Tag Archives: Ghana

BBC. Beaches Be Crazy. Or, Busua Beach Club

14 Nov
This past weekend I had the chance to get to the beach in Busua. It’s a gorgeous resort about 30minutes drive* from Takoradi (one of the main ports and the fourth largest city in Ghana). 

Takoradi night life. It's all happening at Vienna City


I’ve been working seven days a week for the past month so needed this mini-break like Kate Moss needs a Big Mac.


Abokwa Island - the tiny dot in the middle


After a different kind of Saturday night in Takoradi – which at one stage included the unfortunate discovery of some Ghanaians with American accents attempting karaoke – a Sunday afternoon spent drinking whiskey and eating freshly-caught lobster on the beach was a not such a shabby way to end a weekend.

Busua Beach


Hand-made fishing boats


Looks tame, but it'll steal your swimwear


and if losing a bikini to a rough Atlantic Ocean was the worst of it, I say “Life’s a beach. Let’s do it again tomorrow!”


Ye little surf shoppe


 * Or more. Or less. But who’s counting when you’ve got a great view and the scenery outside the car ain’t too bad either  *wink*


Sunset at Takoradi Beach

Look it:

Busua Beach

Takoradi on Wikipedia



Ironed socks

23 Oct
My random life is like a cheesy, American comedy and you can really drop in on any episode for a new, entirely-unrelated-to-previous-storyline adventure.
I figured this is how I should start my blog. Slap bang in the middle of my latest excursion – Ghana.
So here I am, starting a page of my rants and raves, in rural Western Africa.

The Neighbourhood

Without delving into too much inane detail, I will say that I have been here for just under three weeks. It’s amazing and colourful and the people are very friendly. Being one of the few white faces for at least a few hundred kays, I am semi-famous. Ok fine, so it’s just the neighbour’s children who shout “oberoni oberoni” and wave madly when we leave the gate – it’s the small things…

We are really fortunate to be so well looked-after here. We have a butler. And he irons our socks. Our socks? (!!) The closest my clothes at home have come to that is accidentally snagging them in a hair straightener.

This is not home but it will do for a replacement for the next eight weeks. And the creaseless hosiery will help me get by.