Globe Aware Begins

[note: once again my apologies for the lateness of this next installment... work has been crazy but it's been all good things!]

Finally! Globe Aware’s official start day arrives! I woke up with such anticipation for the days to come. What would we be doing? What would the group be like? Would they be open to the documentary? Globe Aware had said that they were going to mention it to the other volunteers, but I wasn’t counting on anything. That morning, Joe and I had a hearty breakfast in the hotel’s dining room and made our way back to our room to gather all of our things. The butterflies in my stomach were whirling like nobody’s business as the time ticked by. I continued packing, Joe continued organizing the equipment and my butterflies seemed to be reproducing. Wow! I guess I’m really nervous, I thought. Very quickly I realized that it was not butterflies at all. I ran passed Joe and made my way to the bathroom. (For those of you who are now rolling your eyes at my potty recollections, too bad – you wanted an honest account so here goes!) I’m sure I don’t have to go into more detail than simply noting that I got to know the bathroom quite well that morning. I believe it’s a universal enough feeling to be able to stop there, don’t you.

The time ticked by...

I finally opened the door and almost slammed into the camera – leering at me. Seems while I was busy taking care of my business, Joe was busy taking care of his. He’d waited in the room, red record light flashing, beckoning me to well... Flush.

I. Had. The. Poops.

Downing the recommended amount of Immodium, I yelled at Joe to turn the camera off and checked out of the hotel. Goodbye bathroom... Hello long journey to Ho.

I hope it’s not a bumpy ride.

Best Laid Plans (Part 12)

DAY 2


Although I think both Joe and I felt that we could’ve slept the day away, we got up early in the morning so that we could be at the Ministry of Information’s Office first thing. We needed to get our press passes and were told not to begin filming without them.

One of the first things I found most interesting about Ghana is that there are no real addresses – PO Boxes yes – but addresses, no. You can’t say to a cab driver, take me to 145 Prospect Street b/w whatever and whatever. And being somewhat anal, before I left, I’d tried to map the distance between my hotel and the Ministry so that I could have some idea of how far it was and how much time we’d need to get there – but alas, one cannot find a PO Box on mapquest.

For some reason, government people (regardless of the country) make me nervous. I always immediately find myself itching to confess a crime that I don’t even know exists. I also find that I have to keep myself from blurting out inane information that, while wouldn’t necessarily make me a criminal, would definitely make me seem like a nutter... Such as ‘when I was 15 I told my sister that there were no more brownies when, in fact, I had the last one hidden away in a cabinet for my own selfish consumption!’ So along with my official paperwork, I also carried with me my odd compulsion to admit idiotic wrongdoings. Joe on the other hand, was simply itching to start filming whatever possible. At least one of us was focused.

Thankfully, we were seen right away and the official that we spoke with was very nice while also putting the fear of god in me. She explained a number of reasons why, if we didn’t follow the rules, we could be arrested. She wanted an explicit rundown of where we were going to be filming, which would have been fine but for the fact that I had no idea. She said that if we were discovered to be filming outside of where we said we were going to be, our equipment would be confiscated and we could be arrested. I suddenly found my confession compulsion and my visions of a Ghanian prison merging into one holy-hell nightmare of epic proportions. I looked over at Joe so that we could share each others fears silently but he looked so relaxed that I became concerned he was gonna fall asleep. Apparently, the sound of the Officer’s voice, while making me quiver with anxiety, was like a lullaby for Joe. When she turned her attention away from us to find a typist that could put together our press passes, Joe smirked at me and said that she was just trying to scare us. I reminded him that they don’t serve pancakes in prison but he was unshakeable.

After informing us that the typist was not in the building and would be coming in from a different location, she asked again where we wanted to film. The Volta Region was too general for her. I explained that we would be in Ho and then in surrounding villages that we didn’t yet know the names of, to which she reminded me of confiscation and imprisonment. I was worried that we were at an impasse. I gave her Richard’s number – he was the Globe Aware contact in Ghana but her attempts to reach him were unsuccessful. Would we get our press passes? If she refused us would we shoot anyway? I looked over at Joe and, as if he knew what I was wondering, he winked at me. Well, maybe he and I would share a cell.

Amazingly, after about 20 minutes, without specifics on where we were going to be filming, we were handed our press passes. I hate when Joe is right.

Along with our press passes, she sent us away with her assistant in tow. I had asked her whether she knew of any good markets in Ho and she said that the best markets are in Accra. She also said that her assistant would accompany us to them (for a fee) and we could film it.

Well, well, well... At least I knew we wouldn’t be arrested (at least not that day) and Joe knew that we’d get some great footage. We both got what we wanted.

Best Laid Plans (Part 4)

Joe and Julie Go to Ghana

In order to do a documentary about going on a trip, you must have someone there doing the documenting.  This someone is a sweet-tart-eating, pancake-loving, root-beer-drinking dude named Joe.  Let me be clear on this - the list of foods and beverages that Joe will take into his body can be counted on one hand.  Pancakes: Yes. Sweet Tarts: Yes.  Root Beer: Yes.  Pizza: Yes.  Salmon: Yes.  Everything else: NO.  Many questions arise from this list, such as how salmon somehow got an acceptance letter to Joe's stomach but say, Milky Way bars didn't.  

Now, if Joe were standing over me as I wrote this, I'm sure he would throw some more foods and beverages onto this sad little pile, but there wouldn't be many.  In fact, a typical non-work conversation between Joe and I goes as follows:

Me: "Hey Joe, what about lasagna? Will you eat lasagna?" 

Joe: "No. Gross."

Me: "But you eat pizza and it has basically the same ingredients."

Joe: "But pizza's not gross."

Me: "What about vegetables? Don't you eat any vegetables?"

Joe: "No. I talk alfalfa pills."

Me: "Joe, you need to be studied by the AMA."

Joe: "Bring it on."

Somehow, every conversation degrades into me telling Joe that the American Medical Association should study him and Joe expounding on the power of alfalfa pills.

So, when I was first thinking about doing this documentary and initially talked to Joe about whether he was interested in going with me, my first question was not, 'are you interested?' or 'how do you envision this,' it was "what in the hell are you going to eat???"

Joe promises me that he will "iron man it" as he likes to say, but we've been planning this documentary for awhile now and I have yet to see him show the slightest bit of interest in any foods outside of his safety list.  So now on my Ghana 'to do' list I have: visas, shots, permissions  and ensuring that Joe doesn't whither away and die from lack of food and drink.  I have also promised him one carry-on bag filled with Sweet Tarts, but I'm not exaggerating when I say that I've wondered if Customs will assume that Joe and I are somehow carting drug laced candies with us, since nobody would understand needing to carry an entire bag of Sweet Tarts with them.  Though I also realize that I tend toward worrying... while Joe tends toward... relaxing.

Yes, this is going to be a great partnership.