Posted tagged ‘bus’

“You either get the point of Africa or you don’t. What draws me back year after year is that it’s like seeing the world with the lid off.”

September 19, 2016

It has begun, the big day before the biggest day. My laundry is already being washed as is the quilt from my bed. My list for today has only three to do’s: change bed, pack and take Gracie and Maddie to the vets for nail clipping. That last one sounds strange, I know, but Maddie is tap dancing when she walks and Gracie is sliding on the tile floor.

I’m going to sleep on the couch tonight as the bed will be clean for my house/petsitter. My friend is picking me up at 6:40 tomorrow to drive me to the bus.

I always think how amazing it is to be home one day only to be far away on the next. Everything is different: the culture, the food, the climate and the language. Though English is the national language it has taken on a distinctly Ghanaian vocabulary, and you have to listen well at first to understand the sound of Ghanaian English. My ears are tuned.

It rained earlier, a pouring rain, but strangely, in the middle of the storm, the sun popped out for a few minutes then it disappeared and it started raining again. It has since stopped raining. I now can go get my papers without getting soaked.

I went to Stop and Shop yesterday and was completely lost. I was wishing I had flares. The store has totally changed since last I was there. I stood at the end of every aisle reading the signs hoping to find what I wanted. It took help, but I finally found everything I wanted.

My flight to New York leaves Logan at 11. My flight to Ghana (Delta 420) leaves Kennedy at 5:37. I arrive in Ghana at 8 AM. My flight home (Delta 220) leaves Accra at 9:45 on October 7. The flight from Kennedy to Logan arrives at 8:57.

While I’m in Ghana, I hope to write so you’ll know what’s going on and whether or not the sacred croc ate me instead of the chicken (just kidding-no croc this trip). We’re hoping to stay in a hotel with wifi. If not, I’ll go to the internet cafe. I promise to stay in touch.

“I’m so fast that last night I turned off the light switch in my hotel room and was in bed before the room was dark.”

May 28, 2016

My little nap seems to have done the trick. I fell asleep right away as the bedroom was still cool, and the outside world was quiet. The only sounds were from the chimes hanging off branches in the backyard and Gracie’s deep breathing. She had joined me for a nap. The two cats stayed downstairs for their naps.

Today is a perfect day. It is in the high 70’s, bright with sun and there’s a breeze to cool the air just a bit. We are 10 or 15 degrees cooler than Boston and a whole cooler than the western part of the state.

The deck is back to normal. All the furniture is in its usual place. Putting out the do-dads is all that’s left. When I say do-dads, I mean the rug, all the candles in the trees and on the tables, the window boxes, the flower pots, the prayer flags and the pictures for the wall. The shelf and the flower pots need to be repainted. I have new prayer flags and a couple of new strings of lights.

Yesterday while I was sitting in my car waiting for my friends, the wind blew, and I could see the pollen almost as dense as fog blowing off the tree. My car is covered in the greenish yellow pine pollen. I hate this season. When it gets hot, you don’t dare open windows as everything will be pollen covered. It’s like the harmattan in Ghana when the blowing wind brought dust from the Sahara, and it covered all the surfaces in my house. Dusting was a lesson in futility. It is the same with the pollen.

I drove my friends to the Logan airport bus because they were leaving for England early last evening. When I got home, the phone rang. It was Tony telling me Clare had left her pocketbook in the car, the pocketbook with the passports and plane tickets. Could I please hurry as the bus would be leaving in about 15 minutes, 10 minutes short of the drive. I drove like a maniac. The slowest I went was 75, and I cursed the car in front of me which kept me to that crawl. I swear G-force acceleration distorted my face. I drove into the lot and there they were, the last people. They smiled and threw their arms up when they saw my car. The driver was just putting the last piece of luggage in the bay. My timing was perfect. I handed them the handbag and Tony asked Clare if that was her bag. I wanted to say something sarcastic like I have 15 others you can choose from, but I figured it wasn’t the right time. Their gratitude was profuse. They immediately gave their luggage to the driver and got on the bus. Gracie and I went much slower on the ride home.

“In skating over thin ice, our safety is in our speed.”

December 30, 2013

Monday means breakfast at the diner. My diner is a small place with only 12 or so booths and some stools at the counter. A few regulars were there and the owners are always at the front of the house doing whatever needs to be done. They greet all the regulars and stop at the booths to chat a bit. It wasn’t too busy when I first arrived but all the booths were taken by the time I left.

The morning is cold. Yesterday throughout the day and night we had torrential rain and late last night the wind began to roar. I imagined the pine trees bending and swaying with loud creaks of protest, and when I let Gracie out this morning, I noticed a few branches, smaller ones, had fallen in the backyard. My outside Christmas lights died around 8, and the back dog lights blinked on and off for a long while. For my neighbors’ sake, I kept hoping the lights would stop blinking. They did and the yard went dark. This morning I turned on the timer for the outside lights, and nothing tripped so I guess all is well.

When I was a kid, I didn’t know anyone who traveled during Christmas vacation, and I didn’t know anyone who skied. Both of those would have been far too expensive for our family and for my neighbors. We had sleds and ice skates, and they provided winter amusement. My friends and I would skate at the swamp or on the rink at the park. That rink was put up every winter and taken down in the spring. The small building at the rink had wooden planks for seats, and we’d put our shoes, tied together, underneath the planks. The building was always warmed by a pot-bellied stove. One man worked there, and he was in charge of keeping the stove going. The skating was free, provided for by the town. I’d skate until my feet hurt.

Sometimes my mother would give us bus fare and entrance money for the MDC rink over the line in Medford, the next town. We had to walk up-town to catch the bus as it was really to far to walk. On Saturdays and school vacations, the bus was filled with skaters. The MDC rink had two fenced-in skating circles and a building with lots of seating and a refreshment stand. We’d skate a while then take a break in the warmth of the building then go back outside for more skating. We’d be there most of the day. I remember taking off my skates and how strange my feet felt. It was as if they had forgotten how to walk. We’d buy a hot chocolate then go outside and wait for the bus. I remember standing on the sidewalk and looking down the street hoping to see it coming our way. We were cold and tired and more than ready to go home.