"Home" and Heartbreak

Thursday, November 23^rd – Home and Heartbreak

I sure didn’t sleep for the plane rides from Casablanca to Abidjan and continuing to Accra, but I rested. My eyes were shut, and I was definitely relaxed, but not asleep by any means. It didn’t matter. I would have plenty of time to sleep during the day .

I stepped off the plane, and the humidity hit me like a slap in the face. At the same time though, it felt very normal. Overall, coming back to Ghana was a little bit like coming back “home.” Everything seemed so normal from the humidity to the accents to the taxi drivers giving me obruni prices.

Instead of forking out 40,000 cedis for the ride to Legon, I walked for a mile, then took a tro-tro for 2,000. The taxi drivers laughed at me for wanting to take a tro-tro; a laughed back at them for not giving them any money.

I got back to Legon, and passed out immediately. I set my alarm for 11:30AM, so I could meet with my advisor about my project. I slept well – enough to get me going through the day and back onto a normal sleep schedule.

After waking up, I went into Joe’s room, where there were a rather large collection of people. They asked me how my trip was, when I got back – all the usually questions about the trip. I asked them about some “accident” that happened. All I knew that there was an accident – that was as specific as the email got. Then the news was broken

Brenna, a girl from UC Santa Cruz, died in a tro-tro ride on the Accra – Kumasi Road. Needless to say, I was shocked. Not only that, it really put my own trip into perspective. Prior to hearing the news, I was going to break into a tirade about all the not-so-great stuff that happened on my trip, but after that moment, none of it mattered. Nothing else really mattered. I lost my ATM card. This girl lost her life. Her family lost a daughter, a cousin, a niece. Her friends lost a dear one. In comparison, my issues were nothing, and complaining about them just seemed wrong.

The truth – the sad truth – is that I barely knew Brenna. My memories of her are few and far between, but there is one that stands out. Brenna was the first person who I talked to on this whole trip. We walked through security together in San Francisco. I remember turning to her after we walked through and I said, “You ready?” Wearing her red, plaid Capri pants and an ear-to-ear smile, she calmly said “Yea.”

She was seated on my right side on the flight from San Francisco. We talked for a bit, but I fell asleep and she kept reading her book, I’m sure. We probably would have been seated next to each other on the flight back from New York. Now, there will be no body there – just her spirit.

I met with my advisor, who said everything looked good. The rest of the day was pretty mixed. I was still brimming from my trip, and the forthcoming dinner was something I looked forward to. At the same time, there was no way to keep this tragedy out of my mind.

Thanksgiving dinner was pretty amazing. The food was fantastic. It was a blend of American culture – turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, cranberry, and peas – and Ghanaian culture – rice and chicken. It was really good to see everyone from EAP. At this point, we’ve become a support system for each other. The food portion of the dinner concluded with the most American food possible – apple pie and ice cream.

Once people finished eating, people started speaking briefly – memories of and thoughts for Brenna and her family. I said something along the lines of the memory written above, and that’s when I become somewhat shaken by the whole situation. I had held it together for the most of the day, but at that moment, it hit me.

I spent the rest of the night talking with family and friends, and just trying to keep myself together.

Friday, November 24^th – Back to the Normalcy of Nothing

This day barely justifies any writing. I don’t think I did anything of significance. I spent a good chunk of the day listening to music, playing cards with Duncan and writing about Egypt.

Saturday, November 25^th – Studying? What?

I slept in, and got right to studying once I got out of bed. My exam for Poli 323 – Conflicts in African States – is tomorrow, and I really don’t feel prepared. I spent the better part of the day reading through my notes and narrowing down my notes into a few pages that I could easily remember.

Kevin, Hao, Mark and I were supposed to have a study session, but Mark went somewhere and never returned, and Hao felt that she just needed to go through the notes by herself – no biggie. Kevin and I swapped some notes and verbalized the most important things. I tend to remember things much better when I hear them.

After an hour or so, I took a small break, then got back to reading through the notes. After spending the day with this material, I feel ready. I was in bed by 1AM, which, for a pre-exam night, is really good. I wish I could take all of my exams on five hours of sleep.

Sunday, November 26^th – Final and Funeral

I woke up promptly at 6:30 and, oh my god, there is running water. It’s a miracle. I took a quick shower, and headed off to my exam. I must say that having an exam on Sunday is just unholy, in both the figurative in literal sense. Sunday is my weekend, but it’s a day of church for most of the people in school. I’m somewhat surprised that the school offers finals on Sundays.

The exam was easy – really easy. I wrote about eleven pages, nearly filling out the exam book. I’m confident that I will be getting an A in that class.

There was a scheduled funeral for 3:00 but it was a Christian funeral. None of the girls closest to Brenna were too thrilled about this, as Brenna wasn’t particularly religious, and neither are most of the EAP people. Nearly none of the EAP people showed up to the Christian service. Instead, we held a quickly organized candlelight vigil/memorial which was lovely. Many tears flowed. I know they did for me.

I had to leave early to study for a bit. I have another final on Tuesday for the class I didn’t go to all semester. After a little reading, I went to Tyme Out to have a drink with a bunch of EAP people, some of whom will be leaving tomorrow nights. It’s sad that their trip has been cut short, but its for the better.

Monday, November 27^th – Studying (?) Again.

Not a lot today. Just a whole lot of studying – reading, notetaking, all that stuff. Hopefully I will be prepared for this exam tomorrow.

Tonight, I’m talking with Ryan and Joe. It’s something that I not only want, but really need at this point. Without a doubt, they are my two best friends. I know that they are there for me right now. They’re always there for me. But especially right now, it’s really nice to know that they are there.

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US STUDENT DIES IN GHANA CRASH

20-year-old UC student studying abroad was on bus; 3 other students injured

Brenna Fessenden, a 2004 Maria Carrillo High School graduate studying in Africa, died Monday in a bus accident in Ghana.

Fessenden, 20, was participating in the University of California's Education Abroad Program in the African nation. She and three other students were returning from a weekend trip to a game preserve in Mole National Park, located north of the city of Accra.

Few details about the accident in Ghana were available Tuesday. But family members said they were told the accident apparently involved a "smallish bus" that may have rolled over, said Eric Fessenden of Santa Rosa, Brenna Fessenden's father.

"She was having an amazing experience. Every time she called it was just another great story," said her father, a school teacher at Alta Mira Middle School in Sonoma.

"She was loving it, but she was also counting the days till she came home," he said.

Fessenden, who had been in Ghana for a semester-long study program since mid-July, was scheduled to return to Santa Rosa on Dec. 19. Bruce Hanna, communications director for the universitywide study-abroad office in Goleta, said the three other program participants are in stable condition and that all the families have been notified.

Their names were not immediately available.

Fessenden's father said she was a model student who recently attained standing as a senior during her third year at UC Santa Cruz, where she was majoring in psychology.

He said that at Maria Carrillo, Fessenden excelled in her studies, taking advanced placement classes. He described his daughter as the kind of person who was thrilled to discover new places and cultures, noting she had been to Europe twice and once to China.

"That's why she chose Ghana, because it was very different," he said. "She always felt a little isolated going to Rincon Valley and Maria Carrillo."

Maria Carrillo Principal Mark Klick said Fessenden was a person who wanted to make a difference in life and would always reach out to people.

Klick said that while at the Santa Rosa high school, Fessenden earned a 4.0-plus grade point average and also received a community service award, which is given to students who do more than 100 hours of community service within a single year.

Fessenden was a music lover and played saxophone in Maria Carrillo's school jazz band, symphony and wind ensemble. She also loved to express herself through writing.

"She was totally willing to let her child out, but was also very mature and composed when she needed to be," Eric Fessenden said.

"She was beautiful," he said. "She was known as the 'Golden Child' - always upbeat and a problem solver."

In addition to her father, Fessenden is survived by her 14-year-old sister, Ainslee, and by her mother, Kristie Gardner, a teacher who works with independent study students at many Santa Rosa high schools.

Eric Fessenden said it could take a week or more before his daughter's body is returned to California. Services will be announced at a later date.
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LDG

The Massive Trip, Part III: Return to Cairo

Monday, November 20^th – The Egyptian Side

I think there is a curse on me in Egypt. After getting through immigration just fine, I walked to the bus station. I feared the worst as the ticket the guy gave me on Friday had Friday’s date on it in Arabic numerals. But I knew that this was the ticket that I was given for today.

I showed him the ticket and asked if it was for Cairo, and as I feared, he said it was for last Friday. Now, I needed to drop another seventy Egyptian Pounds for another ticket.

At first, I tried to be peaceful with him, explaining the misunderstanding and asking for my money back. He knew he made a mistake – he admitted it. He said he was sorry, but there was nothing he could do. Now I’m angry, and my words showed it. With the help of a very nice English-speaking man named Mohamed, I expressed my utter anger. I said that it was “just wrong” of this guy not to do right. “You make a mistake and you pay for it.” It’s something I’ve had to deal with too many times on this trip. Finally, the guy gave me twenty Pounds “out of his own pocket.” What a crock – knowing the way Africa works, that twenty pounds will go straight from the lockbox back into his pocket.

Once on the bus, the Egyptian government asked for my passport forty pounds to get back into the country. I had to pay taxes on both sides: 60 shekels on the Israeli side, 40 pounds on the Egyptian side – Ridiculous. That’s more taxes than I pay in the States.

Fifteen minutes into the ride, the Egyptian government asked for my passport again. Yes, I am American, yes I went to Israel, and yes, I have a visa. Now let me be!

After six hours, the bus arrived in Cairo at 10:30. I managed to find a bank that would exchange shekels for pounds, and got some additional pounds for dollars. I decided to walk into Islamic Cairo to try to find this theatre that holds Sufi dancing on Monday nights. Sadly, no one could guide me in the right direction, but walking through Islamic Cairo was still really cool. Surrounded by massive mosques, I walked through a quiet market.

I returned toward the hostel at which I had stayed for my first few days. But before getting there, I found my first shwarma. Shwarma is like a cheese steak sandwich, except without the cheese. Meat, tomatoes, sauce, bread. So good. I hit some internet real quick to let my parents I was back in Cairo safely, and then returned for more shwarma. It’s so good!
I must say that I am starting to feel a little traveled out. Constantly being on the move, city to city, country to country, has really taken it out of me. I haven’t been settled in a place on this trip for more than 2 nights. Many places, I only spent one night. I’m ready to stop moving and just settle down.

Has it been worth it? Absolutely. Seeing the mummies and the pyramids and the Sphinx and the Western Wall, it’s all worth it. But it doesn’t make it any less tiring. I’m thinking that I may just stay in Casablanca and not go into Rabat as planned.

Heading back to the room, I met two guys named James and Matt. Matt is a British guy who does off-shore surveying. He supplied me with a couple beers for the night, which was fantastic. James is a 28 year old who went to Georgia Tech. He’s planning on going to London School of Business. I am jealous of him as he has been in 36 countries, and will be going to China next month. The three of us spent most of the night talking.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: traveling isn’t just about the sites or the places. More than anything, traveling is about the people you meet. Whether they be locals or fellow travelers, everybody has a story – including yourself. Trading traveling stories with other travels is a great time. You just never know who you will meet and what you will learn.
Especially when traveling alone, when you think there is no one there with you, you have to talk to people. The truth is that there is always someone there with you.

Tuesday, November 21^st – Mosques and Markets

I slept in until 10 today, but I still feel tired. I really wanted to see the Museum of Islamic Art. It’s supposed to be one of the best collections of Middle Eastern art. I asked a policeman where the museum was and he said, “Museum is closed. Come back one year.” Yea, okay.

I was somewhat disappointed, but it wasn’t a big deal. I wandered around and made my way into Khan al-Khalili, the sprawling Cairo market. Everything is available in the market from food to clothes to tourist items like stuffed toy camels. I walked through the non-tourist section first – without a second look from anyone. Everyone thought I was Egyptian. People starting speaking Arabic to me. When I told them that I didn’t speak Arabic, they were appalled. “You look like an Egyptian.” “You have an Egyptian face.” “Is your family Egyptian.”

After walking through the larger section of the market, I hit the tourist section. I got a couple gifts for people and some really nice smelling Egyptian cologne for me.

For a good couple hours after, I walked through the rest of Islamic Cairo, checking out mosque after mosque. I couldn’t get over the beautiful architecture. While the mosques were cool, the better experience was walking through a smaller, definitely non-tourist market. The market is predominately filled with food, including live animals, which was interesting. I think the best part was seeing some donkeys pulling a cart. It was like time-traveling through a couple centuries.

I went back using my own sense of direction and instinct. I got some shwarma, which is starting to become a theme for this trip. I hit some quick internet to check my mail, and spent the rest of the night James, his friend Angelee, and a young woman named Beth from Washington, D.C. We got some small food, a lot of beer, and just enjoyed each other’s company.

Wednesday, November 22^nd – The “Royal” Treatment

At 1:30AM, Beth and I split a taxi to the airport. She had a 5AM flight to Italy, and mine left at 7:15 for Casablanca. I would have taken a taxi for myself, but my funds for the trip were down to 20 Pounds, not enough for taxi for myself.

I found a bench in the airport and slept for a couple hours until I could check in. I was given boarding passes for both flights – Cairo to Casablanca, Casablanca to Accra via Abidjan, Cote D’Ivoire. After a checking in, I slept for a couple more hours near the gate.

Boarding the plane was really nice. Besides watching a bright orange sun rise through the grey haze, I knew I was on my way back “home,” although the eleven hour lay-over was something that was not to be desired. Once again, I had a whole row to myself to myself. I slept for all but twenty minutes of the flight – much needed rest for sure.

I arrived in Morocco at 10:15, and as I thought, I had no desire to go anywhere. I went upstairs to the transit office, where they gave me a three-star hotel room at Atlas Airport Hotel, with free lunch and dinner. Thank you, Royal Air Maroc. I had a fantastic three course meal for lunch: a salad, some pasta with chicken, and a delicious slice of cake. From there, I went upstairs and switched off between watching CNN or BBC and napping. Before I knew it, it was just about time for dinner. I took a forty-five minute blazing hot shower – yes, forty-five minutes – and went downstairs for dinner. Once again, the food was delicious – chicken soup and beef with rice.

The hotel arranged a shuttle for all the late-night flights. A full bus of mostly French-speaking Africans loaded in and the long trip continued.

In the airport, I met a youngish man named Darren. Darren is from South Carolina, but has been living in Guinea for the last nine years. He gave me his information which I passed off to Duncan, who would have more interest than me. I bought myself a five-pack of Toblerone –quite possibly the most amazing candy ever – and got on board.

Once again, an easy flight with a whole row to myself. I actually managed to stay up for the food and then rested for the remaining time through Abidjan and then Accra.

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All in all, the last nine days have been amazing. It was a trip that was drenched in history. Yea, it had its bad side. Losing my ATM wasn’t cool, and not having my battery for Giza sucked. Mistakes and stupidity, they’re temporary. But memories are forever, and I got more than my fair share on this trip.

Once again, I just want to acknowledge my grandparents – Bubbie, Zeda Ben, Ann, and ZB – who gave me the great Hanukkah gift of the plane tickets. I am so grateful. Thank you so much!

LDG

The Massive Trip, Part II: Israel

Friday, November 17^th – On the Road Again

I didn’t sleep last night. Maybe it’s just a little anxiety prior to traveling, but more likely it’s paranoia. So far, something not so great has happened every day of the trip. If there was a way for my alarm not to go off at 4:30, it would happen.

Of course, my alarm went off just fine. I considered resetting it for 5, but I didn’t want to push my luck. And a half hour of sleep wouldn’t do me a whole lot of good anyway. I’ll just try to sleep on the bus ride from Cairo to Taba, the border town to Israel.

The bus left at 6:30 as scheduled. And I passed out for most of the trip (thank to the Swiss girl for taking this picture without telling me). I don’t remember anything from the ride. I had five seats in the back row going across. So far, I’ve been really lucky when it comes to being able to sleep on transport.

The bus arrived at 12:30, two hours earlier than I expected. I bought my return ticket to Cairo for Monday so I wouldn’t have to deal with it later. From the bus station, it’s a kilometer or two to the border. The Egyptian side had just a few issues, namely my malaria meds, my Pepto-Bismol (which I take with me everywhere I travel) and my cameras. They destroyed my bag, but everything got restored for the most part.

The Israeli side was a completely different story. Right at the front, I was asked why I was going to Israel. I told them I was visiting a friend at one of the universities, and the first person let me through. They checked my bag for explosives and anything else dangerous, which was fine. Then I came to Shelly. Shelly asked me about thirty questions, ranging from why I had all these stamps in my passport to where my family was from to my two personal favorites: “Do you have an Israeli passport?” and “Are you sure you’re not Israeli?”

After the line of questions, I made my way through to Israel. The view into Israel when crossing the border is just amazing – a great welcome into the country.

There were two times I realized on this trip how important it was for me to come to Israel. The first was when I lost my Visa card and I had to reassess my trip. With such a small budget, my trip to Israel was the first thing to be scratched off the agenda. But once the money came via Western Union, I was elated because I knew I could make it to Israel.

The second realization came as I crossed the border. Surrounded by the azure blue sea, a smile so wide filled my face when I saw the sign “Baruchim HaBaim” – Welcome to Israel. I knew I was welcomed.

I walked a short distance to try to catch a bus to the station, but the buses had stopped coming because Shabbat was approaching. Brien, a man who also was waiting for the bus, and I decided to split a cab to Eilat.

Brien is a man from Holland who has been traveling around Kenya and Tanzania for some time. We exchanged “war stories” from Africa and bonded pretty well, despite the eighteen years that separated us. We each wanted to go to Jerusalem, but buses to Jerusalem were finished for the day. So we put together a game-plan: bus to Tel Aviv, split a room in Tel Aviv, then head to Jerusalem the next night. We bought our tickets to Tel Aviv, mine at the student rate of 58 and a half Shekels (about 14 dollars – 4.1 Shekels = 1 USD), grabbed a slice a pizza, and we were on the road again.

The ride to Tel Aviv through the desert is beautiful. About half way through, we made a quick stop for snacks and drinks. I got myself some Doritos and soda, just enough to keep me going until I could fall asleep in Tel Aviv. I told Brien, as the bus was loading, that it was time to go, but he was in the back of the line. The driver got on, and said something in Hebrew, of which I only understood one word: Kulam – “everyone.” I knew exactly what he was saying – “Is everyone on board?” which is such a stupid question, because what are the people not on board going to say? I could have told him no, but quite frankly, unless you’re family or a good friend of mine, I am not responsible for you getting back on board.

The bus, which left at 3 in the afternoon, arrived in Tel Aviv 7:35, pretty good time. My first mission was to find an internet café, so I could tell my parents I was okay. I had about an hour online, where I was able to get some information about how to get to Jerusalem.

From the café, I wandered around Tel Aviv for about an hour, trying to find a hostel. Some guy offered to take me to one, for 250 Shekels; I told him maybe, and walked away. Instead, I just asked around, and nice people pointed me to Momo’s, which was just a block away from the Mediterranean. I got myself a dorm-style room for about 60 Shekels.

I decided that it would be best to knock out some reading, get a shower, and go to bed. I took a hot shower for the first time in 4 months, which was just amazing, and got my reading done. But instead of falling asleep, I stayed up talking to hostel-mates: Ben, an agnostic German; Eli, a Costa Rican Jew; and Luis, a Mexican Catholic. Despite being exhausted, I stayed up talking with them until 1:30AM, discussing just about everything, including all of our excitement over the new Democratic face of the American Congress. After a night cap – a delicious Stella Artois – it was time for sleep.

Saturday, November 18^th – Tel Aviv and Jerusalem

Up around 9, I got myself a bit of free breakfast that the Hostel provided and a blazing hot shower. I took a couple minutes to check my email and figure out exactly how to get to the Yitzhak Rabin Memorial in Tel Aviv. I remember when Rabin was assassinated. I was still in Yavneh Day School, and the mood of the school was just black around that time. It is one of those events from my youth that still resonates with me.

The memorial is simple – 16 black stones that appear to be thrown by an earthquake. It is supposed to represent how his killing was an earthquake to the Middle East Peace Process, to Israeli politics and to Israel as a whole. There is also a good bit of the graffiti that was written around where he was shot.

When a tourist bus full of Danish people drove up, I made my way out toward the bus station. No buses run to the bus station in Jerusalem because of Shabbat, but Eli and Luis told me that I could catch a monit sherut to Jerusalem. A monit sherut is the closest thing that Israel will ever get to a tro-tro. It is a shared taxi – a van – which, like a tro-tro, will not leave until it is filled. A van this size in Ghana would take between 22 and 30 people; this van took 10. I paid my 25 shekels and by 12:30, we were out of Tel Aviv.

The ride to Jerusalem was short – just 45 minutes. A couple of idiot taxi drivers couldn’t get me to Jaffa Gate Hostel. There are few things that bother me more than a taxi driver who doesn’t know the city in which they work. I ended up walking to the hostel, which was just fine. The hostel is in the Old City, very close to the Armenian Quarter.

I had one goal for the day: get down to the Western Wall. It is a truly beautiful site, with the Dome of the Rock sitting right behind it. I took about 15 pictures, including one with me in it. I could have taken a million shots – this scene is what postcards are made of.

By the time the sun went down, it was cold. I don’t mean cold by West African standards – I mean see-your-breath cold. I got a couple hot chocolates and an amazing kosher hot dog and did some reading at a restaurant near by. After eating, I jumped on the internet, to talk to my parents and my sister. The power of the internet is an amazing thing.

After one last hot chocolate, I returned to the hostel and had a brief conversation with Steve. A sixty-year-old man from Boston who has lived in Asia for most of his life, Steve and I actually found a common love – American football. Despite not being in the States for a while, he still keeps up with his favorite team, the New England Patriots. Sitting around the television, “Collateral Damage,” starring my governor, Arnold Schwarzenegger, came on. A couple minutes into the movie, none other but Brien walks in the door – craziness. I asked him what happened to him. He told me that he had to stay in Ashdod for the night and made his way up to Jerusalem that day. What are the chances that we’d end up in the same hostel?

Brien fell asleep pretty quickly, but Steve, another guy and I stayed and enjoyed what was actually not a half-bad movie. Around 11:30, it was time for sleep – another travel day tomorrow.

Sunday, November 19^th – Yad VaShem

There were two things I came to see in Jerusalem: one was the Wall. The other was Yad VaShem, the Holocaust Museum. This was the third Holocaust museum I have visited, and it never gets any easier.

I slept until 10, and from the Old City, I caught the 25 bus to the museum, which is in the opposite side of the city. I could have gone for free, but decided that it would be well worth the 30 Shekels to go on a guided tour.

The tour was just amazing. It’s a brand new building. The building is constructed such that it gets narrower in the middle, which makes you feel constricted and uncomfortable. The museum starts with a blended video, which makes its way across towns in Europe and shows what life was like before and during the Holocaust. The museum runs through every stage of the Holocaust, from the Nazi rise to power, to the Nuremburg Laws, through the Warsaw Ghetto (the cobblestones, bench, lamppost and cart for bodies are all authentic), into the extermination camps like Treblinka, ending with the Allied victory.

There were three things that really stood out to me. The first was a propaganda video from Latvia. The video, like most of the pictures and video, was shot by Nazi soldiers. It showed Latvian Jews digging the ditches that would be graves, and being shot in the back of the head. One after the other. It is a staggering piece of video.

The second was the display of shoes. There is something similar to this in the museum in Washington, D.C. It’s one of those reminders that for every pair of shoes there, there was a body that walked in them.

The third was a family picture from Jewish wedding taken from 1937, prior to the Holocaust. Of the 64 people pictured in the photo, 54 of them were killed during the Holocaust. Just unbelievable.

I wasn’t supposed to take any pictures, but here are a few more

One Nation...
Jude
Tools to measure Jews' facial features
A torah recovered from Kristallnacht

The last bit of the museum is a memorial cemetery, dedicated to the six million Jews killed in the Holocaust. It is made of two domes: one toward the roof filled with 600 pictures, the other below filled with murky water and reflections. The entire room is surrounded by books of files with names and profiles of people killed. They said that they had 3 million profiles and hoped that the empty shelves would fill out soon.

After walking through the Avenue of the Righteous – a pathway lined with trees dedicated to non-Jews who helped Jews during the Holocaust – I went to the Children’s Memorial. One and a half million children were killed during the Holocaust. It is beautifully and darkly represented with pictures of children as well as a room filled with candles and mirrors, creating the illusion of thousands upon thousands of lights, representing their lives. Over a speaker system, the names, ages and cities of the children are read. After many years of being open, the list has yet to be read through completely once.

After sipping on a hot chocolate, I took the city bus to the bus station. I got some more shekels, bought my ticket to Eilat and a slice of pizza, and I was back in a bus. It was possibly the safest ride I’ve ever taken. 14 members of the military/police were on my bus – myself not among them, although it sure looks like it.

The trip took 4.5 hours through the beautiful desert. I got a hostel room for 20 dollars, dropped off my stuff and went on the hunt for an internet café, which was surprisingly hard to find. I ended up in a massive mall, which just felt kind of weird. It was just a bit of culture shock, but I came around quickly. I checked my email, talked with my parents for a few minutes and then time ran out.

I headed back to the hostel and got a delicious chocolate pastry, some sliced chicken and some bread for dinner. I planned on showering, watching the Real Madrid game, and then going to bed. But then I found American football – the Bears and the Jets – on TV. Woo! I stayed up until about 3 watching the game. I’d have to be up at 7:30, but I didn’t care. It was football!

Monday, November 20^th – The Israeli Side

I got up at 7:30 as scheduled, took my last hot shower until I get home to California, packed and got out by 8. I walked to the bus station and caught a city bus to the border. Everything went smoothly at the border. I got asked, again, if I had an Israeli passport, and if I was sure of it. Uhh, ya. I’m sure.

The Massive Trip: Part I

Tuesday, November 14^th – Casablanca

Oh. Crap. What happened to my alarm? It was supposed to go off at 1:30 AM, and now its 3:38. I don’t think I have ever moved so fast in my life. Thankfully, I packed the night before, and for some reason or another, I managed to wake up.

I hauled downstairs and power-walked to Volta Circle, where many taxis usually hang out. Nothing there. Crap. Power-walk to the road, which is absolutely desolate. By the grace of God, a taxi came. I paid 20,000 cedis, and was at the airport at 4, the end of the early check-in time.

Apparently, the flight from Accra to Casablanca is not the most popular route. Six people boarded the flight, which had come from Abidjan, Cote D’Ivoire. Everybody had their own row, and the same remained true for the people leaving from Accra. I sprawled out over Row 8 of Royal Air Maroc Flight 514 and fell asleep immediately.

I woke up just as the plane was landing in Casablanca – perfect. I feel refreshed and ready to tackle Casablanca. I paid 35 Moroccan Dirham (4 dollars – 8.4 Dirham = 1 USD) for a train to the city. A ten minute wait and I was on-board for the half-hour train ride.

Casablanca is no romantic city. A city of 5 million people, it is incredible modern, complete with good roads and what every other Western city has – McDonalds, KFC and Pizza Hut. There are a couple other things I noticed. People paid a lot more attention to personal fitness – I saw numerous people jogging along the sea. The other thing is that, like Ghana, many people spoke multiple languages. The main difference is that these languages – French, Arabic and English – are a lot more practical than Twi, Ga, and Fanti.

From the train station, a taxi driver offered to take me around the city – a three hour tour for 250 Dirham. After some small bargaining, we agreed on 200 Dirham. We drove through the city, past the port, to the Hassan II Mosque. This thing is massive. It can hold 25,000 people on the inside, and has room for another 55,000 people on the outside. It is not only big, it is also just beautiful.

From the mosque, we mostly drove along the seaside Corniche, which was a lovely drive. The sea was sparkling blue under the sun. Hassan II Mosque sits right on the water, which makes it even more beautiful. The rest of the drive was calm. It was like driving through any other major city, with just a few exceptions. We passed this little market where I bought this awesome galabeyya. The driver returned me to the Casa Voyageur station. I got my return ticket to the airport and spent the remaining few hours reading, both for school and in preparation for Egypt.

In this gap, I find myself fighting off a bit of homesickness. I haven’t really been homesick this whole semester. I credit this to a few things: being able to keep myself busy, staying surrounded by people, and keeping in touch with people from home. But as I sit in Mohamed V Aeroport, I have none of those things, little to do, no people, and not connection to home.

When there’s nothing to do and nowhere to go, your mind takes over – you start thinking. And as I have none of those things which usually surround me, I think of those things – those things that really are home. I’m sure – or at least I hope – that this feeling will fade once I get to Cairo.

Wednesday, November 15^th – Hello Cairo, Goodbye Visa

The flight from Casablanca to Cairo was a piece of cake. Once again, I had the row to myself, and I managed to sleep for the majority of the flight. The flight arrived at 6:10 and I was almost awake. An espresso changed all of that. I pulled out my Lonely Planet book, and started to plan my day: check into hotel, Egyptian Museum, Islamic Cairo.

A 60-Egyptian Pound (10 dollars – 5.7 EgP = 1 USD) taxi – standard fare – to me to my hotel, The Dahab Hostel. The hostel is located in Midan Tal’at Harb, right in the middle of Downtown Cairo, close to the Nile and the museum. With the help of Saeed, I found an ATM to get some money for the up-coming week. I took the max – 500 pounds – and headed up to the roof of the building to the hostel. I got a room for 20 Pounds and was on my way to the Egyptian Museum

This is a great way to start any trip to Egypt. It is just dripping in history. Statues, jewelry, mummies, coffins, everything. I paid half-price because I’m a student, which is just glorious – 25 pounds instead of 50. By far, my favorite exhibit was the ten statues of Senuret I, from the Middle Kingdom. These ten statues are identical, all cut with precision from limestone. It blows my mind that they could make these statues thousands of years before Greece and Rome were even a thought. Sadly, cameras are not allowed in the museum, so I couldn’t take any pictures.

Once I made it through at least thirty rooms, I went upstairs toward the Mummy Rooms. Before entering the mummy rooms, I checked out more rooms, filled with objects from the pyramids. Needless to say, there was tons of gold, and plenty of comfort items for the afternoon. There was room after room of intricately painted coffins, papyrus with hieroglyphs, small gold statues of dogs, cats and other animals. There was also a whole room dedicated to the mummification of sacred animals.

And then the good stuff: the Pharaohs and queens. It blows my mind how amazingly preserved these bodies are. Teeth, fingernails, and hair are all still in place. It is so easy to imagine these bodies, decked out in jewelry, ruling over the nation. No particular one stands out by its appearance, but Ramses II stands out in my mind just because of the name.

Afterward, I grabbed my camera, and took some pictures of the relics that have been left outside.

Statue 1
Statue 2
Me with a mini-sphinx
Me with a sitting man

I headed back to the room figure out how to get to Islamic Cairo. I went to grab my Visa card, as the combination of the museum and the room made a significant dent, but it wasn’t in my bag. No worries – it’s probably just in the clothes I wore prior. Not there. I tried not to panic. I looked through my bag, through my clothing, everything. Not there. Almost panic time. I walked down to the ATM that I used and asked if a card was found. Not there. They recommended that I go to the main branch of the bank. Not there – time to panic.

In a city of 10 million people, my debit card is out in the open. I feel so stupid. I think it was a combination of being tired and being excited and I just walked away from the ATM without the card. Dumb. Just a stupid mistake.

I asked for the closest internet café – just a block from my hostel – so I could email my parents and have them cancel the card. Thankfully, I added my parents to the card prior to going to Ghana, so cancellation shouldn’t be so difficult.

The rest of the afternoon, I was a complete wreck. I had fifty-five dollars for the rest of the trip. I had to reassess everything. Forget the planned trip to Israel, forget the camel ride near the pyramids. I would pretty much be stuck in Cairo.

Around 4:30, I walked down to the Nile to watch sunset, hoping it would calm me down. The sunset was beautiful, falling close to the Cairo Tower, over the Nile. Just beautiful.

I got the cheapest available food – a mini pizza – for less than two Pounds. That would be my only food for the day. Stupidity has its price, and for me, that meant less food.

After a horrible nap and some unfocused reading, I returned to the internet café at an hour which my parents would be awake. My email box was flooded. Wheels were in motion. The card was cancelled and money would be sent via Western Union. I sat at the computer and cried. Maybe it was out of happiness, but I think it was just because this huge monkey had been taken off my back. I was so relieved. There were no additional charges, there would be no additional charges, and my trip could go on as originally planned.

The rest of the night was much better. While at the internet café, I met this young man named Ahmed who spoke good enough English to communicate with me. We were joined by a couple of his friends, Mohamed, Az, and one other man. The five of us enjoyed tea while surrounded by other man puffing hookah and cigarettes.

I would sleep well tonight, that’s for sure.

Thursday, November 16^th – The Gaff at Giza

As I thought, I slept well – almost too well. Exhausted from travel, stress, and all the walking from yesterday, I slept until noon. Mustafa, a man in one of the hostels downstairs, set up a taxi for me to Giza. I grabbed my camera and was ready – ready for the pyramids, ready for the Sphinx, ready to ride a camel.

I was dropped at Oasis stable, where the taxi would wait for me. I got myself set up with a camel and a guide, Raghab. After negotiating a decent price – 200 pounds for most of the afternoon – the two of us were on our way.

I must admit that riding a camel is not only painful in the legs and in the butt, but its also somewhat scary when you don’t have a hold of the reigns. I felt my legs shaking uncontrollably many times at the beginning. But the sight of the pyramids started to calm me. I pulled my camera out of my pocket to start taking pictures. But it won’t turn on. Oh, God. Did I really just – yea. No battery. I feel as stupid as I did yesterday. I have no explanation for this except that I have completely lost my mind. Raghab turned the camel around, and we went into town to buy a disposable camera. Once again, problem resolved, but still, I feel pretty stupid. And once again, stupidity had its price; this time, 65 Pounds for a camera and I couldn’t be reckless taking pictures.

The ride was fine, if not painful. We eventually picked up to a trot, if that’s what a camel’s second gear is. The first site is the three main pyramids, with the six smaller pyramids on the sides. This is perfection. A perfect square base with perfect triangular sides pointed to the heavens. It’s a shame that much of the limestone was taken off by needy builders; otherwise, they would glow in the desert. I took as many pictures as I could with my crappy disposable. I’ll be sure to post them once I get home to California. Who knows how they will turn out, but the memories are indelible.

After approaching these massive structures, and wondering how these buildings could be constructed without a crane, Raghab and I made our way to the Sphinx. The truth is, I thought it would be a lot bigger, but it’s still pretty damn big – about 50 meters long. When standing in the right place, it lines up perfectly with the pyramids, making for a fantastic photo. A man offered to take a picture, and I said yes, but I told him I had no baksheesh (tip) for him. He took the picture, and asked for “small money.” I’m sorry, was my English not clear enough? I have no money for you! He was pissed, but I don’t care; I’ll never see him again.

I returned to Cairo in the same taxi, and walked to Western Union, where a substantial amount of money was waiting for me (thank you parents, thank you Western Union). I went to the bank across from the hotel to get some Pounds for Dollars. I then walked back up to the hotel to immediately book a bus ticket to Taba, the border city to Israel. I’m really excited for this mini-trip.

I decided to head back to Giza, camera (and battery) in hand, to watch the light show at the pyramids. Every night, a show is put on in three different languages. English is every night, and two other languages are rotated in throughout the week. (Tonight was Japanese and Arabic, tomorrow French and Spanish). This place really is built for tourists.

Instead of paying for a ticket, I watched from just outside the grounds. My friend Ryan, from UCLA, told me that there is a KFC and Pizza Hut right off the grounds with a perfect view of the show. At 6:30 the show – the Japanese one – came on. I really didn’t care what they had to say. I just wanted to see the lights.

The show lasted for nearly an hour. I then had a major decision to make – KFC or Pizza Hut. Chicken is a regular item in Ghana, and I get pizza once a week in Ghana, so it really didn’t matter. I only went into KFC because it was on the bottom floor. I walked in and said, “I haven’t been in a KFC in at least 8 months.” The man working behind the counter, Shady (pronounced Shah-dee) responded. “You work in KFC at home?” Uhhh, yes? I have nothing to lose at this point. I said, “yes” and he invited me behind the counter. I ordered a spicy 5-piece and Shady, because I’m “a part of the KFC family,” through in a large extra piece of chicken. Score! The food went quickly and I was back on my way to Cairo.

The first taxi driver tried to rip me off, but the second man, Hassan, gave me a good price – 25 pounds. Hassan hadn’t had any work all day, so he was willing to take anything. He explained his situation – little work, six children in school, etc. He had also kept books of people who he had driven. He got me back to Cairo quickly during rush hour, so I threw him 5 Pounds baksheesh.

I wanted to jump on the internet to check my mail, but the café was busy – someone was teaching a class. While waiting, I met this man named Wagih. Wagih is a good man – an engaged Coptic Christian who works as an architect. He planned to get an Engineering degree at the American University in Cairo, but he needed some help understanding the syllabi. We exchanged services – I helped him understand the course outlines and he bought me tea and soda: a perfect trade for both of us. We talked about everything from life in Cairo in the minority to politics to his (actually, his fiancé’s) desire to move to Canada. He was the only person in Cairo who learned I was Jewish. I was confident that he could understand life as a minority. And I was right.

After an extensive conversation, I headed back to the café, where I was able to plan my trip to Israel and chat with my parents. The conversation was short, but sweet, and absolutely necessary for my sanity – and theirs.

I had to leave quickly though. My bus for Taba was early – I would have to be awake at 4:20 and I wanted to at least get some sleep before the trip.

Weight Loss, Women, Waiting for Egypt

Thursday, November 9^th

Waking up for class today was probably one of the hardest wake-ups since I’ve been here. I just didn’t want to get out of bed. Somehow, I found the motivation to get out and get to class, right before the professor showed up. He was actually early, which was very strange. The content from the class was boring; most of the obrunis (and many of the obibinis) ended the class with their heads on the desk.

The second class, as always, was worse. The professor showed up fifty-minutes late, five minutes before we would have left. So obnoxious. Thankfully, he, like my other professors, cancelled class for next week. I never have to see that idiot again.

Most of the rest of the day was pretty slow. I just chilled – or at least tried to – in my room for most of the afternoon.

In the evening, I got a call from Duncan, who was returning with his mom (who arrived in Ghana last night) from Aburi. The three of us got some pizza – the third day in a row that Duncan and I ended up at the pizza place. Regardless of the country, this is still college.

We killed the rest of the night playing cards, playing some Big 2 and Spar.

Friday, November 10^th

No class today, so I was able to sleep in, and I did – until about noon. From Legon Hall, I dashed over to the tailors to pick up five new pairs of shorts. They are all amazing. I am so stoked about being able to rock them hard in San Diego.

It is so hot today, I can’t believe it. Duncan and I agreed that it was the hottest day we’ve had here. It was a much drier heat than usual. We we’re both sweating our tails off. Luckily, I had my new shorts to keep me comfortable.

Duncan, his mom, and I went over to Rich Love to introduce her to the glory that is, chicken, rice, vegetable sauce, and grilled pineapple. As it turned out, Duncan and I did most of the work, killing off a 25,000 bowl of food.

I ran around campus for a lot of the day, getting over to the PoliSci department to pick up some readings. It’s probably the last time I’ll set foot in that office, and quite honestly, I won’t miss it.

From their, I dropped off the next version of my paper to my advisor. He wasn’t in his office, so I just left it in his box. Hopefully he will review it while I’m gone, and I can turn in a final, polished copy to him during the first week of finals.

Duncan and I wanted to play some pool at Tyme Out, but the table was being owned by a bunch of people, which was not cool. So we just drank. We met this man named Don, who sat with us for most of the night. Don is thirty-five year-old studying Business. In the meantime, he works for Shell’s airplane sector. What exactly he did, I don’t remember – we all got pretty plastered. But we had a great discussing talking about one of the loves of my life, past and present – airplanes. Then, suddenly, Don disappeared. We’re still wondering where he went. After three large beers (660 ml) and a small one, I headed over to Volta internet for some internet time.

Saturday, November 11^th

This should be interesting. I had a scheduled conference call between Joe, Ryan, their moms who were in SD, and myself. Joe never showed up – slacker. So the four of us moved forward. I was still pretty bombed, but I was welcomed by good news – we have an apartment. It looks absolutely amazing. Close to school, close to the beach, plenty of room for the three of us at a reasonable price. It just makes me all the more excited to get back to San Diego. By 2:30, it was time to get to bed.

It was a nice three hours. Some preacher started, well, preaching, at 5:30. Francis and I both got out of bed and started yelling at the guy. It did nothing, but it did make me happy. I fell back to sleep moments later.

I was up by 11 or so. Our power, which went out the last night, was back by 6AM, so my fan, thankfully, was blowing. Last night was one of the hotter nights we’ve had. The air was so still, and it was really humid.

Water was on today, so I was able to do five, count-em five, loads of laundry. This made the day absolutely perfect for me. I would have clothes to wear, and hopefully, I wont have to do a wash until I get home.

I got a text from Ryan in the afternoon, asking me to get on Skype. I obliged, and had a lovely conference call with Ryan and Joe, discussing everything from our new apartment to the Gary Sheffield trade to classes for the next quarter – Ryan, like me, has four-day weekends for the winter. We’re hoping Joe can come up clutch and do the same, or at least get close.

I wandered over to Tacobell to get some dinner – their amazing shredded beef sauce and rice. So good. I came back, and Duncan and Diane were there. He was supposed to go out with a friend, but instead he was drinking akpoteshie and Tampico (they have been dubbed “pegpounders,” – the Ghanaian screwdriver). Duncan got some bad news concerning a girl in his life. I’ll just leave it that, for his sake. I joined him for a couple akpoteshies – one with Tampico, one with Pepsi. We spent the rest of the night discussion his situation and playing Spar

Sunday, November 12^th

Not much going on today. Sunday shutdown in Ghana. I got moving around 10, when Duncan and I decided to get some brunch at Bonjour (formerly On-the-Run). The food was alright – nothing special. More importantly, we each hit their palace of a bathroom. One thing we have learned to do is plan our bathroom runs. Because when the bathrooms in your dorm (okay, fair warning, this picture is disgusting. Open at your own risk) look like this, you learn to plan. The top three bathrooms in or around campus are

- Bonjour – they are constantly clean, always have running water, and supply TP

- African Studies – although they rarely have TP, you need a key to get into the place

- Tenge-tenge – not great, but relatively clean, and far superior to Legon Annex A

The rest of the day is committed to actually getting things done – folding laundry, cleaning the room a bit, and writing emails to be sent later.

In the evening, I had another conference with Joe and Ryan.

Monday, November 12^th

I leave for Egypt essentially tonight. I have to check in to the desk between 2 and 4 Tuesday morning. In the meantime, though, we still have things to get done.

I pretty much did nothing today. Just killed a lot of time online. Hit the bookstore for a bit hoping to find notecards, but they don’t exist in this country. And then I packed. I’ll be honest, I’m a little anxious. African travel is just a synonym for panic, but once I’m in Egypt I’ll be fine.

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A mom always knows best. Congratulations to my mom for having the closest guess on how much weight I’ve lost. She guessed 23 pounds. Through fifteen weeks, I have lost 26 pounds, just shy of 12 kilos. I’ve lost 6 inches off my waist, tons off of my face and neck, and a noticeable amount from my arms. I must say that I feel considerably weaker. Not just in terms of how much I can lift, but just being able to get through the day. Francis noted one morning as I stood outside that he could “see my ribs”” in my back. Luckily, all of this weight will go back on over the winter quarter at school.

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So, umm, I’ll be Morocco and Egypt until the Thursday, November 23^rd. I will not be posting until that time. As always, there will be plenty of stories and tons of pictures. I will try to get them up by that weekend, but it may take some time.

LDG

Pictures Galore!!! Aburi, Halloween, Benin

As promised, here are a ton of pictures. Enjoy them, and please let me know if any are faulty. And yes, the contest is still open. Post your answers. Winning answer gets a prize!
LDG

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Aburi

Welcome to Aburi
What a day of carving will do to you -- my roommate Francis
Profiles
Tons o’ masks
Wall shadows (I may buy some of these)
The village
Nic – the master carver

Halloween

You are a smelly pirate hooker!
Boo!
Packed party
Delicious beer
No parties like this in Ghana
Mark
This dude is in trance
Real American Hero

Benin

At the border
Mosque 1
Mosque 1 closeup
Boys on bikes
Mosque 2
Mosque 3
Mosque 3 closeup
Sweet knives
Beninese masks
Please sir, may I have some more?
More masks
Palm Tree
Stilt Village at sunset
Stilt village in the morning -- getting around on pirogue
Holding up a basket
One of two beach memorials
Closeup
Beautiful artwork
Slave Holdings
The Gate of No Return
There I am
Even closer!
Side of the arch
Great metal-work (not the symbolism of the neck braces above their heads)
Slave ship
Monkey Man
Napolean?
I dont know what this is
Big Dog
Ouidah -- its something or other; either way, its beautiful

Back from Benin

Saturday, November 4^th

I couldn’t have got a more miserable night of sleep. Last night, the four of us – Kevin, Will, Theo (who goes to Santa Clara) and I decided that we would be out of here around 7. My alarm was set for 6, having still needed to pack. I fell asleep around 2, and I probably could have functioned on four hours of sleep, except some lunatic started blowing a whistle at 4:30. This was going to be a miserable day.

I was out of it, in one way or another, for the tro-tro ride to Aflao. I was either asleep or totally dazed and confused. Once we reached the border – and were greeted with baguette and avocado – things got better. I had hoped to go straight through to Benin, but I really wasn’t up for another four-hour drive, so I decided to hang in Lomé for the night.

Lomé is spectacular. If I had to live in one West African city for the rest of my life, I would choose Lomé. It has a really nice small-town feel to it. The four of us took motos to the hotel and then walked from the hotel down to the beach. I didn’t bring a bathing suit, so I just put my feet in. The tides were really pulling and, being so tired, I don’t know if I could deal with them.

After some quality time on the beach, and watching the sun set over Ghana from the pier, We made our way back to the hotel, and the delicious croissanterie with the outrageously good sandwiches. Following dinner, we all got pastries. Theo and Kevin decide to go out; Will and I passed out by 7:30.

Sunday, November 5^th

The trip across Togo is really easy – fast and scenic. Togo is only about 50 kilometers – 30 miles – wide. It takes no more than hour to get to Aneho, the city that sits on the border of Togo and Benin. Kevin, Theo and Will stayed in Togo for the rest of the weekend, and I made my way to Benin.

I was dropped off by the taxi at the closest station to the border, where I told them I wanted to go to Cotonou, which is on the opposite end – the east coast – of Benin, close to Nigeria. They told me to give them my bag, then walk across the border, and the taxi would pick us up. I was a little skeptical of this, so I grabbed my valuables and irreplaceables, leaving behind my clothes. I crossed the border with little trouble, and about 10 minutes later, the taxi rolled up to the station on the opposite side of the border.

We packed ten people into a car that should have fit seven, and made our way across Benin to Cotonou, and then onward to Porto Novo, the smallish capital of Benin. Once in Porto Novo, I got a quick bite to eat and started wandering around through the town. There were two things I immediately noticed about Porto Novo: the city had a distinct Muslim feel; and a lot of people didn’t want their picture taken, which was fine.

Porto Novo is a lovely city. For a capital city, it seemed small, but it was very comfortable. I roamed the streets, just checking out the city, when I came across three spectacular mosques.

I weaseled my way into the third mosque, telling the people there that I was Muslim. I told them I wouldn’t take any pictures, but let me say that the inside is a beautiful as the outside, painted predominately in pink and green.

From the third mosque, I caught a zemidjan (zemi-john) – a moto – to the Musée Ethnographique. I asked if there was anybody who could do the tour in English – the only person who could was the person who ran the place. Kindly, he shut down the store so he could give me the tour. I gave him a small tip after to show my appreciation.

The tour was really interesting. Going into the trip, I knew very little about Benin, so this first museum was a good chance to learn. Much of the tour revolved around the fetish/voodoo culture, like what people do prior to a child’s birth or after a parent’s death. There were also a series of masks – both older and newer – which were worn by the local people. There were also a series of drums, various divination items, and weapons used by the people. I wasn’t supposed to take any pictures, but I took some anyway.

Having done what I wanted to do in Porto Novo, I checked my Lonely Planet book for a hotel, and headed to the Hotel Deténte. Exhausted and really thirsty, I got a massive soda, which hit the spot. I took a small nap before sunset, which as the Lonely Planet book said, was beautiful. What the book didn’t say was there was a very cool, little stilt village right off the back of the hotel. A stilt village isn’t a village where people walk around on stilts. It is called a stilt village because the houses are built on stilts over a lagoon. They are pretty common in Benin, but not exclusive to Benin

During my dinner, a couple of people approached me, and we had some lovely conversation. The first person brought up John Kerry’s comments about people not going to school ending up in the war, which I found interesting. The second was just a man who, after rambling in French to me (and after telling him that I don’t speak French), just had a nice conversation. He was studying English in school and was happy to have the opportunity to speak English, as was I.

Having these types of conversations is one of the upsides of traveling alone. The other major upsides are that I am not bound by other peoples’ schedules and I get the whole bed to myself. The downside though, is that you have no one to have constant conversation with, no one to help out, and no one to enjoy the really cool moments with me. I’ve learned to like both.

After one last soda, I made my way into my room, did a little reading and fell asleep.

Monday, November 6^th.

Another miserable night of sleep. I could never get comfortable, and once I did, I had horrible dreams. Being somewhat tired, I made the decision to cut the trek to Abomey out of my trip and head to Ouidah (wee-dah), the voodoo center of Benin. The drive took a couple hours and the taxi driver absolutely shafted me, but it wasn’t a big deal. I took a zemidjan to the History Museum of Ouidah. The tour was entirely in French, but the truth is that a guide was really unnecessary. Everything could be taken just from the pictures. Not only is Ouidah the voodoo center, but it is also the major port in Benin where slaves were taken. Much of the museum revolved around slave trade, and the exchange of culture between Ouidah, the Portuguese, and the Brazilians. It was a downer of an experience, but one that was necessary to really understand the culture.

From the museum, I took a zemi down the Route des Esclaves, the path connecting the museum to the beach, and the Point of No Return.

The street is lined with a bunch of fetish statues. The statu The guy explained to me in French – and I understood – that I had to pay 500 CFA per picture. I pled ignorant, took the pictures, and didn’t pay for them.

Getting from Ouidah back to Lomé was a bit of an adventure, but that’s all part of traveling. A taxi, a zemi, a taxi to border and a taxi from the border got me close to Ghana. I spent the night in Lomé, enjoying my sandwich and my pastry. I killed a little time at this little casino, which sadly did not have any blackjack, or any card game for the matter. I lost 10 dollars over half an hour playing roulette. Whatever. It was time well spent.

I walked back from the casino – about a 20 minute walk – without asking for directions. That is how comfortable I feel in Lomé. I got back to the hotel and enjoyed the whole bed to myself. I didn’t get completely destroyed by mosquitoes this time because I tried something new, which I would like to dub “the burrito method” (by the way, can someone please ship me some decent Mexican food? Haha). I basically wrapped myself in the blanket, folding the end over my feet. It helped keep the mosquitoes out, and the ones who got in, well, they earned it.

Tuesday, November 7^th

The ride from Aflao to Accra was easy. I only had my passport checked twice after getting through the border – ridiculous. I snagged four baguettes before getting out of Aflao, one of which was eaten on the ride, the others during the afternoon.

As always, Tuesday meant pizza. I bought the beer, Duncan bought the pizza, and we had a perfect dinner. I was not looking forward to the night though. My registration for classes at San Diego was slated from 7PM Pacific time – 3 in the morning here. I did not want to wake up.

Wednesday, November 8^th

I cant believe I’m awake. But waking up early was well worth it, especially when I got on Yahoo and saw that the Democrats took the House! Woo! I signed up for classes, going a different route than I’ve taken in prior quarters: American Politics. For the most part I’ve done International Relations, but there was nothing so intriguing (winter quarter is always a down quarter). So I signed up for four classes: Race and Ethnicity in American Politics, the Polarization of American Politics, The Supreme Court and the Constitution, and one history class – Fascism and Communism, 1919 – 1945. Should be an interesting quarter.

I returned to the room, where Francis proudly displayed his new scale. I decided to see just exact how much weight I’ve lost in the last 15 weeks. “How much?” you ask. Well, that’s up to you to guess. For the next 72 hours, post your guesses in the comment area. The winning answer will get something, to be determined soon. (Those who I’ve told already can’t win – sorry boys).

Class started way late today, and once again, the patients ran the asylum. The professor gave the option of meeting this week or next week. Of course, everyone chose next week, but the hitch was that there would be some in-class writing. Uhh, shit. I’ll be in Egypt. I explained to the professor that I would not be in class, and if there was anything I could do to make up the writing. With a smile, he responded, “Don’t worry about it, you’re doing fine.” Getting the top grade in the class has its upside.

I’m eagerly awaiting the results of the last two Senate races. Hopefully, they will be up soon.

Counting down until Egypt. Speaking of which, I should mention that I am eternally grateful to my grandparents, Bernice (Bubbie), Bob and Ben, who are paying for my plane ticket as a Hanukkah present. I truly can’t express how grateful I am for this gift, and I assure you, as you already know, that it will be an incredible week.

I’ll post once or twice more before I leave.

Okay, I promise that there will be pictures soon. I couldn’t upload today due to internet difficulties. They’ll be up ASAP. Until then…

LDG