Caitlin of the Jungle

Things to do:
walk across the jungle CHECK, enjoy a coke with a crocodile CHECK, get so sick I thought I was dying CHECK, visit a slave castle CHECK, bonfire on the beach CHECK, play in the ocean on the other side of the Atlantic CHECK

We had our first weekend trip, and the two days we were gone only reaffirmed how much I freaking love Ghana. Our itinerary began with buses departing 6:30 Saturday morning. As if being awake at such an ungodly hour wasn't punishment enough, I was also "sick" (read: probably should have slept on the toilet) the entire night before. Drifting in and out of sleep, I didn't know if the feeling of my insides being ripped out of my gut was a dream or not. Seriously one of my most painful experiences, right up there with dental surgery and that time freshman year I had strep and got an IV at the NYU health center. Yes, I know how pathetic I sound, but I don't tolerate pain well whatsoever. For me, stubbing my toe is enough to raise the national threat level. Anyway, I was really not feeling the 6AM wake up call and feeling like Death on rollerskates, dragged my butt on the bus and slept for two hours. Some African god must have smiled upon me, and I woke up in Cape Coast, rested and gastrointestinal distress-free.

After probably one of the best breakfasts of my life (so many croissants, so little time), we journeyed down the shore to Elmina to visit the Slave Castle. Now, when I hear "castle" I see the Disneyworld version. And when I think of "slave" two images pop up: my friend Mia's interpretation of the miniseries "Roots" ("You're name is TOBY!"), and Danny Glover, specifically in the movie "Angels in the Outfield". I'm fairly certain Danny Glover was in a movie at some point about actual slavery, but obviously baseball players helped out by angels made a bigger impression on me. Thus, I didn't know exactly what to expect upon entering the castle (which Cinderella would most definitely NOT have lived in.... unless Prince Charming was involved in the trans-Atlantic slave trade. Not so charming....). We were told that the tour may evoke some very strong emotions in people, but it wasn't nearly what I expected.
Visiting the slave castle was a lot like visiting concentration camps in Europe. One of the most disturbing parts was upon entering the female slave holding cell, you get blasted with this putrid smelling air. We were told that this cell would hold over 200 women and children for months at a time, and even after hundreds of years, that disgusting smell of bodily fluids, excrement and death still lingers. The Door of No Return was connected to both the Men's and Women's quarters, and this is where slaves that survived months locked up in the castle were lead onto waiting ships that would take them across the ocean and if they survived the voyage, sell them in the Americas. Only something like 1/3 of the slaves survived from capture to final sale.
While it was a pretty moving experience, but more than anything I just felt some strong white guilt after my visit. I know my ancestors were European peasants and only lacking melanin (my first hyperlink!) separated them from also being slaves, but those pangs of guilt really effect me.

From the slave castle, we took a lunch break at the crocodile cafe. Literally, it was this restaurant made up of pavillions on stilts connected by bridges, in a crocodile pond. My first African animal sighting!! Crocodile's are lazy, or at least these one's were. I sort of lost some respect for Steve Irwin when I saw how boring they were. They just sit; they've got big teeth and jaws, but these one's didn't look like they used them for much more than chewing on some leftover steak and the occasional crocodile yawn. So, my dream of sailing away on a sunny day on the back of a crocodile was ruined (mostly because it was raining), but we did enjoy a lovely bottle of Coca-Cola together.

After our lovely afternoon with our reptilian friends, we made it to Kakum National Park and the infamous canopy walk, the setting of all those Facebook proflie pictures that everyone who studies abroad in Ghana has. There was some intial confusion as to whether we were going to a jungle or a forest.... really I just didn't understand the difference, but there were monkeys in this particular wooded area so it didn't really matter to me. Turns out it's actually a jungle. No monkey sightings, but I acted out all of my Tarzan/George of the Jungle dreams. Walkways made of of planks of wood and rope are hang free from treehouse to treehouse. It's a little freaky at first, being suspended hundred's of feet above the ground by trees, rope and some chains, but it's totally safe. And by totally safe I mean no one fell the day I was there. No monkey sightings, but I practically got to be a monkey so I'm satisfied.

We made it back to Coconut Grove Resort, which has hosted famous guests like Oprah, Kofi Anan and Will Smith. NYU certainly knows how to treat us well. We sampled traditional palm wine at dinner (served on the beach), served in coconut shells. There was some debate over what the exact flavor reminded us of; champagned, mimosa, grapefruit juice. It definitely had an interesting flavor, almost delicious at first, but after a few drinks it made me gag a little so I reluctantly passed it on.** We had a bonfire and enjoyed the lovely atmosphere of being on the other side of the Atlantic. Totes better than the New Jersey side; we've got palm trees.

** I must say I haven't been to impressed with Ghanaian alcohol so far; the palm wine was disappointing, and last week Uncle Kodjo brought us a bottle of Akapeteshie. It's a local rum with an unknown alcohol level, and he brought it in a used water bottle. Claaaaasy. We all took a shot before class because Uncle Kodjo is awesome, and he gave us the rest to take home. Needless to say I have the bottle sitting in my freezer. I'll have to give it another shot (hehehe).

Leaving Coconut Grove was like leaving paradise, but it's good to be back even if I am sunburnt. There really should be a mandatory SPF 100 law in Ghana for super white Obruni's like me. I reapplied every 30 minutes, and I have to say I have sunburn in the weirdest places... my bellybutton for example. Who knew??