Our Second Really Great Post

Hi friends and family… possibly, spammers, trolls, and strangers…

It feels like so much happens here really fast and we think we should write about it for others and then we forget. Or drink South African wines and play card games and go to bed…on the week nights that is. Likewise, it has been strongly advised that we not ‘flash’ our iPhone 5s around uploading pictures of food and entertainment. Because, well… we live in a big city and… you know the rest of that story.

Our living room

Master bedroom

Last you all knew, we made it to our apartment. We have settled in nicely and it is starting to feel like home. Because our hearts are here, duh! We've added some pictures of our home because we've had many people inquire about our living quarters. Check them out! 

The kitchen where Andy cooks

Now, here’s a bit of what we’ve done, and fair warning, this will probably get lengthy.

Osu from the cab

Our first weekend in Accra we were invited by some veteran teachers to experience street food. Deemed safe, we accepted the invite and headed out on the town. You might think it would be difficult to enjoy dinner in an alley, on a plastic table, with stray dogs, begging children, a solid lack of napkins, oh and, no utensils. But, you are wrong. We ate a delicious (2^nd best meal Andy has ever had) meal of chicken, fried plantains, and some kind of potato rice with a special African name that we cannot remember. The meal is served with two hot sauces, or “hot” sauces to Andy. Total show off on the spicy scale. With lack of a proper bar, a little hut of a store across the alley serves you all the Club you can get your hands on.  We ate, we drank, and we were merry…for the equivalent of $4. Feeling like our wallets and tummys were full, we set out to try a bar or two and experience some night life in the area of Osu.

Ever had cane sugar moonshine? The Republic down the street from the Ivorian grill sure has it. The hibiscus even covers up the gnar taste fairly well! The bar is basically set up on the street. Tables full of people socializing and a DJ in the corner spinning things from the 90s. A few brave souls, or drunk souls, are dancing with no cares. We “enjoyed” our cane sugar cocktails and decided to get out before the music moved us to embarrassment. Now, we know what you’re asking, ‘Did they go home or to a hookah bar, afterward?’.

So, I’m sucking on hookah at an ex-pat bar down the road, but getting in was a bit of an event.  Andy and Brett (new teacher to Lincoln and moonshine enthusiast) found out that Accra is not super friendly to the Durango tuxedo (t-shirt, hat, flip-flops, and shorts). Unenthusiastically, Brett and Andy surrendered hats to the bouncer, and received a “this time ONLY,” scolding, but were finally let in. This is the evening we learned about ‘dashing’. Dashing is tipping or bribing depending on your situation. You might do this to thank someone for letting into a hookah bar when you don’t dress appropriately. Our situation may have gone down like this:

‘Brett and Andy wore hats, shorts, and flip flops to a club, so they had to dash the bouncer to get in’.

Tracking? (For those who aren’t, a dash is a tip. You might also give one to a cop to get out of a traffic violation).

This bar is not exactly nice enough to have dress code rules, but hey, they’re trying. We enjoyed a little hookah and then took our first taxi home. With no real confidence negotiating a taxi, we ignorantly accepted a price and came home. Both Martinez’s are not real strong in the “step up and haggle with a taxi driver” category. We both get real sheepish and hope the other one will just take over. I think cab drivers are keen to this and take full advantage. Basically, one of us needs to grow a pair and haggle the shit of a cabby.

View from our porch. Our school is the building across the  street

Anyway, we made it home, woke up the next day with no hangover. It would have been good to have a hangover so we don’t feel invincible at sea level. C’est la vie…