la fin d'un recit de voyages

Because of Janelle's super fantastic club membership, I'm sitting in the lounge in Heathrow waiting for our flight to Vancouver. I don't know what I'd do otherwise since we weren't allowed to bring any carry-on. No books, no music, no pens, no paper, just your passport and prescription medication (I really should have a doctor's note for my ipod).

Our last night was rather stressful, hearing from one of the new volunteers about the problems at Heathrow and trying to sort out whether flights were cancelled, delayed or something else equally as inconvenient. Trying to pack like this can be stressful. How do you pack a drum in a backpack? Are my kalabash bowls going to break? Wait... I really can't bring a carry-on? People leaving Friday spent much time on the phones trying to call parents and to get information.

Meanwhile, we baked a cake with chocolate frosting and ate it.

Our last week has gone by alarmingly fast. After coming back from Kokrobite, I put on a CPR clinic at the hospital (does it scare anyone else that the nurses don't know CPR?) Monday and Tuesday afternoon, then went straight to the Woe site for a couple days to go back to the bone healer. We came back Thursday night only to be overwhelmed by the situation.

The last day blues struck hard at about 5:30am. The morning was spent saying goodbyes, forced to drinking guiness at 10 in the morning with co-workers at WiLDAF, saying more goodbyes, and essentially denying the fact that we were leaving that afternoon.

It still doesn't even feel like we've left Ghana, aside from the slight culture shock when landing and seeing the hectic views of London and using the washroom in the lounge where you actually put the toilet paper in the toilet, instead of the bin beside it. What a concept!

I'm going to go try to sell some cedis to CCS volunteers flying through London. [in ghanaian accent] "Because I like you... I give you good price!"