The Dirty Details

Ghana was five hours ahead of home time, so when I began typing that last journal entry, I was sitting front and center on the floor in the Union at 1 am, watching the Packers win the superbowl! I think there were more Steelers fans there than Packers fans, but if you don’t like the Steelers you hate them. Needless to say, we probably picked up a lot of half-fans along the way.

I pretty much covered everything in my last entry, but there were minor and awesome details I left out for the sake of length (I know you’re saying “Are you joking? That was the longest blog entry I’ve ever read!” Professor Kluge wanted a 10-pager. That’s what he got). So let’s chat.

The reason the harbor smelled like elephants and vinegar was because to get to and from the ship we walked about a mile and a half. Along the way there was a massive, old, but still functioning warehouse. When we looked in the open doors you could see conveyor belts shifting and shooting a mixture of brown and ash-colored beans up the ramp like a roller coaster. This warehouse was lodging cocoa beans, one of the main exports of Ghana (the other is gold). The beans were fermented/fermenting and their stench screamed out of every hole in the wall they could find. Many construction workers and other types of laborers walked the same stretch we did in a mixture of really nice business suits and really not nice royal blue prison jumpsuits. The train tracks catered to a two-car train that pushed crates back and forth for a reason unknown to us. Other cargo ships were docked along the port, beat up and rusty, so the MV Explorer really stuck out.

Trotros were our main mode of transportation when traveling to Cape Coast. Very similar to a 15-passenger van back in the states, but on the brink of dilapidation.  It cost 3 cedi, about $2, for the 2 hour bus ride. There was no air conditioning, but I’m pretty sure the windows were glued open, not that I would have wanted them closed in that humidity.

On our way to Cape Coast we passed multiple neighborhoods where people stood on the side of the road with their little wooden, once painted but now chipped and faded stands. People with baskets on their heads (is this real life?) walked back and forth between towns, always wearing jeans. Everyone wore jeans. We couldn’t figure out why, but eventually just decided it was because they were used to the weather. By the end of five days we were used to it, too, although never got gutsy enough to put on pants.

There was a duty free shop right next to the ship that became known as “Club Duty Free” to the shipboard community. I think SASers had them cleaned dry of alcohol by the time we left. The first night we went to socialize and were annoyed to see Ghanaian men walking from conversation circle to circle trying to sell their paintings and bracelets. When they gave up on that, they began to mingle. I had to use a couple fake boyfriends (Ryan I love you the most!) to feel protected, especially when one guy came up behind me and started shaking my shoulders like they tell you not to shake a baby. I made an executive decision that that was my queue to leave.

The port of Takoradi had a water issue while we were there, so every night in port from 10 pm until 6 am we were waterless of all sorts. No drinking, taking showers, flushing the toilet. We got back from Accra too late Wednesday night to get the Ghana grime off, so we met at the pool with soap and shampoo and did what we needed to do to be able to sleep in bed that night without having to tell Rene, our steward, to change the sheets.

The worst and best taxi ride came in Accra when we tried to get to Art Center. Mixing the nastiest traffic in the world with police-run traffic lights and people that wanted to sell you everything you don’t need is a good experience. At one point, we were stopped and 4 arms were reaching in both sides of the car (remember: no AC, windows down). Brandon, who was sitting in the front seat, asked our driver, Samuel, to tell them to go away. Instead Samuel told us to lock our doors. I’m not sure it sounds funny in writing, but if you picture it, locked car doors do absolutely nothing to up our defensive forces when the windows are wide open. Brandon did as he was told, and spent the rest of the ride shouting “Come at me bro!” to every other person who offered him a trinket. That’s a new inside joke. Along with “Screwdriver?” and “A for apple!”.

We spent the last day on a beach lined with smooth, long, red rocks that played host to algae as the waves pounded over them. While most of our group drank at the bar, Jenn, Andy, Ben, Jen, and I walked the shore, climbing and exploring, picking up new shells as we went. We played with fish and sea urchins stuck in small holes, and when the tide went down we were able to find animals like conch, sea anemones, and crabs. We finished our trip with lunch and a raid of the grocery store before heading back to our enclosed, tilting space again for the next six days. Now on to South Africa!