(NOTE: View a larger picture by clicking on the photo(s) above.)
As I was saying……Ghana. I arrived in Accra, the capital city, and made my way to the luxury hotel (at least by Ghanaian standards). You may know that a visa is required to enter Ghana, that is pretty standard, but what you may not know is that in order to get a visa one has to purchase at least $300 worth of Ghanaian currency. I’m not sure what the exchange rate was at that time, but now it is on par with the US dollar. Then, it was much lower. One arrives in Ghana with a pocket full of Cedis (Ghanaian currency). You see a picture of the currency above. You also have here a map of Ghana so you can locate these strange places.
Here is where the currency comes in. When I attempted to hand the clerk the appropriate amount of Cedis for my room, the clerk said, “Sorry sir, we do not take those.”
“What,” I said, “you don’t accept your own currency?”
“No sir.”
“I’m required to buy all this Ghanaian currency and you don‘t use it?’
“Sorry sir,“ he says.
“What do you accept“, I asked.
“Only US dollars. No credit cards,” he tells me.
Now, my custom was to carry only a small amount of cash. $300 for an entire seven week trip. I used credit cards, specifically, one credit card, the American Express. This credit card was in my name only, and I used it so much in my world travels that the credit card company saw to it that because of my level of spending, I received catalogs for yachts and jet planes. I was a real big spender in their eyes. Don’t I wish!
In that time and that place hotel rooms were not that expensive. Not like today, but still, it took half the cash that I had to pay for the room. One is required to pay the whole bill in advance. I suppose they are afraid that one will slip away in the middle of the night. None of this made me too happy. Besides, I was suffering from a good case of diarrhea and feeling none to chipper.
I got my luggage to the room and decided that I needed some food to settle my queasy stomach. I went to the open-air restaurant in the hotel to get a bite. I chose a table next to a railing overlooking a courtyard below. I ordered a ham sandwich and a Coke. That seemed to be the only thing on the menu that might work on my sick stomach.
As I waited for my order, I watched some large lizards in the courtyard below scampering around doing their exercise. At least it looked to me like they were doing push-ups. They would run a few feet, stop, then raise and lower their bodies rapidly on their front legs, run a few more feet and repeat the exercise. Interesting! When I wasn’t watching the lizards, I watched the waiters going by with orders on trays. It seemed that on every tray was a big bottle of Coke.
After a while my waiter returned to my table, empty-handed. “I’m sorry sir,” he said, “we don’t have any Coke.”
“What do you mean you don’t have any Coke? Every waiter going by has a Coke on the tray.” Just then, another waiter passed my table with a Coke on his tray. “See,” I pointed to that tray, “there goes a Coke.”
“Yes sir, but those are only for guests.”
“I’m a guest, so you can bring me a Coke.”
“I’m sorry sir,” he says, “we don’t have that many Cokes and those are only for room service.”
What is going on here, I thought. First, Cokes are only for guests, then, only for room service. “Let me understand this,” I say to the waiter, “I can not be served a Coke at my table?”
“No sir, we only have a few Cokes and we must save them for room service. I can bring your sandwich and something else.” By this time I had had it, to my limit. This did not seem reasonable.
“Just forget it,” I told the waiter. I got up to leave.
“You don’t want your sandwich?’ he asked.
“No thank you!” I went to my room. But when I got there, I was determined to get my Coke.
I picked up the phone and dialed room service. “Yes sir,” the voice said, “how may I help you?”
“I would like a ham sandwich and a Coke please.”
“A Coke, sir?”
“Yes, a Coke.”
“Very good sir, it will be about 15 minutes.”
“Thank you.”
After about twenty minutes, there was a knock on the door, and a voice said, “Room Service.”
I opened the door and there stood a waiter holding a tray with a glass of ice and a bottle of Coke. At last! I looked again at the tray and said, “Where is my sandwich?’
“Oh, we were out of that, sir.”
I took the Coke. Tipped the waiter. Shut the door and had my Coke. I didn’t feel like eating anyway. I called it a day and went to bed. Maybe the night would be better than the day. In three days I was to leave Ghana and head to Nigeria. I was to discover that Ghana was just the tip of the iceberg. Nigeria is another story. Next time.
Here is where the currency comes in. When I attempted to hand the clerk the appropriate amount of Cedis for my room, the clerk said, “Sorry sir, we do not take those.”
“What,” I said, “you don’t accept your own currency?”
“No sir.”
“I’m required to buy all this Ghanaian currency and you don‘t use it?’
“Sorry sir,“ he says.
“What do you accept“, I asked.
“Only US dollars. No credit cards,” he tells me.
Now, my custom was to carry only a small amount of cash. $300 for an entire seven week trip. I used credit cards, specifically, one credit card, the American Express. This credit card was in my name only, and I used it so much in my world travels that the credit card company saw to it that because of my level of spending, I received catalogs for yachts and jet planes. I was a real big spender in their eyes. Don’t I wish!
In that time and that place hotel rooms were not that expensive. Not like today, but still, it took half the cash that I had to pay for the room. One is required to pay the whole bill in advance. I suppose they are afraid that one will slip away in the middle of the night. None of this made me too happy. Besides, I was suffering from a good case of diarrhea and feeling none to chipper.
I got my luggage to the room and decided that I needed some food to settle my queasy stomach. I went to the open-air restaurant in the hotel to get a bite. I chose a table next to a railing overlooking a courtyard below. I ordered a ham sandwich and a Coke. That seemed to be the only thing on the menu that might work on my sick stomach.
As I waited for my order, I watched some large lizards in the courtyard below scampering around doing their exercise. At least it looked to me like they were doing push-ups. They would run a few feet, stop, then raise and lower their bodies rapidly on their front legs, run a few more feet and repeat the exercise. Interesting! When I wasn’t watching the lizards, I watched the waiters going by with orders on trays. It seemed that on every tray was a big bottle of Coke.
After a while my waiter returned to my table, empty-handed. “I’m sorry sir,” he said, “we don’t have any Coke.”
“What do you mean you don’t have any Coke? Every waiter going by has a Coke on the tray.” Just then, another waiter passed my table with a Coke on his tray. “See,” I pointed to that tray, “there goes a Coke.”
“Yes sir, but those are only for guests.”
“I’m a guest, so you can bring me a Coke.”
“I’m sorry sir,” he says, “we don’t have that many Cokes and those are only for room service.”
What is going on here, I thought. First, Cokes are only for guests, then, only for room service. “Let me understand this,” I say to the waiter, “I can not be served a Coke at my table?”
“No sir, we only have a few Cokes and we must save them for room service. I can bring your sandwich and something else.” By this time I had had it, to my limit. This did not seem reasonable.
“Just forget it,” I told the waiter. I got up to leave.
“You don’t want your sandwich?’ he asked.
“No thank you!” I went to my room. But when I got there, I was determined to get my Coke.
I picked up the phone and dialed room service. “Yes sir,” the voice said, “how may I help you?”
“I would like a ham sandwich and a Coke please.”
“A Coke, sir?”
“Yes, a Coke.”
“Very good sir, it will be about 15 minutes.”
“Thank you.”
After about twenty minutes, there was a knock on the door, and a voice said, “Room Service.”
I opened the door and there stood a waiter holding a tray with a glass of ice and a bottle of Coke. At last! I looked again at the tray and said, “Where is my sandwich?’
“Oh, we were out of that, sir.”
I took the Coke. Tipped the waiter. Shut the door and had my Coke. I didn’t feel like eating anyway. I called it a day and went to bed. Maybe the night would be better than the day. In three days I was to leave Ghana and head to Nigeria. I was to discover that Ghana was just the tip of the iceberg. Nigeria is another story. Next time.
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