Standing Still

I keep looking down at my arms these days because the sun has seriously tanned my skin. The peach fuzz on my arms looks blonde, almost white under the light, and my hair shows random hints of yellow. I like the way I look now. It reminds me of how much I've changed and continue to change while being in Ghana. Change change change… I don’t remember a time that so much change felt so right and comfortable.

But not all the changes have been hard. Adjusting to life on quiet, empty beaches... not too bad. Last weekend, Tara, Jetta, and I spent a few days cruising the Volta River and beach hopping along the coast to the east of Accra. Our first stop was the Maranatha Beach Camp in Ada Foah (pronounced A-dAh Foh). Once we got off the last stop of the trotro, we waited for one of the staff members from Maranatha to meet us and take us to the camp by boat.

Boat ride along the Volta River

We sped down the Volta River, which was huge but calm and serene. Our room at the beach camp was a palm frond hut on the sand with the river on one side and the ocean on the other side, so of course we had to hit the water right away. We were the only ones on the beach and had the whole shore to ourselves, so we took off our bikini tops and enjoyed the waves like we owned the place. The water was so warm. I've been to a bunch of different beaches by now, but this was the first time I went full on swimming in the ocean in Ghana. I haven’t done much more than sit around on the sand and dip my feet in the water, but it almost felt wrong not to dive into the waves on this secluded beach. We tumbled in and out of the water until the sun went disappeared over the horizon.

Inside our hut! PC: Jetta

Sunset on the beach. PC: Jetta

After filling up on a delicious dinner of tilapia and coconut food, we turned in pretty early. The sun had worn us out, and the beach was way too quiet. Jetta and I shared a bed because there were ants all over hers, but I could not get myself to fall asleep. I kept waking up to the moonlight seeping through the palm fronds while I was dozing in and out of sleep, and I was so relieved to see the sun finally rise so that I didn't have to keep on lying there. I sat out on the sand while the sun was coming out and then took a nap in one of the hammocks by the river. One of the stray dogs that lived on the beach (who I named Nala cus Lion King rules) napped on the sand next to me.

My bb Nala napping again later in the day

Our second day in Ada Foah was probably one of my favorite days in Ghana. We waded along the shallow end of the river all the way down to where the river met the ocean. The energy there was unreal. The river water felt different somehow as we got closer to the ocean, and the way the waves crashed against each other created such a cool excitement in the air. You could seriously feel the collision of the water in every sense.

From Maranatha, we took a boat ride to Meet Me There, a guesthouse on a salt water lagoon and beach near the village of Dzita. Another couple days spent swimming and soaking in the sun. We met this couple from the US who were also spending the weekend at the lagoon. They met in Kenya while in the Peace Corps and had since traveled together to Madagascar, Korea, and now Ghana.

I made a promise myself to live like that for at least few years after graduation – work for a while, travel for a while, or travel to work. There’s no reason why being sedentary should be considered more practical or realistic. There are so many people I have met while being here, people who have spent so much of their lives abroad and hopping across the globe. They still have families and careers, and I might even go as far to say that they have everything an average person would have and more. Their lives are so full and interesting.

Also it was Jetta's 21st!! Happeeeeee birthdeeeeeeeeee :)

Birthday Boss

We spent one night at Meet Me There, and I couldn't fall asleep again. All of us were uncomfortable in the room, so we grabbed our sheets and made for the lounge chairs by the water. We slept outside, under the stars, and yes it was as romantic as it sounds. The ocean was so intensely loud that when the waves weren't crashing for a brief moment, everything suddenly went quiet but not completely silent because the wind kept the palm trees rustling all night. I didn't get much sleep, so I did a repeat of Maranatha and napped in the hammock once the sun came out. I laid down so that I could watch the sun rise over the lagoon.

I definitely felt like my life was at a standstill for the weekend. It was so nice to be on these secluded beaches with nothing but sun and salt water. Not being distracted by expectations and obligations creates such a sense of clarity, and though spending a weekend in paradise was not a challenging, living for a while with no real purpose makes clear what you want your purpose to be.

This is one of the best parts about being abroad. Not being around people who expect you to walk and talk in a certain way… Allowing yourself to try things and be things you wouldn't necessarily be associated with at home… Doesn't mean that you are different but maybe a more honest, renewed version of yourself. I wish I could explain this feeling without sounding cheesy, so I'll go back to my tanned skin. I look different, but you'd still recognize me. Changed but not totally transformed.

Here’s a chunk from an article that Jetta showed me. Feels especially relevant to me right now:

Whether it's a new apartment or a new city, starting over isn't about changing your scene, but the way you're living in it. It's about opening your eyes again, walking to the ledge and looking up, down and across, once again comprehending the vastness of life that sits openly waiting for you. Life has a tendency to get stale. Like your favorite food, it loses its edge after a while, that special quality that made you love it so much in the first place. We, like the places we confine ourselves to, become as dull and boring as our surroundings.

New experiences are the reason we live. They are the reason we get up every day, the reason we carry on. While we enjoy comfort, we crave experience. The point of living is not to resign yourself to one part of life, but to continually redefine yourself. It's to baptize yourself, over and over again, in new waters and new experiences.

You have your entire life to be comfortable, to sit in your house and bask in the familiarity of it. But right now, while you're young and uncomfortable, keep going, keep challenging yourself. Keep making yourself uncomfortable. Because it's only when we're uncomfortable that we are growing and learning.

To truly understand yourself, your purpose and those around you, you must keep moving. You must move at least five times; five times to open your heart and dip your toes into something new, fresh and life changing.

Check out the rest here: http://elitedaily.com/life/staying-settling-need-move-5-times-life/751829/

Beaches are a nice touch to it all, and the cure to anything is salt water: tears, sweat, and the sea. Here's to more new experiences and new adventures!

The 10 Stages of Wli Waterfalls

After a weekend filled with village festivities, homemade banku*, and shots of akpeteshie**, it was time to say goodbye to the town of Dzodze and set out for our next destination in the mountains near Hoehoe, a town further north in the Volta Region of Ghana. 

*banku = fermented cassava dough eaten with soup, tomato sauce, or fish

**akpeteshie = local gin made from distilled palm wine

Dzodze = ‘Zho-zhae’

Hoehoe = ‘Ho-hway’

End of vocab lesson, moving on.

For the few hours we were sitting in the tro-tro (shared minibus with set routes), I could not stop looking out the open window. The bush seemed to creep closer, hugging the sides of the tro tro, and the sound of the car racing past the leaves made the most refreshing rustling noises. My skin turned numb from the wind lapping at my face, but I could still feel the sun’s gentle warmth through the thick clouds. I let the soft rain kiss my hands as it chased away the heat before hitting the ground, leaving behind the scent of wet pavement.

It didn’t seem like we were driving for very long at all. Soon enough, we were cruising through Hoehoe and settling in at our lodge for the night. Felt like paradise.

The next morning, we set out for Wli falls, the highest waterfalls in Ghana and West Africa. A 45 minute walk brought us to the base of the waterfalls. Everything felt almost dreamy on this picturesque trail. It made me realize that I had never been to any place that was untouched by people.

Would it even be possible to go somewhere completely untouched? Wild life in its actuality? Nature in its most natural… 

And in the middle of this thought, I could feel a mist of water spraying from over the trees. We were near the base of the falls, and the recent rainfall had flooded the pool. The falls were a rage. We couldn’t be near it without getting completely soaked from the mist, and so we let the water drench our bodies head to toe. I stood there for a second, eyes closed, arms wide open, breathing in fresh air that is hard to come by under Accra’s polluted clouds, feeling loved. Not necessarily by anyone or anything. Just felt like life loved me, so I sent it back some love, soaking under the roar of Wli falls.

Our guide for the hike told us that we needed to head out to get to the top of the falls, so I channeled my inner John Muir and began the ascent. The mountains are calling, and I must go.

So I went. And woke up from this little dream. Woke up ten times over. Let's start with stage 1.

1: THE STRUGGLE

Oh. My. God. The struggle was TOO real. Actually, every stage after this should just be a sub-stage under THE STRUGGLE. While in Ghana, I’ve really been feeling like I’m in the driver’s seat of my own life, only to drive and crash the struggle bus all day long. But I digress.

First of all, this trail was steep. And I mean like, steeeeeeeeeeeeeeep. Every step felt like stepping up onto a chair. Or like when you try to go up two steps at a time on the stairs so you can get to the top faster but you just end up being really tired and out of breath. I was panting like a dog just 15 minutes in.

Not to mention that the sweat game was so strong. I can’t remember the last time I was dripping sweat like that. I hated it, but the tinea on my skin probably loved it. (Oh, yeah. Did I mention that I picked up some skin fungus from playing with the kids in Dzodze? Didn’t even know what tinea was until my friend Jetta pointed out all these red spots on our skin. Cute kids. Tinea, not so cute.)

2: THE SCRAMBLE

I’ll admit that I can be a scaredy cat. I can’t watch scary movies, I don’t like being alone in the dark, and I freeze up whenever my mom is angry at me. But I do love heights and rollercoasters and anything with thrill and adrenaline. This hike shouldn’t have been a problem, but at one point, the sweat game got restarted when I started to break out into a nervous sweat.

As we hiked higher into the mountain, the trail narrowed. One side of the trail was a wall of rock, and the other side was a giant slide of shrubs and trees. I could just see myself falling off the trail and rolling down the side of the mountain until I got back to the base of the falls.

The thing is that I hate being scared. I hate how fear makes me feel so weak. Especially when all I wanted to do was conquer this hike to prove to myself that I was a strong-independent-womyn-with-the-letter-y.

On top of that, I knew that if I let myself panic at all, it would just make everything worse. I was trying so hard not to be scared that every time I slipped over a mossy rock or got my foot stuck in a root, I would get even more freaked out. I psyched myself out to the point that I stopped being scared and just started to get frustrated. It was a hot mess.

3: THE SONG

In times like these, mind over matter, right? So who did I turn to for moral support? None other than my homegurl, Miley Cyrus. I must confess that Milez was a very important part of this physical and spiritual journey because I had the lyrics to IT’S THE CLIIIIMB stuck in my head for at least half of the time. How appropriate.

I also kept telling myself that the mountain was my friend. I just repeated it in over and over in my head (in between singing The Climb to myself), “The mountain is my friend. The mountain is my friend. The mountain is my friend…” I pretended that everything around me was cheering me on, and thanked them for it, saying: Thank you, branch. Thank you, fern. Thank you, caterpillar. Thank you, tree.

I promise I wasn’t doing this because Ghanaians are so big on politeness. And I bet you’re laughing at how stupid this sounds. No worries, I’m laughing at me too, but here’s the thing – the worst time to feel alone is when you’re having a rough time, and it just so happens that you usually feel the most alone when you’re having a rough time.

If you didn’t notice, I was having a bit of a rough time. So I was trying to be friends with the mountain. Our guide was doing this hike in freaking flip flops, Tara was charging through the mountain way ahead of me, and I could feel myself falling further and further behind. I had to be friends with the mountain if I was going to make it through the entire hike.

4: THE SPRINT

So whenever you think things are bad, always remember that it could be worse. Our guide looked back at us and told us that we had to walk fast because there were some ants on the trail. What he actually meant was that we had to run or else get eaten alive by these ants. I’m used to seeing big ants now. There are a lot of juicy looking black and red ants about the size of your thumbnail crawling around in the grass all the time.

But the way these ants were swarming in the middle of the trail was absolutely nuts. I could see them in these giant clusters in the dirt and didn’t know what to do with myself. But what else could I do? I took a few deep breaths, counted to three, and ran as fast as my tired legs would let me. These suckers still managed to get inside my shoes and leave me some nasty bites.

5: THE SUMMIT 

I almost don’t want to describe the top of the falls at all because I wouldn’t be able to do it justice. It was like being caught in the middle of a storm. The current was even stronger than at the base, and the spray of the water made all the plants lean away from its path. I thought the base of the falls was beautiful. The top of Wli was a whole new ball game. What a beast. I can only think of a few other things I’ve witnessed in life that just exuded such pure power. It reenergized me in an instant. All I wanted to do was cheer and jump and dance around under the waterfall’s rain.

Not the view from the top of the falls. We were much much closer, but there was too much water everywhere for me to take out my camera. I took this pretty early in the hike.

6: THE SLIP

We stood at the top of Wli long enough to refresh our minds and bodies, but definitely not long enough for me to forget how steep the trail was. So when it was time to head back down, I knew the struggle was not quite over. The trail might as well have been a slide going down, but since I already made friends with all the rocks and roots and branches on the way up, I trusted them to lend me a helping hand on the way down. We were just beginning to descend when I remembered how I fell while walking along a slick, muddy dirt road in Dzodze. Literally two seconds later, I slipped on the trail and skidded on my butt. I got a gnarly bruise where I landed that I’m pretty proud of, though it proved to be a pain in the ass (literally) on the 5-hour tro tro ride back to Accra. Positive thinking is real, my friends!!!!

7: THE STORM

There were a few more minor slips while hiking down, but mostly because I kept looking up to the sky instead of keeping my eyes on the trail. I swear I have never seen more impressive clouds anywhere else in the world. Another rainfall was getting ready to hit, casting shadows over the mountain and sending warnings of thunder. These clouds were moving so fast that some of them looked like they were imploding on themselves. I was glad we were heading down because it felt like the weather was telling us to leave.

8: THE SWEET RELIEF

The moment my feet hit the flat ground, all the tension immediately left my body. It was as if I had been holding my breath during that entire hike. We sat by the base of the falls one more time before walking back to the lodge, and my mind was on auto pilot from there on out.

9: THE SOJOURN

We finally got back to Accra at around 11 at night, and I was so done with sitting in the back of that tro tro from Hoehoe to Madina. I was happy happy happy when I realized we were in Madina. I recognized the Papaye restaurant across the street where the stalls of the Madina outdoor market are lined up during the day. I knew it should only cost 10 cedis to get a taxi back to campus from there, maybe 8 if we caught a less stubborn driver. I could see the intersection of Okponglo junction once we were over the hill before the light. Turn left, right at the stop sign, and another right – gave the driver the same directions I had given to so many other drivers.

It was weird to realize how accustomed to Accra I had become within a couple short months. After a weekend full of adventures, I more than welcomed the sense of familiarity. We were finally home!

10: THE SURRENDER

This whole trip was by no means an easy one.

First of all, excuse my language, but nature is a bitch. And she is a badass one. There is nothing more humbling and calming than the insane sights and sounds of nature. Makes you feel so small but not in a belittling way. Reminds you how big the world is but also assures you that you are a part of it, that you belong here or wherever you might be.

The thing that was so hard about the hike up to Wli was not the physical test. I have definitely experienced worse pain and fatigue in some of my dance classes. The hardest part was that I only had two choices – go all the way up, or turn around. Turning back was not an option, so really, there was only one option. Onward.

Here I am in Ghana, wanting to challenge myself and grow in ways that wouldn’t be able to back at home, but I’ve been saying that without really knowing what it meant. This hike up to Wli was the best possible manifestation of that desire. On the inside, I was whining like a baby and wishing that I could just be done with the hike. But there were no shortcuts. We were already on the shorter trail up to Wli… only one way up and one way down.

I definitely came out of the hike with much more than I started with… at least seven ant bites, a big butt bruise, and a new found understanding of what it means to challenge yourself. I’m going to have to test out whether or not this hike left me with tougher skin when I travel back to the Volta Region for a different hike up Mount Afadjato, the highest peak in Ghana!

Yɛbehyia bio. We will meet again.

Home away from home...

Mewo fie. I am home.

Here, home is room 84 in the International Students’ Hostel, or ISH for short. Though I've now become used to the balmy heat and noisy markets here in Accra, I get worn out from so many new sights and sounds that keep me alert at all times. Whenever I need a little respite from the sensory overload, back to ISH I go.

My roommate, Abby, and I share a room that is a straight shot from the stairs going up to the second floor. Here, we talk about what our families have been up to back in the states, drool over all the good food we miss from home, or whine about the dozens of bug bites we've collected on our legs. My room is a space to take a break from the constant excitement that is Accra but not to escape it. It’s full of small souvenirs I've collected during my first month in Ghana. All of these things give me solace whenever I feel tired or lonely, reminding me of all the beautiful things I've seen and touched in Ghana so far, and I like to think that I’m gradually piecing together a home away from home in this room.

This is my side of the room! Above my bed is my lapa that I usually wear around my waist for African dance class at Swarthmore. The dress code for dance class here is different here, so I decided to use my lapa as a little tapestry instead. It makes me miss Baba Kemal, our Umfundalai teacher who just left Swarthmore last semester, but it also reminds me that he was the one to instill a love of African dance in me.

My desk sits right next to the door. On the left side are all my readings and notebooks for classes this semester. I'll (most likely) be taking History of the Black Diaspora, African Indigenous Religions, Studies in African Poetry, Twi language, and of course, drumming and dance. The second stack of books is all from the University's bookstores. I grabbed a few different things, including an anthology of articles on African dance and Mozambican prose fiction. I'm trying to expose myself to as much African literature as possible since I feel like I don't get to read enough of it back home. You can also see my lanyard, complete with my Snoopy keychain that a friend gave to me in elementary school and my little skeleton, both of which are sitting by my cute vintage cell phone. Up in the right corner are things needed for daily life - water bottles (tap water is not safe to drink), bug spray with 40% deet, and TP (the bathrooms in ISH don't have any so you need to have your own.)

These scarves and paintings hang on the wall between my desk and bed. The blue scarf is from the Ntonso village in Kumasi, where they make adinkra print fabrics. I chose the cloth and symbols, each of which have its own meaning and significance. The other scarf is from the Art Centre in Accra, the same place I bought the two small paintings. Art here is so heavily geared towards tourist consumption, so it’s hard to tell where or how most of the crafts are produced at the Art Centre. Vendors will often hike up the prices like crazy because they know foreigners have a lot of money to spend, so I try to bargain for a lower price as much as possible. I talked down the yellow painting of a mother from 50cedis to 20, and the blue one of Africa from 75cedis to 25cedis. Being stubborn about a price will usually do the trick since vendors would rather sell you the item rather than have you walk away. I've just recently tried to talk to vendors in Twi while bargaining, and they’re always pleasantly surprised to see some rando Asian girl try to speak their language. I’m not sure if it’s helped me to get lower prices, but I still enjoy their amused laughter and their willingness to teach me new words and phrases.

My bed!!! If you know me at all, you know that I can sleep for a million hours at a time. My bed is my first love, and so I had to name my blanket ‘bae.’ I bought this awesome blanket from a seamstress that comes to ISH regularly. You can choose any print fabric, and she can make shirts, pants, skirts, dresses, whatever you want, tailored to your own measurements. She had this quilt-like blanket made from a bunch of different prints.

 This guy watches over me when I sleep J

Handy dandy coffee table with some important things – malaria meds, herbal pills from my mom, a mug for my daily cup of coffee, some of my staple jewelry, a slip with username and password for WiFi, and a gourd with the adinkra symbol for forgiveness that I got at the Manhyia palace in Kumasi.

My side of the dresser with mostly cooking stuff. Usually I eat from the night market by ISH or other spots on campus like Coffee Cue or the bush canteen, but sometimes I need a break from all the jolof rice, plantains, and beans. I spend a lot more time cooking here than I would at home. It’s super therapeutic, even if the faulty kitchens like to test my patience.

On top of my dresser is Gilly Jr., who keeps me company while my other elephant figurine (also named Gilly) is hibernating in the basement of Wharton at Swarthmore. Next to Gilly Jr. is a miniature carving of a stool, which is symbolic of royal power in Asante tradition. I got these in Kumasi from the Ahwiaa village.

Details on my closet door- a mix of my old and new homes – On the red string is a necklace with a fossil stone from Jerry, who gifted this to me when I left Swat at the end of June. The other stone necklace was made for me by my friend Taylor, who is in the same study abroad program with me.

 Aaaand that's the end of the tour!

Into Holes

I get the impression
you think
it is peculiar to fall into holes.
falling into
Obruni traps for laughter
Obruni money exchanged for barter
Obruni vision clouded by
Romance along red clay roads as the

cracked skin on my heels

kiss

cracked red trails that take me 

to Okponglo where you can’t touch

without being touched.

Inhale slowly to get high off reality

Drunken sobriety when faced with naivety.

End the night with medaase

I lie beneath you

weighed down by a belly full of plantains and pineapple.

Call ChaleChale. They smile at you because they get

the impression

you think it is peculiar to fall into holes.

Pick me up to tell me-

Education is Europeanization

Pick me up to tempt me-

You can buy it but it’s still not yours

Pick me up to ask me-

Where are you from? Again and again, hene hene hene, until

I finally tell you want you want to hear.

Fixed into light skin, never dark enough until

6:30 pm sunset.

Me pa wo kyew still not enough, so

Cover your thighs with kente cloth but never walk alone, else you might

fall into another hole.

End Quote

Some wise words picked up during the first week of classes...

Don't let anyone tell you that you don't have a tomorrow.
Bad dancing does no harm to Mother Earth.
A rich man is a generous man.
I want to teach Africans to be themselves.
Why have you stopped smiling?

Therapy at the Rijks

Today marks exactly 4 weeks since I got on a plane to leave Los Angeles! I don’t even understand how time is going by so fast, and it makes me anxious. I feel like there is so much left to do in such little time. If an entire month can go by this quickly, the next four months seem like nothing. Regardless, a lot has happened so far, and it all started off with a short trip in Europe with Tara. It's weird to look back our stay in Europe after being in Ghana for about a couple weeks. Feels as if I was never even there. I think it's because we were constantly on the move while in Europe, always moving from one place to the next from Amsterdam to Belgium, Bruges, and finally Paris. We never got to settle into any one place and just kept floating through these cities, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Although I wish we had more time to really get acquainted with these places, we still found happiness in meeting other travelers and in spontaneous nights out. My happiest moment in Europe was actually the very first day of the trip.

Our first stop was the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam. When we entered the museum, I was confused by these large yellow posters that looked like post-its and couldn’t understand what they were for until we came across this one in the grand hall.

British writers and philosophers Alain de Botton and John Armstrong had installed a project last April to show the therapeutic effect art can have and the answers art can provide for big life questions. These captioned posters sometimes shared anecdotes, suggested solutions to problems, or just gave a few words of wisdom. The Rijksmuseum website says: "The exhibition Art is Therapy, however, wants to questions what the purpose of art is and highlight the threrapeutic effect that art has on visitors who simply look at art and enjoy. As far as the British philosophers are concerned, the focus should be less on where an object comes from and who made it, and more on what it can do for the museum visitor in terms of issues that concern us all: love & relationships, work, status, memory, and mortality."

With any museum I go to, I always feel somehow recalibrated afterwards. Now, I think I can understand the reason why. Looking at paintings and sculptures from centuries past teaches a lot about history, but I find myself having to search for the things that are relevant to myself in the works so that I can relate to something so far off from my own life. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I enjoy looking at art because it makes me unconsciously look for myself in the art, so I leave a museum feeling rebalanced. The Rijksmuseum had already done that for me, and it made such a huge difference. I was able to appreciate the art on a whole new level.

The ‘Art is Therapy’ project resonated with me so much because I'm always expected to justify studying dance both academically and artistically. I’ve learned to always expect questions like: ‘What can you even do with a dance degree?’ ‘What do you learn about in an academic dance class?’ One time I was asked, ‘Why do you go to Swarthmore if you want to dance?’ Even in articles and journals I read for class, scholars will often start off by explaining why dance as an academic field is important, or why their particular area of research should be taken seriously. I usually don’t even know how to answer the questions people ask me, and most of the times I don’t want to answer them anyway because I feel like when I answer, I am consenting to the undertones of those questions- that dance is less legitimate than any other major.

These frustrations were even more intensified when I started to tell people that I was planning on traveling to Ghana to study African dance. This time, questions and comments went something like: ‘But don’t you want to go to Europe instead?’ ‘Study African dance? People do that?’ ‘Does Ghana even have good schools?’ It got really hard not to let this get to my head after a while, and I started to get really nervous before flying out of the US.

These posters at the Rijks helped put my worries to rest. After two years of second guessing myself while at Swarthmore, I was reminded exactly why I still wanted to dance and why I decided to come to Ghana in the first place. The posters explained ways in which art commented on politics, sex, money, memory, and more. They pointed out that art is a part of political science, philosophy, economics, history, math, literature, science, etc, and most importantly that art is part of the human condition. I left the museum feeling reassured that I was doing the right thing. It was a great way to start off my abroad experience, and for the rest of our time in Europe, I kept seeing ways in which museums, monuments, and cathedrals were all therapeutic in their own ways.

Here are some more happy things you should look for if you are ever in these places:

Amsterdam: The canals are stunning, and you can see so much of the city by water. Tara and I did a cruise as the sun was setting.

Belgium: Definitely hit up Delirium Café. This pub has over 2,000 types of beer. Our favorite was definitely the cactus beer. The pub right across the street had some amazing musicians playing live music.

  

Bruges: All of the chocolate shops in this town sell these. Some get pretty detailed. 

    

Paris: Visit the Saint Chapelle to see some of the most beautiful stained glass windows, and then have a pork belly burger at a restaurant called the Loup- my favorite meal while in Europe. For dessert, macaroons from Laduree are all the hype, but I personally enjoyed the ones from Pierre Herme more.

Mapping Happiness

I go. I come. Welcome.

Welcome to The Geography of Bliss! My blog takes its title after one of my favorite books, The Geography of Bliss: One Grump's Search for the Happiest Place in the World, a travel memoir by Eric Weiner. In each place he visits, Weiner seeks out a formula to happiness and explains what we can learn from the different paths to contentment people choose to take. Here's an excerpt of the description on Eric Weiner's page:

Is this a travel book? Yes, but not a typical one. While I do log thousands of miles in researching the book, The Geography of Bliss is really a travelogue of ideas. I roam the world in search of answers to the pressing questions of our time: What are the essential ingredients for the good life? Why are some places happier than others? How are we shaped by our surroundings? Why can’t airlines serve a decent meal?
Is this a self-help book? Perhaps, but not like any you’ve read before. I offer no simple bromides here. No chicken soup. You will find no easy answers in these pages. You will, however, find much to chew on and, perhaps, some unexpected inspiration. We Americans, it turns out, have no monopoly on the pursuit of happiness. There is wisdom to be found in the least likely of places.
Place. That is what The Geography of Bliss is about. How place—in every aspect of the word—shapes us, defines us. Change your place, I believe, and you can change your life.

A friend recommended this book to me maybe five years ago, and I wish I had time to read it again before I left for my semester abroad. I'm now finding the book relevant in my life again but not for the same reasons. The first time I read The Geography of Bliss, I was so ready to leave my little suburb and ached to stretch my arms out until my hands could grab onto the happiness that Weiner was telling me was out there. I couldn't wait to sample the many tastes of bliss from around the world he described, to refresh my taste buds that had turned dull from years of passing by the same old neutral-colored houses and trimmed trees that lined the neatly paved roads of my hometown. I wanted to grow and expand in a place that would constantly feed my heart with new sights and sounds. Now, I think my six month journey away from home might have just the opposite purpose. I'm starting to feel myself searching inward rather than out. Now, I think back to this quote from Weiner's book:

'The word "utopia" has two meanings. It means both "good place" and "nowhere". That's the way it should be. The happiest places, I think, are the ones that reside just this side of paradise. The perfect person would be insufferable to live with; likewise, we wouldn't want to live in the perfect place, either. "A life time of happiness! No man could bear it: It would be hell on earth," wrote George Bernard Shaw, in his play Man and Superman.'

If there was anything good that came out of the nightmare that was Sophomore Slump, it was the lesson that thinking about happiness makes us less happy. We think that the perfect transcript, the perfect resume, and the perfect career will build us this utopia of a future to the point that we let ourselves delay happiness under this pressure to attain perfection. We are obsessed with a perfection that will somehow provide us with happiness later. Meanwhile, we let go of right now. Every moment is right now, and every moment is an opportunity for happiness.

While I initially chose to study in Ghana to push myself outside of my comfort zone, it's actually been a really comforting experience so far. I really do think it's because this place has created room for imperfection. We get upset over things because we want perfection. Who would have thought that cold showers, lizards in my dorm room, and cramped tro-tro buses would put me at ease? These imperfections and lack of basic comforts, like clean running water and fast Wi-Fi, have led me to put my expectations aside. I don't find myself going about my day with this looming need to get ahead. I don't think about happiness. I'm finding it in everything as I go along. I'm here to make new friends, see new places, and learn about things I genuinely have an interest in. Why is it that we don't allow ourselves to prioritize such obviously important things? We ignore fundamental things that make us happy because we think that there is some bigger, greater happiness out there. I don't think there is, and I hope that living in Ghana will help teach me to let go of this greed for perfection.

You might think it's easier said than done, putting happiness before responsibilities and obligations. You might be right, but I'm honestly tired of happiness being turned into some naive cliche. Meaningful lives can be happy ones too. With that, I want this blog to be a place where I share moments of happiness that I encounter during this trip. I hope that you can be part of this experience in which I rediscover pieces of happiness already inside of me, and I wish to return home having changed from inside out.

To wrap up, I'll relay a little info I picked up this last week. Akwaaba is the word for 'welcome' in the language of Twi. The word is the combination of two phrases. The first is a ko, or 'I go'. The second is a ba, or 'I come'. A ko a ba turns into akwaaba. Although I've gone, left home, I've come to Ghana, and they tell me welcome.

I go. I come. Welcome.