Embracing Adversity Through Travel: How a trip to Ghana changed my outlook on life
Through all of my adventures over the years I've learned plenty of lessons. One that has stuck with me is just how much travel has changed the way I think and embrace challenges on a day-to-day basis. Here's a story about a trip to Ghana that tested my patience, but proved important to my growth.
Traveling isn’t always comfortable, in fact, it’s the moments in which I feel too comfortable that I begin to question what I’m doing.
Why is that? Why do I actively seek to put myself in those challenging situations?
For as much thought as I've put towards solving this internal conundrum, I still don't have an answer.
With that being said, one thing I have come to learn throughout all of my adventures is that when it feels as though the universe is relentlessly breaking me down, it may actually be working to build me up.
It’s certainly a not foolproof theory, but more times than not it seems to be the case.
As I reflect back on the countless times I’ve faced this lesson over the years, one particular experience comes to mind.
Here’s a short story about a trip to Ghana that was full of mishaps and close calls, but ultimately forced me to embrace the adversity and ultimately feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude. Enjoy!
Located just outside of the historical city of Cape Coast lies Kakum. A national park of Ghana that encompasses nearly 150 square miles of protected forest, the famed canopy walkway offers visitors the chance to meander through the treetops across a series of swinging bridges.
It was only natural that when two new volunteers, Heather and Courtney, came to Ghana to help with The Senase Project for the first time, a visit to Kakum National Park was at the top of our to-do list… but we almost didn’t make it.
The morning started off like any other: a casual breakfast of eggs and white bread accompanied by a warm cup of Milo, Yoo-hoo chocolate milk’s Ghanaian sibling, before packing up and heading out.
After a quick taxi ride through the bustling streets of Accra, the three of us were dropped off on the side of the highway at Kaneshie Station. This is where we’d find a tro-tro to take us to Cape Coast.
If you’re not familiar with the various modes of transportation in Ghana, tro-tros are essentially private vans that operate as shared taxis, traveling fixed routes between towns and all around the major cities.
Some are in good shape while others you can’t help but look at and question the number of remaining trips before the wheels inevitably fall off.
Once obtaining a ticket, it’s best to send up a quick prayer and hope for a window seat so the breeze can relieve the inevitable sauna-like environment that comes with passengers squeezing together, some sharing seats or commandeering laps.
It might sound miserable to those who haven’t experienced one, but it makes me smile just thinking about it.
Tro-tro packed to the brim in Accra, Ghana
The station itself was filled with a cacophony of sounds and a confusing aroma, somewhere along the spectrum of sewage and lukewarm seafood.
Hawkers worked the pathways, trying their best to sell dried fish and bofrot, Ghana’s version of a donut, while young teenagers shouted destinations from the open windows of the vans.
It seemed as though we might struggle to find our way amidst the madness, but luckily there’s an important caveat that accompanies this mode of travel: the drivers won’t depart until all of the seats are full.
So, when a group of wide-eyed and clueless foreigners roll up, someone will inevitably ask for a destination and provide a personal escort to their friend’s van.
After what felt like an hour of waiting around, the driver and his team had sold enough tickets. The three of us piled into the back seat, carefully ducking under the exposed metal of the ceiling as we shuffled over the bags of produce that filled the aisle.
Off we went.
Interested in learning about how I first caught the travel bug? Check out this post:
The drive between Accra and Cape Coast typically takes less than 3 hours and although we had lost some time waiting for the tro-tro to fill up with passengers, we were still optimistic for the day ahead. After all, we were cruising the open road and catching views of the Gulf of Guinea as we went… nothing could bring us down!
That is until we arrived at a police barricade.
These checkpoints are a routine part of life in Ghana; simply a way for the police to patrol traffic. The driver rolled down the window and sheepishly handed over the required documents.
The officers paused and looked at one another, took a second glance at the provided papers, and then began to speak.
It was clear that something was off.
Our once vivacious driver appeared to curl up like a puppy, tail between his legs and all. We continued to sit in silence until a fellow passenger turned around and informed us that the driver has been caught using a fraudulent license.
“Well, that’s a new one,” I thought to myself.
I was eager to see how this was going to play out. Would the driver be arrested? Would the vehicle be seized? Would all of us be left stranded on the side of the road? My imagination was running wild.
No, none of that happened. Simply a slap on the wrist, an order to obtain a legitimate license, and a modest bribe.
Back to the open road, we went, laughing it off as a story to tell our friends and unaware that it was just the beginning of what the day had in store.
All of a sudden we heard a massive “pop” immediately followed by the sound of metal dragging along the asphalt.
The three of us simultaneously lifted our feet out of sheer confusion and panic, unsure of if the floor was giving way. It wouldn’t have been the first time a tro-tro had bottomed out and been stripped to the bones.
Thankfully it wasn’t the floor, but the noise crescendoed to a point of no return and the driver was forced to gently guide the van to the side of the road, thankfully finding what appeared to be a makeshift garage along the way.
One by one we all exited, our fellow passengers seemingly annoyed but ultimately unsurprised by this turn of events.
The driver, with the help of his friends, rolled the van onto a set of cinder blocks and disappeared for a moment before resurfacing with a busted muffler. I’m no car expert by any means, but it surely seemed un-reparable.
I couldn’t believe our luck. It felt as though that was the end of the line for us, our day foiled by a piece of fraudulent paper and faulty van. As disappointing as that was to accept, we couldn’t help but chuckle.
There we stood, huddled together under a metal awning on the side of the road in Ghana, completely at the mercy of the universe.
Stranded in Ghana
Without missing a beat, the driver obtained a hammer, a blowtorch, and went to work.
The sound was deafening as he gave it his all, strategically heating the muffler and using the hammer to approximate the edges before welding it back together.
Over an hour later he was done, had re-attached it to the van, and was eagerly encouraging everyone to pile back in. We obliged, silently questioning the integrity of the muffler that had been given a new lease on life.
It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes of driving before we heard another “pop” and a sense of defeat quickly replaced the panic and confusion we had felt the first time.
The driver frantically pulled out his phone, sensing the looming mutiny from his customers if he attempted to fix the muffler again. “Ok, wait here. Another person will come to pick you up,” he said. Sure enough, a white van appeared.
After a brief deliberation as to whether or not we should call it quits and retreat back to Accra, we collectively decided to press on. What else could possibly happen?
Much to our relief, we finally reached Cape Coast and on top of that, we were all still in one piece!
The sense of accomplishment was quickly forgotten as we approached the taxi stand and asked for a ride to Kakum National Park.
“Are you sure? It’s nearly closing time,” a driver replied.
We glanced down at our watches and, to our disbelief, it was nearly 3:00 pm. With the park closing at 4:00 pm, it seemed as though all hope was lost.
Sensing our disappointment, the driver opened his door.
“Go ahead, get in. I will try my best” he exclaimed.
The road from Cape Coast to Kakum is technically paved, but I use that term loosely as the concentration of potholes is more than anywhere else I’ve been in the world. Hence our unofficial petition to name it Pothole Alley.
Up, down, left, right. The driver clearly had years of experience navigating this route as he seamlessly zig-zagged his way forward, shaving off minutes with each kilometer traveled. We tried to remain positive, but that’s always easier said than done.
Our hearts sank as we pulled into the entrance of the park. A truck full of guards was on its way out and that meant they had closed for the day. It seemed as though all the trouble we had endured was for nothing.
Without a second thought, our taxi driver rolled down his window and began pleading our case. We sat there silently crossing our fingers. A guard then hopped out of the bed of the truck and squeezed into the backseat with Heather and Courtney. He was willing to reopen the canopy walk for an extra fee and subsequently restored our faith by doing so!
The three of us silently hiked through the forest, eagerly listening to our guide identify various species of flowers and trees along the way. Once at the top, we carefully stepped out onto the first bridge, a single plank of wood suspended 30m above the ground.
Kakum National Park, Ghana
It was beautifully silent as we made our way across and I couldn’t help but feel grateful for the journey that had brought us there.
Despite the frustrations, if we hadn’t been shuttled to that specific tro-tro, with that particular driver, on that precise morning, we would not have been there in that moment, soaking up the serenity.
The sun began to set and it was time to go.
We made our way back down the trail, gleefully smiling in disbelief and appreciation as to how quickly our luck had turned around. Somehow we had secured a private hike through one of the most popular tourist spots in all of Ghana, a feat that I’m unlikely to ever experience again.
So, what’s the lesson here?
It’s not that we should avoid traveling via tro-tros at all costs, nor is it that we should roll over at the first sign of trouble. There’s something bigger at play here and when I find the words to express it, I’ll be sure to let you know.
In the meantime, I’ll leave you with this: Don’t shy away from the frustrations of traveling.
Instead, as hard as it may seem, challenge yourself to embrace them. After all, you never know what the universe has in store.
The beautiful feeling of complete fulfillment amidst intense exhaustion is the reason why I travel. It helps me grow, it stimulates learning, and it’s why I’ll always advocate for others to get out and experience the world as well.
Thanks for following along! Have any lessons you’ve learned abroad of your own ? Feel free to share in the comments below!
As always, stay safe & happy travels.
Enjoy what you read? Pin the post and share it with others!
Venezia Football Club: Venice's best kept secret
In a city that welcomes 30 million visitors each year, it seems unlikely that something has been left undiscovered, right? Think again. Venezia Football Club has remained raw, authentic, and full of passion despite the modern age of overtourism. Sport fanatic or not, it’s worth checking out. Here’s why…
Before reading: Venezia FC was promoted to Serie A in 2021 for the first time in 19 years but was forced to cope with relegation and is currently back competing in Serie B.
Travel writer Thomas Watkins once wrote, “There is no country so much frequented yet so little known by foreigners as Venice [Italy].” That was back in 1788, but hundreds of years later it’s still true.
The reality is that 30 million people tour the Venetian Lagoon each year, eager to capture the perfect selfie in St. Mark’s Square. They pay hundreds of dollars for gondola rides, put out for overpriced cocktails in the famed piazzas, and live their fantasy of calling this lustful place home, even if only for an afternoon.
St. Mark’s Square as seen from the San Giorgio Bell Tower
It’s not easy to look beyond the facades of the San Marco district and why would anyone need to? There is natural beauty and history at every turn. Despite this, I couldn’t help but feel there was more to Venice than meets the eye.
Cue the Venezia Football Club. A professional soccer team formed in 1907 that competes in Italy’s second division (Serie B) and, despite the high volume of foot traffic within the city’s limits, is still undoubtedly hidden within the easternmost confines of the city. It has a history. It has a culture. It has passion. Yet rarely do foreigners ever experience it.
The club plays its home matches at the Stadio Pierluigi Penzo, a cozy 11,150-seat stadium that’s tucked away deep within the Sant’Elena district. A quick search of the web will explain how it’s the second oldest continually used venue in all of Italy. That’s quite an impressive feat when you consider the deep history of Italian football but somehow remains largely invisible to a majority of the city’s visitors.
It’s certainly not the easiest place to find. There are no banners, no yellow signs indicating a point of interest like those seen plastered around the tourist trail, and no walking tour in sight. The stadium is simply there, hidden in plain sight for better or for worse and serving as a discrete monument of stability within a city that’s constantly changing.
Inside Stadio Pierluigi Penzo - Venice, Italy
During my first visit, I didn’t learn of the club’s existence until the day after they had played at home. I wasn’t about to make that same mistake the next time I found myself aimlessly wandering the canals of Venice and sure enough, the stars aligned a year later.
On the day of the match, indescribable energy filled the air. Fans from Mestre, Venice’s mainland neighbor, packed the water taxi like a can of sardines, disembarking at the Sant’Elena pier before making their way to the stadium. It wasn’t a long walk from the docks by any means, but I’ll always remember the roar of the crowd directing the newcomers, guiding us through the streets, and growing louder with each step.
Once inside, I couldn’t help but feel as though I was witnessing a religious experience of sorts. Sure, Venice is full of cathedrals, but the Stadio Pierluigi Penzo is one that never receives attention. It’s a different kind of church, of course. A holy place where Venetians gather, rain or shine, to pay tribute to what many refer to as the most beautiful game in the world.
I took my seat in the Curva Sud section, home to the club’s diehard supporters. Organized chaos is the only way to describe it as a couple of delirious individuals led continuous chants throughout the entire 90 minutes, never once taking their eyes off the crowd. This was the heartbeat of everything, setting the tone for fans and players alike.
On the northern end of the stadium stood the away supporters, valiantly trying to make their presence felt with flags and cheers of their own, all the while seemingly un-phased by the uphill battle they faced. It was to no avail on this particular afternoon.
The atmosphere was a far cry from the luxury and sophistication that exude the shops along the Grand Canal. There was nothing “high end” about it, nor should there have been. Instead, the beauty of this moment came from within the people, their raw emotion filling the stadium like a pressure cooker that could only be released when the ball struck the back of the net in favor of the home side.
Anyone who knows me is well aware that I consider myself to be completely infatuated with the sport of soccer.
It’s only natural that I would come away loving the experience, but trust me when I say that this was different. On a gray, dreary, and otherwise lifeless February afternoon, the Sant’Elena district was alive and well thanks to an overlooked staple of Venetian life: The Venezia Football Club.
Wander amongst the canals of Venice and it’s easy to feel the rich history oozing from the walls of the city but step inside the Stadio Pierluigi Penzo on match day and you suddenly become part of it, living amongst the pages as they’re written.
This was the first time that I felt as though I had been gifted a small glimpse into the real life of Venice and for that, I will forever be a fan of Venezia F.C. Grazie, thank you, Winged Lions!
Thanks for reading and as always, stay safe & happy travels!
Enjoy this post? Make sure to pin it for later!
