Small Comforts

When you have been traveling long enough, you start to appreciate things you barely noticed before. I was wondering when we would reach this point. Surely a good sickness increases the speed of its onset. So, here I am. Sitting in the offices, home and headquarters of Global Brigades Ghana, enjoying the simple things.

Good British cheese. So good that sharp cheddar on top of yesterday's white rice cooked in oil and garlic is downright delectable.

Good books. Scratch that. Free readable books. I have engorged myself on obscure history and hiking tales this week. The Pueblo Revolt had enough on the flap to get my attention. It is the story of the first American Revolution, the book claims. Nobody pays attention because it was the Pueblo revolting against the Spanish monarchy, not British. But, it counts, the back cover argues. And it is an interesting history of colonialism. No matter that it is another continent, another European empire, a different indigenous people. It is enough of a backdrop for my current travels. And the bookshelf at Global Brigades merits some good picking. I devoured Bill Bryson's A Walk In the Woods in less than 24 hours. He is self-effacing enough. He intersperses enough local history and environmental politics to keep an 850 mile walk in the woods interesting. His comedic comrade Katz conciliates his efforts. Perhaps Kerouac next. Or back to Steinbeck. Or Hesse, if he doesn't get too philosophical and hard to follow. (Why can't they all read like Siddhartha?) Anything that has some relevance and inspiration for this blog-writing traveler with ample time on his hands. I think often of the books I have passed in the tiny English sections of used and new bookstores along the way. Books I decided against, from a history of Basque Country to a dusty worn Nabokov to Martel's follow up to Life of Pi gleaming and crisp on the shelf. In hindsight, it seems like any of them would be a welcome gift, a downright blessing.

Americans. What can I say? I like em. They are welcome sights, accents, world views even, especially when they are interesting people doing interesting work. I supposed the traveling American is, in general, more interesting than the stationary one. At least, I think I am. More interesting than I was, that is. My concerns seem mildly more interesting. I used to worry about being on time, how much I have to do, or what's for dinner. Now I worry about getting off the roads of Ghana before dark, not getting sick, and what's for dinner. And the answer to what's for dinner always satisfies me, as long as it is something and it doesn't make me sick.

Domestic chores. When you are traveling for a year, there is nothing quite as comforting as doing laundry or cooking. I even found myself mopping a laundry room today with a smile after the washing machine had hopped across the room, divorcing itself from its drain pipe. It's a washing machine. It does laundry a million times better than I do with some washing powder, a sink and some feeble attempts at agitation. I can't even get visible dirt to disappear from my clothes without it's help. So, I am happy to clean up after it and hang my wet clothes on the line in the sun.

And then there's cooking. This really is the traveler's ultimate joy. For months, we have marveled with awe-filled mouths through markets of incredible ingredients. Seafoods of all sorts. Spices by the basket and pile. Grains. Beans. Vegetables I have never seen before. Vegetables I have never seen so beautiful before. And, in general, it is all food grown or caught within 50 miles of wherever I am standing, be it Marseille, Madrid, Morocco or Mankessim. But I am most often missing one critical ingredient – a kitchen. Or at least a stove. So, most of it is captured only by the camera rather than my dreaming taste buds and hoped-for increased culinary cunning. A kitchen here at the Global Brigades House in Ghana makes even the dirty onions in the local market look good. And that's a good thing because the vegetable options are somewhat limited – garden eggs (like mini eggplants), habenero-like peppers of green and red varieties (we will see if they are spicy!), garlic, red or yellow onion, huge flavorless brown yams that look like gourds, and tiny tomatoes. And I avoid the meat altogether. Leave it for the flies. Same with the seafood if I can't see the sea where it was caught. We stumble across a cucumber and a few small green bell peppers, try not to bump into the ladies with bags of bread on their heads, and meander out of the market a few bags of vegetables richer than we entered. Tonight we cook. Pasta and vegetables. Sounds delicious!

A house. This is a tricky one, because sometimes a hotel is just a better option. But if you have a good host and some space, a house can be grand! For example, we are now couchsurfing outside of Mankessim, which is a bit off the tourist track. We have our own room and bathroom with shower, sans hot water (we have ample hot air here in Africa instead). Actually, it is almost our own wing. We have to cross a courtyard to get to our room. We have stayed in houses that left us wanting for a hotel. Actually, we have left houses in favor of hotels. But not this one. And with each day, the promised land draws closer.

Where is this promised land, you ask? Well, for us, it is in Johannesburg, South Africa. Yes, Johannesburg, South Africa. This is a place that before the trip, I swore off. Heard it was ugly, dirty, crowded. My sister was held up there at gunpoint once. Why would I ever go there when South Africa has Cape Town? But, alas, we have friends there. Tabitha and Lee. Tabitha is Annette's classmate from law school. And coincidentally enough, two Halloweens ago we met them at Commander's Palace for dinner. It turned out Lee proposed to Tabitha that evening. So, we have shared some moments. And we even share the same place of proposal for our two marriages. That practically makes Johannesburg home! And, as I understand it, they have a guest house. Yes, our own little house, next to, but separate from their's. It sounds wonderful, doesn't it? We will spend Thanksgiving there and do good American things like cook a big feast and watch American football. (He has every game the Saints have played this season recorded). And it is our next stop. Only a few weeks of elephants, tro-tros, bumpy roads, a few dozen more plates of red-red and plantains and a plane ride away.