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Category Archives: Ghana

Guest Post from Ghana

28 Friday Oct 2016

Posted by lexklein in Ghana, Travel - General

≈ 36 Comments

Tags

Accra, culture, daughter, expat, fabric, food, Ghana, guest post, journal

I have written a time or two about a short trip I took to Ghana almost a decade ago, but I am now seeing current-day Accra (the capital) through the eyes of my public health worker daughter, who is living there and working on a malaria project for several months. Her journal has captivated me, both for her cultural insights and the hilarity (from afar) of her daily life and the inevitable adjustments that she has had to make. Without further preamble, let me introduce K and a few amusing snippets from her writings: 

On Fabric and Food

Since I arrived in Accra in late August, I have been keeping a journal that is more-or-less a chronological account of my days and weeks here, interspersed with some commentary on the excitement, frustration, awe, and unfamiliarity associated with new people, places, and ways of life. In that respect, my journal entries are not a perfect match for my Mom’s blog – that is, a compilation of very organized entries, with anecdotes that are neatly tied together by a central theme that is never tired and never forced. I can’t promise any of those things, but since she graciously agreed to let my words coexist with hers, I will do my best to follow suit. Here, I have taken snippets from my journal about my two most frequently-described topics – fabric and food – to give you a taste for the stories that surround them and for how they make my heart and belly full, respectively.

***

9/1. So I heard about expats having cheese parties abroad. Exclusive cheese parties. Who wants to share their cheese with 30 random people when you could share it with 10? Well, at the A&C Mall, which I visited 3 times today, the cheese was plentiful! I should have known better. The feta cheese I bought has a very unfortunate taste. I would be thrilled to share it with as many people as would be willing to eat it … I also took the moment to ask if we could stop for a few groceries, and I again, ended up with the weirdest basket of foods, including feta cheese, none of which I ended up eating tonight because the healthy things all required washing and I am JUST NOT READY to sabotage my diarrhea-less day with diarrhea yet. I did get the water boiler hook-up from the nice lady who works at my apartment, so now at least I know I can boil enough water so that I can dump excessive amounts of it onto fruits and vegetables without feeling as guilty about wasting bottles of water.

9/3. Cindy, a friend from school, introduced me to a tailor she has been using named Eleanor, who has her own store in Osu where you can pick out your own fabrics and clothing design. She was hilarious, radiant, and beautifully adorned with her masterful work and many brightly-colored accessories.

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9/4. I identified a beautiful fabric dress that I want. Fridays in the office are for traditional Ghanaian clothing rather than business attire, and I totally want to get into that! Missed the boat this week and wore a red and black dress (here, red and black together means you’re going to a funeral…).

9/6. At work, I wrote down some basic expressions in Twi and practiced them, and I successfully put in my first food order at work (jollof rice). According to Wikipedia, it’s “the progenitor of the Louisianan dish jambalaya,” and that’s a pretty good description. For 10 GH₵ ($2.50), it was my lunch, dinner, and I still have more in my fridge at home.

Jollof

Jollof

9/8. Mary, the receptionist, is good about remembering what I have eaten and thinking of something new I can try, so we decided together that today was kenkey day. Kenkey is this huge sourdough dumpling made from ground corn. It is super dense, and it is served with hot pepper sauce and fried fish. This sounded okay to me, not great, but when the time came to eat, Lucy, the woman who buys the food, pulled out a whole fish, eyes included, and flopped it onto my plate. She then showed me how to peel the leaves covering the kenkey, and when I involved my left hand, she pushed it away and said, “No, use right hand.” Theresa was eating it across from me so she showed me how to take some of the kenkey off the ball and rub it between my fingers to get it to the right consistency, and then to dip it into the hot pepper. Again, everyone was amused by this. I asked if I ate the fish with my hands, too, and people laughed again like “Obviously!” The hot pepper was extremely hot, and it was too much to eat in large quantities. Another colleague, Theresa, said, “Get her some gravy; she can’t eat that,” while Mary was dumping less spicy sauce from someone else’s plate onto mine and marking the line I shouldn’t cross for spiciness sake. My boss, John, was piling my plate with his fried yams and sweet potatoes (like French fries!), and saying “Eat these, you won’t be able to eat much of this (the pepper) yet.” Another woman walked in, glanced at me, jaw dropped, and went, “Is this safe?” I felt like a little alien worthy of protection.

9/10. I actually ate vegetables!! Well, on top of noodles (this is the starchiest life), and had my first sip of alcohol in a while. They were out of wine, so I tried their Club beer, which kind of tasted skunked. (Little did I know that’s just how it tastes.) Elizabeth, my new Ghanaian friend, ordered a Smirnoff ice, which was so funny to me. I told her about the American custom of “icing” someone and she thought it was funny but also didn’t really understand, which totally makes sense.

9/11. I stopped in Woodin, the popular fabric store, and finally made myself buy something. I have been so indecisive about these fabrics, and I think I just need to try out the process and see how the first piece of clothing I have made turns out. The salesperson was extremely friendly, and I asked him a million really dumb questions about fabrics and made him help me choose which one to buy, and he happily obliged.

Version 2

9/12. Today, I ate white rice with red sauce and a hard-boiled egg. Mysteriously, this is the only food I’ve heard of without a local name. I was told, you are eating “plain rice.” Good to know. I also sampled someone’s waakye, which is rice and beans, with pieces of pasta, garri (crushed cassava), and Shito (black pepper). Everyone was packed in the lunch room at the same time today, eating with their hands, some standing up, and everyone sort of seemed to get a kick out of my confusion. I ask a lot of questions about the food because they seem to like explaining it, and it helps me, you know, bond.

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Waakye

9/15. On Wednesday, the three of us ladies went out to lunch and ate sandwiches. Bliss. My sandwich had four carrot flakes, two miniature tomato slices, and a sprinkle of lettuce. I’m starting to feel about vegetables here like Mom felt about paper products in Tibet – overdose on them whenever possible because you never know when they’ll appear next. I practically sing aloud when I see an onion in my jollof rice, plain rice, or fried rice. Rice, rice, rice, onion, rice, repeat.

9/18. We left for Makola market, the overwhelming but famous Saturday local market in Accra. It was hectic and hot and there was everything under the sun, including live snails, but we stuck to fabrics, and I came home with two more, which I can’t wait to (someday) convert to clothes.

9/19. On Saturday morning, I vowed to use the shared kitchen at my place. I carried my eggs and olive oil and plate across the compound and into the kitchen. Alas, I could not light the damn burner. Someone said I needed a match. Another person said I just needed to adjust the gas tank. Either way, I’m afraid I will blow myself up before I eat an egg safely.

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Red red

9/25. We all had non-instant coffee, a rare treat, and my friend Emily and I agree that is was the best and worst part of our day. It actually felt like a drug, rejuvenating me with every delicious sip, but hours later the two of us were seriously over-caffeinated just from the one cup and our arms and legs felt weak and twitchy the whole rest of the day.

9/29. First, they took us to my colleague Robert’s wife’s shop in a rather faraway location, and I had my measurements taken and handed over my beautiful fabric to have a dress made. I felt oddly sad giving it away, knowing it would not return to me in its perfect, unaltered state. Then Mary wanted to also stop at her friend’s shop, so we made another out-of-the-way stop, and I was lucky I had brought another fabric with me. This tailor measured me (in a much more intense, full-body way, including a nipple-to-nipple measurement that was in no way necessary for a skirt), and I handed over the other precious two yards I had unfolded, held up to my body, and refolded innumerable times. I exchanged phone numbers with both tailors and then texted them pictures of ladies I found on Google images whose clothing I wanted to imitate.

9/29. We stopped beforehand at Woodin so Emily could grab some last minute gifts, and the Osu location has way more fabrics, and I felt super addicted and emotionally unstable in response to this addiction that resulted in oohing and aweing and pining over fabrics that I can’t justify buying.

10/2. I got my dress back!! Robert delivered it to me by way of his wife, and as I held it up to myself, he expressed doubt that it would fit right. He was right. It was huge in the chest and totally gaping, but I still felt I had to model it for everyone, so I got to experience the joy of a group of colleagues tugging at the fabric over my chest, commenting on the flatness of my chest, and Robert taking up-close pictures of my chest to send to his wife so she could redo it. At one point, Robert was intently assessing the fit, and Mary slapped his hand away from me. He wasn’t making me uncomfortable, but it was cute to watch her stick up for me. I was sad to see the dress leave my possession again, but it came back, along with my skirt from the other tailor, and now they both fit, and I’m all set for African dress Fridays!

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10/4. This weekend, I went to the obruni (white person) market (that’s what my friends call this market which draws mostly expats) on my own and bought some gifts and used the tailor I had met my first week, Eleanor, for my final fabric to be made into a shirt. The crafts are good there, but I find the obrunis consistently annoying, paler than ever, and loud. They fiend after the one and only bagel stand in Accra, and they shout at each other in jarring accents (I can’t even identify where such a voice would come from), which forces me to cringe politely into their round, burnt faces.

10/5. Since there is nothing else going on in my life this week, I will discuss the common expression used when you are eating and someone else enters the room – “You are invited.” This confused the heck out of me when I first got here. I would walk into the kitchen for a glass of water, and Mary would be eating unidentified meats for breakfast and she would say, “You are invited.” Huh? I smiled and nodded but then just walked away thinking I had probably done the rudest thing ever. Then, the next few times, I would walk in on someone eating, and they would say it without even raising their head or looking at me. Today, John was starting a late lunch as we joined a conference call together, and he said as we received the Skype call, “You are invited to my lunch.” Eventually, I realized (and got confirmation) that it’s just something people say out of courtesy but it doesn’t mean you have to join them, or watch them eat, or help them eat their unidentified meats.

10/9. Jack, one of the roommates and band members, arranged for a spit pig to be served through his local coworker’s family member, and we savagely sliced this pig apart for dinner, which we ate outside in the pouring rain.

10/17. When I got back, Donald and Samuel, who work at my apartment, were eating dinner in the bar and invited me to join. They were eating big hunks of pork, and I was full from dinner, but I tried to identify a small bite to be polite when they offered me some. Once I popped it in my mouth, I realized it was not going to be pretty. It was so tough, and they were asking me questions and I could not respond because my mouth was having to work hard on this very intense-tasting fresh pig with so much un-chewable fat. I told them, “Gimme five minutes,” which they thought was funny, but then five minutes later, when I was still “hiding” the huge un-chewable fat chunk in my cheek, I had to come clean and tell them I didn’t know what to do about it. Donald rolled his eyes and said to Samuel, “Get her a napkin,” and I tried to own the spitting out motion like I wasn’t the total obruni I am.

10/18. I started my day by picking up my shirt from Eleanor. She sells her stuff at the expat market each month, but otherwise you just go to her house. She is really successful – not just doing business in her neighborhood but totally catering to the expat community, too, and even starting to show her clothes internationally within West Africa. So I headed off on my own to meet this lady, and she lived in a little neighborhood so close to the beach you could smell and feel the water. She met me outside close to noon looking sleepy and of course wearing some African print shorts. When I walked into her house, fabric was draped over everything. It reminded me of what it would be like to go into an artist’s home and to find paintings and paint everywhere. She showed me to the showroom, and while she adjusted the shirt she had made for me, I shopped around. I don’t know why I’m such a fiend for these clothes – I literally ripped my own off in this stranger’s house and put as many dresses as I could find on myself.

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***

I can now happily say I’m going African print strong, with five bright pieces of clothing lining my makeshift closet and two more fabrics lying dormant in my arsenal, awaiting their beautiful, affordable final form. While I may have beat indecision when it comes to fabric shopping and tailoring, I am still learning how to integrate fashion with food; understanding how to enjoy the dense, fried, caloric, starchy foods and still fitting comfortably into my never-even-slightly-stretchy prints has been a challenge I’ve yet to overcome. I still have a long way to go when it comes to adjusting to my life with one foot out the door, but I’m lucky I have a pretty solid role model who reminds me why I’m doing it.

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A Difficult Day

08 Sunday Nov 2015

Posted by lexklein in Ghana

≈ 32 Comments

Tags

Cape Coast Castle, Ghana, slave castles

Our spirits were already dampened on the foggy bus ride along Ghana’s coast. The air hung like gray flannel, so dense it seemed to physically press down upon us. The sun fought and failed to seep through the gray murk, and we knew our destination was not likely to perk us up. Our formerly lively group had gotten strangely quiet, all lost in our thoughts as we stared out the blotchy windows at the forlorn foliage on the side of the road.

Several years ago, I was very involved with a microfinance organization; I served on a board, did some volunteer work with them, and also took a number of trips designed to show donors what microcredit looked like in action. One summer I wanted to introduce the concept to my oldest son, so we set off for Ghana, a country where entrepreneurship and microfinance were thriving. We spent most of our time in Accra and Kumasi, meeting clients who made concrete blocks, raised chickens, opened rural schools, and processed palm oil, among other small businesses. It was a vibrant line-up of days with the ebullient and brightly dressed Ghanaian people, a week filled with color and laughter and success.

Ghana 2008 176
Ghana 2008 153
Ghana 2008 146
Ghana 2008 177

Our hosts had also arranged for some cultural sightseeing – an adventuresome hike though Kakum National Park, a few relaxed days on the beach in Elmina and, finally, a visit to Cape Coast Castle. But Cape Coast Castle was no fairy tale edifice, and our cheerful, positive trip was about to turn much bleaker than the weather.

Ghana 2008 085

From the late 1400s to the end of the 18th century, many similar strongholds were built on the then-named Gold Coast of Ghana to serve as forts and trading posts along merchant trade routes. Portuguese and other settlers fought for control of this coast for centuries, but over time the commodities housed and hidden in these “castles” slowly transitioned from gold, ivory, and other precious goods to human beings.

Ghana 2008 104

In the fortresses, thousands of male and female slaves lived in dank, dimly lit stone chambers with little ventilation, light, and space to move about or even sit or lie down. Human waste filled these dungeons, and female slaves were regularly raped by their jailors. Water was scant, and disease, perhaps mercifully, killed off many of the captives.

Most of the light in this room is coming from camera flashes, not the pitifully small window openings

Most of the light in this room is coming from camera flashes, not the pitifully small window openings

Cape Coast Castle and its ilk soon became the last stop for most slaves before they were shipped off to the Americas and other places. Horrible signs make clear the fate of the fortress occupants; “Female Slave Dungeon” announced the entrance to one of the cavernous vaults filled with sorrow, desolation and despair, and the “Door of No Return” on the sea-facing side of the castle was a terrible small opening where slaves exited into the boats that carried them to the cargo ships heading west across the ocean. Millions and millions of slaves from West Africa alone were shipped off from such castles along the harsh Atlantic coast.

Ghana 2008 101

Ghana 2008 090

Seeing these sights and hearing the history made the gloom of the day seem trifling in comparison. Just as I would experience at Auschwitz years later, I felt bludgeoned into silence; there were no words or cogent thoughts as I tried, and failed, to properly process the horror.

Ghana 2008 084

Coming out of the castle and onto its ramparts and courtyard, we gulped in the thick air and tried to cleanse ourselves of the revulsion and shame we felt as human beings.

Ghana 2008 080

There, we saw life going on as fishermen cleaned their nets and unloaded their catch from a day at work. The colored sails and hulls could not completely pierce the mist, and their muted, blurry hues had a confused, melancholy air that matched our moods.

Ghana 2008 095

Ghana 2008 087

Ghana 2008 098

Like the tangled nets and tattered flags, my thoughts were a jumble, and to this day, the boat scene feels as grim to me as the castle. I wanted and needed those boats to snap me out of my heartache, and they didn’t. At least their owners are free.

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High Adventure!

07 Monday Sep 2015

Posted by lexklein in Ghana, Peru

≈ 28 Comments

Tags

#merufilm, Meru, scary hikes, Shark's Fin, Thrilling Trails

In the last week or so, I’ve come across two things that have fed my hunger for adventure at a time when the only ‘thrill’ in my life is income production for the next exploit. For one, I saw that a local independent theater was playing the new-ish documentary MERU, a gripping mountain-climbing film that also features three appealing climbers. One of them, Jimmy Chin, is also a celebrated photographer and filmmaker and, lucky for us, he attended the opening screening here in Chicago and spoke with the audience afterward about his roles as climber, director, and producer of MERU.

From the merufilm.com website, here is part of the introduction to whet your appetite:

“In the high-stakes game of big-wall climbing, the Shark’s Fin on Mount Meru may be the ultimate prize. Sitting at the headwaters of the sacred Ganges River in Northern India, the Shark’s Fin has seen more failed attempts by elite climbing teams over the past 30 years than any other ascent in the Himalayas.

… To undertake Meru, says Jon Krakauer, the bestselling author of Into Thin Air, “You can’t just be a good ice climber. You can’t just be good at altitude. You can’t just be a good rock climber. It’s defeated so many good climbers and maybe will defeat everybody for all time. Meru isn’t Everest. On Everest you can hire Sherpas to take most of the risks. This is a whole different kind of climbing.”

In October 2008, Conrad Anker, Jimmy Chin and Renan Ozturk arrived in India to tackle Meru. What was meant to be a seven-day trip with the equivalent amount of food became a 20-day odyssey in sub-zero temperatures, thanks to the setback of a massive storm that showered the mountain with at least 10 feet of snow. Like everyone before them, their journey was not a successful one.  … By September 2011, Anker had convinced his two lifelong friends to undertake the Shark’s Fin once more, under even more extraordinary circumstances than the first time around.

MERU is the story of that journey—one of friendship, sacrifice, hope and obsession.”

MERU won the U.S. Documentary Audience Award at the 2015 Sundance Film Festival, and it’s easy to see why. The film succeeds as both an adventure film and as a story of personal struggle for the three men. The website link above lists theaters across the U.S where the film is opening through mid-October if you, too, need a jolt of adventure but can’t leave your home or armchair right now!

***

The climbing in MERU is light years beyond what I have ever done or could ever hope to do. But a day after watching the film and wishing I were 20 years younger and 10 times braver, I came across a National Geographic list of the World’s Best Hikes: Thrilling Trails, and (ever-so-slightly) puffed out my chest at the discovery that I had done two of them. (Yes, I agree in advance with many of you who would argue for more/other/different treks than those on this list; there are lists for everything these days, but this is as good a start as any for this post!)

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huayna
DSCN1489
Inca Trail - Peru 098

One of them, Huayna Picchu in Peru (see my post on that hike here), really was terrifying, but the other – the Kakum Canopy Walk in Ghana – did not faze me at all.

Kakum Canopy Walk, Ghana

Kakum Canopy Walk, Ghana

Precipitous paths do induce fear in me, but creaky swinging bridges high over ravines do not. I guess we all have our personal fear factors. Hiking near a smoking volcano – not a problem. The via ferrata treks – lots of fun / add them to the list! Clinging to those splintered old wood platforms with giant gaps in them on Mount Huashan in China – never, ever going to happen for me!

These 20 hikes have various scare quotients, from tight squeezes in narrow tunnels to dizzying heights to extreme temperatures. Some of them sound quite exciting to me and will be added to my travel wish list, a few of them are things I would not do for a million dollars, and two of them are hikes I have already done.

How many of these 20 Thrilling Trails have you trekked? I’d love to hear your take on them or any other adrenaline-producing ones you’ve done!

  • Besseggen Ridge, Norway
  • El Caminito de Rey, Spain
  • Leukerbad Via Ferrata, Switzerland
  • Devil’s Path, New York, USA
  • Stromboli, Italy
  • Aonach Eagach Ridge, Scotland
  • Huntington Ravine, New Hampshire, USA
  • Kokoda Trail, Papua New Guinea
  • Dry Fork Coyote Gulch, Utah, USA
  • Black Hole of White Canyon, Utah, USA
  • Granite Peak, Montana, USA
  • Búri Cave, Iceland
  • Crypt Lake Trail, Alberta, Canada
  • Pacaya Volcano, Guatemala
  • Huayna Picchu, Peru
  • Mount Huashan, China
  • Lion’s Head, South Africa
  • Kakum Canopy Walk, Ghana
  • Low’s Peak Via Ferrata, Malaysia
  • Chadar Trek, India

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What’s in a Name?

25 Sunday May 2014

Posted by lexklein in China, Ghana, Tibet, Travel - General, Turkey

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

China, foreign language errors, fun store names, Ghana, Tibet, Turkey

As a linguist, former ESL teacher, and current English instructor at a bilingual college, I am more aware than most of the vicissitudes of language. I adore grammar and semantics and can sometimes be a little judgmental when it comes to native-speaker errors, but I take great pleasure in a “bad” translation or just a more creative use of English when I am traveling. Here are just a few of my favorites:

In the old hutong sections of Beijing, China, we saw some curious restaurant names, such as Easy Fun, Heavenly Festival, and Home Pizza, but these were far outdone by the packet of “Aviation Food” – emblazoned with the baffling slogans “Childhood Memory” and “Leisure Share” – that we ate on a flight out of Chengdu. While that elicited a chuckle, the fact that this tasty treat “does not lose hand” (see photos) generated a laugh that almost caused us to spray the crisps right out of our noses. (Perhaps airline food is a linguistic as well as culinary joke around the world. On Aerolineas Argentinas, we were repeatedly offered “ham-flavored mini-crackers,” a combination I do not need to ever taste again.)

Tibet & China June 2011 242Tibet & China June 2011 243In Lhasa, Tibet, we chortled as we strolled by shops called Antique Thing, Jewel Ripehouse, Homely Treasures, Merit of Jewel, and Many Love Lake. We also loved the sign at the Norbulingka Summer Palace, which exhorted us to “please consciously accept the security.” And in Turkey, we enjoyed an errant apostrophe and grammar error in some remarkably apt graffiti – “Idiot’s was here!”

That's for sure!

That’s for sure!

But perhaps the greatest collection of fun names ever was found in Accra, Ghana. Ghana is a very Christian country and they believe in keeping God and Jesus front and center, even in commerce. Here is a much-abbreviated list of our favorite Ghanaian store names:

Ghana 2008 045Jesus My Redeemer Buckets and Bowls
Come to Jesus Taxi
Through the Gates of Heaven Bank
The Lord is my Shepherd Fashions
Jesus is my Last Hope Saloon
Victory in Jesus Taxi
Only Jesus Can Do Business Center
Ask God Glass Venture
God’s Way Metal Company
God First Electricals
Wonderful Jesus Coca Cola
Passion of God Hair
In God We Trust Motorcycle Shop

Religious views aside, the juxtaposition of God, buckets, and motorcycles just has to bring a smile, doesn’t it?!

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Friday Photos: Favorites from Rural to Urban

23 Friday May 2014

Posted by lexklein in France, Ghana, Photos, Just Photos from All Over, Travel - General

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Tags

France, Ghana, Kumasi, Musee d'Orsay, Paris

From the fields of rural Ghana to urban Paris today …

Woman with peanuts, near Kumasi, Ghana

Woman with peanuts, near Kumasi, Ghana

Musee d’Orsay, Paris, France

A view from the Musee d’Orsay, Paris, France

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I’m a restless, world-wandering, language-loving, book-devouring traveler trying to straddle the threshold between a traditional, stable family life and a free-spirited, irresistible urge to roam. I’m sure I won’t have a travel story every time I add to this blog, but I’ve got a lot! I’m a pretty happy camper (literally), but there is some angst as well as excitement in always having one foot out the door. Come along for the trip as I take the second step …

WHERE I’M GOING

Southeast Asia – March 2023

Dolomites, Italy – July 2023

France – September 2023

 

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Today we’re off to Marsaxlokk, a small, traditional fishing village in Malta. These brightly painted Maltese boats are called “luzzus,” and I couldn’t get enough of them!
Day 1 in Malta is all water and walls.
FINALLY made it out of the U.S. for the first time in 2 years. 😀🌴☀️
Road trip final stop: Grand Teton National Park. We may have saved the best for last. The Tetons startled us every single time we rounded a bend and saw them jutting up from the sagebrush. The park gave us these amazing peaks, wildflowers, horses, huge skies filled with every kind of cloud, and our own cozy little national park cabin. We’ll be back here for sure! #grandtetonnationalpark #tetons #wyoming #roadtrip #hiking #horses #cabins
Road trip stop 8: Yellowstone National Park. The north and northeast sections blew me away - full of wildlife and lemon-lime fields under dreamy skies. The western parts had their moments; the geothermal features were better than expected, but the traffic even worse than anticipated. All of the crowds were for Old Faithful, probably my last-place pick for things to see in the park. #yellowstonenationalpark #montana #wyoming #roadtrip #wideopenspaces #nationalparks #oldfaithful
Road trip stop 7: Beartooth Highway - deserving of a post all of its own. We drove east out of Bozeman, over two hours out of our way, to catch the start of the Beartooth Highway in Red Lodge, MT, and drive its full length back west to arrive at Yellowstone’s NE entrance. This exhilarating, eye-popping road covers 68 miles of US Route 212 from Red Lodge to Cooke City/Silver Gate and crosses Beartooth Pass at almost 11,000 feet. Worth the wide detour and the zillions of photo stops along the way … at least I thought so! #beartoothhighway #beartoothpass #montana #yellowstonenationalpark #roadtrip #detour

Recent Posts

  • Maltese Memories
  • Taking a Leap
  • On Repeat
  • On the Road Again
  • Road Trip to the Border

WHERE I’VE BEEN

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Today we’re off to Marsaxlokk, a small, traditional fishing village in Malta. These brightly painted Maltese boats are called “luzzus,” and I couldn’t get enough of them!
Day 1 in Malta is all water and walls.
FINALLY made it out of the U.S. for the first time in 2 years. 😀🌴☀️
Road trip final stop: Grand Teton National Park. We may have saved the best for last. The Tetons startled us every single time we rounded a bend and saw them jutting up from the sagebrush. The park gave us these amazing peaks, wildflowers, horses, huge skies filled with every kind of cloud, and our own cozy little national park cabin. We’ll be back here for sure! #grandtetonnationalpark #tetons #wyoming #roadtrip #hiking #horses #cabins

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