accra, as i am learning, is not for the faint of heart

i woke up to the sound of motorbikes roaring like angry geese and the smell of kelewele frying somewhere between my apartment and the market. the thermostat on my phone says it’s 41.71°C out there, feels like 38.24? nah, feels more like 1,000,000. my laptop and i are having a heated debate about productivity when the power cuts finally lose (again). seriously, who designed this building? i swear the AC only works on Tuesdays.






the street artist outside my room paints portraits of tourists for ₵5 (half-price for DJs). he once painted a guy’s cat in mid-air, wings attached to chopsticks. it’s now a viral meme. the neighbors? a mix of retired teachers who brew their own kombucha and a group of guys who run a fried chicken stand next door that smells like heaven and regret.






someone on tripadvisor said the kente fabric shop nearby is a scam? went to check. turns out they’re legit-bought a headwrap that made me feel 50% less lost. pro tip: haggle, but don’t laugh when the vendor offers to re-tie it for free after it falls off in the rain. i still have no idea what happened at the yelp review for that football stadium. something about "unpaid staff" and"dusty seats". but the papaya salad stand? 10/10. seriously.







a local told me, "don’t trust the GPS. take the left after the second traffic light, not the third." followed it, got lost, met a guy selling cocoyam scones who gave me directions in a pidgin riddle. "turn where the baobab tree sings," he said. turns out he meant the one with the graffiti. the map says i’m here, but i’m not. the world is flat, or maybe accra is just… sideways.




















































































































































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not sure why i’m still here. maybe the jollof rice. maybe the fact that the ATMs still have my name on them (they don’t). maybe the man who lives two doors down and plays the guitar at 5am like it’s a competition. or maybe this unplugged fridge that hums like an old lover. you know the one.
































i just checked the local facebook group-someone’s building a "ghost village". abandoned buildings, lit candles, and a warning sign: "no trespassing. we know who you are.". probably a really good story. also, the previous commenter said the hostel "smels like a can of old sweat". i’d take that over my last hostel’s air freshener. at least this one tastes like koala.

























image 1: a sunlit street market stall overflowing with durians and woven baskets

image 2: a digital nomad typing on a laptop beside a coconut vendor, both sweating in the same room

image 3: a chaotic footpath littered with red clay, cat doors, and a stray dog herding pigeons into vehicles

You might also be interested in:

• https://votoris.com/post/hubli-in-70-degree-summer-and-a-19-humidity-nightmare
• https://votoris.com/post/hiking-the-abandoned-trails-of-himawari
• https://votoris.com/post/skellefte-in-the-winter-what-the-hell-was-i-thinking
• https://votoris.com/post/the-cost-of-living-in-boankra-monthly-budget-breakdown-according-to-a-disillusioned-consultant
• https://votoris.com/post/job-market-analysis-most-indemand-careers-in-the-bronx-or-how-i-stopped-worrying-and-learned-to-love-the-data-ghosts