Mole National Park, Ghana

It took two miserable days of travel to get to Mole: an 8 hour bus ride from Kumasi to Tamale arriving at 5:30 pm, a 4 am wake-up call to buy a Tamale-Mole ticket at the station after every local I encountered told me they’d sell out (they didn’t, and the bus wasn’t full), and a 2 pm departure that ended up being at 5:45 instead, on the dustiest road known to man in a bus with open windows. At least Jessica, Felix (both rejoining me direct from Accra), and I entertained ourselves during the long wait for the bus by chatting with children (after school, selling sachets of water, ginger, toothpaste, candy… anything their parents sold) who taught us some words in Dagbani and Twi. My poor attempts certainly got the other locals laughing. At least know I know how to say things like “good afternoon” (Dagbani: antsere), “what is your name” (ayuli), “ginger” (kakadro), and “is your mother in the house?” (Twi: u maame wo fie?) And of course, “thank you” (Dagbani: nan desugu, Twi: medaase), which always brought pleasantly surprised responses without fail whenever I used it.

We arrived in Mole around 10 pm, sweaty and covered in red dust. We all looked like we changed ethnicities and dyed our hair. All of this trouble is definitely worth it.
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Kumasi, Ghana

Cities are exhausting. While I’ve been enjoying my time so far, it’s been admittedly stressful. Walking out onto the street is an assault on all the senses — honking, pollution, traffic, cars with an index finger’s worth of space between each other and having to walk between them, dodging people, dodging men and women carrying things on their heads, heat, haze… I return to my room every night blowing black soot out of my nose. And when I arrived into Kumasi, I was swindled by a taxi driver and dropped off at a hostel that no longer existed — a pretty dismal start that made the stresses of the city worse. But then stuff just happens that kinda erases that from my mind.

Wandering for half an hour trying to find another hostel, I asked some souvenir stall owners for some directions. Kwadjo took me straight to a nice hostel, and offered to take me around town.

Why? I’m not sure. But he left his stall for two days.
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Busua and Cape Coast, Ghana

After meeting Erik (Norway), Jessica (USA), and Felix (England) from my hostel in Accra, we decided to swap numbers and travel on and off together. So, Erik and I headed off to Cape Coast to meet Jessica, who was one day ahead of us. We caught a tro-tro (reluctantly, instead of a bus) headed to Takoradi from Kaneshie Market and went off on our way.

Well, off we went. So far that we ended up passing Cape Coast and not realising it until we asked the driver about 45 minutes after we passed it. Oops. We just decided to go along with the flow and headed to Takoradi instead, and from there, we made our way to Busua, the backpacker-friendly beach village of Ghana.
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Accra, Ghana

From the streets of Accra.

“Welcome to Ghana!”
“Thank you for visiting my country!”
“Akwaaba!”
“Do you like our country? It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“So what brings you here?”

I don’t know, actually. Ghana is not a country you come to specifically for touristic sites. Something drew me here, after reading about it, and I hadn’t and still haven’t really pinned it down. But I’ve received a heck of a welcome.
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Marrakesh, Morocco

“Japon! Japon! Korea? China? Indonesia?”

Yeah…walking around the souks in Marrakech wasn’t my idea of fun, especially after Fes.  Sadly enough, I did not buy anything but a postcard (which I didn’t have to bargain for), let alone wander into more than 3 or 4 shops, in my entire stay in Morocco.  And those shop-wanderings were mostly in Chefchaouen!  I cannot stand being hassled, and I ended up not even trying to buy anything.  So much as a sideways glance at an item would have someone chasing me down the street calling me Japan or even yelling at me in Japanese. Continue reading

Tinerhir, Morocco

It’s probably better to travel by rental car in Morocco.  Taking public transport is a bit annoying – buses don’t run often and the only other option is grands taxis to get between cities: cars with room for four, but they usually carry six.  Since we were travelling as a group of four, we just chose to buy up the two remaining seats each time.

We took a grand taxi from Merzouga to Rissani, and ate lunch where we were dropped off.  Aaaand that’s where things started to go downhill for me.  I had a tagine that had sand in it…and I barely ate.  I felt rather bloated. Continue reading

Merzouga, Morocco

We arrived in Merzouga at 6:30 am, and Hassan (a tour operator who I emailed prior) met us at the bus station.  We then had about 12 hours to wait before heading off on our camel safari.

Merzouga is a small town right on the edge of Erg Chebbi, a large sand sea (erg) on the edge of the Sahara, set at the base of the Chebbi mountains.  Upon approach by bus, the scenery was a world away from Fes and felt surreal – a giiiiiiaaaaaaant sand dune loomed over everything like a mountain. Continue reading

Fes, Morocco

Bit of an early start – over breakfast with Inara and Leiko, I found out that for the past few days, I had my watch set wrong!  Morocco is one hour behind Spain and no one told me, nor did I glance at any clocks…so I woke up a little bit too early for my bus.  Well, at least it wasn’t the other way around! Continue reading