This is a guest post from Madeline who is volunteering for three weeks in Accra, Ghana. If you’ve had an experience abroad (or at home) that you’d like to share, shoot me an email.

I’m in Africa, in Ghana, and I haven’t completely reconciled myself with that fact. Probably because I’m in the capital (Accra) which is just a big city. It definitely has its own flavour, mostly in the form of pollution that burns the eyes and throat, traffic laws that don’t make any sense, strange signs–my personal favourite being “The Blood of Christ Fast Food” or “Jesus Jesus Jesus” with no indication of what kind of good or service it provides–and very creatively patched up buildings.  I think some people in my group were expecting people to be wearing loincloths and all the babies with swollen stomachs. Some also seem surprised that everyone speaks English which is, by the way, their national language.

It’s amazing how there are some things we’ve all gotten used to really fast–like the toilets. A toilet with a seat is a luxury that sends any of us calling for the others to take advantage even if the toilet doesn’t flush, has no paper or if you have to share it with the local fauna. Also, watching the ladies with babies strapped to their backs swinging them around with seemingly no thought to their baby’s head and what it may hit doesn’t make me cringe quite as much as it used to.

There are two things which are standout experiences. The first is being a visible minority. In Ghana people are very friendly (we would definitely say that they have absolutely no sense of boundaries), and luckily, for the most part, they like white people (who they call obrunis). Children yell obruni at us wherever we go and fight for the privilege of holding our hands. Men stroke the women in our group as we walk by and often propose marriage. The feeling of being special wears off quickly though, and sometimes I get sick of being constantly touched and stared at by strangers. The Ghanaian stereotypes of white people are hard to shake too. It’s definitely interesting to walk in shoes some walk in their whole life–at home there is absolutely nothing about me that makes me a visible minority.

The second standout experience is relinquishing my expectations. “Ghanaian time” runs anywhere from a few hours slow to a few hours fast. Meeting up with people is really hard and, if you let it get to you, it’s easy to be frustrated . Mostly though, it’s about letting go of plans, which is something I’m not usually good at, in order to enjoy all the wonderful spontaneity that is Ghana. One night, when our group was supposed to be planning our presentation for the next day, we got lured to a stranger’s funeral. Or, on our way to a bar, we made friends with some people from one of the slums in Accra and ended up hanging out there for the evening. I can feel my dependence on plans starting to melt away the longer I stay here. Let’s see how my professors like that.