Moving to Wordpress

I have decide to move my blog across to Wordpress as it gives me much more control over the style and format of my posts.  I've taken all my content with me and following me there is very easy, simply use the link below.

https://scotexploring.wordpress.com/

From a computer you will see the Follow button on the right hand side when you scroll down a little. From a phone, the easiest way is to use the three horizontal bars in the top left to select the Contact page, then scroll down a little to below the Submit button and you will find the Follow button there. Please do follow me to my new blogging home, Sarah

Seeing Beyond Poverty

Life in Ghana means seeing a lot of poverty, it’s just something that can’t be avoided. I only have to look out my kitchen window to see how hard people are working every day, just to survive. At major traffic lights in the city our car is always approached by people begging. Men, women, children, disabled people on skateboards who can’t afford wheelchairs. This is their reality. This is their life.  It’s not often a day passes without seeing someone urinating in public, or just sleeping at the roadside in their makeshift home. Then there are the blind, who get moved from junction to junction and guided to the car to beg. The challenge is, that if you wind down the window to give them something small, you will soon be surrounded by lots people, pushing their way in. 

My driver tells me that some people beg because they are lazy and would rather not work. If you start to look closely you might see the child has been sent over to beg by a parent, who is standing partially out of sight. Some children even skip school, without their parents knowledge, to try and get money to spend. Today, as one small boy looked up at me with his dark eyes and touched his hand to his mouth, indicating he was hungry, it took all my will power not to give him something. I looked around to try and locate his family and there they were, sitting at the roadside further back. He turned to talk to his mother, was obviously told to try again and he returned to my window with the same forlorn look and hand gesture. He may well be starving, there is really no way for me to know. Some days this routine is difficult to see, other days, it’s simply heart-breaking. 

When you travel out of Accra and pass into the more rural areas you get another insight into daily life. At first many buildings look deserted, they are breeze block shells with no windows. Maybe they ran out of money before they finished building, you might think. Look closely however, and you will see signs of life. Perhaps some laundry hanging up to dry, or some shoes at the door. That’s when you realise, these aren’t deserted, unfinished houses, they are well and truly lived in. You might start to notice that some have had the front wall painted to make it more homely, or maybe someone will be outside sweeping the step. It doesn’t matter that the surroundings are chaos, there is still an element of being house proud. 

In parts of the countryside where they are lucky enough to have the coastline or a river nearby, it will serve as a toilet, washing machine and bath. Of course that doesn’t stop people also fishing in it. In other areas a whole village might share a single water pump or people might carry water many miles from the nearest source. These are all things you may have read, heard about, or even seen before. For me personally, the regular visuals are an interesting reminder of just how challenging live can be.

Of course the reason I find these conditions hard to see is because I was born into a different world and a different set of circumstances. The people of Ghana are very welcoming, warm and friendly. Children will often smile and wave when they see you looking at them from the car window and many adults will call Akwaaba, the Akan word for Welcome, if you are entering their shop, market or village.  For each of those moments that I have to look into a sad pair of eyes, unable to help that individual on that day, there is a different, wonderful moment of insight into a world I would have never known, and a reminder of the happiness I am fortunate to have.

Adaklu

Hiking in Ghana’s eastern region, southeast of the mighty lake Volta, provides breath taking views of the flat plains that stretch far and wide. Small isolated hills rise steeply from the otherwise flat landscape, today I learned such a hill is called an inselberg. I’m intrigued by the geology of the area although there seems to be little easily attainable information regarding it, surely water or ice shaped this unusual landscape, I shall need to research more. 

Sundays outing with the Ghana Mountaineers took us to the small, but extremely welcoming village of Adaklu. The village is one of several that surround the inselberg of Mount Adaklu, which rises steeply to around 500m.

 The local village guide, Simon, welcomed us warmly and allowed us to use the long drop toilets before the hike. This was our first insight into village life as we were lead through the houses. Some were made from concrete, others from mud, wood and stone. The roof coverings were sheets of corrugated steel held down with stones or a sort of thatch made from a local reed or grass. A few of the steel roofs had some makeshift guttering to direct the rain water to be collected in a tank, making the most of the natural resources. Some of the buildings and open-sided shelters looked like they might blow down with the next big gust of wind. Many of the locals stopped what they were doing and looked on at us in interest. I often find Ghanaian adults will simply stare or offer a welcoming word, without a smile, whilst the children will smile and wave shyly. Goats and chickens roamed amongst the houses and a water pump had been installed near the roadside.

As we started the hike an ominous black cloud was moving towards us, but Simon lead us onward and upwards. He wore wellington boots on his feet and carried a machete to help break trail. The rain remained light and provided the best ambient temperature I have experienced in Ghana. At one stage, as we rested at the top, I even had goose bumps!

Adaklu Mountain is sacred to the villages that surround the base and it is climbed during certain important festivals. The locals also farm on the steep sides. The path first wove its way through corn fields, then on stepper ground we saw tomatoes and okra growing. As we walked through the farm land Simon explained that one lady working was asking to have her picture taken, what a wonderful opportunity!

The top of the mountain is covered in trees but Simon lead us out and round to a viewpoint slightly lower which did not disappoint. Despite the recent rain there was a great view to enjoy, stretching towards the Ghana Togo border and Lake Volta.

 

The descent was muddy and slippery on the steep ground and we were a bit of a sorry sight by the time we returned to the village. It was then time to visit the village elders and thank them for allowing us to climb the mountain. This was fascinating, we were invited into their hut where they insisted that everyone be provided with a chair. The guide chatted to them in the local language about the walk up and in English one of the village Elders congratulated us on making the summit. Delali, our Ghana Mountaineers guide, then gave us a short introduction in English about how they always used the local guide and came to thank the Elders for allowing us to peacefully climb the mountain. Delali also presented a donation to the village on our behalf. 

In total we spent around 5 hours driving in order to go on this hike but the opportunity to escape the city, see these local villages and experience their traditions is such an amazing insight into the culture of Ghana.

More photos on Flickr https://flic.kr/s/aHskBZsPmz

Running in Accra

On Saturday I took part in a 10k fun run organised by the Accra German-Swiss International School who were celebrating their 50th birthday. There was quite a small field taking part in the 5 and 10 kilometer runs and I got a little nervous when I saw some people at the start with a printed copy of the map, was I supposed to know the route! With such small numbers I was surprised to find the police stopping the traffic as we passed over the main highway at Ring Road Central. It was just after 7am and already Accra’s traffic was building along with the noise, smells and reeking fumes of cars that probably aren’t particularly road worthy. Accra doesn’t exactly have payments, unless you count some rather hazardous and sporadic sections that sometimes dot the roadside, usually full of rocks and holes.  So it was really more of an obstacle type experience on and off the dirt or paved sections that line the roadside. In many places dirty open drains also follow alongside, adding to the generally unappealing ambiance. 

 I tried to keep an eye on a person in front to avoid getting lost, although most junctions were manned by policemen or volunteers handing out water. By the time the 5k runners branched off I was pretty much running alone, not seeing much more than one person off in the distance. As I ran through the poorer area of Nima I was faced with a group of youths taking up the entire road, a daunting prospect in any city. They laughed and shouted the odd thing in my direction but they let me pass without any hassle. Soon I was running past what looked like a scrap yard but was actually are area for mechanical repairs. Piles and piles of rusting parts were heaped at the side of the road and a man was working on sanding down the shell of an old trotro which looked like it had seen better days. (A trotro is an old local mini bus).

As the time approached 8am the heat became more and more intense and each time I thought it might result in some walking I would round a corner to a little breeze of reprieve and manage to continue my shuffle forward. Of course I got lots of stares, some car drivers even slowed down for a closer look. They must wonder why on earth people run. As I passed the street vendors, laden down with goods piled on their heads I felt a pang of guilt. Some days these people can’t afford to eat and some have walked many miles to the best junction for selling their wares and here I was, running, just for fun. 

The truth is an hour of ‘fun’ exercise it was not, it was insanely hot, smelly, noisy and dirty. However, the thing about Ghana is that so much of day to day life goes on at the roadside and it’s always fascinating to watch. On a normal day I see it whiz by from inside my air conditioned cocoon. So to be running amongst it, around it, at a slower pace, is really very interesting. It’s certainly something I would like to experience again, although perhaps not every weekend!

Summing Up Peru

I’m really not sure what I expected from Peru. Admittedly I didn’t exactly chose the destination, simply joined in with some friend’s plans to go there. That’s not to say I wasn’t excited about walking the Inca trail though! I think in my mind, coming to Peru from Ghana I expected something altogether more third world, disorganised and chaotic. Like the constant horn-tooting, some westerners found rather irritating, I certainly heard some complaining about it. I barely noticed, I think I have learnt to get used to this over the last few months! In Cusco I found beautiful cobbled streets, albeit rather narrow. Police controlled the traffic in a fairly organised manner and the local people seemed friendly and willing to help, even if you weren’t spending money on whatever they were selling!

Machu Picchu may be the jewel in the Inca grown but Cusco is a real feat of engineering and skill. Street after street of perfect, mortar free walls, these must have taken much time and energy to build. During my first week I was volunteering teaching English (Volunteering) and staying with a local family up the hill. As I walked down into the town each day I was greeted by the sight of beautiful mountains rising from the cityscape and it didn’t take long for me to fall under the spell of Cusco. Outside of my volunteering time I was busy exploring the cities museums and sights, I particularly enjoyed the Inca museum, main Cathedral and the Pre-Colombian art museum with it’s lama head pots! Then there was the wonderfully perfect walls of ancient Qorikancha, once lined with gold, an incredibly important temple during the time of the Incas.  

One full day trip I did from the city was a hike to Rainbow mountain, or as it’s officially, known Vinicunca. This tough, long, day trek was almost a wash out as some unseasonal snow fell overnight, hiding the colours of the mountain from view. The walk took us past small adobe (mud-brick) hamlets, where new mud-bricks could be seen drying by the river. These homes are basic, occupied by the local alpaca and lama farmers. Out there on the windy, barren hillside at altitude they must have a tough and basic existence.  The trek up through the valley to 5000m was slow and tough, especially for those woefully unprepared tourists. Several resorted to hiring horses to help them complete the journey. The owners of the horses on the other hand, sturdy and rugged looking native ladies, were clearly well versed to trotting up and down the hillside to make money from the unfit tourists. Thankfully Pachamama (Mother Earth) was feeling kind and the snow started to melt mid-morning.  Around midday it was clear enough for us to be treated to a view of the magnesium, copper and iron coloured waves that give the mountain its name.  Every last step to the top was a struggle but, as always when it comes to mountains, standing on the top, looking back at the spectrum of colours, was breath taking. The view on the other side of the mountain, snow caped mountains and glaciers, was just as spectacular. I must confess to leaving my group behind (all of them strangers) for the walk back down. My weather instincts were spot on, the front guide and I had just ducked inside our adobe hut for lunch when the first few spots of rain fell. They quickly turned to hail and I had a lovely hot drink in my hands as it bounced of the metal roof!

All in all I was blown away by Peru, to me it has everything to make a perfect holiday. Beautiful countryside, lovely cites and towns and a wealth of history and culture. Everywhere we went we saw people dressed traditionally, and talking in the ancient Quechua language. Working ladies carry their loads and babies in a colourful blanket on their back. Their hair is worn in long plaited pigtails, tied together at the back, to prevent them falling over their shoulders. Of course there are some tourist extras, such as the girls and ladies dressed traditionally and trailing lamas round the city, for that all important Lama Photo. For me, this didn’t detract from the genuine feel of the city, probably because you never had to walk far to see an element of real Cusco life. Such as, the bustling fruit, veg and meat market at St Pedro, a short walk from the main square.  

Or glance up at some local buildings and you will often spot two small ceramic bulls on the roofline, they combine Catholicism and the native religion. The bulls represent happiness, wealth and fertility and are placed on new buildings as a blessing. They are often seen with a cross, which is believed to keep bad spirits away. The bulls are also associated with a native ceremony where a bulls blood is spilt to honour Pachamama.

I ended my Peru adventure the day after we reached Machu Pucchi. That morning, whilst waiting for it to be time to head to the airport, I was lucky enough to see a parade in the square. It seemed to be some sort of religious celebration with dancers and music. Afterwards, I wandered round a few of the smaller plazas, pausing to sit on the steps and people watch. In one plaza I was approached by some university students wishing to practice conversational English. I agreed to be asked some questions about my trip to Cusco. As they thanked me and left, I thought how appropriate it was that I had come full circle to teaching English again on my last day, so many things about this trip just felt as if they were meant to be!

The Sacred Valley

For many the Scared Valley is experienced in a one day, whirlwind bus trip from Cusco. However, after doing my research, I decided I really wanted to spend more time in the countryside. Luckily for me, my friends agreed that this sounded like a great plan! The day after my last volunteering class I headed into the valley and did an afternoon hike to the food stores of Pinkkuylluna. Later, we settled in for a night in Ollantaytambo. Here I enjoyed my first Pisco sour (the local cocktail) and slept to the roar of the river at our cute hostel. Ollanta, as the locals refer to it, has been continuously inhabited since the 13th century. A large section of the residential area is pedestrianised due to the ancient narrow streets. Down their centre irrigation channels roar with river water, an ideal spot for any kind of washing!  

With an early rise the next morning we hiked to the Cachicata quarry. From here rocks were taken to build the Inca temple near Ollanta. In the quarry we found small burial mounds and enjoyed stunning views across the valley. Back in the town, after a late breakfast, we explored the main ruins of Ollanta. This took us a few hours, especially when we decided to climb to every last corner to explore! How this site can be viewed in a brief bus stop off is beyond me. What we did forego, with our slower schedule, was the ability to hire a guide at each and every ruin, due to the cost. Luckily Wikipedia was at hand to give us a written account of the sites we explored. With so little known about the exact use of these ruins, this seemed as good an information source as any. 

As the day came to a close we headed back to the little town centre to organise a car to Urabamba, just 20km along the valley.  Here I was surprised to find a very busy market town. I had read there was very little in Urabamba but what the guide book really meant was there is little in the way of tourist sites. It did however serve well as a base to visit Moray, the Saliners and Chinchero and after the tourist bustle of Ollanta it was great to see a real, genuinely local town.

We started the following day at the Saliners where highly salinated water is fed down through a series of flat terraces. The water evaporates, leaving the salt behind to be collected. I read that each terrace in owned by a family in the valley, what a great way to share the resource! Next we dove through the small town of Maras and onto the archaeological site there, Moray, situated at 3,500m. There is something very beautiful about Moray and its symmetry when viewed from above. The temperature difference between top and bottom terraces is said to be as much as 15 degrees. This fact, combined with the site orientation with respect to wind and sun, has lead some to speculate on the use of the terraces. It is possible they may have been used as a farming experiment, to see which crops favoured certain conditions. Whatever the true purpose of the terraces Moray is certainly a pleasant spot on a sunny day. After exploring the ruins our relaxed schedule meant we could sit down for a while, in a quiet corner, and enjoy the location before visiting our final site of the day.  

Chinchero is believed to be the mythical birthplace of the rainbow, but despite it raining when we arrived and then clearing to sunshine, we weren’t lucky enough to see one being born! The central square boasts a colonial adobe (mud-brick) church, which has been built on the foundations of an Inca temple or palace. Nearby ruins and terraces line the hillside with beautiful mountain views.

 As we walked back down the hill to the car park we were encouraged into a local workshop where women were weaving. As with all the markets around Cusco the colours of the fabrics were stunning and these ladies were also involved in breeding the local delicacy, guinea pig!

The following day we went to the local bus station to take a collectivo (small bus) to Pisac. Once there were enough passengers (and we had established the drunk man on board wasn’t the driver) we were all set for the one hour drive along the sacred valley.  Pisacs narrow streets were filled with market stalls, packed with colour and energy in abundance. 

After a look around and some lunch we got a car to drive us high up the mountainside to spend some time enjoying the ruins perched there. Once again I was blown away by the scale of the ruins and what little time you must spend here on the usual day trip from Cusco. This extensive hilly site contains several sets of buildings which probably had religious, military and agricultural uses. Set in the mountainside a large number of grave sites can be seen. They appear as small holes due to the fact they were later raided by the Spanish. This was thanks to a habit the Incas had of burying the dead with valuable objects, to take with them to the next life.

From Pisca we traveled the final leg of the sacred valley back to Cusco. Here we enjoyed a walk drown through the ruins nearest to the city. Starting at the top of the hill Tambomachy has lots of running water, it is believed it may have been used as a sort of Inca spa. Close by is the castle-like site of Pukapukara, a military ruin. The largest and closest to Cusco, Saqsayhuaman, tends to induce a certain level of juvenile giggling, as when pronounced by the locals its sounds an awful lot like sexy woman! Hilarity over the name aside this site, sitting 300m above Cusco, is large and impressive with excellent views down on the city. It is said that the large circular stone structure here was some sort of solar calendar and the sets of large terraced walls represent the teeth of the Jaguar.

So, did we do the right things spending more time in the Sacred Valley, absolutely without a doubt!

The Inca Trail

When a friend asked me if I wanted to join some friends of friends to trek the Inca Trail I was immediately interested. I love to hike and this world famous 45km trail was certainly on my bucket list.
Due to the certainly I would enjoy it I did little research into what to expect and intentionally didn't watch any videos, I was more than happy to be surprised. This ancient trail picks its way through amazing high peaks, jungle and cloud forest with various Inca ruins to be enjoyed along the way.
Day 1 involved an early start and long bus ride. When we eventually reached the control gate, after stopping twice on route, we were itching to get going and it was a pleasant walk of gradual uphill. This was also the only day we got any rain with a brief light shower, after that we barely saw a cloud for the rest of the trip. Our group contained many inexperienced hikers and the overall pace was slow, but we reached camp by night fall and tucked into a great meal before standing out to enjoy the stars.

Unfortunately this is the night that it all went wrong as altitude sickness set in. This was really surprising for me, since everyone had come from Cusco at 3400m where they had spent a few nights, I had expected that walking from 2720m to 3300m for first camp would have been fine. It seems however, that wandering around the streets of Cusco and exerting yourself over 16km had an entirely different impact on the body. Many of the group experienced upset stomachs or vomiting as the night passed or in the morning. This type of altitude sickness hits you quickly and unfortunately for my tent companion he didn't manage to get the tent zipper open before he was sick. I had been feeling fine up till that point but of course the smell of vomit can be enough to tip even strong stomachs over the edge. Thankfully my stomach remained intact and after a couple hours of restless sleep from my poorly tent buddy I decided to ask the girls if I could sleep in their tent. I squeezed in between an old friend and a new one and there I slept for the remaining three nights. Wound up and worrying about the tent mate I'd abandoned I had a fitful, restless sleep with a pounding heart. I woke up feeling shaken and with my blood sugar low. One of the worst things about altitude is that it often takes your appetite away. I did my best to force down enough breakfast to get my sugar levels back up whilst also trying to avoid overloading my stomach and joining the vomiting gang.

Day 2 was a tough and gruelling climb over the highest pass of the trip. I trudged slow and steady with a slightly spinning head trying to keep my breathing down and by mid morning I had perked up. When I opened my gluten free snack provided by Lamapath I found plantain chips, these are a favourite of mine and I found my appetite (for some foods at least) had returned. The climb to dead woman's pass, so called due to the mountains shape, was slow. It's seemed to go on forever and get steeper as we approached the 4250m saddle. What an amazing feeling to take that last step and peer over the other side to the valley below. I waited for Reshma and a few others to reach the pass before the two of us continued down to our lunch spot by around 1:30 pm.
It was 3 pm before the rest of the gang arrived and we were given lunch. Our guide entered our lunch tent with some bad news. He felt it was unsafe to continue to camp that day, with a second high pass to negotiate followed by a long downhill section, he felt sure it would be darkness by the time we would arrive. The safest solution was to stay in the campsite we were currently in, originally planned as just a lunch stop.  As frustrating as that was for a few of us the majority of the group looked exhausted, with altitude sickness sapping every last ounce of energy and many people were completely spent.

After a very early night Day 3 started before dawn in order to make up for lost time. We climbed towards the second pass in the dark but spirits were high as many people had improved overnight. Soon a beautiful sunrise warmed the air and our guide let me skip ahead to enjoy the pass alone, never before have I felt so acclimatised and strong at 4000m! Once re-grouped I sped off down to the next Inca ruins using a careful trotting technique on the hard stone steps, there was no way I was repeating my head injury from last year! I enjoyed the ruin to myself and even set up my camera on the self timer to capture the moment. Had we continued the previous day as per the original plan I never would have experienced this Inca ruin entirely to myself, it was a very special moment.

 Due to our change in schedule we saw many ruins on Day 3 and also spectacular scenery from every angle. I was blown away by the excellent condition of the Inca Trail as it clung to cliff faces as intact now as it was all those hundreds of years ago. Towards the end of the day the ruins got larger, even without Machu Picchu waiting at the end this is one of the most spectacular walks I have ever done.
On our final day we rose early to walk the five minutes to the first control and here we waited for two hours. At 5:30 am the control opened and it was a one hour hike to the sun gate. I was the first from our group to reach and I looked down on a cloud free Machu Picchu. The desire for the early start became clear as the sun crept up above the side of the mountain and illuminated the ancient city of the Incas. The site for Machu Picchu was chosen for its natural quarry and water resources. However, that location, buried deep in the mountains, illuminated by the suns rays has got to be one of the most breath taking things I have ever seen.

Walking the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu is a humbling experience. So little is known about this ancient and brief civilisation. They worshiped nature, the mountains, stars, sun and moon and they built beautiful perfect temples and cities with very basic tools. What wiped them out? According to our guide a combination of smallpox and simple arrogance that they were the superior power, but what they have left behind looks like it might last forever. Seeing it with your own eyes and walking through the city that remains is a truly unique experience.

A special thanks to all those who where on this very memorable trip!

Volunteering in Cusco

My week volunteering in Cusco is coming to an end and what an experience it has been. After arriving on Saturday to my home stay (Edy and his family) I went for a walk around the city with my roommate Holly, a volunteer nurse, who had also arrived that morning.  By the time Monday morning rolled around I was feeling a little rough from an upset stomach  (altitude or food related it's hard to tell). So when I was told I was working on a night project and would have to negotiate a taxi home each night at 9pm I was a little bit nervous considering my lack of Spanish.  The staff at Maximo Nivel encouraged me to see how it went the first night and to speak to them if I had concerns. 

Qosqo Maki is a teaching English project that has been created, staffed and funded by Maximo. During the day it is a community centre,  at night it is a shelter for street children. Luckily Angel, the Maximo Nivel staff member, was kind enough to walk me to a taxi spot each night and tell the driver where I needed to go leaving me to only have to deal with saying left, right, straight and stop here in Spanish as we approached my destination. 

The first night teaching was tricky as you might expect, not helped by the fact we were told to prepare a basic and intermediate lesson when in fact what they needed was an intermediate and advanced lesson. Needless to say the advanced students weren't please and quickly swarmed round us after class requesting an advanced lesson the following night. A particularly grumpy man with excellent English earned himself the nickname Mr Tour Guide and he  became my challenge to win over!

I decided to take on the challenge of the advanced class and the following night we looked at conditionals. I felt there was still some reluctance from the students and it was difficult to win them round and get them engaged. The ice definitely broke when I finished the lesson with colour  idioms and all of a sudden everyone seemed relaxed and engaged. Even Mr Tour Guide was happy and that made my day.

The two nights that followed were a learning curve for me and them but I definitely made progress. By Thursday night Mr Tour Guide was using new vocabulary to say "I can rely on you to teach me English " which was most certainly the high point of the week. There were lots of funny moments like when my students repeatedly read out millions during some reading comprehension even though the text said million and I was pleased that I had already learned they say millions in Spanish and I really understood the error. I was also fascinated that the word for Jellyfish in Spanish is Medusa!

When visiting the Machu Picchu museum in Cusco I was talking to a local artist selling souvenirs. He explained that he was selling Inca whistles and containers carved from dried squash. As we continued to chat it turned out he had learnt English at Qosko Maki, I thought this was fantastic and proof the system is working well, how wonderful that I could play a small part in this project.

Welcome to Peru

At the end of 2015 I was offered the opportunity to join some friends to walk the Inca Trail in April. At first I refused, it seemed such a big trip to take without Peter and my usual guilt of spending his hard earned cash without him set in. I also knew that we would only just be getting settled into Ghana and taking myself away from there might not help the process. My wonderful husband however, convinced me otherwise. A chance to do this iconic walking route, see Singapore friends again and lets face it, Ghana isn't going anywhere. With Peter planning a golfing trip I even made the decision to go to Peru early to volunteer teaching English before meeting up with the others in the Sacred Valley.

Of course the months that followed have panned out in an unexpected way, we are in no means settled in Ghana and instead we have gone from one temporary home to another. So heading off to Peru might be a well timed break from all the madness or another period of restless hotel living. After a hectic week in London, feeling homesick and in need of some normality I wasnt exactly excited about going away. Later as I negotiated my way through a very hectic Lima international airport, some 19 hours after starting my journey at Heathrow,  tired, jetlagged and with a sore head I was no more enthusiastic about the 6 hours or so it would take me to reach my final destination. I was cursing myself for not remaining in London one more week for some extended normality. As my final flight took off for Cusco I dosed off. When I woke I looked out the window to see beautiful mountain scenery and that was all it needed to lift my spirits. I am writing this from my volunteer accommodation with litte idea how I will be spending my week ahead until my induction on Monday, so we will see how this next adventure goes!

Doha, Qatar

We went to Doha to have a break from Accra and to see the MotoGP. The highlight however, turned out to be the thriving vibrant city itself. The Museum of Islamic Art, sitting at one end of the Corniche, is an architectural beauty with stunning artefacts to match. Hundreds of fascinating pieces are expertly curated in this custom built museum. When in need of a coffee break to ponder on the history, science and art of Islam you can sit and gaze across the bay to the modern city beyond.  Nearby, the traditional Souq Waqif (The Standing Market) wakes from its daytime slumber into a buzzing night spot full of energy and music. The items on sale in the market offer variety; hardware, rugs, antiques, homewares, local dress and handicrafts. The locals that still partake in the traditional sport of falconry are well catered for at the Falcon souq, complete with Falcon hospital and around the corner camels and horses are on sale. If you are interested in picking up a bit of bling then you can drop by the gold souq, luckily bargaining is expected!

Qatar has invested heavily in some other projects around the city, the construction of a metro system is well underway, due for completion in 2019. A brand new Qatar National Museum sits not far from the Museum on Islamic Art. Its space age design is actually based on a desert rose and its scale seems monumental, I would love to return in some years to see it complete. The Katara Cultural Village is another ambitious project. Partially complete but surrounded by construction this village aims to showcase cultural events, promoting not just Arabic culture but culture from around the world. Qatar has also built an artificial Island called the Pearl. Shaped like a string of pearls and built on a historic pearl diving site the island is reminiscent of Qatar’s history as a pearling history. The pearl offers luxury residential and hotel accommodation with high end living and a beautiful marina. I’m not really excited by these prestigious locations but I can see how they bring in money for the city.

What I liked about Doha, is exactly the thing I felt was missing from Dubai, Culture. The ruling family of Qatar seem quite opened minded compared to some other Islamic countries. Women can vote and run for office and they benefit from the same career opportunities as men. Perhaps this open minded thinking made Qatar realise that they can showcase and embrace modern culture without giving up their Islamic values. On Friday morning most shops and restaurants don't open until after prayer. Alcohol is only served in licensed hotels and Arabic art has been incorporated into some of the modern aspects of the city. I loved the Arabic lamp posts, which glow a rainbow of alternating colours by night. The museum of Islamic Art is inspired by classic Islamic architecture but with a sharp modern feel. The Burj Qatar stands proud in the skyline, lined with geometric tiles which mimic traditional Islamic sun screens and must create the most beautiful patterns as the sun filters through. A mention must also be given to the delicious food, with Arabic, Turkish and Mediterranean influences.  

I shouldn't go without mentioning the MotoGP which was very cheap and easy to get to. There were some food stalls and a single grandstand seating area, the only downside was no beer! We enjoyed the Saturday practice and Sunday race in comfortable evening temperatures. We look forward to returning to Doha as some point in the future and see what other cultural gems have popped up and maybe indulge in some more of that delicious food!

In Limbo

Our Accra journey is certainly proving challenging so far. Around 10 days ago we heard that our container had cleared customs and could be delivered the following week. Oh the joy as that light at the end of the tunnel seemed to shine a little brighter! Moving to a new country is always a rollercoaster journey of ups and downs and that high was immediately followed but an all-time low. A mere few hours after the container update we heard that we had lost our second house choice, and once again the light was snuffed out altogether. It took 12 weeks to loose house number one and 6 weeks to loose house number two. To get into the reasons why is just not possible on a public forum and indeed I will get no pleasure from describing them, only frustration. Our concerns about the process have been raised and we have little choice but to try and move forward. We have now chosen house number three and so the clock is re-set once again, 12 weeks to try and secure the property with no guarantees it will go through. 

The problem with living in a hotel in Accra is that sense of feeling like a caged animal. The hotel has events on most days and at weekends our little chalet gets surrounded by a cocktail of loud music. There is no peace and quiet and it’s not the type of city where you can just go for a walk or take a trip to the movies. Peter cannot unwind at the golf course when his clubs are in storage and I have yet to find confidence to run anywhere but in the gym. And so frustrations rise. If we could have walked away, got in a car or on a plane and just left, then we probably would have done. But there is nothing relaxing about getting in a car here, and anyway, where would we go? We need a bubble, a bubble of our own space, of quiet, of our things, but without a house that bubble does not exist.

We have now, finally, been offered a temporary furnished apartment, while we wait for house number 3 and our belongings. Why we weren’t offered this earlier I’m really not sure. There seems no sense of time here. It’s a common complaint that things don’t happen when they should and there is no understanding from the locals of why this is a problem. You could say that this lack of time perception is part of the culture here and the delays we are having to face are all part of moving to Ghana and understanding their ways. Of course there is a limit to how long we can remain in limbo, patiently waiting to get a permanent home, trying to keep our frustrations down. For the first time I do now have to question, will we get there in the end? Or will this whole experience taint our feelings for Ghana and send us running, anywhere but here.

Tema Fish Market

Today Steven took me to Tema, a port city just outside Accra. It cost 1 cedi (20p) to get there on the motorway and another to get back, I’m not sure why as this road is as full of bumps and holes as all the others seem to be! Tema was buzzing with industry, concrete and aluminium factories, tuna processing, lots going on here. We even seemed to drive past a spot where forklift trucks went to die, or maybe just be repaired, it’s always hard to tell here. Due to the volume of trucks going in and out of Tema I saw several truck drivers removing tyres from wheel rims right by the roadside. Here in the dusty African sun this looked to be an exhausting affair. As we approached the port the roads got busy and I commented to Stephen on the age of the boys selling water at the junctions. He tells me they are often taken from the villages, promised an education in the city, and instead made to sell products at the roadside. 

 The fish market was a tad intimidating. Before I could get out the car baskets of various fish were thrust towards the window and I had to ease myself out and through the crowds. Stephen took me to a lady he knows, just a case of trusting him in this instance! She was determined to sell me a much as possible, I had to admire her tenacity. Now, I have to confess, that usually when I buy fish I am used to it being filleted already so when she held a big Tuna up in front of me I didn’t actually recognise it as a Tuna. I guess this is an education in itself, I probably should be able to pick a Tuna fish from a line up. I was offered a seat on a wooden bench while they organised my order. I watched all the ladies at work washing and preparing squid. A man appeared, singing loudly and walking through the stalls, I caught the word God and Stephen confirmed that he was preaching. A little while later with my prawns all peeled, my tuna de-headed and some money exchanged we were ready to head off with our fish bagged up in some ice (time to invest in a cool box I think). The fish lady promptly asked when I was coming back and whether she could have my phone number, which I politely declined. She suggested that I take friends so that I could have a special discount, I told you she was determined!   I got my obligatory free item, a sole fillet to try, presumably to encourage me to buy some next time. Stephen also got his obligatory free fish along with my Tuna head, he can’t understand why I don’t want it but it has probably made his day!

A Week in Accra

In some ways I feel it might be too soon for an Accra post. Aside from my October trip, when I was visiting the city for a week house hunting, I have only been here a total of seven days. However, my head is buzzing with all these new experiences and details and as this is essentially my diary I feel the need to get them written down. Perhaps my caveat is that I reserve the right to change the opinions expressed here at a later stage as I get to know our new African home!

Due to the common difficulty of securing a property in Accra we are currently living in a hotel. Thankfully we have managed to get somewhere with some basic cooking facilities. For me being able to prepare some basic meals, immediately makes me feel more settled. On Saturday we went to three large supermarkets. I have to admit coming away somewhat dismayed at the high price and poor quality of the fresh produce on display. Some things I can get used to, like the fact fresh milk is nearly impossible to obtain (UHT it is then) and the meat, as you might expect, is not fantastic quality. So you can maybe understand that the expensive wilting vegetables were somewhat depressing, but I wasn’t giving up that easily. After a bit of research and a chat with our driver Stephen he took me down to a little local veg stall. Hooray! Fresh vegetables and at a really good price. I’m fairly certain I’m probably paying some elevated expat price but I’m ok with that, at least it’s going to the local economy, rather than into the supermarket’s importing pockets.  I also love the fact that my business earned Stephen a free pineapple. There are many, many unemployed people in Accra so often they buy items from these markets and then walk the streets with them balanced on their heads selling them on through car windows.

As much as I despise the idea of being driven around in our fancy car it’s the way it has to be here. Our 4WD, the type often relegated to the school run in the UK, is actually really useful here in Accra. One turn off the main highway can lead to bumping up and down an surfaced road full of pot holes.

I’m always intrigued by how the English language has developed in countries where they have a native tongue. My favourite phrases noted so far are when I was taken to see a photocopy of a house because the one actually available still had tenants living inside. Then there is the Carvery sign at breakfast which lists the styles of eggs that the chef can prepare for you, clearly the word Carvery has been misinterpreted to mean selection. I’m not criticising these idiosyncrasies, in fact I’m always impressed by the ability to understand exactly what they mean. We really do have too many words in English!

Dubai - Love it or Hate it?

I really don't think that I understand Dubai. We were warned it was quite westernised but I’m not sure I fully comprehended how that would manifest itself. Our hotel was on Jumeirah walk, known for its beach side location, trendy cafes and restaurants. All of which are alcohol free. In Dubai only hotels and private clubs contain licensed bars. This lack of alcohol is about the only hint that you are outside Europe in this swanky corner of the city. The February weather felt just like London in early summer, a deliciously warm sunshine with a cool air in the shade. The people walking around the luxury marina and working in the restaurants were mainly European and Asian. Later that evening, when we eventually established where we could have a beer, we were forced to breathe in second hand smoke, another small indication that we maybe weren’t in the western world.

With just a day and a half to explore this busy transfer hub I had booked us tickets to go up the world’s tallest building. The Burj Khalifa is a statement, an 828 metre, five hundred thousand tonne statement. It towers high above the city as a mark of achievement. Like much of modern Dubai it glistens and glitters in the dessert sunshine. Its lightening rod spire is so far away it appears like a needle in the clear blue sky. So determined was Dubai to puff out its chest and show off to the world they even had to alter the flight path of Dubai International Airport, curving round this beautiful feat of engineering. If that isn’t enough to blow your socks off the world’s second largest shopping mall sits at the base, with over 1200 shops and what seemed like hundreds of restaurants. If you decide to pick up a guide to the mall’s mind boggling array of establishments you would spot some mall etiquette on the inside cover. This includes dressing respectfully by covering shoulders and knees and refraining from public acts of affection, so a quick snog outside Bloomgdales is a no go. These rules of etiquette didn’t seem to be displayed anywhere other than the brochure and either many of the mall visitor’s didn’t care about them or simply didn’t know about them. After two years of living in South East Asia and being familiar with Islamic values, I had, thankfully, dressed appropriately. 

Apart from the occasional couple walking around in local dress we were feeling quite dismayed at the distinct lack of culture witnessed so far. Determined we might be missing some other side of Dubai we headed out on the open top sightseeing bus. This may be tourist central but it does allow you to see a lot of the city from an excellent double decked vantage point. Sure enough old Dubai is where some culture is hiding, although we didn’t have time to fully explore on this trip. Here there is a museum, traditional markets and buildings and definitely some signs of local life. It does seem strange however that a short bus ride down the road there is a palm shaped island with fronds of luxury houses owned by a cast of celebrities. The palm may look stunning in aerial photographs but on the open top bus ride down the central ‘trunk’ highway we had no awareness we were on this rather oddly shaped development. 

I can see how people either love of hate this booming corner of the dessert. As an expat you get sunshine, tax free living and all the comforts of home, more perhaps with paid helpers and fancy cars very affordable. I sensed an element of keeping up with the Jones, not an aspect of expat living I enjoy.  As a tourist you get something similar with what might be just enough culture for some. The Arabic road signs (also in English), the beautiful mosques that line the roads and a small proportion Arab men and women in their distinctive dress. The service in hotels and restaurants, although provided mostly by ex-pats, is in general exceptional. For us however, something is really missing. Has Dubai sold out its traditions, history and integrity to try to be the crowning jewel of the Emirates? Is it reliant on oil to keep the skyscrapers growing or has it established enough business to survive when the oil money dries up? Watch this space I guess, as development is still going strong out there in the dessert. 

Sri Lanka

Our holiday to Sri Lanka was planned quite a while ago and when the time arrived to catch a plane to Colombo the focus was on finding some time to relax, a break from the upheaval of moving. Looking out over the beach at Tangalla on the south coast was the perfect way to achieve that. Our accommodation faced the Indian Ocean and with no glass in the windows (only shutters) and open rafters the sound of the waves crashing against the beach was part of the ambient noise. The southwest Sri Lankan countryside, viewed from the road, is rich, lush and green. Egrets line the rice paddies and water buffalo can be seen lumbering along the back roads as local farmers move them from field to field. Then there are the peacocks. Just like sheep wonder the roads in rural Scotland or kangaroos in Australia, in Sri Lanka the peacocks are in abundance - drivers beware!

Our fist bit of culture came in the form of the Mulkirigala Temples, also known to tourists as the rock temple. Even the drive to the temple is fascinating as you pass through a green forest of coconut trees. Tucked away amongst the greenery are basic homes for local families, looking idyllic nestled beneath the trees. Coconuts are obviously an important food source here as stacks upon stacks of empty shells lay in piles just off the road. The rock temples comprise of seven caves over five terraces. Each contains a large reclining statue of the Buddha with additional seated statues nearby. Perhaps the real surprise though comes from the images overhead, painted directly onto the rocky roof. It’s said that temples in one form of another have been present on this site for 2000 years although the one you see today dates from the 18th century. In 1826 a Pali manuscript was found in the monastic library which was used for the first translation of the great chronicle. This allowed Europeans to shed light on Sri Lanaka’s early history.  I studied a reasonable amount of Buddhism as part of my training to be a docent at the Asian Civilisation Museum in Singapore. Here at the rock temple Hindu Gods are depicted alongside Buddha and as is often the case the more you learn about Buddhism, the more you realise there is so much left to understand. Its spread across Asian was complex and by no means uniform!

A few days later we went on Sri Lankan safari, heading to Uda Walawe national park. Here the guidebook promised us Elephants, crocodiles, water buffalo, deer and plenty of birds. We saw all of these although sadly there were no elephant herds. We did see four individual elephants and we had a really fantastic time. What the guide book doesn’t tell you is that the safari jeep experience is quite memorable. As we climbed aboard this raised vehicle with no windscreen and headed across the entrance road we were blasted with cool morning air. Around us an atmospheric mist could be seen in the dawn light and almost immediately the looming shape of an elephant at the roadside. Soon we were bouncing around the park with our eagle-eyed driver spotting and pointing out wildlife. After an hour we had seen so many peacocks we were tired of photographing them! The springy suspension of the jeep on the rough safari tracks made the whole experience quite a giggle and I’m still not sure how our driver managed to spot crocodiles way off in the distance amongst the water buffalo.

Our final day of Sri Lankan culture was a trip to the fort town of Galle.  The first small fort built here was constructed by the Portuguese in 1589 but the Dutch later destroyed most traces of it and rebuild during the 17th century. Galle was the main Sri Lankan port for over 200 years and it remains the administrative capital of the southern province. It is also a world heritage site as it is the largest remaining fortress in Asian built by European occupiers. Galle is very much a working town and as our driver dropped us outside the court house we saw the day to day life was thriving. As well as the busy legal business afoot the quaint streets of the old town are lined with shops selling Sri Lankan jewels and other art gems from around the world. With trendy cafes and pretty hotels Galle is the sort of place you could easily immerse yourself for a few days.

Finally I cannot go without a mention of the wonderful Sri Lankan people and food. Tasty curries and vegetables, buffalo curd pudding and hoppers for breakfast, the perfect gluten free egg roll. We were well looked after by the house staff and I really didn’t come across any element of pushiness at the markets that is so often off putting in Asian countries. Perhaps that is down to the pace of life there, where a restaurant meal may take an hour or more to arrive and even waiting for a drink at a sandy bar is long enough for you to get eaten alive by sand flies and mosquitoes, but hey we live in Africa now, waiting for things is our normality!