I have returned safely from a 9 day stint in Cote D’Ivoire. My traveling companions were none other than the lovely Amanda Michelle and our towering German Rasta counter-part, Ben. (aka Benji-Boo) This traveling trio really did it big this time.
From our stay in Butre Beach, we traveled by tro-tro (make that 5 different tro-tros) to the border in New Town. There we were greeted by Ghana immigration officials who took their sweet ass time giving us the go ahead to leave the country which left our Ghanaian tro-tro colleagues to wait for us in the suffering heat. Hilariously enough, I actually had to write my own name in the Yellow Fever vaccine registry because the man in charge was completely blind. This was my first border crossing by land so I really had no idea what to expect. I did it big for my first cross – from English speaking peaceful Ghana to the French speaking military mayhem of Ivory Coast. Cote D’Ivoire’s immigration building was literally a little palm shack on the beach. They took my passport, stamped it, and welcomed me to the Ivory Coast. We took the “back door” into Ivory Coast, which involved a sunset 19km sandy drive along the sea in a power blue Peugeot bush taxi. Giant armed Ivorian soldiers stopped us several times along the way to search our bags and check our passports. Each time we stopped we had to give our sweet chariot a running start and pray for the best.
By the time we reached Assinie Mafia, it was beyond dark. We hunted down a drinking spot for celebratory Flag beers and awaited our moonlight boat ride across the lagoon into A-M proper. That night we stayed with a new friend we met on our boat, George, in his beachside home. George was a fantastic host. He warmly opened his home to us and saw to it that we ate the best Acheche A-M had to offer. It hurts me to say this, but Cote D’Ivoire has better food than Ghana. Acheche is a quinoa-like starch made from cassava and it is served with Tilapia, fresh tomatoes, cucumbers, and onions in spicy vinaigrette. Acheche, along with café au lait (and by au liat, I mean sweetened condensed milk) is the reason I gained almost 10lbs this Ivorian holiday season. And folks, I’m not joking.
The following night we spent with another friend Alvine in the community of Pobouy, just south of Abidjan. Though I am grateful to Alvine for insisting that he share his home with us, it was possibly the grossest place I have ever slept in my whole life. I was certainly feeling like a pampered American princess and was desperately longing the comforts of home. We saw rats and cockroaches the size of rats in this joint. No joke. Though it was sweltering hot, I wrapped myself in a burrito for dear life. Amanda’s reaction: priceless.
The next place we stayed, 5-5, wasn’t much of an upgrade. It was also in Pobouy and charged a whole 5 cepha per night. We realized this is because most of their patrons don’t actually stay “overnight,” if you catch my drift. The room was small, but had a bed and running water, so we pounced on it. Shortly after our hasty decision to stay at 5-5, we realized that there were some minorly huge hang-ups to the room: There was a curtain hanging in the room, but no actual window. Cockroaches wildly outnumbered the three of us. And there was also no lock on our door. We had to delay our trip into town that afternoon so a neighborhood boy could install a lock to our room. Serious. No joke.
We quickly found the Ghanaian English speaking neighborhood in Treichville. It became our home away from home. We filled up on groundnut soup and fufu til our hearts content. We fell in love with a little drinking spot and made friends with the neighborhood. You’d think we’d been away from Ghana for years. There’s something about a belly full of fufu that you just can’t beat.
One of the many aspects of Cote D’Ivoire I adored was the food culture. There are kiosks on every corner that you can sip espresso or café aulait, chow on spaghetti, etc. It’s all arranged in a way super conducive to friendly conversation. At the drinking spots you can reserve a table and have your made to order Acheke delivered to your table. The spots are roadside, so you often see groups of friends chatting over a box of tinto, chain-smoking of course. Abidjan truly is a proper city with high rises, wonderfully organized roads, and ferries that bring you around town to different neighborhoods. There’s a reason they call it “little Manhattan.”On a less than stellar note, Amanda and I were robbed at a Sean Paul concert on the last night we were to be in town. I won’t get into the gruesome details, but valuables were lost and it resulted in a non-consensual extended stay in Abidjan, along with trips to the US and Ghanaian embassies. We’re completely ok, aside from being a bit shaken up. The chief of the Ministry of Health, Tanon, rescued us for Cote D’Ivoire who took exceptional care of us and saw that we made a safe return to Accra. He and his wife welcomed us into their home for wonderful food and put us up in a lovely hotel just walking distance from their house. I feel truly blessed to have come into the care of such a wonderful man.
On Christmas Eve, Amanda and I boarded an STC bus to Accra and by midnight were perching on couches like we know how. The holidays are bizarre overseas, in a “developing” country, and without family. I spent Christmas day at the beach with a fellow Midwesterner, Ross, and that same night at dinner party with a group of expats. I had my sad moments of missing home, but other than that it just felt like another day.
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