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“Almost anything is edible with a dab of French mustard on it.”

June 17, 2016

Today is beautiful. The breeze is keeping the air cool. The sun is bright and shines with the deep blue sky as its backdrop. When I went for the papers this morning, I checked my front garden. Every day something new is in bloom. Today it was a tall purple flower. I don’t know its name. I never know the names of my flowers. I buy them for color. The purple flower was a wonderful choice.

Today is dump day. I haven’t yet told Gracie. She tends to get a bit excited at the thought of the car ride and the dump. It will be a surprise.

My neighborhood is quiet today. The kids are still in school. Only the songs of birds break the silence.

I have a list for today, but none of the items make for too much effort. I bought a new flag which needs to be put on the flag pole in the front yard, my new hose will be connected to the outside faucet, plants in and out need watering and I have to connect the umbrella to the adaptor. They are all silly tasks but they still need doing.

We have a place to stay in Accra. It is where I stayed in 2011 for a week. The people are wonderful, the rooms big and clean, and they’ll pick us up at the airport. There is even a Lebanese restaurant right down the street. Ghana is where I first tasted Lebanese food. We used to go to a place called Talal’s. It was close to the PC office. I had hummus for the first time there. They served it in a flat dish with hot pepper around the top of the hummus and sesame oil in a well in the middle. I also had falafel, kibbeh and tabbouleh for the first time. I came to love Lebanese food. I had it often. The fact it was a cheap was also a good draw. I still love hot pepper sprinkled on my hummus and sesame oil in the middle. What I miss here is the fresh pita they always served.

One of the best parts of my Peace Corps experience was all the different foods I ate. Chinese food was considered a bit exotic when I was a kid, and I brought that with me to Ghana. The first day there I was served what looked like leaves from the tree and a soup of unknown origins. I didn’t eat it. I ate only breakfast as I recognized eggs and bread. Eventually, though, I started trying the Ghanaian food. Some I came to love, but I never did like kontomire, that soup from the first day. It is made with cocoyam leaves. That I know that makes me chuckle a bit. I went from Chinese food to cocoyam-a huge leap.

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“Seven a.m. on the first day of summer vacation was, to her mind, a dangerous time to be awake. Even God had to be sleeping in.”

June 16, 2016

Gracie news first: all went well. The lump was removed, and the vet found a second one which was also removed. Her loose tooth came out and she got her nails cut. She was excited to be home and immediately ran into the yard. Her tail has yet to stop wagging.

The weather the last few days has been almost perfect. The days have been in the high 70’s and the nights in the mid 50’s. I had coffee and read the papers outside on the deck. The air was perfectly still, not a leaf fluttered. It was quiet. It was also quite warm, already 75˚. When I finished, I came inside to a cool house.

I remember the joy of the first day of summer vacation. I also remember the elation on the last day of school. It was always a half day. It was also the day we got our final report cards. The front with the grades didn’t matter as much as the back. That’s where it said promoted to the next grade. I was never worried but I still checked it right away.

We used to run home from school that day. Running seemed important even though we had the whole summer in front of us. I figure it was us getting away from school as quickly as we could, sort of like putting it in our rear view mirrors.

The best part of summer was going to bed when we were tired and getting up any time we wanted. We lived in shorts, jerseys and sneakers. We still had to wear our Sunday church clothes but only one day of dress-up was bearable.

Summer food was the easiest of all. We had toast most mornings, sandwiches for lunch and something quick and easy for supper. Bologna was my go to it lunch. It was in a roll, and I had to cut pieces. I never did it well. The end of the bologna ended up uneven, and some slices in the sandwich were thick while other were so thin you could just about see through them. I always added hot peppers to mine. They came uncut in a jar. I used to split the peppers, plop them in my sandwich and hold the sandwich with two hands so nothing would fall out.

The other day my groceries came. From the deli I had ordered bologna. It is still my favorite. Sometimes, for old times sake, I add cut jalapeños. Holding on to the sandwich is never a problem any more.

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“The point of modernity is to live a life without illusions while not becoming disillusioned”

June 13, 2016

My house is quite cold. The temperature last night went down to the 50’s, and the house still holds that cold. The open windows didn’t help. If this were summer, I probably would love the chill. Right now I’ve put on a sweatshirt.

Coffee is always a place where you can express yourself anyway you choose. I don’t censor even if I disagree. The horrific killings in Orlando were the topic yesterday in the comments. I did not agree with many of the views opined. I think all of you who read Coffee know where I stand on most issues. I think I have screamed liberal with my comments and views. I advocate gun control though that hasn’t previously been a topic. The Second Amendment is the defense for gun advocates. I point out to them that the amendment is in reference to militias, not individuals, “A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.”

In college, senior year, I picketed at the wholesale vegetable and fruit market every Friday in support of César Chávez and the United Farm Workers. My father, who voted twice for Richard Nixon, was appalled. I just ignored him. He and I had been butting heads for years about politics. We never agreed. Finally after one heated argument during the Reagan administration, we decided never to discuss politics again, and we didn’t. Peace reigned.

Gracie is having surgery tomorrow and has to be at the vet’s office at 10. She has a lump on her gum which needs to be removed. The vet has checked it in the past and said it would need to be removed if it got bigger. It did. I’m not going to post tomorrow. I’ll be on edge waiting for news of the surgery. I worry about my Gracie girl.

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“If you don’t like the weather in New England now, just wait a few minutes.”

June 12, 2016

The morning is beautiful. The sun is shining, and it’s warm, even hot. The wind is blowing so my deck is dirty again from the trees all around it. I had already decided today would be outside day. The rug goes down, the feeders get filled, the chairs scrubbed and the table cleaned. The rest of the deck will have to wait to be blown clean.

I turned on the news this morning, on channel 7, my only choice. I don’t ever watch this news, but I was stuck this morning. It was awful. I won’t go into particulars because I am trying to forget, to erase the experience from my mind. The anchors had silly repartee, inane comments. They don’t seem to do well without a script or a teleprompter. I want real reporters of the news. I want Cronkite and Chet and David. I don’t want any of the newsmen on the 10 best-dressed list from Vanity Fair.

I am not a complainer about the weather. I do make observations like it’s a bit cold for June or I really hate humidity. I think those are New England things as the weather here can change in a heartbeat. I remember my mother and I were shopping in Boston one day. It was so hot my mother’s face was bright red. I made her sit down and drink something cold. By the afternoon, though, we had to buy sweatshirts to keep us warm.

I am out of coffee, a traumatic event. This afternoon, when I’m done outside, I’ll go to the farm stand which sells Ugandan coffee. I bought it once and thought it delicious. I’ll also buy a few vegetables and a loaf of freshly baked bread. If they have different flowers for my garden or the deck, I might just buy a few of those. I am a sucker for flowers.

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“There was nothing like a Saturday – unless it was the Saturday leading up to the last week of school and into summer vacation. That of course was all the Saturdays of your life rolled into one big shiny ball.”

June 11, 2016

Saturday for my whole life has been the best day. When I was a kid, Saturday was our day to roam the town or to see a movie or to sit and watch Creature Double Feature on TV. Those were the days of black and white movies from the 50’s with cheesy special effects. We didn’t care. We loved those old B movies, and even now, I’ll watch them. I’m never critical. They are fun to watch. Some Saturdays we were out all day rambling. We’d pack a sandwich and some cookies in a brown paper bag knowing we’d be gone most of the day. We followed the railroad tracks, walked to the zoo or watched the dairy cows. We looked in the windows uptown and into the fire station as we walked by it. On warm days the firemen sat on wooden chairs right outside the bays where the fire engines were. We’d walk through the school yard empty of kids. We’d get home in the late afternoon. The winter meant the matinee. I don’t remember ever caring what the movie was. I remember standing in front of the glass display case trying to decide how to spend my nickel. The candy had to be tasty but more importantly, it had to be long lasting. I think my brother chose candy by its projectile possibilities.

When I was a teenager, Saturdays meant sleeping in. During the day I’d hang around or meet up with friends. I remember roaming around Harvard Square, going to the museum and checking out stores. Back then Harvard Square was unique and the stores were not chain stores. I remember we ate at the Wursthouse a few times. I haven’t been to Harvard Square in years except to drive though to somewhere else. It has lost its identity. It is the same as anywhere. On Saturday nights we’d sometimes go bowling. I was never a good bowler, but it was fun.

Saturday nights in college were party nights. Some of my memories are still hazy. We’d find a spot, park the car and party. Those were the days of cheap wine.

In Ghana, Saturday usually meant going to town to shop in the market or at the small kiosks which sold margarine and instant coffee in tins. I’d carry my woven bag and fill it with onions, tomatoes and eggs. Once I found a small watermelon my tomato lady had saved for me to buy. I never saw another one.

When I was back home, Saturday still meant sleeping-in and food shopping, but at a supermarket with too many choices. I’ve always hated food shopping and shlepping in the bags.

Today I woke up at 8. I had two cups of coffee and two pieces of Scali bread toast. I have no plans at all for the day. I’m thinking it is finalize the deck day. I’ll put down the rug, clean the chairs, water the plants, start the fountain and then ceremoniously bring the Travelocity Gnome and the plastic flamingo to their summer homes. They inaugurate deck season every year.

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“I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers: / Of April, May, of June, and July-flowers. / I sing of maypoles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes, / Of bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal cakes.”

June 10, 2016

This morning it was 5:30 when I woke up. It was cold, only 57˚. The dog and Fern were huddled beside me. I decided to get out of bed, grab a cup of coffee and read the papers. By the time I had finished reading, it was time to get dressed and meet friends for breakfast. We met at a cafe by the water, an outside restaurant, and it was really cold. The nautical flags were flapping on the breeze, and I could hear the clink of their grommets hitting the pole. That cold wind changed our minds so we opted to find an inside restaurant. Breakfast was delicious.

Tonight is the first play of the season at the Cape Playhouse, a summer theater since 1927. I’ve had season tickets for decades. I remember when I first started going people dressed up for the theater. Men wore suits and ties and women wore dresses. The few tourists looked uneasy and out of place in shorts and t-shirts. Well-known TV and movie stars were in the plays, and we saw a new play every week. Over the years much has changed. Dress is now haphazard, the plays change every two weeks, and the stars are mostly from Broadway, and I really don’t know many. That, however, hasn’t changed the quality of the plays. Tonight is Last of the Red Hot Lovers, and it got wonderful reviews. I always think of the first play as the start of summer.

Rituals change the seasons for me. The first play is the start of summer. The first tree with   its leaves changing color is fall. Thanksgiving is fall’s last hurrah. Winter begins with frost and light snow early in December. It seems to last the longest of any season. Even when the days start to get warmer, the nights and mornings stay cold. Baseball, the game of summer, is played in temperatures befitting winter. Watching the game on television is far better than freezing in a stadium. When a game is played on a warm Sunday afternoon and the crowd is in short sleeve shirts, I’ll start to believe in summer.

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“Begin each day as if it were on purpose.”

June 9, 2016

This morning I heard the first bird greeting the day. It was around 4 or 4:15 and still dark, but the bird knew. The sky started to lighten. I tried to go back to sleep. I couldn’t so I got of bed around 5. The papers weren’t even here. I decided to get coffee and a donut. I saw one truck at the red light. Dunkin Donuts was the only place open, but that was all I needed, two coffees and a butternut donut.

It’s a chilly morning. Even now at 8 it is only 55˚. The sun is shining, but the breeze is strong enough to rustle the leaves. I can even hear them.

I started watching The Gathering Storm. Winston Churchill is warning England about the rise of the Nazis. The plot also touches upon the relationship between Winston and his wife Clemmie. Albert Finney played Winston, but his acting reminded me many times of when he played Scrooge. He even looked and sounded like Scrooge. I kept waiting for him to say bah humbug.

I can hear Gracie snoring from her crate. Fern took her place on the couch so Gracie’s routine has been up-ended as has mine. I figure, though, we’ll both adjust.

My laundry finally got done. It is one of the chores I dislike. I think it is the folding and the hauling up two sets of stairs which puts me off.

I also watched Sergeant Preston of the Yukon on Grit. The picture was a bit weird looking as they had stretched the film to fit the screen. All the actors looked short and the trees stunted. King, the dog, looked elongated. It was winter in the Yukon.

The hot spot in Bolgatanga Ghana when I lived there was the Hotel D’Bull. Its outside walls were painted like the black and white body of a Holstein cow. Other than that, I have no idea as to the name. D’Bull doesn’t sound at all Ghanaian but sounds as if a Ghanaian thought it a wonderfully fancy name. It had an inside bar with air conditioning, but it was usually so full you couldn’t feel the cool air. That was called the cold room. The hotel had a huge courtyard in two parts. The upper part was where the bars were, the cold bar and the outside, windowed bar with tables and chairs. The lower part, a couple of steps down, was where they showed movies on the wall. I saw my first Bollywood movie there. It was subtitled, and I was amazed at all the singing and the glitter. The clothes were spectacular and colorful. The singing sounded odd to my ears with the jingle jangle of lyrics. I saw an old western there, one from the 30’s in black and white. I usually got the expensive seat, on the roof, a patio table with chairs. We usually ordered kabobs for dinner. The first time I ever ate liver was on that roof. It was one of the pieces of barbecued meat. The room were spartan but clean, all with their own bathrooms. They had ceiling fans, not AC.

When I went back, the building was still there but its name had changed. It is now the Black Star Hotel. The cold room has been removed and a small internet cafe has taken its place. The rooms are air-conditioned but still a bit shabby. I think they lost a lot when they painted over the cow.

I was just warned by the deputy chief of police not to be alarmed if I hear gunshots and bomb blasts. They are having a drill about a mile from here. It’s a good thing to have a warning.

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“It was June, and the world smelled of roses. The sunshine was like powdered gold over the grassy hillside.”

June 7, 2016

So far today is another lovely day. When I got the papers this morning, I could smell the scent of the flowers from my front garden. I had to stop to look and to smell. The air was summer. This afternoon the storm is coming with rain, heavy winds and even the possibility of hail. Right now with sunlight, small breezes and the singing of birds the rain seems improbable.

My microwave just died after a long and useful life. I will replace it today if I can find one I like. The dead one was small. It fit on an old child’s desk in my kitchen. My African cookbooks were on top, and kitchen towels were in the space beneath the top where school books used to be stored. I figure I’ll need my neighbor’s help hauling the old out and the new in. My back doesn’t do heavy.

The flight to Ghana is booked. We’re leaving on September 20th and returning on October 7th. The only glitch is a long layover in New York, five hours, before we leave. We’re hoping that may change by September. If not, we’ll be lounge lizards.

Traveling with my friends will be the best part of this trip. They are funny, amiable and sarcastic, one of my favorite traits. They will be driving from New Hampshire to meet me in Boston. We have a few places already on our to visit list including the new lodge at Mole National Park (http://zainalodge.com). It is expensive, but we figured we deserved it.

We have decided to fly from Accra to Tamale. The land trip is long and tedious, and we’ve done it enough times that we don’t need to do it again. I flew that route a few times when I lived in Ghana. It was a luxury on my monthly pittance. After the lodge, we’ll rent a car and driver to go to Bolga where we hope to stay in a former student’s new house. She is hurrying to finish so we can stay there. All we need is windows and a bathroom that flushes. I hate aiming at a hole. AC would also be nice.

I always knew I’d go back to Ghana. Over the years I said it many times when people asked me. I don’t know what took me so long to get there. Now I’m going to make my third trip in five years. The first time back I remember getting so excited as the flight neared landing. When I got outside the airport so many memories rushed back at me. The air smelled of wood fires and trees and thick bushes. I could hear Twi being spoken and Ga, the local language. The Ghanaians were hustling to make money carrying bags. That too was so familiar. They use to rush us at bus depots and train stations. I felt the heat and the humidity. I started to sweat. Yup, that was Ghana.

 

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Where thou art – that – is Home.

June 6, 2016

Yesterday I chose to do little. I took a shower for the sake of cleanliness, but that was it for constructive. Today I go back to the old list and change my bed and do laundry then I’ll need a new list. I’m not all that enthused about doing anything so the new list will be short. Outside might just be the only item. I have chairs to clean and lights to fix, and being outside might make doing work a bit easier.

It’s noisy right now. I hear hammering and wood being piled. I suppose in the scheme of things they aren’t very loud, but this is generally a quiet place. Dogs do bark and kids do yell but that’s it. The bird songs tend to be the loudest.

Usually all three animals are here with me when taking their morning naps. The only one here now is Maddie and she is roaming. Fern is in the living room and Gracie is in her crate. I can hear her snoring. If I move around, Gracie sticks her head out to see where I’m going. She’ll follow me if it looks interesting enough. Gracie is never far from where I am.

When I went to Ghana, it was the first time I ever lived alone. It took time to be comfortable living alone because I couldn’t just pick up the phone and chat or drop over to visit. Here I was trying to adjust to a new culture and a new country so being lonely and homesick at the same time felt crushing. I had to figure ways to deal with it. I wrote letters, some of which were never sent. They were filled with my feelings, my sense of failure and my wondering if Ghana was right for me. I ached for letters from home and ran to the staff room to check my box at least twice a day. I also concentrated on figuring out how to speak English so I could be understood by my students. I gave myself until Christmas. Come to find out, that was more than enough time. I adjusted to speaking English slowly with an emphasis on letters like t in better or letter. My students were catching on as well. The more they heard, the more they understood. I started going to the market and shopping for food. It connected me to the town and the people. They stopped seeing me as simply the white lady. Now I was madam, the teacher at the training college. I used Hausa, the language Peace Corps had taught me. The Ghanians were delighted.

I began to feel I was home, a different home but still home. I stopped running to check the mail. Sometimes I ever forgot for a day or two. I read in the evenings or wrote letters about my day to day life. Every one of those got sent. I loved being in Ghana.

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“I wake up every day and I think, ‘I’m breathing! It’s a good day.”

June 5, 2016

The sun is toying with us. Yesterday it came back in the afternoon, and it was hot. I was delighted to see the sun after three or four days of clouds. Today, however, is sweatshirt cold. I had to close the windows. Bleak is the word which comes to mind.

The morning was leisurely. I woke up early but took my time as it doesn’t feel like a day for haste. I do have chores, always a list. I emptied the litter boxes and put them in the trunk for the dump run later in the week. I have yet to change my bed, do laundry and shower though laundry is a maybe. A nap is not a maybe.

The only occupant of this house not on some sort of medicine is Maddie. She is supposed to have some for her thyroid but she has proved far too elusive. Whatever hiding places she finds are perfect as I can’t find her. If I do happen to grab her, she runs away from me for a few days afterwards. Gracie is the easiest. I just drop a half pill in her food. Fern isn’t happy with her oral medicine, but I give it to her just before we go to bed. I figure she’ll get over it by morning. The ear medicine is just rubbed into the folds of her ear. She doesn’t mind that.

I want to come back as a cat. They are waited on hand and foot though it is really paw and paw. They have great fur to keep them warm, some of it in neat colors. They let you know how content the world is by purring. They sleep a lot in comfy places. They have varied diets of different kinds of canned meat and fish. What they don’t like is never served again. Mine, besides that can food, have dry food and treats. I think the only draw back to being a cat is self-cleaning. All that licking leads to fur balls.

Usually I have something to complain or whine about but I don’t today. I’m liking the day. Despite its bleakness, its coming rain storm and cold, it just feels right somehow.

 

 

 

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