Visiting or Moving to Togo: Flights

Accra's Kokota International Airport on a hazy day.

A few things ground rules:
Finding a direct flight from Lomé that lands anywhere near your destination may be difficult.
On average, international flights in Lomé appear to be $500-600 USD more expensive than ones in Accra.

And as Accra is only 3ish hours away from Lomé by car, many expats living in Togo simply drive to Accra and enjoy a cornucopia of international flights. There's also shopping malls, movie theatres with current films and traffic laws that are obeyed! (A year-long multiple entry visa for Ghana costs $150 USD or so.)

Flights in Lomé and Accra are usually paid in cash if you are booking directly through the airline at their office. In fact, certain airlines may not allow you to book online if your IP address shows it is coming from West Africa. (Consider using a device to hide your IP address.)

We found great priced tickets with a certain Turkish airline, but were unable to book them online as our flight was departing from Africa. The website gave us an error message with a number to their call centre. We called, and while we were able to reserve the tickets, we were told that we had to make the payment at their office in Accra.

'OK, we're going to Ghana over the Christmas break, no problem. Where is their office?'

'It's in the Accra Airport.'

'And how can we pay?'

'We are proud to accept Visa, Mastercard and debit cards.'

'Are you sure, in our experience most places don't. We just want to make sure...'

'Absolutely, we proudly accept Visa, Mastercard and debit cards as means of payment.'

Well. We get to Accra (scroll down if you missed the tale of how we got into Ghana), drive to the airport and lo and behold, the airline office is no where to be found. They have a check-in gate, with a small sign stating that their office is adjacent to a hotel, somewhere else. Having never been to Accra and being map-less, this was not boding well.

We managed to find their office without much hassle.

'Your reservations are here,' the smiling lady behind the counter pronounces. 'That will be ¢2,576 per ticket.'

I hand her my Mastercard.

'Oh, I'm sorry, we don't accept Mastercard.'

I hand her my Visa card, which we planned only to use in emergencies.

'Oh, I'm sorry, we don't accept Visa. Cash -- Ghana Cedis -- only.'

'Excuse me, but just a few days ago, we called the Airline office and were clearly told several times that you accepted these as payment options. They didn't even mention cash.'

'There's a bank down the street, maybe you can get some Cedis there.'

In the sweltering heat, we trudged to the Barclays Bank. A smiling teller confidently pronounces that they are able to assist us, and taking out several thousand Cedis is not a problem. Then quietly, almost in passing the teller throws in that while possible, the transaction must take place at the main branch -- downtown. A vital tidbit of information, as it's late Friday afternoon and traffic in Accra is atrocious at best on any given day.

Rather than fight a losing battle, we continue with our vacation and return to the main branch of the bank early one morning the next week.

A surly middle-aged teller commands us to her wicket. I hand her the Mastercard and tell her how much we need withdrawn.

'Oh, we impose a limit of ¢1,500 per day. We can't give you that much money.'

'But, the teller at the other branch... uh,..' We were slightly flabbergasted.

I hand her the emergency Visa card as well. I figure that at least we would be able to purchase one ticket between the two cards. That's better than none, right?

She commands us to sit. The bank is air-conditioned and clean, so we don't mind the wait.

A few minutes later, we are beckoned.

'This one is blocked, and this one is giving an error message,' she says, thrusting the cards into our hands. 'You must call your bank.'

I reach for my phone, and start dialling the 1-800 number. This will be pretty expensive, I think to myself.

The phone starts ringing. A security guard grabs my arm.

'You can't use your phone in the bank.'

'But, the teller just told me to use my phone.'

'Out.' He's dragging us to the door.

'Isn't there an office, a quiet room we can use? It's loud out there, and I'd rather not be sharing my personal details with everyone on the street.'

He shakes his head.

We decide to stand next to two hired police officers guarding the ATM outside. At least we're sort of safe if our personal details are not.

I call the bank, and inquire about the Visa card. All of Accra decides to get louder. Cars start honking. A battered diesel dump truck decides to stop and rev his engine next to my ear. I can't hear the representative and she can't hear me. Finally I manage to answer some security questions, shouting out my birth date and digits of my SIN number to anyone who cares to listen. Oh, this card (which we've never used as it is an emergency card) had some problems while being activated.

'Great, let's activate it,' I say.

'Just a few more security questions. What is your mother's maiden name?'

This card is used by both of us, and we both had to fill out cardholder information. I ask her if she knows which one of us the question refers to. No idea, so I shout out my guess. She reads it back to me. Totally wrong. I shout it out again phonetically. This time we get the same letters.

'I'm sorry, that's the wrong answer, I can't help you any further.' Click.

I call Mastercard, and while waiting on hold, I start to wonder how much credit is left on my phone.

'Mastercard, how may I help you,' says the lady.

'You have one minute remaining,' says the phone.

I hang up. We buy some more credit, and try again.

'Is there a reason that the card has been frozen? '

'The reason the transaction was blocked, and your card frozen is because there was an attempted transaction from the Barclay's Bank in Ghana.'

'We notified you that we would be travelling in West Africa, is that note not on the file?'

'Oh yes, but this transaction took place in Ghana, not West Africa.'

My phone interrupts again.

We look at each other and decide that today is not our day. These plane tickets are not meant to be and so we leave Accra, spend the night at a beautiful mountain resort and head back to Togo.

Visiting or Moving to Togo: Money

So here's our thoughts on a few money related questions about traveling in West Africa, specifically Togo.



Visa or MasterCard - can you use them here?

A resounding 'NO.' In Togo, they are absolutely useless in daily life. I can count on one hand the number of businesses in Lomé that accept credit cards. I think a few banks state they accept Visa. Regardless, cash is the way to go.

As far as we can tell, Benin appears to be similar to Togo.

While Ghana seems to have a few more options available for tourists, the easiest method of payment is still cash. Places that say they do accept cards may not -- nonfunctioning machine, incompetent clerk (I almost paid $720 for a $72 tab) and perhaps they just lied to get you through the door. Banking institutions in Ghana are able to get cash off the card, but most impose a daily limit of ¢1,500 or so. If the machine is functioning and the transaction appears on the verge of being successful, odds are your credit card company will block/hold the transaction even if you've told them you're travelling in West Africa.

How much should I bring and in what currency?
It really depends on how long you're staying, what your accommodation is like and what you're buying.

A bed to sleep on at a very nice hotel may cost $200 or more (now this hotel may only have a three star rating but you will get hot water, air conditioning, clean sheets, wireless and good food in a marble crusted environment.) In smaller cities, I've stayed at perfectly comfortable local establishments (albeit not as posh and with a squeaky fan and no air conditioning -- probably 1/2 a star) for $5 a night.

In Togo, it is hard to find a proper Currency Exchange, but at the borders, you can change Euros, US, Cedis and CFA with ease with guys walking around with wads of bills. Do make sure you know what the going rate is before going and use a calculator to double check any calculations.

In Ghana, proper establishments exist and banks can change currencies as well.

Be aware that some people will not accept worn or damaged currency, as they believe it is 'broken' and worthless. Also, banks will often not accept US bills older than 2003.

What other money services are there?

Moneygram and Western Union are everywhere, and if you end up stranded without cash, these provide an easy way to get back on the road.

School days, School days...

I haven't updated about school for quite some time now. I figure with the big milestone coming up I should probably give an update about how things are going. SInce I am at day 87 of teaching* (see note below) I can say things are going pretty well. I am really busy but that is not always a bad thing.

Term one was chaotic. After arriving I had 5 days to tidy up the music room, make my year outline, rough sketch what I thought would be teaching the first two weeks and call a music teacher meeting with all the private music teachers working with the school. The first eight weeks flew by and are sort of a blur now. I know I learned a lot during that time. I revised some of my ideas on what it meant to be a music teacher to middle school students, I had to organize all the forms, time tables and teachers for after school music lessons, I began assembling a list and prioritizing what was needed in the music room to expand the instrument playing opportunities students had.



November brought on a whole new set of challenges as I tried to handle an impossible teaching load and organize a small part of international weekend and plan two large Christmas productions for the month of December. Extra rehearsals, new after school clubs, tension from the lower secondary students about the change in the way they would do music to prepare for the events, ordering equipment and improvising when it did not arrive. November and December had many many late nights. I didn't get home before 6:30 pm ever. Except once on a Tuesday afternoon when I went home sick (Lost my voice and had a bad headache) and the entire day I missed on the day that the primary Christmas Production was happening in the evening (I was out with Togo Belly). Both performances went well but I learned A LOT! From the necessity of dress rehearsals to the art of compromise to the importance of a good sound system. I crashed during December break exhausted.

Term two started in January. My teaching load had been reduced in order to facilitate growth in the music department. I now had time to do admin tasks like working with the local private music teachers, dealing with paperwork and organizing the music room so it looked much better and made more musical sense. I went home at 5:30pm most days in January. Forcing myself to leave even if I had not finished everything I set out to do. Every once in awhile there are still days where I have to stay late like this past week (until 7:30 Monday-Wednesday) but things are getting done.

The program still has a long way to go. As a teacher there are still things I need to learn, but overall it isn't bad. I enjoy the teaching part of the job. Sometimes if I walk through the playground I hear songs or rhymes that students learned in my class. During lunch and after school students are now coming into the music room to practice piano, recorder or xylophones. Some of them eagerly showing me what they have learned to play since last week. Right now recorder club is so popular I have to turn kids away because I don't have the time to add another recorder club. But kids are playing their recorders and taking their recorders with them everywhere. A few weeks ago I had a student (who is not taking private music lessons) create his own piece on the xylophone because we had been exploring improvisation using pentatonic scale pieces. Seeing how proud he was of his creation when he performed that song at one of the primary school assemblies made me proud as well.

But there are days when it is tough. Sometimes the lower secondary students push boundaries to the limit, refuse to participate or vandalize music department property. It is after those classes that I am reminded that this job has its downs as well as its ups. But I carry on knowing that 90% of the time being a music teacher rocks.


*How do I know the exact day? In the younger primary grades some teachers make a big deal of reaching day 100 of school because the significance of Day 100 can be tied in to the math curriculum through numbers or the concept of time learning outcomes. There are also quite a few children's books linked to the 100 days of school concept.

Visiting or Moving to Togo

The past few weeks we have been getting random emails from people asking about life here in Togo. After doing a quick google search we figured that maybe we should post some of the answers to common questions here so people contemplating moving or even visiting Togo will maybe be able to get a few answers here.

What is the weather like in Togo?

I arrived in August of this year, so have not been here during February -- but I have heard that it is brutal in terms of climate at that point in time. The heat apparently last until April. That being said, with climate shifts the seasons can be off by a month or two. (The costal rainy season, which we're told takes place in October, didn't show until late November) It is quite humid in Togo, especially along the coast, to which means you start to sweat about 2 minutes after getting out of the shower.



Some places have AC or fan access but don't count on it. For clothing, 100% cotton is the way to go, but not the thick knitted stuff the light woven kind (like button up dress shirt material.)

Shorts aren't really worn here by women. You will see them mostly in dresses, some in skirts and pants maybe even capris. I wouldn't recommend wearing short shorts as it will attract the wrong kind of attention, especially if you are working with local men. Tank tops are not a problem. Spaghetti straps are generally ok too. When bringing a bathing suit you can wear a bikini but wearing board shorts with it cuts down on men problems. Here one can't really swim in the ocean as there is a strong under current. There are hotels with pools and one at the BSL club in La Caisse/ Residence du Benin, so you can swim there for a fee.

What should I pack?

It's probably best if you bring your own hair and beauty products like shampoo, deodorant, makeup, etc. Bring sunscreen too as here it is crazy expensive. That and bug spray. You can get it here but it's cheaper from home. Just remember to put it all in ziplock bags in your luggage!

You may want to bring your own mosquito netting to sleep under. You can buy nets here but it is one less hassle if you bring one with.

When it comes to electronics, bring your own power surge protector as power blips can kill any electronics and make sure they are rated for 220V. In Togo, All the plugs are European round prong style. iPod chargers and memory cards are really expensive here so bring your own from home.

If you can't live without Kraft peanut butter, Stash chai tea, aloe vera lotion or iced tea powder you will need to bring it from home.

Do you need to know how to speak French in Togo?

My French is minimal but the Lonely Planet phrase book comes in handy. If you can speak any amount of French you will get a lot more out of your Togo experience. That being said out in the villages surrounding Lomé people speak tribal languages more than French.

I'm worried about the food, what can I eat?

We were pleasantly surprised by the variety of 'recognizable' food available at restaurants and markets in Lomé. We were a bit concerned prior to our arrival, especially as most expats consider this to be a 'hardship post.'

There are German, French, Ethiopian, Lebanese, Indian and Italian restaurants around Lome. You can't find a McDonalds here but we hear the local fast food joint Al Donalds gives you the same feeling in your stomach.

Most 'staples' are available in the veggie markets, just remember that it's all local produce. You can buy what is in season. Right now, cucumbers and tomatoes hard to come by, and are more expensive. Last month, you could get a half a dozen perfect tomatoes for 20 cents. Now, half a dozen sad looking worm eaten over-ripe tomatoes costs 40 cents.

Squash, lettuce, parsley, dill, celery sprouts (not stalks), beets, potatoes, onions, carrots, cauliflower, broccoli, zucchini and most any fresh herb can be found at ridiculously cheap prices.

We buy our meat from one of the 'expensive' stores (meat is refrigerated!), but meat markets are plentiful if you fancy meeting the rest of the cow that you get your steak from.

I am a vegetarian what options are there for food?

Meat is generally reserved for special occasions in village settings. We know vegetarians who live in Lomé and they seem to be doing just fine. Most western restaurants have non-meat options. (Double check what you're ordering, as non-meat options do not mean vegetarian. It will likely be cooked in the same pot as meat, they just don't give you any.) 'Western' These restaurants are usually higher priced -- approximately 4-5,000 CFA ($8-10) per main plate. There is plenty of fresh fruits and veggies in season at all the times.



How safe is Lomé? How safe is the rest of Togo?

Now in terms of safety, Lomé is generally considered quite safe, as long as you stay away from the beach after dark and use common sense when dealing with pickpockets, dark alleys and such. Villages would likely be even safer as in about 2 minutes the whole village will know that a foreigner is there and they will look out for you. No matter where you are, people will ask you for money, gifts (cadeaux) and some are bold enough to ask for cars or laptops. Some will ask for your hand in marriage. If this thought is unnerving, wear a fake wedding ring!

Internet access in Togo- is it easy to come by or quite difficult?

Internet, depending on where you are, can be spotty or nonexistent. In Lomé, Internet cafes exist, but may be out of commission given a variety of factors -- power dropping, Togo telecom ( the Internet monopoly here) arbitrarily pulling the plug for no reason, or someone accidentally cutting the cable...

If/ when you find Internet, it will be slow, but it should be fast enough to Skype with, check email, etc. There are also a few restaurants in town including Casa Asia and Eiffel that have reliable wireless connections.

On occasion the Internet at our house is fast enough to stream TV shows from North America but they can take a long time to load (more than 2 hours for a 20 minute show).

Getting to Ghana

While plans are made to be broken, sometimes, just sometimes, it would be nice if plans actually played out the way we envision. But as the saying goes: TIA. This is Africa. And that means plans -- even the most simple, basic ones -- will never play out the way we want them to.

With that in mind, we set out on our 'vacation' to Ghana...

The main border crossing at Lomé/Aflao is crazy. Nuts. And seeing that we wanted to visit Kpalime (a beautiful town 120 km's north of Lomé) it only makes sense to cross to Ghana from Kpalime. We heard that the border was quiet and calm, unlike the chaotic madness playing out to the south.

So we drove to Kpalime, eager to get our 'new' Land Cruiser on the road. We stayed at a fantastic hotel, Chez Fanny, which also serves a mouthwatering dinner.

After a leisurely breakfast, we filled up the tank and rode off toward the border crossing. As the road got narrower and narrower and the potholes became larger than the rest of the road, we wondered if we were on the right track. But sure enough, eventually the border post came into view.



And sure enough, the guards were relaxed, friendly and smiling. We were stamped out of Togo with remarkable ease and made our way to the Ghana entry point, where the guards were equally casual.

As we were filling out our Ghana entry forms, the guard in charge of vehicle entry meandered up to us and asked if we already had our entry stamp in our passports. No, we had not yet gotten that far.

"Good. I'm sorry, but we can not let you enter."

"Um. Excuse me, could you say that again and elaborate? What do you mean you can't let us in? Is there something wrong with our papers?"

"No, all your papers for the are in order, except the Ghanaian Government has changed the procedure for out-of-country vehicles entering Ghana. We used to take down the C59 temporary import information and send it to Accra, but now everything must be done by computer, and we don't have the computer. In fact, the only crossing is at Aflao. You'll have to turn back."

"That's a 3 hour drive -- and we just came here to AVOID that."

"We really are sorry, and we wish the government would give it's own workers the tools they need to do their job, but we can't. Please tell everyone you know that the Ghanaian government is not taking care of their own workers. It embarrasses us that we need to turn people away. Please tell everyone you know."

With that unfortunate news, we turned back to the Togo border post, and got stamped back into Togo. (Upon closer inspection later, it turns out they used the exit stamp and stamped us out a second time.)

And so, what was supposed to be the most easy, relaxing border crossing of all was beginning to turn into a quagmire.

About a kilometre before you reach the border crossing at Lomé/Aflao, you can sense the chaos about to unleash itself. People are everywhere. Lorries waiting for their paperwork to be processed line the already narrow street. As soon as you step out of the vehicle no less than half-a-dozen people offer to be your handler.

A handler at a border crossing? How hard can it be? Stamp this, sign that, paperwork this, and exit -- right?

Wrong.

No building is labelled. And so, we did indeed need the help of a handler to find out where on earth to get our passports stamped. And then, while money changers hissed at us, we navigated our way to the vehicle registration building.

A lady who was stuffed into a uniform much to small for her stature rolled her eyes as we entered the stuffy office. The male officials were off watching football on TV. She took our entry forms, took our photos and mumbled something incoherent.

"Excuse me? Could you say that again?"

She sighed. It sounded like she was saying 'such a bother, working.'

"Go ... office ... wait there."

"Uh. You want us to go to that office and wait there?"

Another sigh.

A few moments later, an imposing dishevelled looking middle aged man with lots of stars and bars on his rumpled and unbuttoned uniform entered the office. Without a word he grabbed our passports, and was fumbling through the contents of his desk drawer, presumably looking for a stamp pad, when his mobile rang.

He ignored it at first, looking determinedly for the stamp pad, but the customized tune won out, and he frantically groped himself looking for his phone.

He found it just as the caller hung up. Speaking for the first time, the border guard, who knew we were North American decided to show off his Westernized English using a vocabulary comprised of four-letter words. You'd have thought he just shot himself in the foot, not a missed call.

He then proceeded to drop the phone. And let loose again.

Passports stamped, we exited the no-name office. It was now that we realized that money sellers have no memory, either that or all pale skinned folk look alike. TSSSSSSSSSSS! You need Cedis? We have Cedis. You buy.

"We already said no. Why are you asking us again?"

It can't be that we all look alike, we were the only two Yovo's in the area. With the money changers still in our faces, trying to push wads of Cedi's up our nostrils, we made our way back to the Land Cruiser. We noticed that our handler had gained an accomplice.

Though she wasn't so helpful as he was. She quickly insisted that it would cost 1,000,000 CFA ($2,000) to register the vehicle and that we should give her the money so she could begin the process.

We asked a bored official where to go to register the Land Cruiser.

Go past this building, walk past the next one, you'll see a road, walk down that road till you see a sign to the revenue office, look right and you'll see a building with big flags. That's the one.

Are you kidding me. This is THE border crossing. Why are the offices not in one logical straight line?

We did find the office, and managed to lose the handler's shady cohort -- we left her with the bored official, who was giving her an earful in Ewe after we happened to mention, with a directional nod, that someone told us it they would take 1,000,000 CFA to register our vehicle for us.

'It's only 10,500 CFA ($20)-- a far cry from one million -- and we are to do it ourselves,' he informed us. A helpful, kind person. Little did we know how rare those were at this border.

We step up to the counter and hand over all the paperwork -- still in the same order as when the guards looked at it in Kpalime earlier that day.

"Where is your insurance card," the guard barked.

"The insurance sticker is in the window, where it belongs."

"NO, WHERE IS THE ECOWAS BROWN CARD," he hollered. There was no football game muted on the TV here, a TV preacher was blasting as loud as the poor speakers could handle.

Why did the other border guards say we had everything in order, if the brown book was missing? We called Robert, and asked if he knew anything about such a book. Indeed he did, it's a document that he forgot to give it to us when he gave us all the paperwork.

"I'm sending someone to the border with it right now. But you may have some explaining to do, even with this. I hope you get across."

Great. It's dark now. IF we make it across, we'll be driving in a strange country at night. And what did Robert mean, we'll have some explaining to do? We waited, mulling over our options. Maybe we should just give up for the day and go sleep in our own bed. It's only 20 minutes away. We've been at this border for over 2 hours already, if we give up now, we're liable to never come back, because it is such a hassle.

The ECOWAS BROWN CARD arrives, and the potential problem is glaringly evident. Insurance in Togo sticks with the vehicle -- it's more of a useless formality than actually providing insurance -- and while the insurance company knows the car has been sold, they won't give out a new booklet until the old insurance expires. But plastered all over the brown card booklet is the previous owners' name.

Confidently we stride up to the counter and pronounce that the Brown Card is here, and we're ready to go. The guard painstakingly analyses the contents. Great. He's seen the name.

"Who is this," he demands, jabbing his finger at the name.

"It's the previous owner of this car," I say, jabbing my finger at the line that shows the licence plate number. "See, it's for this car. And it's valid," I reason, jabbing at the expiration date.

"But it's not you."

"But it's for this car."

"But it's someone else."

"That someone else used to own the car, and the insurance is for the car, not them."

"But it's not yours."

"The insurance company won't give us a new booklet until this one expires," I say, jabbing at the date again.

"It's done differently in Ghana."

"I know. We're Canadians. We think Togo's way of doing it is strange, but what can we do.. we have to follow their rules."

"I'm sorry, I can't let you in."

And round and round it went, until Natalie -- who had been unnervingly quiet -- piped up.

"We're coming to Ghana to buy plane tickets so we can see our families. Do you want to keep us from our families? This is Christmas time, and we're all alone," she proclaimed, her lip trembling and her eyes watering -- capitalizing on the fact that family means a lot culturally.

His eyes narrowed, he sucked in his breath and with one last sideways glance at the name on the brown card, he stamped the C59 form and sent us off to the revenue office.

We sat at the revenue office for 20 minutes before anyone noticed we were there. Oh, there were plenty of border officials, but they were all eating dinner. Guards of a lower rank were busy delivering flats of Coca Cola and Fanta to their superiors.

One man finally took us to his office and typed the particulars of the C59 form into his computer (this is the part of the process that kept us from entering Ghana from Kpalime) while regaling us with tales of great Ewe cuisine.

We waited another 20 minute in a mosquito infested room surrounded by massive columns of ledgers. Upon closer inspection, these ledgers contain all the vehicle and driver information of people travelling to Ghana -- including licence plates, passport numbers, occupation, and contact info. Good to know it it stored safely.

The cuisine expert hands us the form with a bill, which we take to the ECOWAS bank building next door, pay up and then take the receipt from that transaction back to the building with the flags and the grumpy hollering guard.

Grumpy stamps the form once again, and says the words we've been waiting to hear for four hours -- "OK, you can proceed to the exit now."

We race to the exit before anyone can change their mind. But Ghana won't let us get in that easy. Turns out grumpy lied.

"Where is your vehicle inspection stamp," the guard queries, shining his barely functioning flashlight into our faces. "You must go back and have your vehicle inspected."

"The officer at the customs office told us to come here," we plead.

"No, you must go and get your vehicle inspected. Turn around and go back to the beginning."

It sounds disheartening, and our hearts did sink to our toes. But what the officer was saying in African English was that the inspection office was back at the beginning. As in, the beginning of the border chaos, back where we got our entry passports stamped. A fine testament to the insanity and incomprehensible lunacy of whoever designed the border crossing.

At the inspection office, we are greeted by a friendly, familiar face that is twisted in shocked confusion.

It's the friendly guard who pointed us in the right direction earlier and saved us from dealing with the handler's corrupt cohort.

"WHAT are you still doing here," he queried empathetically.

"Your border is a mess. We've been here for four hours, and while all our paperwork is in legal order, we're dragged from office to office and denied and delayed to the brink of insanity," we honestly tell him.

Without moving from his wicket, the guard breathed an apology for his incompetent colleagues, stamped the form one last time and bid us a safe journey into the warm Ghanaian night. Little did we know the adventure was just beginning.

Multiple Choice

Here in Africa, one often encounters situations that are 'out of the norm' and the scenarios that run through a mind often resemble a multiple choice test question. Any given strange situation can be handled a number of ways.

Take our trip to Ghana over the Christmas break for instance...

What do you do when told by a grumpy power-tripping border guard that while your Togolese vehicle insurance is valid, you will not be allowed into Ghana because Togolese insurance is filled out differently than Ghanaian insurance. (Togolese insurance stays with the vehicle, not the owner. Even if the vehicle changes hands, the old insurance -- still under the old owner's name -- is valid for the new owner until it expires.)

A) Give up and try again tomorrow. It's already dark and it's been a frustrating hair-pulling experience just to get to the border anyways.
B) Reason with the official and explain that you would do insurance differently too, but you're not the one who makes the silly rules.
C) Burst into tears, tell the guard you just want to have the chance to see your family.
D) Demand to speak to his superior, as this guard is a serious piece of work. And you can see his boss blissfully eating dinner in the next room.

Check back on Wednesday to find out what happened!

The Vehicle Hunt - Part 3

It didn't take us long to say yes -- there was no way we were going to let this car escape us again!

We agreed to look over the Land Cruiser one final time and, should everything go well, hand over the cash that very day at 10 a.m.

Hastily, we scrambled to scrape the money together and eagerly awaited the call from Robert that the vehicle was being driven over.

10.

10:15.

10:30. It's OK, it's Africa. There's traffic, delays. Things like this happen.

11.

12. We call Robert, and ask him what is going on.

"Oh, the owner's wife needed to do some shopping, so they took the Land Cruiser into town. They should be there very soon."

1.

2. Pins and needles. Waiting all day now. We call Robert again.

"The owner remembered that he still has the other man's deposit, and doesn't feel right about selling the vehicle while he still has the other man's money. He's called the other man, but he is not picking up. The owner has gone into town to look for him, so he can give him back his money."

3.

4. Nothing.

4:45. Robert calls. Good news, the deposit has been successfully returned!

But as it is now nearly 5 p.m., it is time to go home. Work for the day is finished, the man has gone home. What time can we meet tomorrow?

We agree to meet at 9 -- SHARP -- and hoped that the days events would not repeat themselves.

After many frustrated phone calls from Robert to the owner of the Land Cruiser, the chariot finally arrived. Each time he called, they were 'only five minutes away.'

They arrived at 9:45.

At 10:10 we made a list of repairs to be made -- all minor, thankfully -- a new mirror, new belts, pull some dents, make sure the hood stops sticking shut, rear seat belts, etc...

At 10:30, we handed over the cash to Robert, who, as the middle man, took the car to the government offices to start the paperwork.

At 1:00 p.m, we received word that the car was clear to be sold (ie, not stolen, not on any Interpol lists), and the transfer paperwork process had begun.

On Friday morning, the paperwork was all but complete, and most of the repairs were already done.

On Monday, with the new paint over the now-dentless surface dry, we rode off on Togo's windy, bumpy roads to Kpalime, a breathtakingly beautiful town surrounded by picturesque hills, cascading waterfalls and flurries of butterflies.

From there, we -- with quite a detour (stay tuned!) -- rode off into the Ghanaian sunset for what turned out to be one crazy, crazy trip to Ghana.

The Vehicle Hunt - Part 2

Sold. The vehicle we had wavered back and forth about and finally decided to buy had sold just when we made up our mind. Ripped from our grasp.

We were disappointed but figured that there must be a reason this vehicle was taken from us -- perhaps there was a better one just around the corner.

So we kept looking for this better car.

We looked at a late 90's Rav4, which looked nice, but upon closer inspection we became convinced that this was not the car for us.

Keep in mind that in Africa, cars are not considered in need of repair until they will no longer move. So strange banging and clattering noise emanating from the engine compartment are of no concern whatsoever. In fact, the seller may dutifully inform you that the angry sounds show that the car is really, really powerful.

Labour is cheap, and paint is nearly as cheap. So often times you will find freshly repainted cars for sale. This Rav4 had been painted, of all colours, black. We asked the man why on earth he would paint a car in Africa black. He muttered something sheepishly and declined to comment, but the consensus we have reached is that black equals luxury, even if you will roast alive under the scorching blaze of the sun.

While a fresh coat of paint is nice to look at, we found you're probably better off getting a vehicle that has not been repainted, as paint is also seen as a way to hide any critical blemishes. Like rust. Most cars we looked at suffered from serious rust issues, but rather than dealing with the rust and plastering the problem spots, the rust had simply been painted over.

As mentioned before, details are not the forte of the locals. We were informed that this Rav4 was 4x4. It wasn't even all wheel drive. A quick look at the dash or under the rear wheels could have shown that. Either the seller thought that we would be blissfully unaware or was somehow ignorant of the matter himself. Sort of a scary thought.

So we declined the Rav4, lurching us back into the realm of no vehicle and no leads.

We racked our brains all weekend and after a good dose of kicking ourselves for not buying the Land Cruiser when we first had the chance, we decided to go back to the Port first thing Monday morning.

To our surprise, we did indeed find several candidates, including Land Cruisers, right off the bat. But just as with our previous Port experiences, what you see on the outside doesn't always reflect under the hood. One of the Land Cruisers, an 86 LJ70, had a decent engine, but lacked a single VIN number. All VIN plates and numbers were removed and scratched off. Hmm. But the price was right. Too right...

A second Land Cruiser also had the right price and looked great from far away. But the magic of paint only works from distances over 10 feet. Upon closer inspection it became very evident that there was lots and lots and lots of rust that had been simply painted over. The interior was also infested with black mould. No idea how that happens.



Looks good? Step a little closer and you'll see loads of rust and an interior covered in black mould. Yeech.

The prices we were being quoted were considerably less than in previous weeks -- and I'm sure it was because Natalie was along -- but with all the work that would still be required to make these vehicles safe, the cost was rapidly increasing well above the cost of the now-sold '87 Land Cruiser.

I'll admit it, old Land Cruisers are not the most attractive of vehicles. They're boxy, uncomplicated, and don't have power steering or air conditioning. So naturally, Natalie started paying more attention to the other prime candidate for us: a Rav4. Far more curvy, a lot newer and quite a bit more comfortable.

But one mishap with a Rav4 in one of the Port lots made Natalie, who was completely hooked on the idea of a Rav4, refuse to buy one.

One of the dealers was proudly showing Natalie the comfortable drivers seat as I listened to the engine. Unsatisfied, I told Natalie, who was sitting behind the wheel to turn the car off, which she did. After she got out, the dealer put the car into first gear, since the e-brake did not appear to be functional. We continued to look at the car for a few moments, just to be polite.

The dealer, who was now sitting in the passenger seat, reached over to remove the key, which became stuck. Instead of cautiously wiggling it, he recklessly flicked the key back and forth -- into the on position, causing the car -- which was still in first with the faulty e-brake on, to leap forward. Several workers jumped to safety, narrowly avoiding crushed limbs, but the car proceeded to plow into another parked car. The polished plastic bumper splintered and cracked, the hood bent out of shape and the red-faced dealer frantically explained that the damage was no problem and was easy to fix and the car was still a good deal for us.



Natalie turned to me with a solemn look on her face and said, "we are never going to get a Rav4. If a 5km per hour collision does this to the front end, imagine a highway collision."

I agreed wholeheartedly, making sure to mention that Land Cruisers have a real steel bumper.

Even though the Land Cruisers we saw were real pieces of work, we called Robert and asked him to look over them with us, and he agreed to do so on Tuesday.

Frustrated, but optimistic that one of the lemons we saw may turn out to be OK after all, we fell asleep knowing that Tuesday would be another day with many more cars to look at.

I awoke to my phone ringing. It was Robert.

"Hello," I mumbled, expecting him to say he could not make it to the Port after all.

"Remember that Land Cruiser I showed you? The one I said was very good, but you did not like because it was too old and too expensive? The one that you then decided you would like, but it had just sold?"

"Yes Robert," I said. What I meant was, 'really, you don't have to rub it in. We get it. We missed a great opportunity.'

"The man who bought the car could not find all of his money. The car is unsold."