Tafi Atome and Hohoe, Ghana

I readily admit to burning out. At Mole National Park, I stressed over my next destination: northern Togo? Transport was possible to Kara, but to Natitingou, Benin from there? Having to negotiate everything in French? Not knowing how frequent (or rather, how commonly people take the route, given how vehicles only leave when full unless you charter the whole thing) transport leaves and whether I’d be stranded? The possibility that I would have to arrange my own costly private transport? It turned me into a little ball of stress.
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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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Estelí and Reserva Miraflor, Nicaragua

I met Tian, a South African working in Algeria, twice already on Ometepe, so it was a surprise to find him on the same minivan from León to Estelí. We had to wait for the van to fill up before we could depart. In the end, a woman and her daughter came on, but she refused to pay for two fares, insisting that her daughter (at least 10 years old, mind you!) could sit on her lap for the 2.5 hour ride. The driver wasn’t having it. Tian offered to pay one of her fares so we could get going, and I translated his offer for him. Everybody was satisfied with that.

I only had the one afternoon in Estelí, so after a rigorous cleanup from my León/Telica activities, I walked around town, taking in the many political murals, the market upon which all the farmers in the surrounding highlands converge on, and even a protest of some sort marching right past my hostel. Estelí is also very famous for cigars, but that didn’t interest me so much and I had no time. Continue reading

Cerro Negro and Volcán Telica, Nicaragua

Nicaragua is already a country of volcanoes, but León is positively surrounded by them.  In fact, the old city of León was buried by an eruption and the current, rebuilt León is 30 km away from the old one.

I joined three people from my hostel on a day trip to Cerro Negro.  The rural road we were on wasn’t made for automobiles, clearly – aside from sharing the one “lane” with horses and cows, it was extremely bumpy and worn to the point that we got stuck a few times, needing to back up and speed across a hump or giant rock or tree root. Continue reading

León, Nicaragua

León is in the lowlands, the hottest part of the country.  I thought it was hot enough already…but then I arrive to find 37ºC weather!  Given that, I found a hostel with a pool and spent a lot of time there.

León is a very colonial city, like Granada, with whom it has shared a long rivalry – both cities have been the capital of Nicaragua at some point, until the neutral city of Managua was finally picked.  Aesthetically, they’re similar (though León is a little bit more rundown), but politically, they couldn’t be further away from each other – León is the hub of the left, and Granada for the right. Continue reading

Corn Islands, Nicaragua

I’d say I’ve been super lucky so far – throughout the last two years of on-and-off travelling, I never had any notable weather-related problems.

Things seemed to move like clockwork on Saturday: 6:30 ferry back to San Jorge, 8:30 direct bus to Managua, enough time to take the cheap public bus to the airport instead of a taxi, 2:15 flight to Big Corn Island.  Four days in the Caribbean, finally get to relax on the beach, go diving again…right? Continue reading

Ometepe, Nicaragua

Ometepe is considered to be Nicaragua’s crown jewel.  Every time I mentioned to a local that I’d be heading there, their face would just light up.

Conni and I attempted to take an early bus from Granada to Rivas, where the ferries to Ometepe depart from (actually, in San Jorge, a 5 minute taxi ride away from Rivas).  We made our way to the bus station at 9:45 am, and when we asked the “conductor” (not the guy driving, but the guy who goes around the bus collecting fares from everyone) when it’d be leaving, he said “Ahorita!” (“Right now!”) Continue reading