When our plane landed in the depths of darkness, we were ambushed by a flood of locals all offering guided tours, at sums we had neither the time nor the inclination to convert into dollars.
With hunger as a motivator we made our way through the maze of dimly lit streets, which would have been better navigated by a guyed wire than the street signs written in a fury of local languages, to a brightly lit street-side cafe that called to us with colorful natives and inviting exotic aromas.
Over a delicious meal of fried plantains and a popular local maize dish, called Fanfom, we met a local chap named Awiei, whom we instantly fell in love with. When he explained that in Twi, his native language, his name meant termination, then segued right into his best Schwarzenegger, “I’ll be back.” imitation and asked us to call him Arnold, we knew we had found a friend!
That evening, as we settled into our hotel room I wrote out a quick thank you to the Ghana Travel Agent back home that I would never have even known existed had it not been for that clapboard sign advertising ‘Proof’ that Nessie Exists!
I found a blog today that is holding a Terrible Poetry Contest and looking for Haiku submissions about falling snow. Couldn’t pass that one by. And ya, I know it doesn’t make any sense. That’s kind of what makes it terrible.
tropical island temptress so heartless- so cold she wept tears of falling snow