A Walk in the Botanical Gardens

Aburi. Very stately.

What is one to do on a Sunday in Ghana? (Aside from going to a marathon church service, of course.)

Looking for an easy escape from Accra, the family piled into the SUV and drove North to the Akuapem Hills, going from flat highway to winding roads climbing up mountainsides. At the top of the hill is the town of Aburi and its eponymous botanical gardens.

The Aburi Botanical Gardens were founded in 1890 by the British and became a showpiece of plants from all over the empire, including East Africa, the Caribbean and Burma. Over the years, the gardens have only become larger and more spectacular. However, the place seems to run on a shoe-string budget and the aged facilities and weathered signs are in need of some upkeep - "faded glory" is a phrase often heard associated with Aburi.

This really puts Mr. O's yard to shame.

On the flipside, for only 5 cedi ($2.50US at time of writing) per person, there is little to complain about. (Official Government of Ghana tourist sites are remarkably cheap, since they are seen as public goods and there is little incentive to increase prices with inflation or invest in attractive facilities.)
The air is a fair bit cooler in the hills and the place is well-shaded, so it is a pleasure to stroll about and have a picnic. In addition to the main areas, there are a few unique hidden surprises, including a rustic-yet-lush nursery, a dead tree carved into a massive traditional scene and a big old rusty helicopter. The latter is not so hidden, but only local kids knew how to open the nose and reveal the engine.

Sunday is a particularly nice time to visit, as the place is very quiet. Although by mid-afternoon, locals started to emerge from their houses of worship and when a group of young evangelical men started proselytizing to Mr. O (who as a Catholic rarely shies from theological debate), the family called it a day and made their way back to Accra. While it is no day at the beach, it is a walk in the park and the family will be back again soon enough.

This the view from inside a tree looking up. Psychedelic.

Excellent use of dead tree.

The nursery could use a touch of paint.

Some real purty flowers.

And they even have chickens, to the delight of Little Miss.

Windows of green.

What botanical garden would be complete without a giant, rusty old helicopter?

Ashanti Excursion Part 2: The Big Ticket in Kumasi

Adum, downtown Kumasi

As Mrs. O and Little Miss made their way back to Accra, Mr. O hitched a ride with the Cocoa Village owner to Kumasi, Ghana's second city and the capital of the historic Ashanti people. The reason? The Ghanaian national football team (the Black Stars, after the flag) had reached the final qualification stage for the 2014 World Cup and was engaged in a two-match playoff with perennial African champions Egypt (the Pharoahs). Once upon a time, Mr. O was privileged to see Ghana qualify for its first World Cup appearance in Kumasi as well and he was eager to rekindle the feeling.

Tickets to the big match were in high demand and in short supply. Thus, he massaged his local contacts to procure a ticket once they went on sale, took two days off work for the event and connected with old friends to find a place to stay in town when thousands of visitors (including several hundred from Egypt) were descending upon the city for the match.

The Golden Ticket.

Compared to Accra, Kumasi is a very different city. The downtown business core is historic, but well-maintained compared to Accra's crumbling old offices. There is very little government presence, instead focused primarily on business, including trading (West Africa's largest market, Kejetia, is in Kumasi) and few NGOs. So the few foreigners in the city are mostly in the private sector. There is also a small Indo- and Lebanese-Ghanaian business class that controls key industries.

Also, going to Kumasi (or anywhere in Ghana, really) reminds one of just how expensive and overpriced Accra is. Transport, rent, food - all of these things are significantly cheaper. Without the glittering office towers and flashy cars, Kumasi feels a bit more like Ghana proper, rather than an otherworldly This Island Accra.

To top this, Mr. O was slumming it. His friends in town are working on a start-up with a limited budget, living communally and working in a house in the suburbs. They buy from the local market, eat chop, ride tro-tros, live without hot water and air conditioning, while being subject to the power surges and blackouts of the Ghanaian electrical grid. In short, basically like University of Ghana students. So Mr. O was taking a trip down memory lane as well.

The fans are Black Star-struck as the team buss passes through.

On Tuesday, Mr. O and a friend from home went downtown for some delicious and cheap Indian dosas, butter chicken and lassis at Vic Baboo's (as well as a healthy dose of Indian wistfulness and unhealthy dose of pointed opinions on Ghanaians). The manager was heading to Baba Yara Stadium, so they followed him through busy Asafo Market towards the stadium. On the way, a large motorcade passed through, including the Black Stars' team bus, with all players on. This drove the fans nuts. (Interestingly, the Egyptian team bus quietly went through the stadium parking lot with barely a turned head.)

Entering the stadium, people jostled to get in and ticket scalpers looked upon Mr. O for easy money. Once inside, things calmed down as Mr. O and friend found the rest of the group. Sitting on the Ghanaian goal line, the seats they claimed were great. However, an hour before the match, a massive storm passed through, drenching the fans and the practicing players alike. The match started at 4PM, so there was no getting dry that evening, only embracing the rain.

Our friends eagerly anticipating the match.

The atmosphere was electric (not just due to thunder) and the crowd was on fire. To see a world-class football match in a place like this is truly worth the effort. In this crucial match, the entire country was on pins and needles, as many were privately unsure if Ghana could equal and better Egypt, who was stronger on paper, but with unrest following the Egyptian Revolution, was not in best form and was in desperate need for anything to raise the national spirit.

When the match started, Ghana wasted no time in getting ahead, scoring five minutes in. From there, they barely looked back. Though Egypt would score a penalty kick to edge up to 2-1, their side simply did not have the skill and coordination to match the Ghanaians, who were . By half-time, Ghana held a comfortable 3-1 lead and would not let up, making the final score 6-1. The game was fantastic, with so many highlights - Essien running circles around the defense, Muntari's bicycle kick to Gyan's header or Atsu's surprise late long-bomb. This was the performance of a World Cup-class squad.

The team takes a well-deserved victory lap.

With so many goals, fans of all colours and nationalities at the stadium (save for Egypt) were high-fiving, hugging, dancing, chanting and enjoying the day. Mr. O's group had photos taken with so many people, they lost count. Leaving the stadium, they were caught up in an impromptu parade and with the traffic jam, ended up walking most of the way back, where they dried themselves off. Such a fantastic game, such a great day. With the win, Ghana simply needs to not do the inverse in the second play-off match with Egypt in Cairo and they will secure their seat to the 2014 World Cup in Brazil.

The following morning, Mr. O took the long bus back to Accra. Reliving the magic of the game and the life of a student was exhausting and when the sweaty and soggy Mr. O walked back into his big air conditioned modern house, he was very thankful to return to his present (especially since the power was out as the generator was providing power). It was a good reminder that he has changed quite a bit and although he can still hack it on a tro-tro and eating roadside chop, he is now living in a different world altogether.

Ashanti Excursion Part 1: Lake Bosumtwi

Still feeling homesick? Thought not.

From Mr. O's memory, Canadian Thanksgiving in mid-October was the time when homesickness set in. Not being able to gather with family to enjoy some turkey time when the leaves turn colour is a bit tough. The best way to get around this is to do something fun to take the mind off home and to enjoy the present.

Mr. and Mrs. O decided the best way to spend the long weekend was relaxing Canadian-style by the lake - Bosumtwi, that is. The largest natural lake in Ghana, Bosumtwi was formed as a crater, so is perfectly round. It is very warm and is bilharzia-free*, which means no parasites to worry about, in contrast to other freshwater areas in Ghana. Thus it is the only non-ocean place to swim. Mr. O had fond memories of a previous visit for Easter during his first visit.

Look up. Look waaaay up.

1 down, 399 to go.

Mr. and Mrs. O brought along another couple with a young child who were feeling adventurous and hopped in the big old SUV and set their coordinates for the Ashanti Region. The drive is approximately 4-5 hours, mostly on the Accra-Kumasi highway, which starts as a four lane freeway, then abruptly turns into dirt road construction, then two-lane blacktop. On the blacktop are several toll booths, police checkpoints and speed bumps - in addition of being a source for construction funds (as well as padding the cops' meager salaries), these serve to remedy the highway's reputation as the most dangerous in West Africa. Mr. O noted that there appear to be much fewer burned-out and overturned tractor-trailers on the roadside, which might point to increasing safety (as well as the arrival of industrial tow trucks).

ANTS. SO MANY ANTS.

The drive was long, so we decided to break it up by visiting the Bobiri Butterfly Sanctuary. As rainforest goes in Ghana, this was quite beautiful, and with 400 types of butterflies constantly fluttering about, it was great to take in. Unfortunately, the tour guide wasn't very guide-like, so he mostly read the signs posted on major tree species and remarked at how there are 400 types of butterflies (without identifying any one type, which might have been useful). However, at $2 per person, it is hard to complain.

Arriving at the lake, one decends from a high mountain-style pass where one can see the whole lake from above. Once at the bottom of the hill, to get to the few resorts that dot the lake, one switches from the well-maintained blacktop road to a rocky dirt road that rattle even the strongest of Land Cruisers. Taxis understandably hate going on this road. It passes through a few small fishing villages, which gave the Accra residents their first viewing of rural life (and rural poverty), as well as the first of what will be many children's calls of ''HELLO OBRUNI!''

Litlle Miss goes exploring the countryside.

A light shower.

The group arrived at Cocoa Village Guesthouse and settled into their simple cabins, with fans and mosquito nets (Little Miss was excited to go ''camping in a tent''). The dinner was prepared by the Slovenian owner, who just happened to have fresh steak from Kumasi. So the group ate very well, with meals overlooking the water. Electricity was intermittent and cell reception was patchy, so the days and evenings were fairly quiet. Lake Boswumtwi really is a place to relax and enjoy fresh water, fresh air and little noise, other than the occasional songs and chatter of fishermen on simple wooden planks (metal on the lake is taboo). There were a ridiculous amount of bugs after the rain that gravitated towards the lights, but lots of lizards to eat them and almost no mosquitoes.

Cocoa Village and their mascot Koko (get it?)

On Sunday, the group took a quick drive to a new outfit called the Green Ranch. Run by a French woman and her Ghanaian husband, they keep local horses for trail riding, as well as a vegetarian restaurant and fairly nice accommodations. The group went for a one-hour ride down the road to the beach and through the nearby village (where the owner seemed to know every child by name). Little Miss found her helmet and jerry-rigged seatbelt hot and uncomfortable, but she was thrilled to be riding on a horse like her grandmother. Mr. O took a dip in the lake afterwards to get rid of the sweat and horse-smell.

Trail riding, Ghana-style

Otherwise, the group spent the weekend relaxing - reading, looking for geckos and snails, watching cartoons (yes, we brought the DVD player) and throwing rocks into the lake (Little Miss' favourite). With little to do after dark, the guests sat on the porch and drank beer and wine by gaslight with the owners.

Going for a swim.

An interesting point is how close the place is to the nearby villages - people are walking by it all the time and one can hear the chattering of traveling locals from the hut. Both Cocoa Village and Green Ranch are very intertwined with the communities, despite the stark difference between villagers and foreign tourists. The employees are hired from the villages and they have strong relations with the local authorities. Cocoa Village also seems to function as the local cellphone charging station, as the next village does not have electricity. The owner's girlfriend is even trying to publish a beautifully-designed children's book about the village. So patronizing these places is a bit different from the average faceless all-inclusive resort.


On Monday, once they settled their (surprisingly low) bills, Mrs. O and friends made the long trek back to Accra, while Mr. O joined the owners going to Kumasi, as he was attracted to a soccer match of epic proportions...

Somehow these guys survived the weekend.

*Note: there is a great debate on what this means. Locals fish and swim in the lake regularly, without recorded instances of bilharzia. Tourists do not report having any cases resulting from swimming in the lake in blogs or travel guides. Finally, it was mentioned that the lake is tested for bilharzia regularly by the Kwame Nkrumah University of Science and Technology. That being said, doctors preach caution and do not advise swimming. Mr. O has now done this twice, with no issues (yet).

Baby Logistics

Becoming parents has made Mr. and Mrs. O more logistically oriented - particularly for Mr.

In beer commercials, a guy might receive a cellphone text that reads something like, "MASSIVE SECRET PARTY. IT'S HAPPENING. COME NOW." The guy correspondingly hops off the couch, grabs his keys and rushes out the door. Unforgettable night ensues.

Getting out the door with children is a bit more complicated.

First there's the timing: is this before or after naptime, mealtime or bedtime? You don't want to take the kiddie out for an adventure if they're going to be cranky. Little Miss tends to fall asleep in the car, so that can add to our flexibility. But she tends to drop off after the sun goes down, so outings are either out early, or not until she is down - if a babysitter is engaged, great! If not, someone has to stay behind and only one person gets to go out. This doesn't take into account Accra's ridiculous traffic, which crawls at rush hour.

What about supplies? In fragile states, expats maintain a "go bag", which in the event of an immediate emergency, one can pick up and go in no time at all. The diaper bag is the parental go bag: it needs to have diapers, wipes, a change of clothes, baggie for disposal, a handful of key toys/books and no-fail snacks. And that's just for the little one. When Mr. and Mrs. O receive that fateful text message, getting out the door in the next fifteen minutes would approach a personal best. In reality, unless there is at least a 1/2 hour's notice, the offer may need to be politely declined.

Weekends and longer vacations are a whole other matter. Figuring out driving times, meal plans and having a general idea of what the child will do. Toddlers have short attention spans and as exciting as the local chieftain's museum might be, it'll be a quick walkthrough at best (and would likely be scratched entirely.

This is another example of how Mr. O's life in Ghana is fundamentally different from before. Random weekend tro-tro jaunts to far-off eco-tourism sites have been replaced by carefully researched trips with realistic itineraries and sensible packing.

This may sound depressing to people without kids, but what Mr. O says frequently about being a parent is comparing it to running a marathon. To the runner, they are exerting lots of energy over a long period of time, but after a while, one hits a steady state where everything is in equilibrium and the running becomes manageable (and pleasurable). Meanwhile, to the observer, they see an exhausted guy who has run further than they ever would and have to continue for a lot longer, so they think, "That is crazy - how does that guy do it?" It is all a matter of perspective.

Car Trouble

Back in the day, one could get around just fine in Ghana on public transit and the occasional taxi. That was before one had a family and a reasonable sense of one's own mortality.

Now that he's all grown up, Mr. O needs some wheels. Big ones.

To get around, Mr. and Mrs. O have been using a combination of taxis, friends with cars and old-fashioned walking. And they could probably continue so without great damage to their lives. But there are many good reasons to have a private vehicle.

They say everything in Ghana takes longer. Take shopping, for example: instead of heading to the supermarket to pick up groceries for the week, effective shopping requires several stops. Shoprite has perishables, Marina Mart has fresh meats, Game has housewares, Koala has Lebanese pastries, etc. And don't think of going to any of these places if you want fresh produce - the best (and cheapest) still comes from the ladies with the market stalls. Did you want fresh fish? That's another guy.

You can get all of these using taxis, but it requires a fair amount of flagging and haggling (No, I won't give you double the price just because I'm a white guy walking out of a supermarket.) and the uncertainty that comes with random rides - sketchy drivers, barely-roadworthy vehicles, spewing exhaust, etc.

Then there's the case of Little Miss. She has a car seat that needs to go wherever we do (sitting on daddy's lap is so 1980s) and eventually she will be going to pre-school and will need to be transported daily.

What if we want to go away on the weekend? We have access to an old SUV, but it's not the most reliable.

In addition, driving in Ghana has its own hazards: cars (and their drivers) are often not roadworthy; Accra traffic is hectic, especially at circles; right-of-way is often determined by the biggest vehicle; the quality of secondary roads is often poor, especially during the rainy season.

So the family would prefer to have a vehicle, preferably a mid-sized SUV (for safety) with all-wheel drive (for country roads), in good condition (the less time at the mechanic, the better) and one that can easily be repaired with parts easy to find (translation: something Japanese).

Finding a vehicle is a daunting expeience - again, everything takes longer in Ghana. There is no authoritative internet marketplace, dealerships only sell new vehicles and knowing who to trust is key (scamming is common). In fact, most people simply tape a piece of paper on their rear window with their phone number and hope that someone interested in the vehicle records it and calls them.

This is all before one actually looks at a car - having a trustworthy mechanic who can inspect a car can help to avoid buying a lemon. Bidding wars happen. Plus, the price of a vehicle in Ghana is not the same as in North America, so it may take time to know if one is getting a good deal.

All of this is currently in flux. It takes perseverance - some days are frustrating, others not so much, but it is part of the process.