipe:

 http://www.ghanaweb.com/GhanaHomePage/food/sauce.html 

A Trotro Story

Okay, it has been too long since my last blog, Christmas time is long gone. But, here’s my excuse, I’ve been up and down the country with my lovely hostsister Erica and equally lovely sister Paula in January. And since they left, I have been busy with my 8-5pm internship at a publishing house in Achimota. I’m yet to write down some of our last (travel-) experiences. To start with, I’d like to give you a taste of my way to and from work. Sometimes, when there’s so not much to do at work, these trotro-rides are the most interesting part of my working day. No matter how often I go along this way, it never stops being interesting and I have dozends of little trotro anecdotes in my mind already. Here’s one of them. However, it’s not little and it’s in German. Maybe I’ll translate it into English some other time.

With my host-sister and old friend Erica

Gut, es ist eindeutig zu viel Zeit vergangen seit meinem letzten Blogeintrag, Weihnachten ist schon lange vorbei. Aber hier kommt meine Entschuldigung: Im Januar bin ich (wieder mal) durch halb Ghana gereist, diesmal mit meinen geliebten (Gast)-Schwestern Erica und Paula. Seit die beiden weg sind, bin ich täglich als Praktikantin in einem Verlag in Achimota eingespannt und habe meine bzw. unsere letzten (Reise)-Erlebnisse noch nicht ganz verschriftlicht. Als kleinen Vorgeschmack will ich Euch einen Einblick in meinen täglichen Arbeitsweg geben. Manchmal, wenn ich in der Arbeit nicht sonderlich viel zu tun habe, sind diese Trotrofahrten der aufregendste Teil meines Arbeitstages. Egal, wie oft ich diese Fahrt mache, sie wird nie langweilig und ich habe bereits dutzende kleine Trotro-Anekdoten in meinem Kopf. Hier ist eine davon, wenn sie auch nicht unbedingt “klein” ist. Vielleicht übersetze ich sie später ins Englische, aber wer das jetzt versteht, dem kann das eh egal sein ;).

With my sister Paula

“Legon, Kisseman Village, Legonlegoooon, last two!”

Ich steuere auf das Trotro zu, vor dem ein Mate steht und lauthals die Fahrt nach Legon ankündigt.

Schnell sein, bevor der Platz weg ist!

“Eeeh, white lady!” werde ich sogleich von ihm begrüßt, der für einen Moment sein Rufen unterbricht. Mein Lieblingsplatz im Trotro, nämlich ganz vorne neben dem Driver, wo es noch sowas wie Beinfreiheit gibt, ist schon besetzt also steige ich über zwei Klappsitze in die letzte Reihe. Kurz darauf ist das Trotro voll, der Mate springt auf den letzten Sitz und wir rumpeln los in Richtung Bushroad. Wir fahren vorbei an der Riesenmüllhalde, wo täglich Leute alte Kanister, Dosen und sonstige brauchbare Gegenstände wieder aufsammeln. Am Straßenrand sitzen Frauen und Kinder auf Steinhaufen und klopfen Steine und Steinfliesen zurecht. Obwohl wir uns in unmittelbarer Nähe einer übelriechenden Müllhalde und auf einer ungeteerten Straße voller Schlaglocher befinden, tauchen sobald schicke Neubauten mit hohen Mauern neben uns auf. Wer sich hier mit viel Geld ein Haus bauen lässt, scheut sich nicht davor, es zu zeigen: Spiegelfenster, mehrere Balkone, Säulen vor dem Eingang – vom griechischen Tempel bis zur James Bond Limousine wird an architektonischen Stilrichtungen nichts ausgelassen. Gekrönt, bzw. gezäunt wird das Ganze dann mit einer hohen Mauer die, wenns blöd läuft, nach dem Regen vom aufspritzenden Matsch rotbraun gesprenkelt wird. Wir befinden uns in einem Stadtteil mit dem einleuchtenden Namen Christian Village. In den südlichen Landesteilen Ghanas habe ich eigentlich generell das Gefühl, ich befinde mich in “Christian Village”, aber vielleicht ist der Glaube hier noch stärker vertreten...?

Die Fahrt auf der Bushroad neigt sich dem Ende zu, als es plötzlich rumpelt und das Trotro stehen bleibt. Als ich den Blicken der anderen Insassen folge und aus dem Rückfenster hinausschaue, sehe ich zwei Hähne auf der Straße kämpfen, die wohl gerade vom Trotro im Kampf gestört wurden. Wieso fahren wir nicht weiter? Jetzt sehe ich, wie der Driver aussteigt, unters Trotro kriecht und mit einem Metallring wieder hervorkommt. Ich blicke wieder zurück zu den kämpfenden Hähnen. Irgendwas stimmt nicht. Dann wird mir klar, dass sie gar nicht gegeneinander kämpfen, sondern dass der eine Hahn dem anderen nachläuft, der im verzweifelten Todeskampf auf der Straße herumspringt, mit den Flügeln schlägt, wieder auf dem Rücken landet, bis er irgendwann auf der Seite liegen bleibt. Offenbar ist das Trotro gerade über den Hahn gefahren und dabei selbst kaputt gegangen. Ich will lieber wegsehen, kann aber meine Augen nicht vom zuckenden Tier abwenden. Auf der Straße stehen Kinder, die mit Schrecken das Schauspiel verfolgen und auch ein paar Erwachsene gucken etwas bedrückt drein. Ein paar Leute sind inzwischen ausgestiegen. Was passiert mit dem toten Tier? Muss der Fahrer den Hahn bezahlen? Als mein Blick nochmal zum toten Hahn schweift, hat ihn bereits irgendjemand weggeschafft. Jetzt fordert der Mate alle Fahrgäste zum Aussteigen auf. Zum Glück kenne ich den Weg zur nächsten Trotrohaltestelle schon auswendig, wenn ich ihn auch noch nie gelaufen bin.

Es dauert länger, bis wieder ein Trotro nach Legon an mir vorbeifährt, in dem noch ein Platz frei ist, so lange, dass sich der Hunger meldet, als ich am Nightmarket auf dem Campus aussteige. Bevor ich zurück zu meinem Hostel laufe, kaufe ich mir noch schnell was zu essen. Gebratene Hühnerschenkel. Nein, Vegetarierin werde ich offenbar nicht so schnell werden.

Kaneshie, eine der größten Trotrostationen  in Accra

Und noch eine Sache kommt mir in den Sinn, über die ich diesmal sehr froh bin und doch überrascht. Dass ich bis heute ganze 7 Monate unfallfrei in Trotros gefahren bin – all diese alten Lieferwagen aus Europa, die schon vor Jahrzehnten durch den TÜV gefallen sind und nach Ghana verkauft wurden, wo sie nun die Straßen unsicher machen und das wichtigste öffentliche Verkehrsmittel für die breite Schicht der Bevölkerung darstellen... Wie schrieb der Daily Graphic gestern so schön über die Tatsache, dass beim letzten radikal-muslimisch motivierten Autobombenanschlag auf eine Kirche in Nigeria verhältnismässig wenige Menschen (drei) gestorben sind?

     “But luckily God was in control”

Mate — auch: „driver’s mate“. Er sitzt im Trotro gleich neben der Schiebetür, die er bei jedem Stop auf- und zureißen muss und kassiert von den Fahrgästen den Fahrpreis (in meinem Fall 60pesewas = 30 cent). Er schreit auch meistens ziemlich laut die Endhaltestelle aus dem Fenster um potientielle Fahrgäste auf das Trotro aufmerksam zu machen.

Driver — Trotro Fahrer. Schreit gelegentlich auch die Fahrtrichtung aus dem Fenster. Hat den verantwortungsvollen Job, alle Fahrgäste sicher zu ihrem Ziel zu bringen, über Schlaglöcher, Hähne und durch die furchtbar überfüllten Straßen Accras.

Bushroad — Eine ungeteerte Straße, in der Trockenzeit äußerst staubig, in der Regenzeit matschig. Schlaglöcher sind garantiert.

Nightmarket — Ein kleiner Markt auf dem Unicampus, auf dem Gebrauchsgegenstände (Seife, Eimer, Klopapier) und Essen jeder Art (Obst, Fried Yam, Banku, Fufu, Kenkey, natürlich Reis und das berühmte Egg Sandwich) verkauft wird.

Womit wir wieder beim Thema wären!

Last Blog before Christmas ...... or........Afenhyia pa - Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year - Frohe Weihnachten und Guten Rutsch!

I'm staying in Ghana!

After many arduous walks to the International Programmes Office to the Registry and up and down and back again (there are many hills on campus), I had fought myself through, how shall I put it, a bureaucratic nightmare and I finally received the admission for my second semester in Ghana! I am going to do research for my BA-thesis on campus and can start with my thesis here, until I go back to the German summer semester. It didn't actually take me long to work out that I didn't want leave Ghana but then the first semester went by sooo fast and now most of the other international students have already left and gone home to the US, Nigeria, Germany, Norway, etc. My four friends from Giessen are still around but will all be gone in January. Now that everyone is leaving I realize how many things I still want to learn, say, see, cook, or simply how glad I am to be here until May. My German sister and my Australian (host-)sister (in Ghana they'll call us sisters) are visiting me in January and I can't wait to show them around some parts of Ghana, Accra and introduce them to my „Ghanaian campus life“.

Togo, Lomé

Two weeks ago, we, the five Germans, went to Ghana's neighbouring country Togo.

Beach in Lomé

I was slightly concerned about security, especially when we had to cross the border in the dark with all our belongings and find our hotel. Everything ended up well, we did not get mugged by a motorbike gang (that's what the German Embassy warns to watch out for) but decided to spend our evenings at the hotel anyway. The first full day in Togo was a nice change from Ghana, mostly regarding the food. 

French influence - 
even in Ghana's bordertown Aflao

There is coffee, espresso, baguette (sold in the market with avocado and omelette, yum), and our hotel (La Galion) served delicious French-influenced food (froglegs). We could all try our fair share in speaking French – although Paula, our native-like French speaker probably enjoyed it most. The market in Lomé seemed to be pretty much like the Ghanaian markets we've seen, apart from the Fetish market probably. We didn't go there because it seemed verys overpriced (like everything in Togo from our point of view) and weren't sure whether we even wanted to see dead animals.

Avocado-baguette in the making...

Motorbikes, everywhere we looked

On the second day, after we'd had enough of walking through Togo's capital Lomé, we visited Lake Togo and Togoville. After some troubles finding a vehicle, since trotros practically don't exist in Togo, at least we didn't see a single one, we hired a taxi to the lake, then paid again for the boat across the lake, then paid the sweating guys who carried us to the shore, then paid a „guide“ from the „tourist association“ of Togoville because apparently you can't walk around by yourself. 

Full shot: Togoville from  the lake

Close-up: Togoville

Smiley faces

The guide stated the obvious („That's the church and you can read the sign if you want to know more about it“), showed us Vodoo trees and -monuments. When I asked what the money earned by the tourist association is used for, he said „Cleaning the village“. -Seeing how dirty the village was, there was plastic lying around EVERYWHERE, I asked „When?“. - Him: „In three months“ - Me: „Who cleans the village?“ Him: „The kids“. - Me: „Do the kids get any money?“. The answer was negative. After being told that the German Embassy in Togo supports the village financially, too (maybe to pay off some debt from colonial times when the Germans were ruling over Togoland), I left the place behind with very mixed feelings, this time we walked to the boat ourselves, as not having to pay some guys who believe they can earn money by carrying tourists off a boat (future perspective, hey). An hour later, back in Lomé, we packed our bags, had another baguette for lunch and walked back across the border to Ghana. The first thing I heard was a Ghanaian welcoming a friend „Chalee, ah dey, welcome to Ghana“. And then some guy on the radio welcomed us in Twi „Akwaaba bio – Welcome back“. What a lovely sound in my ears! 

Akwaaba bio! Back on the road in Ghana.

Sunset between Aflao and Accra

After finding a trotro from Aflao to Accra within a minute (cheers for Ghana's well-organized transport system!), we were all happy and could not stop talking about how great it was to be back in Ghana despite the short time we'd been away. No doubt, I love Ghana. Julia and I had some fun in the front seats as our car got stopped at every police barrier on the way. Each time, one or two army men would walk around the car, inspect Julia and me more or less obvious, greet the driver and let him drive away. The last one shouted „You are arrested, you five [pointing at us Obronis]!“ but he could conceal his grin as little as we could, so the journey went on.

After Togo, we realized how much we had gotten accustomed to Ghana's reliable transport system, low prices, our bargaining power (bargaining taxis is somewhat not as common in Togo), and genuine people. Bribing in Togo is also expensive and apart from that, it seemed like everyone tried to get money out of us for every little thing. But mind you, that's the impression we got after two days in the capital, I suppose if we had stayed longer and seen the inland, our experiences might have been slightly different.

Harmattan – Dry Season has started

The weather has changed a little in December – it is getting drier and a little colder. That is, us Germans sweat a little less, whereas some (luckily only some) Ghanaians walk around in wollen jumpers. It does cool off a little at night and it is possible to train until 8am without dying in the heat. Moreover, Harmattan winds carry desert sand from the Sahara across to West Africa (or something like that). A strange kind of fog was hanging above Accra in the past two weeks, it is the opposite of cold damp fog, basically, it is a dry and warm layer of dust. I thought it must be smog, first, but it was visible everywhere, not only above the city. The sunrise and sunset couldn't be seen well anymore as the sun set into the dusty fog about half an hour before it is actually gone. The dustcloud has gone a little but it hasn't rained in a while and is not supposed to do so anytime soon. According to Wikipedia, the humidity level during Harmattan can drop to as low as 15%...I have already stocket up on 50 pesewas clumps of raw shea butter at Tema Station, and made the interesting observation that our door in the hostel is not screeching any more and that the bathroom doors actually close – the wood must've shrunk in the dry.

When the sun doesn't shine as much on one day, it sometimes makes me want to snuggle up and drink a warm cup of tea or milo and somehow the change of the weather reminds me a tiny little bit of …

...Christmas!

Yes, it does exist here, too, but is not such a big hype as in Europe, etc. I've been quite happy without any of the pre-christmas stress and the cold and dark times I always have to get used to in Germany. The well-known christmas songs (e.g. „Let it snow“), plastic christmas trees and the odd christmas lights on some of the hotels keep reminding me of the commercial hype back home – which I definitely do not miss. It always seems somewhat unreal to me, when I walk the rocky dusty path to the bushcanteen to buy grilled plantain and hear a well-known christmas song, blaring out of the loudspeaker (there is hardly such a thing as quiet music here), or when I sit at the central cafeteria, inmidst of all the other sportspeople who've just finished the morning training, eating rice porride for breakfast, and the radio is playing christmas tunes. I love it.

I am currently training with the sportswomen and -men from UG who are going on yet another Inter-University Competition in January. Every morning from 5:30am and in the afternoon at 3pm the quiet campus -vacation has started- comes back to live and you'd see people running, hurdling, jumping, playing, throwing, singing, sweating --- the vibe is great! Although I'm not joining the competition, I took the chance to train with the other athletes. My muscles have rarely been as sore as now and I noticed how time-consuming 5hrs training are but I love the exercise and wouldn't really mind doing it over christmas. However, I'm going to spend the three christmas days in an ecolodge at a beach in Ghana's Western Region with my German buddies Julia and Paula and her Canadian sister. No pressies, no pressure, no snow, I'm really looking forward to it. I might miss the christmas eve cooking with my family a little, but thanks to Airtel I can make really cheap calls home and will be in touch with my loved ones.

Merry Christmas :)

Speaking of loved ones, I wish you all a

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Afenhyia pa!

Frohe Weihnachten und ein Frohes Jahr 2012!

Ah de wish u merry christmas and a happy new year! (Just in case christmas greetings exist in Pidgin, too :)

My Life in Accra

My blog so far must sound as if we are constantly travelling restlessly through Ghana. That is not true, however, I have been thoroughly enjoying the past few weeks in Accra and on Legon Campus. In fact, the weeks are passing by so quickly that it scares me sometimes. I'm nowhere near ready to even think about going back home, yet the semester here is drawing closer to its end in mid-December (that is not to say my time in Ghana, though).

I love watching the sunrise at 6am during the crosscountry-training, it's become a routine to visit the seamstress every week to get another Ghanaian dress, I start freezing at 24°C, I know the little bumps and puddles on my ways around campus like the back of my hand, I don't want to stop hearing the lovely sound of Twi around me, leave alone the (less mysterious) Pidgin, I don't want to take my eyes off the colourful clothes, I am still excited putting on my own Ghanaian dresses, Hiplife moves my feet day and night, embarking on a full-blown shopping trip to Makola Market is thrice as strenous but also four times as exciting as walking around in some shopping centre, and … „Obroni, what do you want! Obroni, I love your country“. - ...and „Oh, Obibini, I love your country even more!“

The  Registry on the hill, along my favourite jogging track  on campus

First Ghanaian dress

Fabrics out of which I had the next four dresses made...

Ghanaian Hiplife - this one promoting monogamy...so dance away!

Many of the things that may have seemed inconvenient, strange, or new almost three months ago are now the normalities of daily life:

Volta Region

Mountains,Waterfalls & Lakes – The wanderlust got me even in Ghana

As I have experienced it before, especially in New Zealand, once 

you think you have seen the most inspiring, peaceful, amazing place, you go around the corner and think This is it!

I felt similarly on our way to and through the Volta Region - one week after Kumasi and Bosumtwi. As soon as we'd crossed the Volta River near Atimpoku in a car and taken a quick glance at the glistening water, and as soon as the peaks of the Togo mountain range appeared, a slight feeling of home crept in. Mountains and water always give me this feeling, be it that they remind me of Bavaria or the fact that my parents used to 'drag' me accross every mountain they could find when I was little (for which I am very grateful now:).

Gladly, the four of us, Julia, Lilith and Jojo, were so full of wanderlust that after our first night in Hohoe, we didn't hesitate once at walking, or rather hiking, to the Upper Wli Falls, close to the Togolese border. Our Ghanaian guide Anthony was wearing pink flipflops, hello, it couldn't be that hard! 

Anthony, our guide, and me  (looking huge)

Never underestimate a guide half your size, wearing 0,50€-flipflops but even more so, never underestimate the beauty of this country that will be your reward. 

Wli Falls

After almost two sweaty hours of hiking up a steep path through the thick forest (somewhere referred to as a semi-traitorous walk), gorgeous views onto the Volta Region and Wli waterfall, we had finally reached the upper Wli falls. 

If we'd thought, we had also reached the highest level of wetness without actually jumping into the water, we were wrong, we reached it after standing in the cool spray of the waterfalls for 2 mins. We rested a bit, dried a bit and fed our starving guide with some of our cookies and water (he had finished his own earlier on) and walked or slided back down the mountain. Our search for a rewarding meal at night ended up in the dark due to a major blackout. We saw nothing in the streets, so to avoid falling into the open gutter, we went for another maccaroni cheese at our Grand Hotel.

The following day we made our way up to the promising Mountainparadise Lodge, near Mt Gemi, 2^nd highest mountain in Ghana. It started with an interesting trotro-ride: The car was packed with obronis, who, not knowing how they could get to where they thought they were going, had just followed the four of us. Please, if I ever have to sit in a car with such naive German volunteers again, I will either get a Schreikrampf or I'll have to get off immediately. I have no idea how people with so little clue of anything and lack ofindependence get sent to Ghana to volunteer. Rather more exciting was the fact that our driver had no license and looked underaged (plus he was driving around 11 Oburonis) so the car was bound to be halted at the next police barrier. The police man seemed really fussy, too. However, just as the driver had gotten out of the car and followed the police man, he came back and drove on. The price: Probably 1 Ghana Cedi (0,50€). I call it pseudo-corruption...

The 4 ½ km walk from Fume up to Mountainparadise Lodge was a little harder than expected. We should have known that a mountainparadise cannot be accessed on a straight road...Luckily some guys on their motorbikes came past halfway, so in all our exhaustion we once again we forgot this thing called 'safety' and got on somebody's bike with our backpacks, shorts and no helmets...

As my Spanish teacher put it: This is Ghana, you have to improvise!

on my way to the bar ;)

The Lodge didn't have its name for no reason (another paradise :)), they served coffee, the best groundnutsoup (NamE: peanutnut) in Ghana so far; we had the nicest mountain-panorama from the bar where we hung out eating snickers and drinking Club beer after our hikes, and, nice for a change, we could wear a jumper and socks in the evening without sweating the least bit (Which shouldn't mean that I'm complaining about the heat, though...).

 Jojo's and my disappoinment at the crappy mountainbikes, which did not have brakes or gears and were therefore unsuitable for going up Mt Gemi, was soon gone after we'd decided to follow the girls hiking up Mt Gemi (840m) via Amedzofe, a former German mission. From the -also German- Gipfelkreuz or cross, we could see as far as Lake Volta.

Amedzofe in the background, Mt. Gemi ahead of us

Biakpa village on the left, Mountainparadise on the right

Lake Volta as seen from the dam

On the fourth day, on our way back from the Volta Region to Accra, we had to get on and off an amazing 7 different vehicles to get back to Accra (in between lay a short sightseeing tour on the huge Akosombo dam in between the lake and river Volta). After our past trips, this one was probably the nicest and most pleasant one, not at last because of the local people, the Ewe, who greeted us with a friendly „You're welcome“ everywhere we went. It has also been the only place so far, where I could walk along the mainstreet by myself without dealing with a marriage proposal, friend request or missionaries - sometimes it's nice to be out of the focus of attention. Once again, I said to myself, I'll be back.

Kumasi and Lake Bosumtwi

It has been a while since I've written anything since I was just going with the flow and enjoying life in Ghana. After the previously mentioned trips to the Eastern Region (Koforidua) and Cape Coast, is was time to spend a weekend in Accra. However, in the following week the next trip was already on: Kumasi in the Ashanti Region. This time we were wise enough to leave on Thursday to avoid the insane Friday traffic. VIP busses -which are as comfy as they sound :)- serve the Accra-Kumasi road regularly, i.e. whenever the coach is full. Interestingly though, the road linking the two biggest cities of Ghana was partly untared and left me with the feeling of sitting on horseback rather than in a bus, which was nice anyway since I haven't done that in a while. After the first night at mouldy Guestline Lodge, out of health reasons we moved to the very clean Presby Guesthouse and then hit Keyetia Market, the biggest open market in West Africa. I guess all four of us, experienced shoppers that we are, had their imaginary shopping lists in mind while we stumbled accross the market. We went from the mobile phone section to the clothes, to the shoes, to the slipper-makers, to the fabrics, to the clothes, to the anything-you-could-ever-need section, to the ...abbatoir. We had not fully realized it until a guy came past us carrying a huge severed cattle head on his shoulders. Careful not to bump into any of the pigfeet, cow- and horseheads, trying to avoid the women carrying fish and meat on big plates on their heads and eager not to breathe we finally managed to find our way out again. In the end, this huge market was not a huge success when it comes to shopping but it was worth the experience. Now Makola market in Accra doesn't seem so big after all and now that we've made quite a few market visits, we've come to understand the system behind Ghanaian markets and most importantly, bargaining.

Just found our way out of the market...Sorry I  didn't take any photos in the abbatoir :P

Somehow, despite being the second biggest city after Accra, Kumasi seemed more relaxed, less packed with traffic and not at all like a 1,5 mio city. Nevertheless, we left Kumasi for Lake Bosumtwi the next day already. It took us 2,5 trotro- and one taxi-ride, plus a nice 4,5 km walk along the lake to reach Rainbowgarden Village. The short but sudorific walk with our trekking backpacks made me reminiscent of of my last hiking trips. (Hello to my hiking buddies, especially Karin and Lina and thanks for sharing some of the most wonderful experiences with me!) Anyway, the location where we stayed looked like paradise (that is, my imagination of paradise). 

Lake Bosumtwi

It was right at Lake Bosumtwi and probably the only place we'd been to so far where there were no cars, no (plastic) waste, no pollution (which invariably comes with cars here as they have no exhaust filters), where it was peaceful, quiet and nature as far as once could see. Certainly, until then, it was one of the most beautiful spots in Ghana I'd seen. By the looks of it and from what I've read, the lake is a meteorite crater, it is round and fringed by green hills.

Fishermen

Rainbowgardenvillage

I told myself I'd go back there a second time but by now I have seen parts of the Volta Region and once again decided it was even nicer than what I have seen before...To be continued...