On our way home, we stopped on the side of the road and our guide showed us a cocoa plant and let us try a bean. And while our bus was stopped in traffic he let a boy selling chocolate bars come on the bus. Cocoa beans taste nothing like chocolate.
Our last night in Accra and the streets were flooded with American students. I thought it was ironic that we were in the area OSU and took a liking to Oxford Street. Oh how I missed Miami as we piled into a club that sold Absinthe for the same price as draft beer. Across the street was a seven story club, which will be hosting some MTV show the first week of October, was allowing us in free instead of the usual $30 USD cover charge. The top floor had a wrap around open glass balcony. This place was the only of it’s kind- posh, modern, expensive, tall- we could see the barely lit city with crumbling infrastructure for miles below us.
We took a taxi back. We were warned against this. Molly, Stephen, Brian, and I valiantly tried explaining the concept of a port to our confused driver. ‘Boats! Ships! Tema! Please!’ We sped (at least it felt like speeding, who knows? The speedometer was broken) down the unlit highway, only stopping when commanded to by the police sitting outside their roadside station. Seatbelts? There were none. The driver is a criminal? Not sure, he doesn’t speak English. What were they saying? We don’t know. We flashed our SAS ids; we said ‘boat, ship, Tema, please!’ Molly stuck her Green Sheet (n: piece of paper with lists of important phone numbers, addresses, times, and other information deemed by Dean Bob necessary to have with you at all times in case of emergency) out the window. Magically, after he examined it, he let us go. Thank you almighty Green Sheet for allowing us to escape being detained by Ghanaian authorities.
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