Making the best of it.....London

We had the highest of hopes for our last lag of the trip. Three nights in London staying at the new Shangri-La Hotel at the Shard, enjoying a play, dining at one of our favorite restaurants in the world, and just kicking back and experiencing some of the myriad of things this marvelous city has to offer.

It started off well. We disembarked in Dover to marvelous weather and a great view of why they are called "The White Cliffs".

Our limo driver was there to meet us at the pier and off we went for the two hour trip to London. The first hour was spent zipping up the highway. The last hour was spent crawling through London"s notoriously bad rush hour traffic to get to our hotel. We didn't mind because the sights of the city are always interesting and we were staying at the newly opened Shangri-La Hotel at the Shard.

Ok, you ask, why the excitement about a building and a hotel? The Shard was finished in 2012 and when we saw it in September of that year it captivated us. At 87 stories it is the tallest building in the EU and certainly in London. It is striking in person, dominating the skyline and we love the Shangri-La hotel chain. The views promised to be spectacular and it was opening up a new part of London. We, especially me, couldn't wait.

I am not sure these pictures do it justice, but I hope they give you some idea of it's beauty.

The hotel itself starts on the 35th floor and god up to the 52nd where is there a fantastic bar, infinity pool and gym. As you can imagine the views are fantastic from every vantage point. Here are the views from our room.

The Tower Bridge

The Tower of London

The City. See if you can find Lloyd's.

Tower Bridge at night

Then there is the view from the bathroom... It is a glass box and not for the squeamish. You have views from every part of it. The floor is even heated as are the towel racks.

From the shower...

From the tub

Even while brushing your teeth!

The room itself is quite well appointed although a tad on the small size, but as it everything Shangri-La, the service and the amenities are fantastic. They just can't do enough for you.

Which was a blessing because the cold Kathy took off of the ship just kept getting worse and then I caught it as well. Friday was the best day she had and things have gone downhill from there.

We were just blocks away from the Borough Market, which has been here for hundreds of years, but recently has become the epicenter for the slow food and locavore movement. It is just jammed with fabulous food stalls and fantastic restaurants. We had lunch at an incredible Tapas bar called Brandisa. We just loved the food, including an iberico bellota ham platter and patatas bravas, washed down with sangria, among the many great things we ate. The place was jammed, but we got to meet the owner and when he determined we were Amercians, he told us the Barefoot Contessa and her husband ate there every time they were in London. The next morning I went to the market and got the best almond croissant and an out of this world caramel fluer d sel honey comb cream donut. They were the best pastries we have ever had. The market is huge, crowded and full of life. Put this on your must do list for London.

Friday night we finally got around to seeing the acclaimed play Billy Elliott. It was fantastic and full of multiple messages. While most people see it as a play of redemption and hope, I came away feeling you could also call it a labor or socialist manifesto and it certainly was anti-Thatcher. We discussed it over drinks at the bar on the 52nd floor of the hotel. I think my ideas made Kathy have two Old Fashioned's instead of one.

That was the best of it for us. Kathy woke up Saturday morning very sick from her cold and I was off to find a pharmacy. The weather turned ugly overnight and it rained pretty hard until noon. I went off to see the Tate Modern Museum and Kathy rested. She rallied for dinner at Rasoi, which was fabulous, but we went right back to the hotel for her to get some rest. I am not sure she enjoyed it as mush as I did, but what a trooper she is.

We were going to go to the British Museum today, but instead are heading to our airport hotel. Kathy isn't still pretty sick and I have the cold now as well. I feel sorry for the people who will sit around has we sound pretty bad with our hacking.

We've been pretty fortunate in our travels concerning our health so we can't complain. Sometimes the travel gods just aren't on your side. Nevertheless, we are pretty happy to be in a marvelous room, on a perfect day, overlooking the Thames and London.

Tomorrow we fly home. Once we are settled, I will finish the trip with some exciting place like Rabat, Tenerife and Ceuta.

Accra and Dakar

 

We left the land of voodoo, villages and French bread for the land of the white bread, big cities and Christianity. Our next two stops would be totally different from what we had experienced so far on the trip. The question we were asking ourselves was: "would they be as interesting?"

We arrived in Ghana on a Sunday morning in the port city of Tema. Built in 1961, it is the principle port of Ghana and not particularly interesting or picturesque. As we disembarked the ship, there was no native folkloric group to greet us as in Benin and Togo, just the screeching of large cranes moving on their tracks and the banging of containers being loaded on ships.

Our first stop was to be an unusual casket company. It seems that Ghanan's like to be buried in caskets that represent something of their lives and this shop catered to that desire. On the way there, we had to suffer through a horrendous traffic jam caused by people going to and coming from church. Our guide took pride in telling us how religious the country was and that Christianity was the main religion practiced. The fact that it was church traffic didn't make the complaining from some the folks on the bus more Christian.

 

 

 

 

One of the pluses of the traffic was that I was able to take pictures of some of the signs along side the road. I find them to be very interesting and they give clues of what everyday life is about.

 

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What really surprised us was to find that our friends the Lucky's had opened up a branch in Accra.

After the casket company, it was off to Downtown Accra and a visit to the memorial for Kwame Nkrumah. For such a small country, Ghana has played an important and commanding role in African history since the 11th century with the Ashanti tribe dominating the area. Whether in gold or slave trade these warriors held sway and weren't defeated until 1874.

Nkrumah brought independence to Ghana in 1957 through non violent means. Although revered as a world statesman, his socialist policies and poor administration didn't work and he was overthrown in a coup in 1966. The country stabilized in 1988 and today is one of the stronger democratic countries in Africa. His memorial tells quite a story of redemption from his ousting to his revival. The statue in the middle picture was found in a trash heap after the coup and fortunately saved by one of his devoted followers.

 

 

 

Sometimes cities captivate sometimes they don't. I regret to say Accra didn't. Maybe it was the lack of vibrancy because it was Sunday. Maybe it was the constant droning on and on by our British accented guide on subjects no one cared about. It certainly was clean and modern in parts and had it's shanty towns as well with street side commerce, but it had a buttoned up feel. The one time we felt almost in Africa was watching a folkloric dance and drumming show at a swank resort on the shores of the Atlantic narrated by a professor of Primitive Music for the University.

 

 

We saw no one on the street with a baguette....

Dakar was dauntingly alive. It could seem domesticated or dangerous, French or African at the same time. It was clean and modern and down and dirty within the same block. People live in high rises and hovels. You could eat in an elegant, French Cafe or on the street. Shop in department stores or street markets. The streets could be empty tree lined boulevards or traffic jammed nightmares. The people were friendly, but the touts and street merchants very aggressive. Building was going on everywhere and it was clear no zoning codes existed. It was a feast for the eyes and camera. So just let your imagination take you away to imagine the sounds and smells these sights would have produced.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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One thing for sure, Dakar did not disappoint. It's a proud place that wants to point the way to the future for all Africans.

 

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Lome, Togo

Togo is so small and bereft of natural resources that the colonial powers didn't even bother to colonize the place until the Germans claimed it in 1884. In typical German fashion, they set up a very practical plantation system and built the roads, railroads and harbor necessary to export the agricultural products. Unfortunately for them, World War I came and with French Benin to the east and British Ghana to the west, they quickly lost Togo in what was the first Allied Victory of the war. France was given the mandate to govern the country and except for giving the Togolese a love of French Bread and a chance serve in the French Foreign Legion, which they did with honor, not much else happened until 1960 when independence was granted.

At first the educated and wealthy southern Togolese ran the country somewhat democratically, but that only lasted seven years before the Army took over and has run it ever since. Being so small and bereft of natural resources no one seems to care, sound familiar, but the Army has done a relatively good job in keeping the economy going as governments keep changing since the death Gnassinbe Eyadema, in 2005, the leader since 1967.

Not that this is a modern, well run country. It isn't. One half of the population lives below the international poverty level of $1.25 a day. Educational is compulsory for only six years and is of poor quality, especially in the rural areas. Life expectancy is 63 years of age which is pretty good considering there are less than 4 doctors per 100,000 population and most of them are in the five main cities.

While we arrived in the capital of Lome, we eschewed the city for a look at rural life and the practice of voodoo. Over 50% of the population still practices Voodoo and this little country prides itself on being at the epicenter of the religion of Vodun as it is called.

As we left the port in our well worn, non-air conditioned, bus complete with the requisite broken seats, dirty windows, and lack of PA system, but staffed by two young, enthusiastic, Togolese men, we saw a familiar sight and you thought I made up the bread story.

What was different here was that the road side stands very quickly gave way to the countryside and the lack of vehicles of any type was very noticeable. It seemed instead of selling things next to the road, people were growing things.

We reached the village of Agbodrafo where we were to meet the Chief and be introduced to our first Voodoo ceremony, see the house where the slaves were kept, and generally be able to poke around the village. To say it was pretty quiet for a late Saturday morning would be an understatement.

 

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Then the Chief arrived with his entourage and we were all ushered into to his ceremonial home.

 

 

There frankly isn't much to the ceremony. Some chanting and singing, spilling some water on the ground as a welcome, more chanting and singing, spilling some liquor on the ground and then, the question, "would anyone like their picture taken with the Chief?" The interesting thing was during this whole time the Chief does nothing, but sit and stand looking tranquil. He has an aide who does the ceremony. It turns out the Chief doesn't even communicate directly to his people in most cases, but through the aide.

We were able to go through the house, but it was pretty spartan. One thing, this Chief does like French wine.

 

We then were able to walk around the town, but things were pretty desolate until we heard a chattering and the voices of children coming from the beach area. Turns out most of the town was at Saturday church service by the water.

We left the town and headed for a fishing village which turns out is a real misnomer. The village is a collection of temporary grass huts built by a fishing tribe from Ghana who follow the fish as the season progresses. Despite it's bucolic location, life is very hard for these people and the day we were there marked the third day in a row the catch was meager.

 

 

Dinner that night was going to be a dish called Fu Fu which is mashed tuber to which any other grains and vegetables that are available are added.

 

 

This was one place where the children didn't seem happy.

 

 

If the men didn't catch any fish soon, they would abandon the village and move on. Without an abundant catch, they have no money to buy goods or eat anything other than roots.

By the way, this is our bus. I wasn't kidding.

 

One really can't go to the Ceremony of the Sacred Stone on an empty stomach. So we boarded our bus, left the fishing village to eat their Fu Fu, and headed to the Hotel Du Lac for lunch and a folkloric show. The lunch was good, the show was great, and the setting idllyic.

 

 

 

 

Now it turns out that Voodoo or Vodun and tourism only can go so far in an afternoon. The village is real, the voodoo priest was real and the stone is supposed to tell the future through it's color, but it only does that in September and to the faithful who venture into a forest behind the compound. Now we were told white folk were invited to attend, but on that day we had the same greating from the Chief, just with a bigger entourage, as in the first town and were let to view the opening to the forest, but nothing else. Major disappointment and it really felt like a rip off.

 

 

 

Then it was off to another village called Klouvidonnou for the traditional dance of the voodoo guardians of the night the Zangbetto. These objects look like haystacks and you are not supposed to see the feet of the dancers as they whirl and whirl around in circles. They are feared by the people and when they dance the drummers, singers and them often fall into trances. They are each accompanied by a handler who keeps them from falling into the crowd or worse the fire. Here the entire village came out to welcome us and take us to the dance area.

 

 

 

 

They even turn them over to show you no one is under the haystack. Then they right them and after more twirling fetishes magically appear.

 

 

 

It was a fascinating experience and we were amazed at how rapt the attention of the kids was kept during the performance. It was like they were seeing it for the first time. As usual they were just beautiful.

 

Then it was back to the bus and back to the ship. It was a long, hot, humid day, but a rewarding one despite the disappointment of the Sacred Stone. It probably was about as real as it could get on a tour off of a ship and we certainly were enjoying it. One thing about those Zangbeto dervishes...they kicked up so much dust the shower water ran tan for quite a while.

 

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