These were the words welcoming me to Amsterdam, plastered on the side of the airport tunnel in a bold, vibrant red: “Unknown, here I come.” Which I felt were quite fitting for my situation and expressive of my sentiments as I headed off to live on the other side of the world for almost three months. As friends would ask me how I was feeling about my trip, I would answer that yes, I was excited, and yes, I was a bit nervous, but mostly I just didn’t know what to expect. I was unsure of how to prepare myself for a place that is entirely different than the one I was raised in. But I think that is part of the journey; I don’t think you can completely prepare for such a transition, and even if you could, you’d be losing a valuable part of the whole experience. In order to embrace a new adventure, you must, as the wise words of the ING Bank advertisement imply, decisively jump into the temporary world of the unknown. And so this is what I’m trying to do.

The traveling in itself was an eye-opening experience for me; this was my first time leaving North America and definitely my first time on a plane that size. Endless movies were at my disposal on my seat-back TV via a remote control that popped out of the armrest, and the nine-hour stretch was frequently interrupted by flight attendants bringing moist towelettes or hot–and surprisingly good–free meals. Bassinets with sleeping babies were pushed up against the available bulkheads, and I was surrounded by hushed conversations in so many languages it was hard to count. At the beginning of the flight, a short woman continuously ignored the help of several other passengers and mounted the armrest to stow her bag in the overhead, perhaps part of the reason why the poor man beneath her was violently trembling. We shared our amusement at this spectacle, however, no words were spoken between me and the older man to my right until a flight attendant splashed orange juice across our laps and he exclaimed in French. While I just realized we never exchanged names, he was originally from France and spoke no English, thus eager to converse after I replied to his outburst. His hesitation instantly melted, and the next hour was spent with him relating his adventures of skydiving (he was just 17), encouraging me to pursue my interest in photography (he had gone into banking and has long regretted not continuing his similar passion), and urging me to be careful on my travels (coming from a grandfather, he said). His merriment was clear, often nudging me with a freckled hand and laughing as though he was a child sharing a secret. My usual nervousness to speak French was dissolved by his gregarious nature, and if I didn’t quite grasp what he was saying, he took my smile and nod as motivation enough to continue. As we touched down, he left me with a French magazine to practice with and a friendly “bienvenue en Europe”.

I spent my four hour layover in Amsterdam wandering around the huge airport, amused by it’s mall-like appearance with high-end fashion stores neighboring tulip or cheese shops, and jumping out of the way of delivery boys on scooters bringing food to customers at various gates. My second and final flight to the Ghanaian capital city of Accra presented me with my first African sunset and introduced me to my new home of Ghana with a beautiful full moon. I walked off the plane sandwiched between two Alabama nursing students and a local musician with a cello on his back, and followed the crowd to the packed bus delivering us to the terminal. The monotony of the immigration line was broken by a lively man at a keyboard and microphone welcoming his people home; this energy was replicated outside the airport doors as taxi drivers swarmed the crowd welcoming family and friends.

The air-conditioned car was a refreshing ride through the darkened city of Accra to the home of Nancy and Siapha, and after 30 hours of traveling (not including a nine hour time change), I easily crashed for 15 hours straight. I feel quite lucky for the warm and understanding reception from my hosts and a very safe place to stay, and honestly a bit spoiled with the comfort and privacy of my accommodations. I am settled in Nancy and Siapha’s guest house, and with no other intern working at the moment, I have the quiet rooms to myself; I am thankful for the seclusion–if needed–as I am adjusting to an unfamiliar environment. Sleeping under a mosquito net behind a locked door, inside a locked gate, within a locked compound I am not completely immersed in average Accra life, yet immediately out of my door I am saturated with the vivid animation of the city around me. The personality of this land is one I am not used to, but hope to get to know through my daily walks to the office and explorations as well as my future trips to more rural districts of Ghana. 

As I am writing this, I am comforted by the task and the structure it gives my day, because despite my gratitude and excitement to be here, the transition can be overwhelming. My separation from family and friends is painstakingly obvious now, due to both limited communication and hours and hours of time difference. I am glad to be mostly recovered (I hope??) from jet lag, and look forward to the day when the heat becomes a bit less of a shock. I currently sleep like a starfish under my fan to keep as cool as possible, and my rings are suddenly tighter and my toothbrush much more flexible than back in rainy Vancouver. This is all a part of the first little bit of my 2 1/2 month stay in Ghana, which while it sounds long to type now, I am confident that this time will be over before I realize it. And like I said, this initial stress is a piece of the journey, one that I think I will learn from and value later on. So I’m taking it day by day, getting the most out of every interaction and opportunity I have and leaping forward into the rapidly disappearing unknown.