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!

High is the word

I probably don't have to tell you that I love the mountains, there is something magical and energetic that radiates from those big lumps of rock. 

For many people the idea of spending two nights out in the high mountains, in a cold basic shelter with no electricity,  running water, fire or toilets might not sound like much of a holiday. For Jens, Tara and I this basic refugio, sitting at 3200m in the Sierra Nevada mountains, was exactly where we needed to be to practice alpine skills. This simple shelter became our base, not just for easy mountain access but also to sit outside in the moonlight to listen to, well, nothing. The mountains are alive,  they creak, they groan, they sigh, sometimes they warn you that they want to be alone and sometimes they sit there quietly listening to your thoughts. Spending time in them, especially in the dead of night, is like visiting an old friend who reminds you that you are pretty insignificant in the grand scheme of things. 

What brought us to this mountain shelter was an alpine introduction course with local guides Spanish Highs. Richard, the founder, had met us at the airport two days before. The following day we went out to practice scrambling in our mountaineering boots and moving together on the rope alpine style. We even managed to simulate a crevasse rescue using a rocky drop off. Despite Richard having been on this mountain many times before I watched him pausing to soak in the atmosphere and views as we picked a route up the mountain side. His mountain love is clear.

The following day he handed us over to our German guide Jens to take us up the mountain in search of some snowy conditions. With a 13kg rucksack on my back and wearing crampons for the first time in several years, I have to admit to feeling clumsy and slow heading up the mountain side at altitude. Jens broke the trudge up with skills practice,  we built snow anchors, practiced ice axe arrest and generally laughed a lot watching various things go wrong. These serious skills will need some more practice when we get the chance. Jens's laid back approach and blunt humor worked well, giving us a chance to figure out what we were doing wrong together, rather than immediately correcting every mistake.

We reached the refugio just as the sun set behind the nearby ridge, little did we know we would be attempting that very ridge the following day. Our teamwork and education continued into the evening as we melted snow for water and made our dehydrated meals badly, who would have thought that was possible!!

The following day we climbed a morning summit near the hut before heading to the ridge. Diving straight into the training we lead off along the ridge roped together with Jens reassuringly nearby for guidance. The skills here were difficult for rock climbers to comprehend,  the idea to move quickly and safely when comfortable but protect moves when required. This is mentally challenging,  protecting every move will slow you down but you also need to remain safe. More practice will be required to nail this skill. We managed to squeeze in a short sunset hike and a further peak the following morning before heading back down the mountain to reality.

As we headed through the airport to begin our journey home we found ourselves still applying our team working skills fairly effortlessly. We may be physically exhausted, but behind that we are high on life, high on mountain love and high of the idea or our next mountain adventure,  thank you Spanish Highs!

Waiting

It has been a month since my last post, when I said my goodbyes to Singapore. The long flight back to the UK and the preparations for Christmas and New Year seemed to fly by in a flurry of tinsel and baubles. Before we knew it January 4th had arrived, time for most people to return to normality. For us that meant Peter flying to Accra, in Ghana, to take up the next phase of his work project. As for me, well, I was left behind in London. This is not our normality. 

We are learning things don’t happen quickly in Ghana, they meander along at a pace that suits them. There is an element of this which is frustrating of course, but I have come to accept that frustration gets me nowhere useful.

People who know me know that I am very much into doing. We are moving to Accra so let’s go and get on with it, together. Alas this is not under our control, although there are worse places to be waiting than in London. So for now we wait. We wait for visa’s, ID, our shipment, housing, tax registration, the list goes on and on. Of course these things were all initiated some time ago, in October and November, but perhaps not soon enough for Accra’s laid back approach. It took them twelve weeks to decide we couldn't have the house we chose in October, setting us back to square one on that front with no particular explanation as to why they couldn't have worked that out sooner.

For me I can see 4 to 5 months (at least) disappearing just trying to manage this process and waiting for 'stuff' to happen. I try to make the most of being in the UK, seeing family and friends for example and planning a nice weekend away. Doing some free MOOCs online, anything to make me feel like I am achieving something. For me this maintains my sanity during the upheaval. Of course things are no easier for Peter, his work load is crazy as the vessel relocates to Ghana and he has no choice but to live, temporarily, in a hotel whilst also trying to squeeze in house hunting. As I try to remain patient and do what I can to coax the process along I am starting to feel that moving from Singapore to Accra may have to be my achievement for these ‘lost’ months. This is by no means a complaint, I accept that this is all part of the adventure we are on and this is only the beginning of getting used to African ways. I am far better at remaining patient, calm and pragmatic about these things than I used to be, this is one of the many positive influences our travels have had on my life.

Farewell Singapura

Let me be honest and not beat around the bush. I LOVE Singapore and this post is all about why……..

Singapore can pretty much be what you want it to be in its own way. As a tour guide at the Asian Civilisations Museum I tell visitors about the Monsoon winds which carried in trade from both East and West to the straits of Malacca, at the bottom of which you find Singapore. With this trade came religions, artistic representations and culture and of course they influenced this part of the world. These influences are still very much present in Singapore today. 

To soak in the multi-sensory experience of South Asia you can head to Little India. Here the wet market and hawker centre are almost always bustling with people and beautiful Hindu temples line Serangoon Road. At the right time of day you will see worshippers at the temples engaging their senses through music, food, incense and touch. Not to mention the overwhelmingly visual aspects of the bright and colourful façade with a seemingly endless variety of Gods and deities. The legendary Mustafa’s really does sell anything you might need and Deepavali and Thaipusam are celebrated here in style. 

For an experience of West Asia head to the Arab quarter where the Sultan mosque dominates the skyline with its beautiful golden dome. A bright and colourful array of fabrics, rugs and carpets can be purchased here. During Ramadan food stalls line the streets outside the Mosque as the community comes together each evening to break their daylight fasting.

Chinese culture is widely represented in Singapore. Chinatown itself is worthy of some exploring beyond the main tourist haunts lined with souvenir stalls. Thian Hock Keng temple on Telok Ayer street is thought to be the oldest Chinese temple. The Three Teachings of China are represented here giving us an insight into the Chinese way of life, but that is a whole other blog post (December 2014). During Chinese New Year the stalls seem to multiply and you can see groups of Lion dancers all around the city.

What about the rest of South East Asia? Well it is all around us. Thai food and temples are dotted all around the island. Head down to the East Coast on a public holiday and see the local Malays playing Sepak takraw (kick volleyball) and sharing a family picnic. A Burmese temple stands behind the Sun Yat Sen Nanyang Memorial Hall, an important location during the Chinese revolution. The list of examples of cultures that sit, side by side, is possibly endless.

Standing at these crossroads of culture you might ask a question, one which has been asked during the year of Singapore’s Golden Jubilee celebrations. What’s makes Singapore, well, Singapore? 

For me Singapore is incredibly unique. There is this real sense of harmony, safety and stability amongst the different races and religions. The forward thinking attitude, started by the late Mr Lee Kuan Yew, has driven Singapore to advance from third world to become a modern, thriving hub. Also a huge bonus is Singapore’s ability to cram in greenery anywhere possible, very clever when the majority of people live in high rise buildings. There are many things that may now be considered Singapore icons. Perhaps the unique brand of English spoken, the Merlion, Gardens by the Bay or Marina Bay Sands. Chilli Crab, Chicken Rice, affordable government housing (HDBs) or even the organised queuing. However, I think what probably makes Singapore unique is the Singaporeans'. Yes, they may descend from China, India, Malaya or some other destination but they have definitely become a unique culture in their own right. Singapore is, well, Singapore and there is nowhere else in the world quite like it. What more do I need to say, except, I’m so sorry to be saying farewell!