Lome, Togo

Our apartment is a 10 minute walk from the beach (not that we ever go to the beach anyway, but it's nice to think about) and just two blocks off Blvd. de 13 Janvier in the neighborhood called KPEHENOU (pronounced 'bey hey noo', go figure). It's on an unpaved street of dirt and sand, dotted with potholes, rocks and the occasional shell. There is a papaya tree in front, and out back I can look down into the neighbor's courtyard and see the women cooking over charcoal fires. The windows are left wide open all day to catch the delicious breeze that blows in from the sea.

13 Janvier is the semi-circular road that begins and ends at the beach and unofficially delineates the downtown of Lomé. It's the hip, happening street packed with bars, restaurants and cafés. During the day, the street is jammed with traffic and commerce, in the evening, the sidewalks are crammed with people - walking, sitting at outdoor bars and restaurants or out selling things. The sellers walk along the street, large platters or bowls perched on their heads. They sell everything from cigarettes to sandals, fake Gucci watches to cold bottles of soda pop. There are also sellers set up along the sidewalk hawking BBQd meat kebabs, pineapple slices, bags of water (water comes in .5 liter, sealed bags. You bite off the corner of the bag and suck/squeeze out the water)...and just about everything else - toilet paper, tomato paste, imitation, brand-name bottles of alcohol (made in China).

Even though 13 Janvier is jumping until the early hours of the morning, our street is relatively quiet - with one exception - we just happen to sit directly under the flight path of the airport. Luckily for us, Lomé International is not the transportation hub that its designers intended it to be, so the handful of flights that go in and out each day aren't too terribly distracting...except for the really heavy, 4-propeller cargo planes that need miles and miles in order to gain altitude. Those scare the bejesus out of us at least once a day. They are loud and, from the sound, you could swear that they are heading straight for the apartment. "This one is surely too low," you think. "This one isn't going to make it..."

Goats and chickens roam our neighborhood like packs of timid school children. I have no idea who the goats and chickens belong to but I've discovered that they like to eat our vegetable trimmings and the leftovers that have gone bad. This cuts down greatly on the amount of garbage that goes in the trash can and makes me feel very eco-friendly and closer to nature as I pretend to be "Farmer Jane" and feed leftovers to wild, potentially rabid goats and chickens in the center of the capital city of Togo.

Electricity is a precious commodity and, almost everyday, gets cut for a number of hours. This is great for the goats because it insures a constant supply of leftovers-gone-bad. The water is often cut off as well, but usually for only for a few hours. We keep a large quantity of water on hand as reserve, but as yet, we haven't really had to use it much.

Why I never go to the beach: The beach is only good at 6am and since I'm very rarely up and out the door by 6am, I don't go often. 6am is the only time of day that it's daylight, but not too hot to go walking around for fun. After 8 or 9am, if you have somewhere to go, you want to get there fast - before you run out of energy, before you have to stop somewhere for a cold drink, before you lose your motivation to go at all. Besides, the beach is kind of dirty and the rip currents make it far too dangerous to swim.