My experiences and challenges had been numerous, and I needed a break. It was harmattan season, and I was desperate for any kind of cool breeze.
I welcomed the opportunity to speak English again at the border between Ghana and francophone Ivory Coast. I had a friendly conversation with the border officers (and one marriage proposal) before I was connected with a fixer. I decided not to fight it, since I knew it would be a challenge to get the Temporary Import Permit (TIP) for my van, BlueBelle.
It took a couple of hours of explaining that I wasn’t planning to become an illegal migrant, nor was I planning to sell my van in Ghana, before a TIP was granted and I was allowed into the country, the seventh on my journey so far.
It was the middle of February 2019 and I’d been on the road for a little under three months. My experiences and challenges had been numerous, and I needed a break. It was harmattan season, and I was desperate for any kind of cool breeze. Harmattan is the offshore wind that blows from the Sahara and turns the sky hazy with dust, which also intensifies the humidity.
The Hideout Lodge was a 125 km drive from the border post. For a small fee, I was allowed to set up in their empty car park and use the communal ablutions. Best of all, the lodge was right next to the beach, with a few palm trees to offer shade. I occasionally ate a meal at their restaurant or bought a cold drink from the bar, but I mostly kept to myself, tidied, did laundry and gave myself time not to worry about what came next The staff found my self-imposed isolation most peculiar and occasionally came to check that
