Tyler's Guest Blog (I'll resist the temptation to editorialize!)

Jill's apartment has two doors--one wooden that locks with a bolt and another outside of that, which is big, heavy, iron and locked with a padlock (there's a big hole so you can reach around and lock/unlock it even if you're locked up behind it). It was this big, heavy, iron door that Jill used to slam my right thumb while I was trying to close the padlock. She seemed genuinely apologetic. But on Saturday she won the "Best Actress" award at the murder mystery party that her friend threw, so one never can tell.

Those of you who read this blog regularly (or at least have read the blog entry announcing my arrival--look for the orange, btw), may want to know what I think of Ghana. I'm going to have some very nice words to say. But I know some of you don't want nice words. You want blood and bad luck.

Doh! One of Tyler's many injuries.

For you sickos, I will answer the following Frequently Asked Questions:

Did you find the passport you lost ten minutes after arriving in Accra?
No. But I did have the opportunity to spend hours upon hours at the American Embassy. When you're in an American embassy, you are technically on American soil, so the following comments are not to be applied to the friendly people of Ghana.

1. American embassies generate their electricity by moving people through lines; you are always sure to see long queues at American embassies. As an American national, you'll have it a bit easier than everyone else, though, and can skip a number of the longer lines. Possibly because of this, the embassy will require you to come back at least four separate times. Some of these visits will take several hours.

2. The woman at the window that you have to see when you check-in is sure to have a mental breakdown because there are as many as FOUR people crowding around her window to ask why nothing is happening and no one has taken their names or given them a number. You might note that mental breakdowns are not conducive to efficient service. You might also note that none of the people around the window are really all that high pressure and that she only really has to deal with them from 8am-noon M-F.

3. American embassies insist that you fill out forms at one place, then trek far away to a cashier who will be either a) leaving an hour earlier than all other services close, or b) missing for over an hour (no backups apparently can be found, either). (I was fortunate enough to experience both.) You will then need to trek back to the first place, though to get there you will have to leave the embassy and make your way through the line and back into the embassy. (As an American you can cut in line, though.)

4. American embassies are remarkable for their inefficiency. I think this comes from an inability to communicate and execute. A harsher fellow might call American embassies "incompetent". I, personally, wouldn't say that because diplomats might then point out that it isn't really all that competent to lose your passport ten minutes after stepping foot out of the airport.

How many injuries have you sustained in Ghana?
Most of my injuries are on the right side of my body:
- Above my big toe is a deep gash that came from falling down the stairs the first night. This was reinjured when I slipped on the rocks near the waterfall last weekend.
- On the outside of the foot is a cut from a sharp, rusty piece of metal poking out of a seat in a tro-tro. Tro-tros are minivans that are packed with 20 people for commuting and extricating yourself from the far back involves a lot of squeezing and brushing up against people, poultry and pokeybits.
- My ankle is turned from the fall down the spiral staircase that first night and there is an open wound there, too. For what it's worth, I twisted it again stepping off the curb three days ago.
- My thumb was slammed in the door. (It was big, heavy and iron. The door, not my thumb.)
- My forearm has a largeish sandburn from getting knocked down by a giant wave and dragged along the bottom of the ocean floor. Last weekend Jill and I traveled all around the eastern part of the country and spent a day on a beautiful beach that had fantastic warm water where I could body surf. Except that I'm not really all that good at body surfing, I guess. My rule of bruised thumb is to leave the ocean once you start bleeding. This is probably the thing that hurts the most (except for my ankle when I'm hiking up 45 degree inclines). I'm still pretty forgetful of it, so it bumps up against things a lot, I'm hoping I don't have sand stuck in me subcutaneously.
Non-right-side items of note:
- Something (my malaria medication, the dust and sweat?) has really made my forehead breakout in a billion pimples.
- I got a sunburn on my shoulders but it's better now.
- I also scraped my left knee in the body surfing expedition. It's pretty healed, too.
- Last Monday night/Tuesday day I was sick with a "running tummy". Except that it wasn't really my tummy that was running. Jill took very good care of me. Checked me into a hotel so I could have a shower and airconditioning and no one to bother me. She was very swell and made me toast, too.

Truth be told, it's been a nice trip and Jill has been remarkable. I have frankly been far too lazy and she has done a great job handling nearly all of the logistics. She feels it's her responsibility to handle these sorts of things and it certainly has been appreciated.

Some notes of interest:
- Ghana is hot. Damn hot.
- It's a green place.
- Everyone sucks water from plastic sachets all of the time. Sachets are squareish, plastic bags of water. Sadly, everyone just throws these sachets on the ground when they are done.
- The pineapples are pretty good. The grilled plantains are yummy. Other good dishes: red-red and palaver. I'll make Jill explain them.
- The folks are friendly. Except in customer service. The customer service is dour.
- Everyone snaps fingers as the conclusion to a handshake. (That is, the handshakes end with you and the other person snapping.)
- Ewe is probably the most beautiful of the Ghanaian languages I heard.
- Guys get name-whistles that identify them (so you can call them when they're far off).
- Jill's English has degenerated to the point that it is unrecognizable.
- Still, she makes up in love, care, and thoughtfulness what she lacks in intelligible syntax.

Some of the best things:
- We took a tro-tro to the Volta region (Africa's largest reservior) and did a hike to a waterfall--a hilltop jungle that you enter from a hilltop village. The village was really neat. I hope we can put up some pictures. The layout was really conducive to community, I think. The hike was great and we saw a column of enormous, angry army ants (you leave the path and avoid army ants--you do not step on them or near them). There were some butterflies, too. The waterfall was nice and there was a little cave with an enormous chimney that we went in, too. The bats that had been there moved out when the villagers started bothering them. Apparently bat-meat is tasty, btw. We weren't offered any ourselves.

Wisdom, Papa and Tyler in Tota before our waterFALL hike

- I'm not actually a big beach person, but I do love swimming in warm water.
- The night before I got rode-slash-got-pummeled by the waves, we ate barracuda. I thought it was quite tasty, though I might have gotten sick because of it and we did have to fight with the place about the bill. We ate it on a deck overlooking the estuary at dusk. That was pretty neat.
- Jill's friend Jane organized a murder mystery party on Saturday night that was a 1920s gangsta affair. I was a mayor and had a pretty fun time of it. I had been growing a beard so I shaved it to make it into a mustache. Boy, do I look weasly with a mustache. But the mustache grew on me a little and by the time of the party I thought, hey, this isn't so untrustworthy. It's kinda sexy in a Village People sort of way. Jill was ashamed of it, though, and every introduction on Saturday was: "Hi, this is my brother, he doesn't normally have a mustache, doesn't he look terrible with it?" I only had the mustache on Saturday, I was forced to shave it on Sunday morning.

"Please, he doesn't usually look so shady and sleazy!"

- Yesterday (Sunday) we took a hike to Shai Hills and saw baboons, crocodiles and an antelope. The crocs were small, but on our way back to the car we got to see one chomping on a bird. Yum. It was a long hike, but a good one. There were some fantastic bird calls. One sounded like a real song: do-dee-do. (Jill, you might need to podcast this blog.) Up to now, Chile's had the best bird calls. I think Ghana is up there now, too. The hike started with rain but soon got pretty hot. Green savannah hiking from flat land up to the top of a hill. As we were in the last leg, my phone beeped to say I got a text message. This was exciting because it was Gus's birthday. Jill and I had a rule of no phones while on nature hikes, so I couldn't check it til the end. But anticipation is pretty nice. And then there was a cool breeze. Those two things make a fellow pretty happy here.

Rain couldn't stop us (but nearly stopped our wussy guide)

- One of the main streets is lined with trees from which millions of bats hang. It's really cool to see them there, like dark fruits...or flying in circles at dusk.
- Two missed events: we were foiled the other weekend by timing and opted out of going to a fetish priest; this weekend we got caught in a downpour and had to skip the orphanage Jill worked at. I guess I'll have to come back!