Adventures in a Foreign Land - Yeeeees, Strawberries, Strawberries!

ROAD TRIP!!!

It’s 2009 and my class takes a trip to a film festival in a neighbouring country by road. From Accra, through Kumasi, Kintampo, sleeping over in Tamale, and continuing the journey the next day through Paga (and yes, we did have fun with the crocodiles at Paga), it was one uncomfortable journey, uncomfortable, yet fun!

The bus was small, every seat was occupied (including the middle seats), journey was  so loooooong, at a point it was more comfortable sitting on the step near the door (we took turns sitting on that step), and we never seemed to be getting to our destination. Did I add the road was terrible? The road was terrible (I hear road’s much better now), and oh, we had guests from New York University (NYU) making the trip with us. Terrible road, long uncomfortable journey, but it was the most fun I’ve ever had on any trip. I doubt we’d have enjoyed it as much had we gone by air. There’s something about taking a road trip with your class that takes the crampiness out of any crampy ride, the terror out of any terrible road and the dis out of any discomfort.

I spent most of the time (more like the entire journey) taking pictures of people sleeping (yeah, I did share a couple on Facebook). No, I did not sleep until we stopped over in Tamale for fear that someone would do to me what I’d been doing to others.

We get to our destination, the film festival was awesome, but something else intrigued me. No, not the friendly crocodiles at Paga, but...

Strawberries!

This country is beyond the northern part of Ghana, where if care is not taken, the skin gets so parched, cracked and roasted (literally) by the sun and yet strawberries are sold on head pans in traffic much like how oranges are sold on the streets of Accra.

No, I couldn’t believe it (and neither could my classmates). We all were of the opinion that strawberries are grown in temperate/colder climates, and the fact that in Ghana we get strawberries only in some shops (mostly at the malls) and they are so expensive and these were being sold on the street and were so cheap only meant they had to be grown in that country (which made no sense).

Yes, my classmates (not me) bought truckloads (definitely an exaggeration) of the strawberries, but there’s only so much a person can eat. By the time we got back to Accra, most were rotten or near rotten.

Moral: Not everything will make sense in life.

Enjoy nice things the moment they are available. Don’t try prolonging the enjoyment. Quite a number of people (again, not me) ended up with rotten strawberries by the time we got back to Accra.

Adventures in a Foreign Land - It Always Seems Impossible Until it is Done!

So said Nelson Mandela, and how true the statement has turned out to be for me in more ways than one.

I am on a fun packed trip, and as part of the fun, me plus 16 others visit a park, Lion Park. It is a park filled with lions and other interesting animals I am quite content watching on the discovery channel. Now, I get to see them up close and in person. Well, it wasn't that scary seeing the cheetahs and the lions and the wild dogs and the hyenas and all the other animals no human (almost) would want to be up close to because, I was in a very protected vehicle with guides who knew what to do, should a scary moment occur (I'm sure they'd still know what to do should that scary moment turn extremely scary). And then I hear there's a lion walk. Of course half the group I was with decided to sit that one out. The other half decided to give it a shot. Me, I decided I'd be smart about it.

So, I'm to take a walk with these fine creatures. There's a guide, but, really? They seem just fine being in the cage. Do they have to walk?

But, I wasn't getting what I wanted, so on second thought, I too decided to give it a shot. What's the worse that could happen, aside the lion making a meal out of me (I'm sure there are more pressing things to worry about like what the sardine companies do with the heads of the millions of sardines that are packed in cans).

My big plan was to quickly get a selfie in front of the lions while they were safely in their cage. But, I wasn't getting the shot I wanted

Apprehensive, but I gave it a shot, and boy did I love walking with and touching the king of the jungle. Imagine if I'd let my apprehension hold me back. I would so not have this story to tell.

Don't we just look adorable :D

Moral: Scared about trying something out? Well, when you actually do try it, you'll realise its difficulty only lay in your mind. The mind has a way of holding us back. Let go, free your mind, what's the worse that could happen?

Adventures in a Foreign Land - Ice Skating

Yes, this one too!
How could I be in such a cold climate and not try it at least once?
Besides, at the time, I was watching the Winter Olympics and it was so fascinating watching people glide, twist, twirl, look so graceful on blades and ice. Ice that made me fall when I walked on it.

I loved where I worked. My work colleagues were amazingly amazing and my boss was just the ish! She throws a staff party for us in her home during the Christmas season and then she takes us all ice skating. Yes, finally, I also get to glide, twist, twirl and look so graceful... (or so I thought) until I saw what I would be gliding on.

How does anyone even stand on these, much more glide and twirl in them?

But me, no, no giving up. I was going to look graceful.
A few times, I managed to stand, by myself. But, just stand. No walking, and definitely no gliding. Nope, no skating.

I'm sure I fell right after taking this picture. 

But most of the time, this happened, and happened, and happened again.

And then I stood up, dusted myself up and improvised.

Like this, boy did I skate. Loved it! (thanks Allen for the support and for the idea *wink*)

Bottom line, I had fun! We all had mad fun!

Miss you guys!

Moral: you fall, you rise, you improvise, adapt and move on...
Moral: we all need each other.
See how I was assisted by Allen in his wheelchair? Who'd have thought that'd be the way it'd be? It usually is supposed to be the other way round.

Adventures in a Foreign Land - Hitch Hiking

I can imagine the look on my face if I wasn't me and I was reading this. The expression that readily comes to mind is, "this one too?"
But I am me so yes, this one too. I just had to try everything (blame it on too much television, curiosity or something like that). But really, it was very necessary (I would like to think).

It's Sunday. I plan going to church. It's a 20 minute walk from where I live to the bus stop (I was 100% sure of that calculation) except that I hadn't factored in snow. That calculation I was 100% sure of was done in the summer and it worked quite well in the fall. It'd just started snowing and I didn't think (I wonder why) I'd need to revise that calculation.

It took me twice as long to get to the bus stop.
It's Sunday morning, the roads had been ploughed but the sidewalks hadn't. Obviously, I missed the bus. Rather than walk back home (forwards ever) I decided to start walking to the bus terminal where I'd still have to catch another bus to church (2 buses I needed to take to get to church). It was quite a long walk, but I'd done it before (in the summer). It still hadn't clicked that walking in summer is totally different from walking in winter. Did I already say it was 15° below 0°C? Guess not. It was 15° below O°C.

I'd been walking less than 5 minutes (after I'd missed the bus) and I was already tired. But there were so many cars bypassing me, if only one would stop and give me a ride just to the bus terminal. And then I remembered I'd seen in movies people walking and lifting a thumb up to vehicles passing by indicating they needed a ride, so I did same (at least I started to until I realised the futility of what I was doing). Needless to say not a single car stopped for me. Occupants of some vehicles looked at me like I wasn't quite okay (more like, like I was crazy), some didn't bother looking at me and others slowed down (mostly ones with nice granny-looking-like occupants) and then they just continued on their way.

After a full minute and a half of trying to hitch hike, I just forgot about that and concentrated on walking. With just about 2 blocks to go to get to the bus terminal, I saw a bus headed there and boy did I stop it and enjoy the warmth of a 2 block ride.

Moral: just because you've seen something being done elsewhere (television) doesn't mean it'll work for you. You don't exactly have to try it.
Yeah, forwards ever, but really it doesn't hurt to turn backwards every now and then (it totally wouldn't kill you neither would it cause the world to end).
Yep, racism exists (of course that thought occurred to me), but really most of the people that sped past me had same skin colour as me. Those that slowed down were so much lighter than me (at least they slowed). Besides, had I been back home, driving, trust me, I wouldn't have stopped to give no stranger a ride just because they look like they need it, even if they were from my hometown (and could prove it).

That said, I reevaluated my calculation and all was right with the world again (meaning, I never had to and I never ever tried to hitch hike again).

Adventures in a Foreign Land - International Money Transfer

The post office was just behind my office. The plan was to stop over there during my lunch break. I learnt I could access the international money transfer service there. Of course I was excited. I wasn't exactly broke, but I could do with the money.

It's lunch time, I head on over to the post office. I tell the guy at the counter that I want to use the international money transfer service. Then he asks if I'm sending or receiving. That question had me mighty confused. Simple enough question, but I didn't get why he was asking me that question. In Ghana, anytime I used the international money service, I just told whoever was in charge I wanted to use the service and then I was handed a form (receiving form) to fill out. No questions were asked. And then it hit me. I am in the developed world. Most of the moneys sent via international money transfers originate from the part of the world I was in, with their final destination being the part of the world Ghana is in. It would make sense to assume everyone using the service in Ghana was receiving. You can however not be too sure about everyone using the service in the developed world. After a whole 30 seconds of me with my blank look, I answer the guy (he was starting to look frustrated). I smile and tell him I'm receiving.

He then tells me if I want cash, I'll need to go down the road (more like take a bus) to the bigger post office, because he can only give me a cheque. Of course I wanted the cash but I had to do this during my lunch break, actually get lunch, and head on back to my office. So I tell him the cheque is just fine. It really wasn't, but my bank was right across the road from the post office, so I figured after getting the cheque, I'd dash on over there, deposit the cheque and hopefully get my money.

I pick up the cheque, head on to the bank, walk to one of the tellers (there wasn't a queue, nice) hand my cheque over to her, she takes a look at it, looks at me, smiles and says, "my dear, why don't you deposit it in the ATM. That way you'll have access to some of the money before the cheque is cleared. If you deposit it with me, it'll take you 3 days to get your money". Must have been a day of blank looks for me, because that's exactly what I gave her for 2 reasons.
1. Why does she think I need the money right away (but really I did)? My skin colour means I desperately need cash, really? Is she racist?
2. What does she mean? Who deposits cheques in an ATM? She's totally messing with me. Yeah, definitely racist!

She smiles at me again and says, "oh dear, you probably don't know how to do that (of course I didn't even know you could do that. totally racist). Come let me show you". She moves from behind the counter and heads on to the ATM machines outside the banking hall with me. Of course I'm grateful this kind lady was being so helpful, but my mind was made up. She was just racist.

She tells me what to do and shows me how to do it, and tells me I can withdraw up to a certain amount of the money before the cheque clears. Then I ask the obvious. "What stops someone from dropping in a blank sheet of paper and withdrawing the accessible amount"? She then tells me that actually does happen, not often, but it does and it's usually a minority group in the country that does that (oh yeah, she just confirmed, she is racist), but they do track some of  them down (yeah, the joys of living in a country where streets are named, houses are numbered, and your bank account indicates all of that, and it's easy to track at least your house down).

I deposit the cheque, withdraw the accessible amount and skip (actually, I just walked) on back to the office on an empty stomach. Lunch time was over. Doing the post office, the bank, time spent giving blank looks and the tutorial I got on depositing a cheque in an ATM machine, just took too much time.

Moral: the fact that something is always a certain way where you from doesn't mean it's that way everywhere. Be open to new ideas. The fact that machines where you are from don't perform a certain function doesn't mean they don't do that in another part of the world. Who knows, that function just might be available where you are from sometime, so learn (I hear there are ATMs of some banks in Ghana that have the cheque depositing function now).
The fact that you have heard of racism doesn't mean just because you are a certain colour, you should be looking for racism in your interaction with any and everyone of the group that are usually accused of racism. Come to think of it, I was probably being more prejudiced and racist than this person. She was just a nice sweet lady who wanted to help (I know no teller in any bank in Ghana if they could, would leave their desk to go help me out with anything). Don't go looking for something that isn't there just because you've heard it exists in the part of the world you in. Racism in no way looks like what I experienced that day.

Adventures in a Foreign Land - Snow, Frostbite, Ice & Slush

I see these adorable slippers in a shop but can't buy them because I don't have enough money. I go back to the shop a week later to get those very slippers, and I'm just about to pay for them, but the guy at the counter wants to and does question why I choose to buy slippers in Fall. Ah! I so didn't get that. So why is the shop selling slippers in Fall and why has the price been slashed by more than 50%? Is it not to entice me to buy it (that's what I wanted to ask him)? I just smile, say nothing while he goes on about how I'm probably going on a vacation in the Caribbean (I wish), and then some of the other shoppers start pointing outside with excited looks on their faces. Finally, the guy shuts up and turns round to look outside. Oh my! it had started snowing. My very first time seeing snow. Now, I'm in a hurry to get out of the shop. The guy turns round to face me and goes like, "now, you definitely can't wear those here. Better speed up on those vacation plans". Ah! This boy paa! Which one is his own? I'm buying my slippers to take back to Gh and there he is going on about vacation.

Finally! I step out of the shop and the snow flakes awwwwwww... I honestly don't know how to describe the feeling. I walked and walked and walked (when I could have been on a bus) just so the snow flakes would fall in my face (breathtaking). First snow that winter so the ground was still brown. I just couldn't wait to see the ground all covered in snow like I'd seen in movies and read about in books.
My fascination with snow was extremely short lived. Let's see, first the temperatures were always somewhere between 20 to 30 degrees below 0, when there was enough snow on the ground, I managed to twist my foot in it and fall (fortunately there was more than enough snow on the ground to cushion my fall), oh, and then I got caught (or got myself caught) in a blizzard (with that one, I got blown to the ground no less than 10 times), and then the frostbite. Ok, ok, ok, slight exaggeration. I guess it could be characterised as frostnip, but that really was my fault. I disliked the idea of wearing a tuque (knit cap or ski cap). I didn't look good in it. Beats me how I was ok falling because it was not my country plus no one really knew me, but I was bothered about how I looked in a tuque. I've given up trying to understand that. My ears were always exposed to the cold, which could be for long periods especially when I'd stand at the bus stop. Turns out me using just my hair to cover my ears was not enough. With time, one of my ears became real huge and extremely darkened (looked almost burnt). Then the darkened part peeled away (more like I forcibly removed the dark part) leaving me with one regular coloured ear and one ear that looked bleached. With time, I ended up with this:

Looks like this is permanent since the ear has been like this for a couple of years. My response to curious observers depending on my mood is; it was caused by hair relaxer or I got burnt by a hair straightener (it's possible I caused a couple of women to go natural)

And then when it wasn't too cold, some of the snow would start to melt, then it would get cold, so the melted snow would freeze. There were thus quite a number of icy patches here and there when this happened, and yours truly would slip, slide and fall. Unfortunately, no cushion for me this time. I would fall bum first and would feel the full impact of the fall.
Some cities use sand, others use salt on the roads and sidewalks in Winter. I lived in a city that used sand. Hmmmmmm... so when it was nearing Spring and the snow started melting, there was a lot of not so nice looking slush around and then there were some icy patches too, which I'd slip on, and when I'd fall, not only did my bum hurt, but my clothes would look not so nice (dirty).

Moral: not all that glitters... and, when in Rome...

It really wasn't all that bad all of the time. There were quite a number of fun times in the snow, like the snow fight and when we were putting decorations outside for Christmas and when we didn't have to bother putting our drinks in the fridge for a party (we just buried them in the snow out front), oh and when we kept our Thanksgiving dressed turkey in the garage (I thought that was funny).

Adventures in a Foreign Land - Support For Ghana

I was at work when the accountant walked into the office I shared with a lady from Ghana. He had in his hand a newspaper clipping of the Black Satellites of Ghana winning the 2009 FIFA U-20 World Cup by beating Brazil. Oh yeah, all the Ghanaians were excited about that and I was mighty surprised this guy even knew what football (aka soccer as football referred to a different sport for him) is and even more surprised that he cared. He congratulated us (myself and my office mate) and said how well the boys played (even I didn't watch the match).

Fast forward 2014, before the start of the World Cup and in a different country. I was with 3 Ghanaians and whenever we mentioned the country we are from, we instantly made new friends, the locals would gush, "wow! Asamoah Gyan", and go on to tell us how they feel Ghana will do well at the 2014 World Cup.

Congrats to the Super Green Eagles of Nigeria for making it to the next stage! Praying the Black Stars of Ghana will meet you guys there.
Go Ghana!
Go Black Stars!

Moral: it doesn't hurt to support your own country, but even if you don't, chances are, someone, somewhere is supporting your country.

Adventures in a Foreign Land - Girl on a Mission, Disapproving Adult!

I'm in a restaurant and this girl keeps walking up and down, seemingly with an aim. She stops at almost all the tables with men seated on them, whips out her phone, talks to the guys, they say something, she punches something in on her phone, and then moves on. I really couldn't see what she was doing, but I just guessed she was taking phone numbers. I honestly wanted her to stop at my table (there were 4 guys on it), but she didn't. I hope it had nothing to do with the not too nasty (at least I hope it wasn't) look I kept giving her. In my head, I knew what was going on, in my other head, I wanted to find out if she was starting a men only monastery.

So let me describe the girl a bit. Her hair was cut real short and had been dyed blond. Her dress was short, but not too short. It just looked really short from behind cos some part of her lifted the dress up thus making it look real short. Now, I would talk about her behind, but I won't. Cos for me, as a very straight female, it caught my attention, but I had come to realise that behinds like that on girls/women in that part of the world was nothing out of the ordinary. The very weird thing about her though was she had this way of walking that (I wish I could describe it) made her behind appear more endowed than it already was.

Me, my disapproving thoughts in my head with my nasty look on my face, then an older lady next to me comments, "I don't know how things are in your country, but I don't like the look of that girl". Well, neither did I, but I realised one thing,

Moral: adults will always be adults no matter what part of the world they are from.

Adventures in a Foreign Land - How To Look Awkward On A Bus!

For some reason whenever I got onto a bus, I'd sit/stand as close to the driver as I could. Hardly would I sit in back. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that I'd have to get onto the bus from the front door, show my bus pass to the driver or pay, and it really didn't make sense to walk all the way to the back after (I should add that I didn't particularly mind that I'd be in other people's way, especially when there were no empty seats).

When I had to get off the bus, I'd always still use the front door though I could use the rear door (and should use the rear door to make way for incoming passengers). Well, I was always close to the driver so it made sense to use the front door. Thing is, when I would sit/stand close to the rear door but definitely before the rear door, I'd still get off using the front door (while avoiding the weird looks). I always saw people get off using the rear door so I knew it worked in just about all the buses. Usually, I see them get to the rear door, and then it opens, kinda like the front door.

On this lovely (not sure how lovely cos it was 20°C below 0) day, I get onto the bus and all the seats in front are taken. There are however empty seats all the way in the back. So, I make my way to the very last seat and settle there. We get to this bus stop and all these collegiate (high school) students get on. They are so many that the bus immediately fills up to capacity with most of them standing.

Now, we get to my stop and I ring the bell. The bus stops and I get up. It really would have been next to impossible (not really, I could have just shoved everyone aside) to get to the front door so I use the rear door, which was too close to where I sat. I get to the door and nothing happens. I ring the bell again and I get some weird looks. For some reason, I'm the only one in back getting off. All those getting off at that stop happened to be sitting/standing close to the front door. I look up front and I see the front door opened okay. For the life of me I couldn't figure out why the rear door just wouldn't open.

Then I hear one of the collegiate students (did I already say the bus was just about full of them?) say, "press on the yellow tape, dummy". I go like "huh". and then another says, "seriously, just press on it with your thumbs". At this point I hear a snicker or two and I see not just the collegiate students but everyone else on the bus including the bus driver looking impatient. So, I look at the door and I see the yellow tape the kids were talking about. And right there on the tape it says "please press", and there's actually a diagram of a thumb pressing on the yellow tape, so I try it.

Lo and behold, the door swings open. Yay! Before I got off though I heard someone (I'm very sure it was one of them collegiate students) say "dunce". Had I known what I know now, I would have said "tweaa" and walked away.
But seriously, had there not been a mixture of races among the students, I'd have pegged that as a racist attack, plain and simple.

Moral: read notices, always.

Adventures in a Foreign Land - Robot

I was heading to a concert in a country other than mine (and so determined to not be late). Knowing the concert would be packed, I left the hotel so many hours before gates to the venue would open (I sensed there would be mad traffic).

I am close to the venue and some of the roads were closed depending on the ticket one had (I had VVIP tickets so, all roads were open to me :D). I showed my ticket to one of the security men, and he says "ok, first robot, second robot then take left". I am looking at him totally in awe because in my head, they got robots to direct people at the concert. Totally awesome if you ask me. My chauffeur goes like (he had to speak because my mouth was still open in awe) "ok, thank you", then drives off.

We go forward for a bit then my chauffeur takes a left. "Ah! Why did he do that? The robots haven't even come yet", - that was me thinking in my head. Aloud, I go like, "I think you've made a mistake. The security man said we should take a left after the second robot".
Chauffeur: "But that's what I did".
Me: "No, the robots haven't come yet".
Chauffeur: "hahahahahahahaha... (I'm sure if he could have, he would have been rotflhao).
Me: "Did this guy just lose his marbles" - that was in my head. Aloud, "Why? What's wrong".
Chauffeur: "Robot is the traffic light. What the security man said meant, I take left after second traffic light".
Me: Looking very foolish, "Eh! Traffic light is robot? Eish! I didn't know ooo... In my country, traffic light is just that, traffic light".

Moral: unless your name is Google, you don't know everything!

Adventures in a Foreign Land - It's Halloween!

For a really long time, the only thing I knew about Halloween was what I'd seen in movies and read in books.

So yes, I was pretty excited when Halloween was approaching and I was going to experience it first hand. I figured I was too old to go trick or treating (at that age, it would make sense to take my costume and go to a party instead), but I was totally going to be home and hand out candy to the trick or treaters that rung the doorbell. Oh boy! Couldn't wait to see the creative costumes the kids would come dressed up in.

Candy ready, I'm watching TV in the den and waiting and waiting and waiting... It's almost midnight and I'm wondering which parents would allow their kids to go out at that time. What was going on? I had my bowl of candy all ready by the front door but the doorbell just wouldn't ring. Kids couldn't be stuck in doors because of a snow storm because it hadn't started snowing yet. Yeah, it was cold but even I could brave that weather and walk outside (dressed appropriately of course).

Why were these kids depriving me of my Halloween experience? I would probably have been better off going to the Halloween party at the university. I just thought it would have been more exciting handing out candy to trick or treaters. Besides, I didn't have a costume and I would have so needed one to go to the party.

At half past midnight, I'm tired of watching TV so I descend downstairs to the landing to go move the candy back into the kitchen. I guess kids in this neighbourhood either don't like candy or they just don't trick or treat (totally not liking the bougie neighbourhood experience). I turn the light on to get the candy and then it hits me.

My hostess, before she left for work (night shift), said over and over again "do not turn the light off in the landing or the kids are going to think you either not home or don't want to be disturbed". Reflex had me turning the light off after leaving the candy by the front door. Bummer! I messed up my own Halloween experience.

Moral: you are more likely to mess things up when you are overly excited. Chill!

Adventures in a Foreign Land - Daylight Saving Time

First time I heard of Daylight Saving Time (DST), I didn't quite get it, but I was excited. It was Fall (almost November) and I was told on November 1st, I was to set my watch an hour backwards. I did think it was interesting that everyone had to know and do this, and at the same time I thought it was pretty cool. For me, all that mattered was I'd get to sleep an hour more (of course I wasn't thinking of sleeping an hour less when the process was reversed in Spring).

I woke up bright and early one lovely Sunday morning and went through the motions of getting ready for church. When I was done, I set off and did the 20 minute walk to the bus stop. I got there with 5 minutes to spare before the bus was scheduled to arrive. Unfortunately this bus stop was not sheltered so I took a seat and waited in the cold. 10 minutes after the bus was scheduled to arrive, no bus in sight. 15 minutes, then I got worried. The buses aren't usually late, well at least not that late. At 20 minutes after the bus was to arrive at this stop, I was convinced I was feeling whatever a block of ice feels. At least I know I looked it because a taxi stopped right in front of me.

I wanted to scream "help me!" when the taxi driver rolled down the passenger window, but aside my lips feeling too frozen to move, I knew I couldn't afford to take a taxi. Matter of fact, aside money for offertory at church, I had no money on me. All I needed was my bus pass, which I did have. I had earlier contemplated going back home, but besides being determined to go to church, another 20 minute walk in the cold wasn't exactly a thought I wanted to have.

So the taxi driver asks where I'm going and I manage to tell him thanks, but I couldn't afford the taxi ride. He then goes like "Oh no! You look like you need a little help. I'm not charging you".

Whew! I jumped into the cab, rolled up the window he'd rolled down and then I tell him where I'm going. Unfortunately he couldn't take me to church but offered to drop me at the nearest bus terminal, which fortunately, aside being sheltered was heated too. Off we went chit chatting to the bus terminal. Turned out he's Tunisian and stopped to talk to me because he saw a fellow African in need. Also turned out he has a sister-in-law from Ghana. Boy did we have a lot to talk about.

I got off at the bus terminal thanked the cab driver and went on to check the bus schedule put up on the notice board. Fortunately for me, a bus that would pass close to the church I was headed to, came by like two minutes after my arrival. I hopped on and was on my way to church. All this time, I hadn't figured out what was going on. I just figured the bus broke down or the bus driver fell sick or something. Have no idea where I got these ideas from because I had never experienced a bus being this late ever.

And then I got to church and the doors were locked.

I was stranded. Here I was standing at this non sheltered bus stop, which didn't have a seat, with no idea when the next bus was going to come by. I just knew church service lasted 2 hours and that 15 minutes after church service ended, a bus would come by that would drop me at another bus stop where I would wait 5 minutes to catch another bus that would drop me where I'd do my 20 minute walk home.

So I'm standing close to the church trying to decide if I should start hitchhiking, not sure if I should try something like that in a foreign land, knowing very well I would never do it in my homeland, when I see people and cars heading towards the church. At that time I must have stood at the bus stop contemplating my next move for about 20 minutes.

I make my way into the church still not sure what happened that day until I picked up the newsletter for that Sunday at the entrance of the church. The date on the newsletter read November 1st and I could almost have kicked myself for not setting my watch an hour backwards the night before. I missed out on more sleep and was stranded in the cold more than once.

Moral: even when you think you are sure, double check.

Adventures in a Foreign Land - S'mores

A colleague of mine at work moved in to a new place and she and her housemate decided to have a house warming party. Naturally, she invited most of the young people in the office (prolly she invited everyone but the older people just dint show up).


I loved the house! It wasn't too difficult to find and it's just so amazingly cute. I was one of the first (actually, I was the first) to arrive. That's mostly cos I wasn't sure just how difficult or otherwise it would be to find the place and I dint want to get there too late. Getting there early wasn't too bad though. I got to chat with the ladies and there was a lot of chips and dip and boy did I eat. Seriously, I thought there was gon be real food so I passed up on supper at home (how I regretted). It was very good I got there early cos I got to eat as much of the chips as I could without looking too weird cos there wasn't anyone around to look weird to.

As the other guests started to arrive, my work colleague announced that we were going to roast marshmallows outside and that she and her housemate had had a bonfire going on outside all evening. Turns out it had been real difficult to get the fire going. Why? Cos it was 2 days away from December and it had been snowing all day. Exactly why I had an incredulous look on my face when she announced we'd be going outside (she had no idea how grateful I was to be inside). We get outside and I asked the fire why it had just not stayed off (yes, i did). It was about 25°C below zero and here I was abandoning the warmth of the indoors to roast marshmallows. It was still snowing but the fire just wouldn't go out. The other thing too was, I'd never roasted marshmallows (just read about it) and I was hoping I wasn't gon look too silly. Well, I did over roast a couple but they understood (I hope).

Somewhere along the line, someone suggested we make s'mores. What's that? (that's what the look on my face said). My colleague looks at me and then breaks it down to me. "A s'more (smore) is a traditional nighttime campfire treat in the United States and Canada consisting of a roasted marshmallow and a layer of chocolate sandwiched between two pieces of graham cracker". Huh? (more like yuck!) Why would anyone want to make that combination? Well, since I was in a new place, I tried to open myself up to try new things (not everything though) and guess what? I loved it (not with the marshmallows I roasted. most of mine looked blackish. I'm sure they're supposed to look whitish). And guess what again? I loved the experience. The definition dint say whether the nighttime campfire should be in the middle of winter or summer and yes, I was terribly cold but I loved hanging out with my new friends (besides, the fire did give me some warmth). And guess what again again? We had a snowball fight when we were done with the s'mores :D This was definitely one of my most fun nights in a foreign land.

And guess what again again again? I ate more chips and dip, played twister and played some wii video games (of course all this happened indoors).

(as usual), the moral of this story: Never judge anything by its look or how it sounds or just never judge a book by its cover. I would have missed out on all that fun if I'd insisted on staying indoors (by myself) and though s'mores sounded kinda yucky, they actually tasted real good. And the other moral is: If you know you can't do something right, don be shy to ask for help. I so couldn't get the whole roasting marshmallows thing right but when I asked for help, other people did the roasting and I just put the crackers and chocolate together with the roasted marshmallows and we all enjoyed it.

yuck? nope. Yummy!

Adventures in a Foreign Land - Almost Feels Like Home

Overcrowded neighbourhoods, dilapidated buildings, overflowing garbage bins with an indescribable stench, artificially created footpaths where there once might have been a well manicured lawn, cluttered balconies and groups of people sitting outside watching your every move with overly suspicious stares. Did I just get off a bus or did I just walk out of an aeroplane? I know I just got off a bus so why do I feel like I'm home? Last time I checked, home was over 6,000 miles away.

A walk through Central Park in Winnipeg, Manitoba had me wondering if I was back in Ghana or if I was still in Canada. Something had to be terribly wrong. No part of Canada is suppossed to remotely remind me of where I came from, or so I thought. What even baffled me more was, everywhere I turned, I just kept seeing other Africans like myself and a few other minority groups including a group I had come to learn about during my stay in the country, Aboriginals. I would almost have fit right in if I didn't feel like and wasn't being treated like a stray.

All I had wanted was to get to know my new environment as much as I could in the short time I had. Last thing I'd expected was to find a bit of my country in this country, especially since I had only been exposed to the plush neighbourhoods I had expected to see. As a matter of fact, I lived in one such neighbourhood. Of course, I termed these neighbourhoods plush by my standards.

As I got on a bus to ride out and head on back to the plush neighbourhood with a bougie name (Royalwood) I lived in, I couldn't help but hope all the people back home who would do just about anything to get out and seek greener pastures in the West could see what I'd just seen. Sad thing is I was one of those people. Worse yet, even though my neighbourhood in Accra was not as plush as the neighbourhood I lived in in Winnipeg, it was so much better than this place I'd just left.

Moral: (yeah, there always is one) there's no place like home :D

This is so not Gh



Adventures in a Foreign Land - The Blizzard!!!

As usual, I woke up, took a shower, got dressed, had breakfast, got my coat, mitts, muffler etc. and headed on out. I open the front door and oh my goodness! (I dint even get to fully take in what I was saying "oh my goodness!" to cos I had to attempt to shut the door with lightening speed). My goodness! the gust of wind that blew in when I opened the door eh, hm, if I hadn't been holding on to the door, I'd prolly have been blown onto the ground. I literally had to fight against the wind to shut the door (seriously).

Ei! I had never seen that much snow in one place before. Everywhere was just white and the snow in the driveway was like waist deep (I am not exaggerating. I should prolly add that I used my height to arrive at that estimation).

Obviously, it dint make much sense to go out in that weather besides, it was a 20 minute walk to the bus stop (I couldn't imagine doing that walk in that weather). But hey, I had to get to work and it was just about 20 minutes to the time the bus I needed to board to get downtown, would arrive at the bus stop. I did contemplate waiting for the lady I lived with to show up from work, which would be in a couple of minutes (she was on night shift). At least then, I'd get a ride to the bus stop. Decisions, decisions. And I had to make that decision chop chop (time was running out).

Eventually, my Gh friend (I lived with her too) advised that we brave the weather and head for the bus stop (made sense. afterall, in that weather, we had no idea when the lady would get home or if she'd be willing to go out again).

So, on we went, trudging through snow that was knee deep (knee deep for the both of us) and yep, I had my first fall right after the driveway :( Turns out it was gon be the first of many falls {the wind just kept blowing me onto the ground snow, (seriously). Don't know if I am that light or the wind was just that strong, or a combination of both :| }

Hmmmmm... the 20 minute walk turned out to be an hour and a half walk :o The wind was just too strong (I guess that's why it's called a blizzard), I kept falling onto the ground snow (I even gave up after a while and just sat down for a bit) plus it was very difficult to walk fast or walk at all in snow that was knee deep. The roads were being ploughed but the sidewalks weren't :(

Obviously, we missed the bus and all we could do was sit at the bus stop, which wasn't even sheltered and contemplate whether we should go back home or attempt to walk to another bus stop. We were out of breath and the thought of walking any further wasn't appealing at all. Worse yet, we were literally freezing at this bus stop. We had to make a decision and act on it fast (walking dint even keep us warm). It was just too cold and if we sat at that stop any longer, I'm sure all that would be left of us would be ice sculptures :o

And then, Halleluyah! We spotted the lady we lived with driving towards us. Apparently, she'd seen us on her way home, made a turn around and came to get us. The heat in her car was just such a relief (I have never been that happy to feel heat. Well, I could count a couple of other times I was but this one tops all those other times). She dropped us off at another bus stop, which was thankfully sheltered (at least we got some heat) and where we could easily get another bus headed downtown.

We got to work eventually though we were awfully late but hey, who was checking? We'd just survived our very first blizzard (my bum was real sore afterwards though. the snow cushioned a bit but not completely).

Moral? Your friends don't always have the best advice. Bad weather isn't really always just an excuse not to be at work. If it's a blizzard, abeg, stay at home (even if you have a car).

It is refreshing to blog about something other than food :D

Adventures in a Foreign Land - Poutine

What is poutine? Poutine is a French Canadian dish, made with french fries (chips), topped with brown gravy and curd cheese. Sometimes additional ingredients are added e.g. beef, pork, lamb, lobster, shrimp, caviar (I do have a story on "my first caviar", but this is getting too food related), but basically it's french fries, gravy and cheese. Does sound kinda yucky huh? (yeah, that was my first thought when I heard what went into it). This is what poutine looks like.

Poutine - looks yummy?

I remember there was this time I went out with a friend, I ordered a burger and he ordered poutine. I just kept looking (more like staring) at him as he ate and I actually asked if he was enjoying what he was eating. He just gave me this totally incredulous look and was like "of course".

Sometime after that, some Ghanaian friends invited myself and my Gh work colleague out to lunch (of course this time we went very prepared to pay even though they are guys and Ghanaian). We get to the restaurant, look through the menu and we both order poutine while the guys ordered something that sounded familiar (I think one got french fries and lamb or something and the other got rice). I really would have ordered a burger but I wanted to know what poutine tasted like. The food arrives and guess what? I couldn't eat it (neither could my Gh friend). Eventually, she gave up and joined the guys to eat their "familiar" food, but I was determined to eat what I had ordered (and all I kept saying to myself was "where's the MEAT?").

At the end, the guys paid for lunch, I dint enjoy my lunch and I so wished I'd just ordered something else.

Moral: (is there even a moral to this? yeah, I think I can find one) it's good to try out new stuff but you won't always enjoy all the new stuff you try (condition your mind to that) & don't try out new food on an empty stomach (you just might end up regretting big time and just eating what's in front of you just cos it's food) plus it doesn't hurt to give up (sometimes). I seriously wished I'd given up and joined the others to eat the "familiar" food (the guys would have understood. they really dint get why we ordered what we did and they kept trying to get us to change our minds. I'm sure in their heads it was all "I told you so", but they were nice enough not to voice that out). Matter of fact, I dint join them cos I was just fronting (acting all like I was enjoying it when I wasn't). It doesn't hurt to admit when you are wrong (afterall, you human).

I hear poutine is actually real good depending on where you get it at. It might have tasted better if I'd got it at say Burger King or A&W (I had it at a university restaurant).

Adventures in a Foreign Land - The Sushi Date

Where I’m from (at least what I’m used to where I’m from), usually, when someone invites you out to lunch or dinner (basically to do something that involves the spending of money), unless otherwise stated, the person (or people) that did the inviting pay for that something.

I’d never had sushi (the thought of raw fish still sends something up and down my spine) before so of course I was curious about it. Imagine my excitement (ummmmm... I think) when two of my work colleagues invited myself and another Gh gal out for lunch, and we were gon have sushi (Yay!). This invitation came a week before the lunch date (I guess you could call it that) so we had a whole week to contemplate how this date was gon go. I was of the opinion that we should go prepared to pay for our food especially since the invitation came from females (besides I’d heard that even with guys over there, you’d still have to settle your own bill). My Gh work colleague however was of the opinion that since we were “sitting our somewhere”, and these ladies felt we should try sushi (it is after all more than just raw fish. I always thought it was all about fish that was raw), then they would have to pay (I really don't know where this idea came from ooo... it was more of gals gals going to get lunch or something. why did we expect them to pay for us?). Of course you can’t blame her cos we were barely surviving on the money we made plus jeez! just about all of it went into paying bills (yuck!). We dint exactly have enough to spare on food we’d never tasted before and we weren’t even sure if we’d have to go look for some fufu to swallow afterwards in order for this sushi to digest. Besides, we always brought lunch from home (much cheaper).

Ok, so it was the day of the date (really, I don’t know what else to call it), one of the ladies drove us to the sushi bar and we left the “inviters” (doubt if that’s a word) to order. Oh my goodness! The food was actually really good. I loved it (at least I loved their selection). Of course I dint waste time trying to use the chop sticks (why bother when there was a fork?) And yeah, I did stink at using chop sticks (why would anyone want to eat with sticks anyways? that of course is a topic for another day).

Sushi done, waitress brings the bill and these ladies take out their cell phones to do the math :o Yep, they split the bill four ways L (these people paa... If I'd known, I'd have eaten more. the food was served on a tray and everyone just ate as much as they could).

Me, I came prepared papa. Matter of fact, I came over-prepared. I paid for myself and even had enough left to sort my Gh friend out (obviously, the money she had on her couldn't cater for her portion of the bill).

Moral of the story: there's nothing like over-preparation (seriously), your assumptions aren't always the truth (when in doubt, seek clarification) and it doesn't really hurt to try new stuff regardless of how weird they seem (who would have thought raw fish tasted good? some of it dint taste so hot though. with those ones, I dint eat too much, but if I'd known I was paying for them, I'd have eaten more papa). And finally, your friends don't always have the best advice (I have another story to illustrate this point. imagine if I'd also showed up with little or no cash).

P.S. my next adventure also has to do with food but it so does not mean I'm all about food (just a coincidence).
P.S.S. I tried Thai food some time eeeh and it was nice papa. This one I dint pay for. Was brought in for lunch during a board meeting at work (how I ate). There's this one with coconut juice in it... mmmmhmmm...

The Other Day I Should Never Have Forgotten...

After my experience the previous semester, I made it a point to leave home 3 hours to the start of each paper, have enough money on me, and make that decision to pick a taxi when it was about 2 hours to the start of a paper, and of course to read all instructions and information on any question paper before answering questions (there's a reason why all that information is printed on the paper).

So it's the next semester, examination time and time for the psychology (the other course I took in Humanities) paper. I get to campus with 2 hours to spare before the start of the paper. I decide to read through material I had on the course and after an hour, I get everything ready.
Pen - check
Pencil - check
Eraser - check
Ruler - check
Correction Pen - check (some of the stuff, I dint really need but I brought them along anyways)
ID card - ???
ID card - ??? (where is my ID card?)
Oh my goodness! I decided to switch handbags that morning and my ID card dint make it during the switch. It was an hour to the start of the paper and obviously impossible for me to go home and make it back in time for the paper. What was I to do?

I decided to make for the exam room and hoped and prayed the invigilators wouldn't hustle me about not having the university ID card. At the entrance, there was this very hard to ignore notice that said students without ID cards would not be allowed to write the exams, but I decided to not see. I went in, found my seat and got comfortable. At this point, it was about 25mins to the start of the paper. At about 10mins to the start of the paper, I asked one of the invigilators if I would be allowed to write the paper since I dint have my ID card with me. He asked if I couldn't read notices :(

The invigilator told me I could get a provisonal ID card at the Registry and thankfully, my exam venue was the Great Hall which really is close to the Registry. I made that decision to go get myself a provisional ID card there and then, cos I knew there was no way I would be allowed to take the paper without an ID card, plus once I see the questions, I wouldn't be allowed to go out unless I was dying or needed to go to the washroom (for some reason they always made us start the paper befor checking for ID cards).

I run as fast as my legs could carry me (without tearing a hamstring of course) and headed on to the Registry and oh my! then it hit me that I just might miss that paper. There was this crowd of people there (apparently I wasn't the only one that needed a provisional ID card that morning). I started psyching myself up to take the course the next year but the thought of all the stress I'd been through that semester (standing during lectures cos the class dint get divided in two like the sociology class and there was just too many of us) just pushed me to the front of the crowd only to find out that the office we were supposed to go into for the provisional ID card was locked.

Turns out one of the staff (he wasn't even a staff. he was a national service personnel) locked the door and came out periodically to take down the names of those standing outside in order to search the computer for their information. I waited for like 10mins and then finally this guy opens the door and comes out. I had my name already written down so I hand the sheet to him, others do same and he heads back inside (of course locking the door behind him). He did come out eventually with printed versions of the information the Registry had on us (that was supposed to be the provisional ID card). I really should have been excited cos I had the provisional ID card, right? WRONG! This was the point where the guy announces that the provisional ID card has to be signed by someone who wasn't even in. Matter of fact, he dint know when she was gon arrive. The guy then goes back in and shuts the door (seriously? I could have murdered him at this point :| ). After another 15mins (the paper had already started), this rather kind gentleman shows up, asks us (the crowd) what we doing there, we explain to him and he makes the mistake of announcing that he can sign for the lady. At this point, the crowd starts heckling him and the huge guys start shoving the small people (myself included) out of the way to make it to the front. The kind getleman makes it into the office and everyone else follows him in. The national service guy, with the help of some staff shove us all right back out and lock the door.

I felt like crying :( Ei! what was I going to do? The paper had been going on for like 20mins. Hmmmm... The kind gentleman really was a kind gentleman cos he unlocked the door after a while and asked us to come in, in an orderly manner (seriously?). Quite a number of the students had their exam venues far from the Registry and they had all started panicking. Most of the girls were crying. I was on the verge of tears but refused to cry (and my exam venue was even quite close). At this point, it was more of survival of the fittest and it sure dint look like I was amongst the fittest.

I looked at my watch, it was 25mins since the paper started, and I knew I had to do something. I wiggled my way to the front of the queue (more like the front of the horde of people) and I wasn't bothered who or what touched which part of my body (trust me, guys were touching places they shouldn't have even been looking at). Finally, I was at the front. The kind gentleman looked up to hand someone their endorsed sheet of paper (ummmm... I mean provisional ID card) and that was when I flashed one of my killer smiles (you'd have to see to judge for yourself :D ). He looked directly at me and asked for my provisional ID card. I handed it over to him, he signed and gave back to me. I said thank you and that's when the tears started flowing. I managed to flash him another killer smile and then I took off.

It was exactly 30mins since the paper started and I run even faster than I did the first time to the exam hall (again, no hamstring injury). I think I forgot to mention I synchronised my watch to the clock in the exam room when I was in there earlier, so I was pretty sure of the time. I made it into the exam room and headed for my seat (thankfully, I knew where it was since I'd been there already). I sat down and an invigilator handed my a question paper. Of course I read all the fine print on it before I started tackling the questions.

Everything was going smoothly (or so I thought) until I heard something like an argument behind me. It was the head invigilator arguing with one of the students. The invigilator was asking this male student to walk out since he saw him walk in 30mins after the paper had started. The student kept insisting that he walked in right when it was 30mins after the start of the paper so technically, he hadn't broken the rules, but the head invigilator would have none of that. The student finally accepted and got up (in my head I was like, thank goodness at least now I can have some peace of mind to think and answer my questions in peace). Not even in my wildest imaginations could I have come up with what happened next.

This student, instead of walking out of the door, made his way towards me. He points at me and says to the head invigilator that he walked in the same time I did so then I should be sent out of the exam room as well. He further added that he was even at the Registry with me getting a provisional ID card and we both left just about the same time (I have never really ever felt like murdering someone ever in my life the way I felt like murdering this guy. honestly, if I had had a gun, I'm sure I'd still be doing time in prison for his murder). I was writing at this point and there and then, my hands started shaking, and all I was writing started to look like a language that wasn't English. I was still writing because I was trying to appear nonchalant. I dint say a word. The student just kept going on and on about how I should be sent out of the exam room, the head invigilator just told him, since he, the invigilator did not see me enter, then he can't send me out. The student would however not let down. This whole thing went on for like 15mins until the head invigilator got some of the other male invigilators to forcibly remove the guy. I don't believe I have breathed in that hard since.

Results came out the next semester and I had an A in the psychology paper (whew!). All I can say is God is still in the miracle business.

The Day I Should Never Have Forgotten...

There's days we tell ourselves we'll never forget, cos those days might have had some sort of impact on us. Well, I forgot one such day (I really don't know how I did). It wasn't until last week, when I watched a video of retired British athlete, Derek Redmond in the 1992 olympics that I remembered (you know, the 400m semi-final where he tore his hamstring, could have lay down on the ground in pain, but decided to finish the race anyways, and his dad came down to help him). Honestly, watching that video got me teary eyed (I have watched it before, but I still get that way whenever I see it).

So what am I talking about? No, I never tore a hamstring. Matter of fact, I doubt if I could do a 400m walk (just kidding :D )

In the 2nd year of my undergraduate programme at UG, I took a course in humanities (sociology). I was a science student (small class sizes) so it was a shock for me joining the arts students (huge class sizes). I made it through the first semester and then it was time for me to justify my inclusion (I've always wanted to use that phrase. I meant, it was time for exams). At the time, I was a non-resident student living in Dansoman. It is quite a distance from Dansoman to Legon (we dint have the George Walker Bush Motorway a.k.a. N1 at the time) so I made sure I left home 2 hours before the start of each paper. It had worked well for me since the exams started, and then it was time for the sociology paper. I left home and stood at my junction like I always did. I waited and waited and waited and waited, but all the buses (tro-tro) that came by were full (I guess no one was getting off between the station and my junction). After 40mins of waiting at my junction, I decided to pick a bus from my junction to the station where the buses loaded. I get there and there's a queue which I joined. Fortunately for me (or so I thought) a bus came right away and started loading. Just when it got to my turn, the bus was full and the mate (bus conductor) wouldn't let me take his seat. I wasn't too bothered (I probably should have been) cos at least I was first in line.

It was an hour to the start of the paper and I was still standing at the front of the queue, no bus in sight. I waited 5 more minutes and then I knew I had to do something. I could pick a taxi but then I dint have enough money to pay for it. Aha! Yep, I had a light bulb moment. My grandma also lived in Dansoman and I could go to her house and ask her for money to pay for the taxi.

I picked a taxi and gave the driver directions to my grandma's house. It was at this point that I started to panic. What if she wasn't home? It was 50mins to the start of the paper and it wouldn't take less than an hour to get to Legon (that would even be on an extremely good day).

Finally! Something actually went my way that day. My grandma was home and when I explained what was going on, she seemed even more panicky than I was (if that was even possible). She gave me the money for the taxi and I jumped right back into the cab and asked the driver to step on it. Told him to use all the short cuts he knew and get me as fast as possible to Legon. Unfortunately, it seemed all the short cuts the driver knew were the most traffic laden routes that day. I once saw this quote (I guess it was a joke) somewhere that said "a short cut is the longest route between two points", well, on that day, that quote made so much sense.

Eventually, I make it to the examination hall and it was 29mins after the start of the paper. The university rule says no student will be let into the exam hall 30mins after the paper has started. So yes, I did sprint from the taxi to the exam hall, but no, I dint tear a hamstring.

From that point, things seemed to go pretty good for me. Just when I entered the exam hall from the back entrance, one of the invigilators quickly ushered me to a seat close to the back. The norm was to look for your index number and sit at the table where your index number was written, but that would have wasted more time plus if the head invigilator had seen me, I'm sure I would have been kicked out of the exam hall cos though my watch said it was exactly 30mins after the start of the paper, the clock in the exam hall actually showed the paper had been going on for about 35mins.

This kind invigilator quickly got me a question paper and an answer booklet and I got right into it. But oh my. It was as though I hadn't studied at all. All the questions looked foreign and I knew I had not seen most of the stuff on the question paper before. At first I just thought it was nerves but I concluded the examiner was just a wicked person cos I knew I had studied hard for that paper. I tried to answer as many questions as I could but I knew most of the stuff I wrote dint even make any sense at all. For a second, I thought it would have even been better if I hadn't bothered to show up. At least then, I wouldn't be graded for a paper I was obviously going to fail.

After what seemed like forever, (time just seems to come to a stand still when you have a question paper in front of you that you can't even answer. Made me wonder where that "stand still time" was when I was running late for the paper) yh, so after what seemed like forever, the head invigilator announced "Group A you have 1 hour left and Group B you have 30mins left". OMG! I could have kicked myself at that point. Of course the questions looked foreign. That's cos I was answering Group A's question paper though I was in Group B. The sociology class was so large that we had been divided into two groups. Those whose index number ended with an odd number were in Group A while those of us whose index number ended with an even number were in Group B.

Each group had been taught by a different lecturer during the semester and we had constantly debated on whether or not we would answer different questions. That made a whole lot of sense since what one lecturer taught was totally different from what the other taught (I always wondered about that since it was supposed to be the same course. "What's the point then", I always asked myself). Cos I was late and in a hurry to just get into it, I dint take time to read the top of the question paper, which clearly said Group A. I just read the instructions on how many questions to answer. The lecturers also thought it wise not to officially announce to us that each group would be answering different questions prior to the start of the exams (I guess they figured we were literate enough to read Group A and Group B on the question papers. Besides I'm sure the invigilators asked each student what group they were in before handing them a question paper).

With 30mins left, I motioned for the kind invigilator (who was still for some reason but fortunately hovering) and told him I was in Group B. He was so apologetic and couldn't stop saying sorry (I actually almost felt bad for him. I tried not to be too mad at him. After all, he did me a favour by allowing me in).

So I spent 30mins on a one and a half hour paper and I honestly dint know I could write that fast. I wrote so fast and my handwriting was so bad that I couldn't even read what I'd written, and though I always made it a point to read through whenever I wrote a paper, I barely had enough time to answer the questions, forget the reading through bit. I submitted my answer booklet knowing it would take a miracle to get me anywhere near the pass mark.

This post has got real long already so let me wrap up. I won't go into the moral of this piece. I'll just let whoever reads it pick something from it on their own. All I can say is, I forgot just how much of a fighter I was (yeah, was).

The results came out the next semester and I was one of the few that had an A. Miracles do happen :)

Adventures in a Foreign Land - The Slurpee

My new friend told me I couldn't leave without trying a slurpee. This was somewhere at the end of Summer. Sounded like a good idea especially since I was all for trying anything I hadn't had before (I guess it's normal when you find yourself in a different place for the first time). Summer rolled to an end and then Fall and then it was Winter. I still hadn't had a slurpee (matter of fact, I dint even know what it was. it could have been an exotic dish for all I knew though the name dint exactly sound exotic). For everyone else that's as clueless as I was when I first heard it, a slurpee is a flavoured frozen drink kinda slushy (ice that's melting). There's another (it really is the same) called a slushie. There's this shop on the oxford street in Gh that sells it but it's quite recent (at least it wasn't there a couple of years ago) and I haven't tried it.

Winter's almost over, I'm about to leave, I'm packing my stuff, I still haven't tried a slurpee and my stuff won't fit into my suitcase (last thing I wanted to do was show up at the airport with excess luggage). One thing I learnt, which I obviously dint learn in Gh was to keep receipts of all purchases I made. Why? Cos depending on the item, I could return it to the shop and take my money back, within a certain period of time (now, how cool is that? :D ). So, my stuff wouldn't fit and fortunately, I'd bought quite a number of things the previous week that I dint mind returning (at least I'd get my money back).

I picked a number of stuff I bought from the same shop so I wouldn't be moving round from shop to shop (it was almost Spring but it was freezing out there) and headed on out. I get to the shop, return the stuff, take my money and head on out to catch a bus back home. I was a couple of minutes early (had like 15mins). Wasn't sure if I should head back into the shop cos it was pretty cold and it wasn't a heated bus stop. And then I had a light bulb moment (brilliant idea). I had spotted a 7-eleven shop not too far from the bus stop (about 4mins away) and since I'd still not had my slurpee, I decided to go try it out (I had the time besides, what did I have to lose?).

I get to the 7-eleven shop, pick a large slurpee cup and fill it up with a mixture of different flavours. I'm sure I spent too much time trying to decide on which flavours to go with cos when I got out, I spotted the bus I was supposed to be going home with driving off. Oh my goodness! It was a weekend and the next bus would come by in like an hour and a half. I couldn't wait that long. Besides, I had to repack and I dint have that many days left. I knew there was another bus stop about 10mins away so, I walked that way hoping a bus would come by that would be headed my way.

Slurpee in hand, I begun my 10 minute walk. Now, it was about 25 degrees below zero, it wasn't snowing but there was thick snow on the ground (for some reason they don't plough the snow from the sidewalks on weekends). So yeah, I kinda understood the stares I was getting from other paedestrians and occupants of vehicles that passed by me. The stares did get worse when I got on the bus. Yep, I caught a bus just when I got to the other bus stop. It wasn't exactly going in my direction, but it was headed to the bus terminal at the mall. There, I knew I'd definitely get another bus that would take me closer to home (at least the shelters at the terminal were heated).

I waited like 15mins at the bus terminal and I finally got a bus that was going towards my neighbourhood. That was good news in itself but there was a catch. The bus did drop me close to my house alright. But I had to do a twenty minute walk to get home. I lived in this neighbourhood where everybody (the grown ups) had a car. Buses did operate in my neighbourhood, but that would be early mornings and late afternoons where students were either going to or coming back from school. The buses dint operate on weekends (no school). To go out on a weekend, I'm either hitching a ride with someone or I'm doing a twenty minute walk to catch a bus.

By the time I got home, my slurpee was frozen solid (wasn't slushy anymore). I did have a bit of it on my way (walking, in the bus and at the bus stop), but I had to stop cos it'd got too solid for the straw to be of any use, plus I started concentrating on keeping my fingers warm. They were near frozen even through my mitts. I placed my slurpee in front of the heater in my room until it melted a bit, and then, in the warmth of my room, I was able to really enjoy my slurpee.

The moral of this long winding story: Never give up on what you believe in regardless of how crazy it may seem even to yourself (would have really helped if I'd had a car though. I still can't believe I put my fingers through that torture).

P.S. my estimation of the number of minutes it takes to walk from one point to another really is about how fast my legs can carry me.
May the souls of all the lives lost in the plane crashes in Gh & Nigeria over the weekend rest in peace.