Hmm. Appear to have just managed to post the message I wrote in Accra last week. I am, to bring you up to speed, no longer in Accra, nor is the hole in my foot as much of a problem any more.

I suppose I should give some account of the boy's visit, as this is meant to be a record of my life, not a forum for extensive Alitalia-bitching. We spent the first ten days sitting around in front of the fan playing cards, and the last week on a mad dash to see half of West Africa, which in retrospect seems slightly imbalanced, but it was fun. He also brought me epic quantities of Dairy Milk and a supply of books (chosen, I am obliged to add, by Livvy, not by him) both of which I am trying to stop myself devouring before New Year. We did a bit of sightseeing, including some really interesting castles and forts in Ghana and spend rather more time drinking the extremely cheap beer. (Yes, Si, there will be a veritable collection of labels for you when I get back.)

Then he went home and it was Christmas, except it was sunny, and I had a traveller's cheque stolen, which mings somewhat. Christmas was very surreal, though my mother tried her best to make it homely for me by sending (yes, really) and actual stocking, filled with a bizarre assortment of presents: stollen, a gingerbread snowman, hand cream, a foot scrub and, most excitingly, a tape of Christmas carols, so my room has been resounding to 'Bethlehem Down' and 'I look from afar' and the usual favourites.

No plans for New Year yet but my housemate threatened disguises.....

This is the second time I have been in an internet cafe in Accra and the second time I have used one to bitch about Alitalia.

I have an exciting, shiny STA Travel ticket which says on it that I can change it at any Alitalia office for the fee of 40Euros. Brilliant, I thought, I can change it at the office in Lome, where I live - that will be convenient. So, one lunchtime, I sauntered into the Alitalia office in Lome where the sulky man behind the desk informed me it would cost me $100. Now, unless the global economy has *seriously* changed since I left in October, $100 does not equal 40 Euros. On further questioning the sulky man refused to show me any official tarriffs, and told me I could only pay cash. Wanting to investigate this further before parting with my little cash, I emailed STA saying 'does this sound a bit dodgy to you?' and got an email from a friendly sounding bloke called Greg (or Mike, or something monosyllabic) saying 'I don't know, what's your booking reference?' Several emails later, we established that the Student Travel Services office in Accra was the best place to sort it out, because, apparently, I have a blue ticket. Well, there you go. So, being in Accra, this seemed like a good time to change the date so I can, like, get back to Europe before me TEFL course starts. The staff there, I would like to say, were brilliant and helpful and I have no complaints. But did Alitalia *really* need to drag me all the way to their office to see the 'rules' governing my ticket and try to get 27GBP out of me, only to send me back to the studenty place when I asked if I could change it there (for 15GBP) saying it was no problem?

I think not.

Maybe they were just making my life difficult because I have dirty trousers.

Anyway I am now definitely coming home. Hurrah.

Sorry for being generally incommunicado for the last few weeks. The boy has been so I've been busy showing him the sights of Lome and eating the Dairy Milk he brought me and suchlike. The boy has now departed. And I have discovered that waving a broken shoe is a brilliant way to get a taxi. Also, that sterilising tweezers, digging bits of gravel out of your foot (embedded there by dramatic fall caused by aforementioned breaking of shoe) and waving antiseptic wipes around all over the place is a good way to take your mind off feeling sorry for yourself. It hurts to walk and I have no smart shoes at all now.

Anyway I have to catch a bus, so I'll apologise for ranting and also for missing three birthdays (or two if Sarah's is today instead of yesterday and she happens to read this in time). Also, happy Christmas and New Year and suchlike. It's all very surreal here.

Things that happened to me yesterday:

• saw a mouse in my room
• witnessed a road accident
• got pissed off at STAESA for ruining my evening
• was assertive twice in the space of an hour (yes - me -really)
• had a woman come up to me, rub my stomach and ask me how the baby was doing
• got trapped in conversation with some guy who thought he had a right to be my best friend just cos he had an MBA from America... reminded me of those MBA people who were randomly in Queen's bar one time... maybe one of the requirements is to pass an exam in being a git
• convinced STAESA I needed my deposit back and persuaded them to book me a hotel in Accra for next week and come to the airport in the middle of the night, hence no longer pissed off with them
• found a restaurant serving bacon sandwiches to rival Harvey's
• ate ice cream in the same restaurant
• felt much happier, once devoid of extraneous wildlife, pissed-off-ness and phantom pregnancy
• had catastrophic nose-bleed and had to go home

I need to name the lizards that sleep on the outside of my mosquito screen. One is named Larry in homage to the one in our bathroom in Kenya. Any suggestions for the other?

I wrote myself a list of things to do on the internet, which read somthing like this:

• email Holly for her address to apologise for not writing yet - also to see if she knows anything about extended essays
• email every tutor I've ever had to find out what the hell to do about extended essays
• find some way of contacting the linguistics department at Université de Lomé
• email booking ref to STA travel to stop evil Alitalia man trying to screw me over
• harrass STAESA for the $150 they owe me
• reassure parents am still alive
• ask the boy to bring Marmite and chocolate

I also had four missed calls this morning, and a text from the boy, so I feel very popular. Am still working as general admin bitch which is more useful and less traumatic than trying to give legal advice and went to a funky party on Friday. I am also currently using the best computer in the whole of Africa, rather excitingly, and it's also right by the door, giving a much needed breeze. Not quite sure how I'm going to cope with the climate in Burkina and Mali. It is very, very hot, with no wind at all. *fear* Otherwise I'm just being a geek - finished Germinal (something I've been trying to achieve for over a year now) and making occasional notes on diglossia in the hope that this will somehow lead on to getting onto that Linguistics and Development MA course at SOAS, should several thousand pounds just drop out of the sky to fund it. Actually really enjoyed Germinal - Karen Blixen was right: in Africa, you read books as the author intended them to be read.

Having shown off about my organised list-making I ought to go and cross some stuff off it. 'Waffle on blog' was not an item.

13 days, not that I'm counting.........

Dear people of France,

1) I know Britain is not in the Euro. I'm very sorry, but it is not my personal responsibility to make this sort of economic and political decision.

2) I don't really eat that much jam. Nor do we eat cake all the time. Really. Also, green beans are not a meal. Not on their own. Not even with lots of garlic.

3) Most of the world's immigrants actually end up in places like Tanzania and Pakistan. It's only about 1% that make it to Europe.

4) Comic books are for children.

That is all. Thankyou.

________________

PS - Would everyone who got all worried about me going to politically unstable countries like Togo and begged me to go and get a nice job in Paris like to apologise now?

Well, I haven't updated properly for quite some time, but as I am now in an internet café that hates gmail and no-one is talking to me on MSN, I have 20 minutes to waffle about palm trees and caffeine and then 10 to sit biting my nails, hoping it posts before my time runs out. Ah, it's fun.

Well, I started work on Monday, but I won't go on about it. Suffice to say I've seen a lot of people in awful situations in the last three days, and there's not a whole lot I can do for them, which is rather difficult at times. I'm helping a paralegal (an amazing woman who can make even the most distressed client laugh), so sitting in on consultations and mediations. The consultations are okay, as they tend to be more relaxed and there's time for people to explain to me what's going on, but the mediations tend to take upwards of two hours and there's all sorts of tension flying around. I've been writing lots of reports, but often people speak Ewe or Mina (a lot of women haven't been to school for very long so don't speak much French) and I don't really know what's going on, as my language skills are still limited to greeting people and hailing taxis, and a lot of the problems are very bound up with cultural issues and traditions that still seem quite strange to me. In a way I'm quite glad I didn't start straight away, as it would probably all have been a bit much in the early stages of culture shock.

It's very rewarding though, and this sort of thing always makes you bond with your co-workers very strongly, so I feel very welcome in the organisation. I go to the little restaurant round the corner and buy lunch for 40p every day - plantains, rice, beans, meat, all freshly cooked and yummy. They've adopted the continental working day which means I leave the house at 7.40 and get home about 6, but have 2 1/2 hours for lunch. I'm skiving rather, as I should be back now, but I didn't finish till 13.30 and feel justified in using my full hour here. Have also succesfully bargained myself a bitrhday present for my housemate (earrings in a wooden box) and she's having a big party tomorrow, with some Germans she knows. Went to the 'cinema' with them (Star Wars 3, no better the second time around) on Tuesday and they were very nice - always fun meeting other volunteers.

Anyhow, had better post this in good time! Hope you're all well!

Hannah x

Right, the last time I publicly announced I was happy on this blog everything went rather pear-shaped almost instantly, so I won't make a similar mistake again.

Suffice to say I have finally started work and everyone there is lovely, and I have been living in the same place for 9 days and nobody has sexually harrassed me yet! I also have a phone - a lovely Nokia 5110 (remember them?) like my first ever phone. It cost me £15 and it's got primitive Snake and no predictive text and it's my new favourite toy.

I also have a new address, which I will email you if you want it. Not sure there's any reason not to post it on here, as it's only a PO Box so no-one can stalk me, but that's not a chance I'm willing to take!!

About to get kicked off the computer, but just wanted to say hi to everyone (if anyone reads this) and will try and email people in a responsible and loving manner, as you deserve, for bothering to email me!

My brain is linguistic soup. It's weird.

I'm living with someone from Timbuctu. Isn't that exciting.

I'm also living with her ex-boyfriend. This struck me as slightly odd too. I love the French. She is amazingly friendly and gave me Malian tea which made me hyper. He is a wry Frenchman with concomitant Gallic linguistic snobbery who is convinced the English eat boiled beef all the time. He makes coffee machines and I end up being his guinea pig. I may spend the next two weeks on a permanent caffeine high.

I just tried to look up 'concomitant' to check it means what I think it means and realised normal people have to pay for oedonline. May have to spend rest of life in full-time education.

They took me to a funky concert at the Centre Culturel Français and we had a barbecue and went to the beach and it's all lovely. And now I'm going home cos my time's about to run out.

Things it is not a good idea to do in a hot climate, part 47:

Skip breakfast and allow French people to feed you rosé at 11.30 a.m.

Well, things have been, erm, interesting since I last updated. Spoke to the parents and told them about the creepy housemate and they panicked and forced me to move out immediately. This led to me going round expat bars and throwing myself on the mercy of the owners. I managed to find a flat for the short-term and I explained the situation to Olivier last night and he laughed at me, told me I should have followed my instincts and then said I could move in with him. He's a long way from the town centre, which means spending more time on African roads (I just sent my parents a huffy email saying, 'huh? is this any better?') but he's also a long way from the creepy French businessmen who started hitting on me yesterday and led to me feeling more scared and panicked than I ever did with the housemate. Still, I trust Olivier and he's good company - uses his judgement about people, doesn't just go running towards Europeans - so it's worked out quite well.

And I spent the weekend with an extravagant Frenchman who kept feeding me cheese and wine, so perhaps it was worth it after all.

I would also like to announce to the world that I am no longer Hannah Roberson, no fish. I maintain the right to be Hannah Roberson, extremely picky about fish and I'm not ready for anything with eyes yet, but if you take the icky dangly bits of prawns and deep fry them then they don't make me feel physically ill any more.

I also drink beer. What has Togo done to me?

Email has been extremely annoying this morning. Hopefully I have now managed to get someone to book me a flight home from America in April. Also I have managed to email the boy. This shouldn't really have taken me three hours.

Still, I don't have much else to do. They're working on African time here. I know I shouldn't be annoyed they haven't found me a project, as that's just the way things work out here. That's why you have to bargain for everything. Any transaction needs contact between people, so you can both be sure you're getting the best possible deal from it. So, they couldn't have arranged a placement for me until they'd met me and talked to me about what I wanted to do. It all makes perfect sense. I'm just a bit bored.

Went to Kpalimé (small town about 2 hours north of Lomé) on Saturday night and it's NOT HUMID AND STICKY. I actually felt cool for the first time in two weeks. Had a few problems with a drunk and amorous housemate who insisted on showing me off to all his family. All a bit messy and horrid, but I managed to fend him off and since then he's been so apologetic and contrite that things are much better than before. He even went out for an hour last night, which gave me time to talk to the other guys, who are really nice. It's much easier to talk to people here than in Kenya, I think partly because I'm on my own, and partly because French is much more entrenched than English is there and people speak it much better.

Yesterday I met the Frenchman again and drank about 400 bottles of Coke. There really is nothing to do in Lomé, so we went on a sort of non-alcoholic pub crawl and wound up on the beach. We tried to go to the Lebanese car salesman's bar for lunch but it was closed on Mondays. This is how small Lomé is. That is why I am bored.

I just want to start work!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I have somewhere to live. And this keyboard is evil so this will be a short entry. It has nice blue walls with no dodgy stains. My housemates cooked me pasta. It has an en suite bathroom! (Unfortunately the water has been turned off so it's really just a room in which to wash with a bucket - Wellers, please amend my hardcore rating on wholeworldofpain acordingly!) I am no longer living out of a backpack. I have an address you can send letters to. I have befriended a Frenchman who needs a haircut (his words, not mine) who bought me coffee and promised me a barbecue at his nice, new house when Nik comes out to stay. My housemate is coming to take me to a restaurant called Al Donald which looks a bit like McDonald's but nicer. I should be starting work soon and they all seemed lovely and clued-up there!

Africa is finally being nice to me.

Hamster x

Hurrah! The third internet café I've tried in Lomé has finally decided to open this site and not be painfully slow. Apologies for any misplaced letters - it's a French keyboard with half the numbers labelled as on an English keyboard.

Well, here I am, without aforementioned Lonely Planet (I did cave and buy a Rough Guide though) and having a bit of a mixed time of it so far. To begin with, my flight was late and Alitalia have bumped Tawfiq buses off the top of my 'Most hated transport company' list. Seven hours is a long time to spend in Milan airport with no euros and no food. The nice Ghanaian lawyer I was sitting next to on the plane told me they were giving out vouchers but not until too late, and they'd helpfully hidden the Alitalia desk anyway. I arrived at 3 a.m. smiled my way through a difficulty with my address at customs and was met by the lovely Revd Simon. He was so helpful on Tuesday - helped me get my visa, change money and cross the border etc. Then I got to Togo and it all went pearshaped.

There was a small communications glitch and I'm now homeless. Contrary to what I was told, it is NOT easy to find accommodation in Lomé and they do NOT have discounted rates with the guest house. And even if they did, the guest house mings. (Kenya people think Baringo, Kakamega or that place on the Malawi border and then imagine living there.) So I decided to live with a host family but they can't take me at short notice and the guy in the room next door keeps knocking on my door at obscure hours of the day asking if I like oranges or if I want to go to breakfast with him. Which I don't, and it's getting a bit annoying, and he's here for a month.

So, after getting very depressed on Friday night, I decided to do something yesterday. I found an internet café (well, 2, and they were both slow), walked along the beach, got followed around the market by a guy who wanted me to buy souvenirs from him and then went and sat in a nice, peaceful bar for a while drinking coke. I stayed there so long the manager came and talked to me, and while I'm not sure I can trust him entirely (I'm suspicious of people who throw money around, particularly in the direction of young, female tourists) it was nice to have the company. He drove me up the coast out of Lomé to a posh hotel on the beach and bought me beer. It was quite random and quite fun and I was very upfront about the whole having a boyfriend thing so I'm not leading him on at all.

Except he gave me water and tomatoes, one of which wasn't clean properly, so my stomach had an interesting night and I spent most of this morning lying on my bed in my dingy room, sipping chlorinated water and wanting to die. But I didn't die. I even managed to have a shower and leave the hotel. Aren't I clever.

Lomé is funky and I'm slowly learning my way round. Togo got through to the world cup yesterday and it was MAYHEM on the streets. Singing and dancing till the small hours and yellow t-shirts everywhere. It was great.

Anyway, my time's running out, so I'd better go.

Hope you're all well.

Hannah xx

I have found somewhere to stay in Accra.
I have obtained a visa.
Someone is meeting me at the airport.

Hurrah.

I've just started reading The Waste Land online. I love Eliot.

Me

I'm going back to Africa soon.

This required a blog.

And yes, I know I'm going to Togo, and yes, I know Mandinka is spoken in Senegal. Until about 10 days ago I was going to Senegal, and I thought Mandinka was the funkiest name for a language ever, so I stole it. And Senegal itself looks so funky I intend to go there anyway, and I will learn some mandinka solely to validate the title of the blog. Ewe and Mina (the two most spoken languages in Togo) weren't half as memorable.

Aside from a handful of people I've grown rather fond of, Africa and languages are the two things I love most in the whole world. Which is why I'm going to Togo as part of my third year abroad, being a linguist (French and Linguistics at Oxford in case you were curious and/or considering stalking me) to volunteer with a women's organisation. The organisation works on promoting gender equality, creating jobs and HIV/AIDS awareness, though I think my role is going to be largely fund-raising and translating things into English. Still, if I have to get stuck in a desk job, this sounds pretty exciting.

The organisation I'm going with have been wonderfully helpful (albeit in a very African way: lovely and well-meaning but sometimes need a bit of prodding) and just emailed me to wish me a happy birthday and ask me if I want to design more programmes and projects for Togo during my stay. Visas, however, are another story. Given as Air France want to charge me £1000 to fly direct to Lome, it looks like it'll be easier to fly into Accra (capital of Ghana, just next door) and organise another flight or catch a bus when I'm there. On the plus side, I can get a visa for Togo there, i.e. a proper one that allows me to go in and out of the country many, many times, as opposed to the stupid two-day airport visa which is all the French embassy will condescend to give me. On the negative side, this depends on:
1) being able to find somewhere to stay in Accra;
2) being able to find two people to act as referees for my Ghanaian visa;
3) being confident I can handle African public transport so soon after arriving.

I'm going to be living on my own. Abroad. In a developing country.

I'm scared. And excited. Mostly excited. And frustrated about visas.