today, i don’t want to leave. April 25, 2010

I have come to love the familiarity of the unpredictability and often unreliability that is Ghana. The unanticipated moments of kindness, the inexplicable spirit and optimism that permeates through Ghana’s jungles and markets, schools and farms. No, I do not have any idea what time I will be able to meet you because I do not know when the rain will let up, when a tro-tro will drive past with an open seat, or what the traffic in Accra is like. I can’t promise I can text message you when I’m close because I may or may not have network coverage. But I can tell you that when I get to you, we will have a wonderful time and we will eat, drink, and be merry for so much longer than anyone from the fast-paced, schedule-stricken Western world would typically be able to stand. But, as a Westerner, maybe I’ll surprise you. For I no longer wear a watch that begs to be glanced at eighty times a day and I have no other commitments today or people to meet tonight. I know that if I don’t catch the last tro back to Legon tonight, someone will help me find a taxi, or you will likely be characteristically kind enough to offer me a comfortable mat on your floor. I have learned more patience than you might expect from someone from my culture, and I promise, I won’t offend you by hurrying to get to you. I’ll see you soon.

***

I do not know a single person who has studied or traveled abroad and come home complaining of the fast-paced lifestyle and constant “being on the run” mentality of the country they were in. No, those of us spending months in Argentina or Ghana or Italy or a myriad of other countries all come to embrace cultures where there is rarely a sense of haste or rushing, where meals are enjoyed with the people we enjoy the most, where the term “back-to-back” doesn’t apply. The veracity of those sentiments astounds me – Americans, especially, are always trading hurrying for languidness when we travel to various corners of the world. In Ghana, it is considered ‘embarrassing’ to walk and eat at the same time. In Italy, a meal under three hours isn’t really a meal at all. Yes, an unreliable transportation system is annoying – get over it. Yes, peers and professors being late all the time is frustrating – get used to it. I had to let go of preconceived notions and expectations based on what I was used to pretty quickly upon arriving here. And I’ve found that was absolutely the best thing I could do; constantly comparing and contrasting or getting worked up because “this is not what I’m used to” is a recipe for a miserable experience abroad, no matter the country, no matter the culture’s customs. Letting go is not only liberating, but also allows for adaptability to flourish. And then, a good time is had by all.

My friends back at Elon are busy with end-of-semester meetings, classes, activities, and exams. I know the feelings of stress and anxiety they’re experiencing all too well – and though I, too, am wrapping up a semester of classes and activities, I couldn’t be on a more different page. And so I am nervous to return home to a culture where it will be expected of me to cram, to be perpetually on the go, to always use my time in the most efficient way possible. I’m nervous because I fear I will fall back into old habits, habits where I measure my day by my level of productivity or by how well I multi-tasked. More than anything, I want to be able to slow down when necessary and press forward when actually needed. Work hard but breathe often. Succeed in great strides, but not at the cost of sanity (or health). Remain focused and driven but never stop loving or listening. Can I leave Ghana and find and maintain such a balance? I will most certainly try.

***

How do we know when we’ve fallen in love with a place? The same way you know about falling in love with anything or anyone else, I guess – you don’t realize it until after it’s happened. Just like one tends to love different people for different reasons, so I have come to love countries. I love Italy for its smell of rosemary, taste of pecorino cheese, for the feel of Brunello di Montalcino going down my throat; for its relationship with mealtimes, perfect al dente pasta and the fact that Tuscany allows me to return again and again despite my inability to absorb what I’ve learned in my cooking classes there. I love Honduras for the music and dancing that lasts for hours, for the thirty-four orphan boys who stole my heart there, for games played under its starry night sky. I love Kenya for its billboards and lushness and Ireland for its funny old ladies and warm pubs. I love Germany and the U.S. because they are both home. And somewhere between January 14th and today, I’ve fallen in love with Ghana.

It had me at the ubiquitous camaraderie, I think, the convivial atmosphere of the markets and demeanor of the people. (And the Ghanaians know they’re loved for it, which I get such a kick out of). And then I fell for local football games at dusk, playing with kids from the orphanage in the ocean, and fufu. After the honeymoon stage, it got better. When I started using my teeth as a tool and learned how to properly bargain for taxis, Ghana smiled. I smiled back when the chief of the mining town of Prestea called me and asked to meet me in Accra next week. I hiked, sweat, ran, swam, and rode through the country. I learned my way around Accra and its surrounding areas, and, after much trial-and-error, I more or less conquered the tro-tro system. Ghana convinced me that you don’t always need toilet paper and that drinking water out of plastic bags can be quite satisfying. We’ve settled down together, Ghana and I, and even though four months is not long enough to learn Twi or travel to all my favorite places twice, it is long enough to have family visit, form deep friendships, and recognize that bits and pieces of this country, like so many other places I’ve traveled to, have pleasantly weaseled their way into my increasingly broadening definition of what I call home.

 

 

proverbs are the palm oil with which words are eaten. April 14, 2010

Some more random things that I love about this place:

You can engage anyone in the street, whether to talk about what they’re selling, where they’re going, the weather (oh, so you think it will be hot and sunny for the next six months? me too), what the taxi you want to take into town should really cost…anything!

Even though Ghanaians are pretty much late for everything (a widely-known and accepted fact), I’m not frustrated by that anymore. Why? Because once you learn to expect to wait anywhere from 20 to 90 minutes for someone to show up for a meeting – once those expectations are managed – it just doesn’t get to you anymore.

Things that are said in my lit class continue to blow my mind. The other day, for example, we were discussing Thomas Hardy’s Tess of the D’ubervilles, and got to talking about progression in society. A Ghanaian student said, “There is something wrong with us Africans. When we accept something new, we think we have to abandon the old, the past.” I am still thinking about that statement. Later, Maggie and I (as two of the only American girls in the class) were asked what we look for in a potential boyfriend in college, and if money and wealth is a factor like it is here. It was hard answering that question on the spot, of course, but what was more hard was saying as delicately as possible that no, money is not a factor for us when it comes to deciding to be in a relationship with someone or (I’d like to think) when marrying someone. I learn so much from my classes here, and so much of it comes in discussion and conversation about differences in cultures and values – and the fact that many of those open and genuine conversations come out of books by Thomas Hardy or deliberations on the concept of import substitution is just plain wonderful. Also, I read the title of this blog post in a book by a Nigerian author. Beautiful.

We celebrated Jason’s 23rd birthday the other day by sharing scoops of that really good ice cream downtown at Frankie’s, a Lebanese-owned restaurant/creamery. Our Rasta friends came too; check out this eclectic crowd.

I saw a woman (she may have been a student) outside of class the other day who had the car of her hood up, was putting water inside her engine (not sure where the water actually goes in a car – ah), and was wearing high heels. High heels! That. Is. Awesome. Would I see that in the States? Have you? Okay, maybe, but it just made me sit there and grin. What a lady. What a culture.

I like that I’ve been able to meet and hang out with people who aren’t necessarily associated with the University of Ghana. I’ve been to two Embassy parties since I’ve been here, and have met extremely interesting individuals from all around the world. The Embassy community in Ghana is a small one, I’ve found, and it reminds me of the military community in Stuttgart. Sometimes, it’s nice to have that sort of small crowd with similar worldly connections when you’re living in a foreign country. The more I learn about the Embassy world here, the more I continue to think about if a career in that sort of service is one for me. Check back in five years. For now, I’ll keep telling anyone who asks that my dream job is to do what Jennifer Connelly does in the movie Blood Diamond. Love her, love the work she did in that film.

So this isn’t necessarily something I loved, but it was an event that turned out all right and I feel as though I should share: a while back, I got some sort of bug bite that, over a period of two or three days, festered into a bad boil and spread over and around my wrist. It hurt a lot and looked pretty bad, so on the fourth night I went to the hospital. It turned out to be what’s known as “Cellulitis.” According to Wikipedia, it is unrelated (except etymologically) to cellulite. But I almost laughed out loud when the Ghanaian doctor told me what the thing on my wrist was called – then I got a few shots and was back to being grim. Anyway, I took to wearing a loose cloth over it for the next few days while the antibiotics kicked in. (It was not pretty to look at, and I noticed more than a few of my classmates staring over the days.) But, I was lucky to have a really good first (hopefully last!) hospital experience here. Many of my friends who have had to go to the hospital for one reason or another have waited for hours and hours, had to go back multiple times, and have spent days getting better or getting something taken care of. Anyway, I’m all healed now, and don’t have much scarring – and what is there vaguely resembles the shape of the continent of Africa, so that’s okay with me.

Okay, sit down for this. Let me tell you about prices. A generous portion of spicy rice with a hard-boiled egg, some salad, and tomato sauce = 50 (U.S.) cents. A bar of the creamiest ice cream you’ve ever tasted is 20 cents. A tro-tro ride into town? 60 cents. A sack of individual water sachets that will last you a week? Less than a dollar.

awesome.

One of the most rewarding things I’ve done at the University of Ghana is become involved with the United Nations Student Association here, through which I participated in Ghana’s first ever International Model United Nations Conference. I’ve blogged about it a bit before, but I wanted to show some more photos. I was the only non-African female, and one of two obronis, which was remarkable and fascinating. I met so many great and passionate young people –  which will always be one of my favorite things about Model UN. Resolutions were passed, debates were fruitful, and everyone learned something. That weekend was one of the most exhausting, challenging, and rewarding I’ve had here, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

visiting the Liberian Embassy

in committee

***

One of the most valuable things about being in Ghana is that I have continued to write about anything and everything. It’s not unusual for me to go to pick up my phone, to call or text a friend or someone I miss, but pick up my pen instead. It’s often hard at Elon to allow myself or push myself to read or write for the sheer pleasure of doing so – instead of for, say, a lit class or creative writing assignment. Along with so many other things, Ghana has given me the time and inspiration to do just that, and I am so fortunate to continue to be molded as a student of writing and follow that passion in an environment like this. I think that, in life, we make room for the people and things that are important to us, whether we think we have time for them or not. When I’m back at Elon, writing will remain a top priority. And if I am going to continue exploring the writing world like I feel so wonderfully compelled to, I’ll make sure a pen and Moleskine are always within reach.

Sometimes, writing comes with recognition – a very humbling thing. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the concept of validation when it comes to writing and sharing it with others, but at any rate, I received an email a few weeks ago telling me that I have had two poems accepted for publication in the 2010 issue of The Colonnades, Elon’s Art & Literary Journal. Also, a photo that I took in Kenya was selected to be the image on the journal’s cover! It’s quite an honor to be published. Maggie will also have a poem in the issue, and it was so great receiving that news together while all the way over here in Ghana. We’ll miss the unveiling of the magazine later this month, but I’m sure we’ll get our hands on a few copies somehow. Here is one of my poems that will be in the issue:

Creating

The people who make me feel most alive do not live here.
They live in adobe huts deep in Yemen,
in tree houses in Oregon, and on the coast
of the Coral Sea. In the arts and letters of all ages
and all walks of life, there is a man who drones melodies,
holding his wrinkled hands and mouth around
a gourd; a woman who finger-paints with purple sand
and the insides of tomatoes.

When I hear spoken word poetry on the streets of Tegucigalpa,
recited by orphaned teenage boys high on glue—cracked vessels
of truths whose rhythms resound in the city’s dust and darkness—
my heart skips. Or when I see a Pakistani grandmother
crushing henna leaves and carefully mixing the dark pasty dye
in preparation for a honorary feast. . .
Mundane, ugly, beloved— it is how, not what, these luminaries
create that stir deep and quiet beginnings within me,

and my heart beats a beat for the troubadours, the dream weavers,
for the papier-mâché masters and blistered dancers of jazz,
as they achieve an artist’s greatest success:
revealing life in what was never before thought of.
Whispering to the remnants of artistry inside each of us,

creators never stop living alive. I pay tribute to those
who unknowingly remind me that what I have to offer—
hands that always smell of clay, a flair for color
and a little bit of gumption—
is enough to tell stories.

akwaaba, mom & dad! April 14, 2010

THEY’RE HERE!

FOOD

It is incredible how much daily life in almost any culture revolves somehow, someway around food. Preparing meals, enjoying dessert, treating friends to a fancy dinner.. it just always matters! Mom and Dad’s first meal in Africa came from our good ole night market right outside our hostel here on campus. They enjoyed joloff rice, fresh mango, and fried yams while sitting on my floor and getting to know my friends who came over to eat with us and greet the ‘rents. So perfect. So Ghana.

It wouldn’t have been a trip to West Africa for Mom if she hadn’t tasted some Lebanese hummus – which she did, at the Paloma Hotel, and she loved it. (I’m a true moocher of a college student – when my parents come to town, whether it’s Burlington, NC or Accra, Ghana, going out to eat — aka enjoying my parents’ company over a meal I couldn’t normally afford — is a necessary treat). Wouldn’t dream of leaving Dad out, though; he got to taste his first Star beer. Later in the week, we all learned that after a tiring day of walking around in the sun, nothing cures high stress levels and a bit of crankiness with a few cold Stars and some AC. Mmmhmm…it’s all about the little things in life.

Other awesome food moments include making sundaes in the courtyard of one of the International Students Hostel with all of my friends; pounding fufu in a village in northern Ghana; and my parents and I taking my dear roommate out to a Chinese (luxury) dinner.

One thing I love about hanging out with my parents, no matter what country we’re in, are the little “funnies” that happen that make for such good stories years to come. So. Mom and Dad seemed to be under the impression that I thought they weren’t very capable doing things by themselves here in Ghana, such as ordering food from a street vendor or engaging in the normal haggling when it came to getting a taxi. They assumed correctly; I didn’t want them out of my sight, for fear of great embarrassment to themselves (and to me) and potential destruction of Ghanaian-American relations. (Just kidding). But, when I was forced to split ways with them one afternoon because of running around I had to do for exam registration, Dad went to a restaurant and decided to order. What did he order? Dear old Dad asked for red-red, a staple Ghanaian dish of beans and rice – except he asked for it without the beans. (Red-red, by the way, is typically served with a side of plantains.) When I walked in the restaurant a half-hour later, Dad said to me, “Natalie, what do you think red-red is without the beans?” I thought hard for about twenty seconds – that was like asking what pancakes were without flour. “Plantains,” Dad said, and showed me his plate. After a good laugh, I went and re-ordered red-red for him. Sometimes, you just can’t let them out of your sight.

"oh, so THAT'S what red-red is supposed to be.."

DAILY ADVENTURES

1. Party at the guest center! My parents stayed in a nice room in the university guest center, which had *gasp* a TV and AC! On their second night, my friends and I headed over with some snacks, beers, and Catchphrase, and we all hung out and talked all night. (Mom rocked at Catchphrase – I was very proud.)

2. Well, why wouldn’t you choose to conquer one of your fears in Africa? Dad has been afraid of heights ever since he took twelve-year-old me to Busch Gardens to ride roller coasters. I convinced him it would be a great bonding trip; I think he just wanted to get out of the house for a few days. At any rate, he rode two roller coasters before swearing never to again, and we haven’t seen him on anything above twelve feet high since. Until we went to Kakum National Park, that is, and he walked across the beautiful canopy walkway with his wife and daughter. Oh, and he loved it.

you go, dad

we were made for adventures.

3. On one of their last days here, Mom took charge and planned out a day of sightseeing. We went into an area of Accra called James Town, which is a really old part of town, and then parked Dad at a beautiful outside restaurant overlooking the Atlantic and while she and I went on to do a lot of fabric shopping. We met up with Dad later and spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing and chatting. I’m pretty sure they loved how this much this trip was a true vacation for them 🙂

we fit.

4. Mom was dying to see as much greenery as possible, so she, Dad and I spent a day in Aburi in the botanical gardens (the girls and I visited Aburi soon after we arrived, and did that awesome bike tour).

aren't they the cutest?

5. “Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming, swimming…” (Name that movie!) One of the best mornings of their trip here was during our time in Cape Coast. Mom and I woke up and played in the ocean. Well, the waves were ridiculously big, so it was hard to swim. But we walked and talked on the beach for a few hours, and then swam in the nearby pool.

TRANSPORTATION

“Transportation here is an adventure all on its own,” said Dad, after the first taxi he and Mom took in Ghana broke down on the side of the road (of course). At least they got to see how used to walking we’ve all become! But it was hard for Dad to get used to walking in the heat – I took them on a campus tour on their first day, which is about an hour/hour-and-a-half endeavor, and it wasn’t long before Dad was asking about the buses. My parents get along so greatly, but what’s a daughter of a sun-worshiper/walking-enthusiast and a AC-lover/wheel-advocate supposed to do? Dad, next time around, I’ll study abroad in Norway.

While up North with the girls and my parents, we girls rode more motortaxis around Mole National Park and the nearby Larabanga village. Holding onto the waist of my driver, I was struck by so many details of my environment: Frank’s yellow shirt flapping in the wind, my racing heart, the dust flying around us, how freaking fast we were going! Later that day, one of the girls asked me, “Are you tan, or just dirty?” I don’t think I’ve been completely clean in three months…

mags pulling up in style.

I love long car rides. I really do. Maybe because I don’t drive/am not in cars as often as many of my friends back in the States; or maybe because, as much as I love trains, there’s nothing quite like a road-trip with friends. But honestly, what can be better than spending twelve hours in a car with your parents and four of your best girls? Dad refused to play word games with the rest of us (typical), I napped on my mother for maybe one too many hours, we stopped on the side of the road to use “the restroom” (aka the bushes), and we made up songs about Mole and animals to the tune of The Lion King theme song, complete with Maggie’s beatboxing. Alllright.

SLEEPING

Like I said: when parents visit, no matter where you are, you get spoiled a little. While staying in Cape Coast, I got a huge double bed and my own room all to myself! I stretched, rolled around, and slept so incredibly well. While Mom and Dad loved the AC unit they had in their room, I had to turn mine off almost as soon as I got in the room – it was just too cold! Sigh. Transitioning back to the U.S. is going to be hard in so many ways.

before bed.

Sleeping underneath the stars on a roof in an African village? Check! Talk about one of the best experiences of my life. On our second night in Mole, the girls and I left Mom and Dad in their motel room and took motor taxis to the nearby village to sleep on the roof of the Salias Brothers’ Guesthouse. There were thin mattresses and a few light blankets, and I even met a few girls from Stuttgart up there. I played with one of the brothers’ little boy, Junior – he was a very good tickler for his age. We all fell asleep talking underneath the stars, and incredibly enough, I got a really good nights’ sleep. I would easily make the 12+ hour trip back up north just to sleep on that roof again.

What better place to nap than next to the pool at three in the afternoon?

ANIMALS

The gang and I spent our first morning in Mole on an early morning hike to see animals. We didn’t see elephants, but it was fun nonetheless.

I saw my first warthog! Pumba, right? This one is eating 🙂

Us being the elephants.. that we didn’t see.

LITTLE BITS OF CULTURE

Not to boast or anything, but in my group of friends here, I am one of the few who still hand washes most of their laundry. I find it so therapeutic, and I consider it a privilege to actually have the time here to spend two hours washing my own clothes. So, when Mom and Dad realized they needed some washing done about half a week into their trip, I gathered my buckets, soap, and clothespins and sat back and watched. Okay, I gave them a little lesson first; to which Dad was indignant and claimed he had known how to hand wash his own laundry for years. He then proceeded to mix up all the buckets of water, and, if I’m to be honest, was quite inefficient with the whole thing. Needless to say, it was very fun to watch. In the end, everything got washed and I was quite proud of my parents. I may have written this before, but I can’t wait to spend time hanging laundry in my mother’s parents huge backyard in northern NY in August. (Grandma, I promise I’ve learned how to properly use a clothesline, now!)

These are some of the kids that live in Larabanga village, just outside Mole. They helped show me how their moms pound fufu; I taught them the “Miss Mary Mac” hand game. Cultural lessons at their finest.

So, running water at Mole Motel worked everyday between 8 and 9 a.m. and 4:30 and 5:30 p.m. Yes, that is what they told us upon check-in. We didn’t shower all that much over our three days up north, but we did spend quite a lot of time in the refreshing pool. Water is water. Swimming trumps showering.

CONVERSATIONS

No trip is complete without a good deal of quality conversations with people you love. We had some great ones. Dad and I talked about our plans to bike across the U.S. together the summer after I graduate; Joanna, Maggie, Mom, Dad and I had a lengthy discussion about religion by the poolside (I learned things about my parents and their spiritual beliefs I had never known before!); and Dad talked business a lot, getting excited about a book he’s writing and putting together. We also talked about my summer plans, which (for any interested) are not all 100% yet but right now include the following: a trip to Athens to visit my best friend Julie who is studying abroad; some time in Stuttgart to see my puppies, sister, and my parents’ new dwelling (and to make some money!); an internship at a newspaper in Vienna, Austria; and, pending official acceptance in May, a week in Malaysia (over my 21st birthday!) where I’ll be a delegate at the Global Model United Nations conference in Kuala Lumpur. I’ll be back in the States near the end of August, and plan to visit family in northern VA and in northern NY before my last fall semester at Elon. I’m glad my summer is going to be a busy one, because it would be very hard to leave Ghana otherwise!

I think my favorite conversations, though, were when I learned more about Mom & Dad getting married; where they were in their lives, how sure they were that it was the right time; and the adventures they shared afterward, like driving across and around the whole U.S. and going to law school together. I get more and more intrigued by their history the older I get, and I know my friends get a kick out of hearing how they met, etc etc etc. I’m a pretty proud and lucky daughter – this I know. On their last day in Ghana, somewhere in between meandering through the botanical gardens in Aburi and wheeling their suitcases across campus to depart for the airport, I said to Dad, “Thanks for making my life exciting.” His response? “Thanks for making MY life exciting!” The best 🙂

family. and text messages. April 10, 2010

I’ve been thinking a lot about family lately. And home. And how I think that home is where my people are, the people who hold little pieces of my heart. And how they’re in so, so many places right now: Stuttgart, Collegeville, Washington D.C., Athens, Elon, London.. and here, in dear Accra. My people here are my right-now family – my immediate family, if you will. We eat together, we travel together, we go to class together; we take each other to the hospital, we share in each other’s good news, we understand what it is to spend four months in this crazy beautiful place called Ghana. Most and best of all, we take care of each other, and I couldn’t ask for anything more from a family.

This morning, my family and I sat in an open-air kitchen of sorts, made a big breakfast, played music, and just enjoyed each other. Tristan was lucky enough to receive instant blueberry pancake mix in the mail (along with some incredible real maple syrup) and we bought eggs, milk, sunflower oil, and sugar bread from the night market and made French toast. No flour, no spatula – improvisation is everything here. We sat on the ground taking turns eating and sharing plates. We listened to ITunes playlists. We talked about our adventures the night before. We were home.

But is it all ending soon? When we all leave here in mid-May and go our separate ways, how much of Ghana, of this family, will stay with us? It is an incredible coincidence that this family all resides in North Carolina during the school year (we’ve already planned reunions for next fall). In my experience, though, I’ve found that sometimes, certain connections can only exist in the places they were formed. But then, sometimes, place never matters, and relationships transcend country borders, highways, oceans. Stuttgart, Collegeville, Washington D.C., Athens, Elon, London…Accra?

Later today, I’m taking one of “my people” who has been visiting for two weeks to the airport to fly back to Israel, his home for the year. In many ways, he’s become a part of our Ghana family while he’s been here, and we’re all sad to see him leave. Needless to say, I am feeling very close to my dear friends here today, and so, I think I’ll share some of who they are with you.

Below are some of the text messages I’ve received since being in Ghana. (I’m on my third cell phone, by the way. I very rarely lose or break cell phones, but in Ghana, three. Three!) The texts come from my people here and my people that are scattered across two other continents; they’re funny, inspiring, sweet; and some don’t make sense and some aren’t in English, but they’ve all brightened my days and are the words of the people I love most and describe the parts of Ghana I’ve come to embrace.

(By the way, I know I’m behind on blogging. It’s been an incredibly busy and exhilarating past few weeks. But they’re all coming in the next few days, I promise! So keep checking back).

***

Goodnight to all and to all a goodnight. But mostly to Africa.

Je t’aime, ma bebe!

That would make me the happiest. Ill put it right next to your vineyard where we can squash squash squash grapes with our feet and then drink the driest wine all day and all night.

Africa looks good on you

be heard – speak less

Oh don’t worry, I didn’t just get hit in the leg by a cricket ball in the middle of the boys’ cricket practice or anything.

happy valentine’s day Natalie. So happy to have u as my roommate n remember dat I’ll always care n love u. have a lovely day!

I love coming home to you.

guacamole making/eating party tonight!

Eleanor rigby would be awesome acapella.

one might say that I cant find my key and therefore am stuck in my room..

didn’t get to see you, so gooooood mornnnning sunshine

BIG HUGS AND LOVES. My bed and this apartment stands still in time until all you girls come back and play with me! I love you all the way around the world!

well, every tro tro refuses to pick me up, but its fine.

I just got a sheep so I don’t know what you want me to tell you.

mm 🙂 sweet to be in the middle of it. take every inch of it in.

haha okay. call me after you make it through the border! for some reason I feel like we are illegal immigrants, going in two groups to be less conspicuous as we dash across dodging gunfire.

bon voyage mi amor, ana nthib ila Tel Abib alan. Ir jua al-youm ba’3ad bokra. (good travels my love) I am going to tel aviv now. I will return the day after tomorrow. Byeeee

I think we have an hour and a half until we get to the border… pregame accordingly!

hey, planning a trip to busua this weekend. interested?

it smells like my grandparents’ backyard back here. thank god, ya know?

that was an extremely lovely thank you note.. it made my day, so thank you for that 🙂 JE T’AIME

well, Louisa thinks im looking sweet so I think I can call it a night.

okay maybe you have no idea how much I missed you, all your experiences in Ghana is how much I missed you

ohhpppp. Well if he’s a good shoe washer, whats not to love?!

sleep well my dear. so glad your parents are here.

I’m representing chile in the model un!

I may or may not have something that you want to put in your fridge..

feed Stella some cheese for me!

hey want to come and see sizzla at labadi beach

nothing; a couple of us are in jphns room chiilaxin; I’m going to get some sugar bread, you should come break bread

we’re having some intense spiritual conversations 🙂 come on over if you want!

! that’s wullah.

am most excited to hear that you are all fine, thanks for inviting me, i will be there tonight, just give me the time. enjoy your canopy walkway.

‘respect my office’ across a glove compartment.

munching on french fries, reading close encounters of the third kind, theres a rainbow around the sun. status update?

ja jederzeit, freut mich für dich!

I found another mining contact for you.

the montgomerys send their love tooo! I’m so proud of you, and I love reading your blog!

yeah, sounds good. Oh yea are we planning on going to Kumasi together at some point? I just realized I need to make sure to get kente cloth

we could make mcflurries for dessert? Fan ice, snickers, etc?

I believe that sometimes the best thing you can do for someone is just to listen to them.

America is Ghana and Germany is Ghana. Did you know that?

my love—have a brilliant time at aburi tomorrow, enjoy your last day with your wonderful parents and I will see you upon your return.

totally wearing a hoody right now

is it okay to crack up outloud by yourself in the middle of a full tro tro or…?

and thank you for being mine. I’ve missed you. I’m watching the time traveler’s wife. I’m going to read it over break. I have a feeling it will change my life.

our taxi driver was speeding and cutting through police barriers yelling out the window that I had to go to the hospital haha

got two veggie pizzas for this girl I kinda love..

the party is on! Saturday 930 onwards to celebrate my and laura’s bday and yovanis’ farewell to Ghana.

I cant wait to drink beer in a hammock with you everywhere

nat, I want you to know how proud I am of you for doing this. Its an amazing thing that you get to live out one of your biggest passions in Africa and I really admire you for throwing yourself into it like you are. Good luck, you’ll be in my thoughts all weekend!

enjoying a cider and fries at the alliance francaise, people watching under a cabana, found the united states of Africa translated into French in the bookstore 🙂

miss Lampert I am fine with your proposal …and I also miss you and traveling with you. but hope you have an amazing weekend with model un!

i want to see you work for the UN.

the names of the bikes she gave me were: surley long haul trucker or trek (tour bike)

just met ruff and smooth so I don’t know what you want me to tell you.

we have been stopped by the police. I wont make it back.

just danced to yori yori at an African wedding…my time in Ghana is complete.

I can hear you from my room. Fail.

send me on my way! I love you!

there is some incredible granola at all needs in a red bag called mornflake. A tad pricey but worth it in my opinion

just eating a free scoop of mint and a free scoop of coffee ice cream with the manager of frankie’s and this guy from turkey, thank youuuu

happy birthday to meeee

nattles-thank you so much for bringing us out to phoenix rising – I had a ton of fun dancing and going to the beach (also, the building itself was absolutely beautiful)…good choice!

just call me whenever you want to go, ill be in my room chillin like a boss

its okay. Americans never seem to understand that I need four people to live. haha. But mostly I would just get lonely if they weren’t around.

now that I have your number I can send you spontaneous texts whenever I miss you – which is a lot – instead of resisting to take up your facebook wall.

I want to take you on errands in town. Just you and me.

there’s a Star with your name on it in room 67, ISH 1…

I called hideout to tell them we want to do a canoe excursion Saturday morning it will be six cedis per person.

nattles, can’t wait to see you and hear about gold mining, hit me up when you’re back

hey buddies! Tomorrow: we are leaving from ish 1 at 745 AM SHARP having already eaten breakfast. Ehehh, a beautiful weekend on the beach with friends 🙂

= my family.