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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