Let the backpacking begin!

Thursday April 8th 4pm.

"Do you like Ginger?"

I love Ginger. Not the sliced, slimy, florescent pink kind you find on the side of your unagi roll with a lump of wasabi and some uneven chopsticks rejected because they are Impossible to use. But the nubby, cracked, mustard yellow kind that the woman who just questioned me was peeling in a copper bowl. I didn't tell her this however I merely replied with a smile and "yes" before I grabbed my notebook and quickly wrote this brief interaction down.

I am sitting outside on a low wooden bench with my feet in the sand listening to Ester sing a pretty hymn while she continues to go at the previously mentioned root with a dull knife. After I enquire she explains that the tune is about eating at God's table in heaven forever.I have become accustomed to such religious enthusiasm over my two months and though I do not necessarily share their beliefs. I find, surprisingly, that I greatly respect the joy and hope that it brings to many Ghanaians. However, at big Milly's (the beach side Hostel I am currently vacating) this is the first time I have heard any mention of Christianity in three days. There is a large Rastafarian vibe here with multiple dreaded heads swaying to the rhythm of reggae with the aroma of "ganja" is always lingering in the salty air (though it's illegal in Ghana and can lead to 20 years Rasta's seem to be exempt due to religious standing). Through my travels I have found Rastas to be some of the friendliest and shrewdest of Ghanaians. The night before last we had a log conversation about oil and the corruption in Ghanaian politics and I was blown away by their ideas and opinions. Esther and I conversed in the small amount of Fante I know (Spelt phonetically).

• How are you? -> Wo-ho-ti-Dehn?


• I am Fine? ->Bo-ko/Ah-ye


• What is your name? Wo-froy-oh-dehn?


• My name is Chloe. -> Eh-freme Chloe


• Where are you from? -> Oh-ho-fre-hehn?


• I'm from Canada. -> Me-Fri Canada


• Where are you going? -> Oh-ho-Que-hehn?


• I'm staying here. -> Mi-ti-ha


• That is Good? -> Hoye-few

Then swichting to english I asked if I could have some boiled water and honey "Pan-cho" -> Please. She gave me a confused look until I produced the small bag I had in my had explaining that I would like to make some Green Tea. Then, not wanting to be rude I took out another bag stating "You are Welcome" (A typical Ghanaian phrase inviting you to share food). I become friendly with the kitchen staff at most places I stay as Kim, Sam* and I have chosen to bring packets of tea and soul with us instead of resorting to 10 cedi meals, Kim says this is excellent preparation for Uni. Last Night we cooked cream of tomato soup with singing Ghanaian children's songs the students taught us and dancing around with ladles in our hands.

" Johnny Johnny. Yes Mama. Johnny Johnny. Yes Mama. Eating Sugar. No Mama. Eating Sugar. No Mama. Telling Lies. No Mama. Telling Lies. No Mama. Open Your Mouth. Ah!Ah! Open Your Mouth. Ah!Ah. Open Your Mouth. Ah! Ah! OPEN YOUR MOUTH. AH!AH!"

The water just arrived with a tiny pot of wild honey (which is nothing like the honey from home is is darker, sweeter and so much better) and while we waited for our tea to steep. I asked Ester to tell me something about herself. And so she explained that her Day name was Abena (Ghanaians are given names for the day they were born along with a Ghanaian and English title. Mine is Adowa, pronounced Ad-jew-ah, for Monday and as Kim was born on Tuesday her name is also Abena) and that she was from the Volta region. Then Becky, one of the cooks we danced with last night rushed in to announce that the fishermen had come in and Esther rushed out to buy the barracuda for tonight's supper (Not that I will be eating any, I'll be making something called Chakalaka soup, which I bought for 95 pesewas at the Grocery in Takoradi. Yum!)

So now, tea in hand, I'm making my way to the balcony overlooking the sea and sand where hopefully I will find someone as desperately in need of company as I am.

1 hour Later:

As is turns out I did, I met ANOTHER Sam! The British manager of the Hostel next door, with a tendency to use "Fuck All" in every other sentence, we struck up a conversation on our favorite places in Ghana. However he soon had to leave in order to enjoy a dish of ginger barracuda (about which I was insanely jealous, and I don't ever like seafood). After his seat was taken by a beautiful Ghanaian woman I was drawn into a conversation about "My Husband" after she stated how lovely my "Wedding Ring" was. I am often asked if I'm married (I wear the ring to redirect eager Ghanaian Men, though it hasn't completely) so I have the story of my husband "RYAN" down to a fine art, and enjoyed a five minute conversation about our blissful 11 month matrimony.

* Sam is Kim's British boyfriend, who matches her hair colour if not her height, who came down to days ago to join us on our one month of travel around Ghana. However yesterday, the hottest day we've had in a month, he obstinately refused to put on any sunscreen stating he wanted to burn so he could tan, and though Kim and I professed that his logic was idiotic he was impossible to persuade otherwise. Now he is stuck in bed with sun stroke and painfully blistered skin while my saintly roommates plays Florence Nightingale.