Only You Can Prevent Roach Fires

(N.B. Awesome pics and videos of us feeding monkeys on Jessi's blog: thespottedjessicat.blogspot.com)

When in Rome, do as the Romans do. Sometimes I feel I give in too easily to the temptation to turn Rome into a mini-Canada. For the past week, Jessi and I have endured some unfortunate stomach upset (familiar to any traveler), stranded in our house, unable to venture out in search of entertainment beyond watching Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt try to shoot each other on a pirated DVD collection. It left us longing for the familiar, especially in terms of food. We spent a couple of lazy hours flipping through our various travel guides, hunting down the most promising venues for international cuisine in West Africa.

This has galvanized us into a quest to Accra this weekend, where we are bound and determined to consume some form of food invented by the Lebanese. (The trip to the city also happens to coincide with my desperate hockey-related need to get back in touch with the world of satellite television and live streaming feeds from the CBC.) We're justifying the trip by also going book-shopping for the library. We repeat this to ourselves and others often. But in the back of our minds, we're really, really looking forward to mixed drinks and swimming pools.

Here's the thing: I feel like this blog has turned into a venue for my complaints, especially regarding the local fauna. That's unfair; it's mostly the result of cabin fever. The reason why I get so twitchy when I have to spend many days in the village is that I absolutely love travelling around Ghana. There's nothing I enjoy more than throwing myself into the back of tro-tro (the shared minibuses that crisscross the country) and spend several hours watching the scenery go by. Our trip to Peki two weeks ago took us through the remarkable mountains of Volta Region, showing us views of the Ghanaian countryside that I thought were reserved for paid photographers in helicopters. Even crammed into the back of a station wagon with six or seven other people, jostling and jolting along the unpaved road from Ho to Nyive, I am in my happy place. Enjoying a breeze, watching life go by, pulling as much of the country into myself as I can while I pass through.

That's the real reason, I think, that I'm excited about going to Accra. I've spent almost all my time in Ghana in Nyive and the surrounding area. It will be great to see another side of Ghana - urban Africa, in all its curious energy and complication. We're travelling with a local friend of ours, so hopefully we will see a bit more than the average tourist. But we're also pumped to meet some other expats: if Accra's one and only sports bar has a way of showing the hockey game, we may even run into some Canadians.

In the meantime, I'm hyper-focused on all the things that make life in Nyive wonderful. Eating fresh mangoes, straight off the tree. Feeding the dinner scraps to goats. Bathing outside in the fresh air, with rainwater heated by a day in the sun. Going slowly deaf from the clatter of rain on the metal roof at night. Enjoying a cold beer or soft drink with dear friends.

And, of course, hitting the road.