Wednesday, July 10th
After a swift 7 hours in the air, I had made it to London. I disembarked the plane, and regrouped with the TMS students on the way to the main terminal. Once we were all together, I said my goodbyes, and shortly after lost the group. See you in the US!
I passed through immigration, bought an Oyster Card (transit card), and followed the signs for the London Underground. I suppose I must have looked quite out of place, adorned with REI quick-dry clothing, backpacks on both sides of my chest, and an outrageous plastic “Kente Cloth” design bag to my side. I realize now that culture shock can come in one massive wave, or lap over you slowly over time. I first met it while trying to exit the Tube. In Ghana, when you’re moving with lost of gear, people won’t only move out of your way (cognizant of your space), they’ll even help carry your gear. Not the case here. I struggled past a crowd of standing passengers, saying “Pardon me....Excuse me,” and met so much resistance that the doors closed in front of me at my stop. Saaaa.
I did eventually make it to my stop after backtracking a bit. After emerging onto the streets of London for the first time ever, I believe I was completely paralyzed, unable to make my way to the house that I was to house sit. Whereas I Ghana I could make my way around the streets where signs were absent, the well labeled London streets baffled me with the streams of traffic coming from every which way, traveling on the left side of the road. Billboards, tall buildings, and an abundance of busy people. It was a lot. I eventually gathered my bearings and made my way down to meet a neighbor to drop the key off with me. If you’re not familiar with my situation, I changed my ticket to leave Ghana early to house sit a nice home in London while I write up my Sachet Research report.
The day flew by. I took a long, hot shower, using shampoo and conditioner for the first time since California. My friend Bryan, studying at King’s College for the summer, met me for lunch, and we took the tube downtown. We decided on Pizza (understandably unavailable in Ghana) and I danced between wolfing down such incredible food, and savoring each bite. The simple pleasure of enjoying the taste, texture, and experience of food is a luxury; I learned on my first trip to Ghana four years ago that eating is primarily about gaining energy for the day, and taste comes secondary. It may sound like stating the obvious, but it’s something that, growing up in an upper class family with an abundance of choice and the option to reject food if it wasn't tasty, I could easily forget.
Later I made my way to a corner store to buy a new SIM chip for my dinky TECNO cell phone. While installing it, a Spanish woman came in to the store for the same purpose, yet had difficulty installing the chip. I enjoyed trying to help her, speaking Spanish for the first time in ages, but came to the conclusion that her phone was unlocked. She returned the chip and package open to the cashier. Although I had left Ghana, Ghana has yet to leave me; I quickly asked the man, “How much for the open chip?” and bargained the guy to sell it to me for two pounds, a discount of over 50%. I think we both smiled.
In the afternoon, I finished my laundry and went grocery shopping. I cooked dinner and felt exhaustion begin to settle in. I ate carrots, cauliflower, broccoli, and vegetarian ravioli (Vegetables were strictly off limits in Ghana due to the potential washing in dirty water).
With a completely full stomach for the first time in a while, I fell asleep before 9 in a new home. More adventure and work to come!
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