Last month I went to Ghana with two girlfriends (Rebeca from Switzerland and Kerry from Australia). We were visiting an orphanage about an hour outside Accra, and although it was not a long visit, it was a fascinating one.  I loved all the bright-coloured clothing that West African women wear (sooo much more interesting than jeans) and I was sickly jealous of their ability to carry things on their heads. I’d give anything to be able to do that.  The names of shops all seemed to have a religious bent, which amused us no end (example:  Declare His Goodness Cold Store.)  And, we were very impressed with the local dancing, so aerobic (for lack of a better word) that a person couldn’t even attempt it if he weren’t in outstanding shape.

 
The orphanage itself was a handful of quite lovely huts (designed by the Englishwoman who runs the place).  It had its own church and school and a large open area where the men and boys from the neighbouring village played soccer every morning and night.  We stayed in one of the huts on our last night there, sleeping under mosquito nets on thin mattresses and showering the next morning under a spout outdoors surrounded by emerald-green trees.  It sounds romantic, in a way, but it wouldn’t be in the long-term.  However enchanting a trip to Africa, I never come back without being keenly aware of how lucky I am.

A bientôt,