One of the places on the Ghana Coast which is famed for its stunning palm fringed beach is the small town of Busua. We headed here to chill out and hopefully get some surf, although everyone so far has told us that it is the wrong time of the year!
We arrived at the oddly named ‘Alaska Guesthouse’, odd as kind of makes you think it should be cold! A really pleasant place with a nice lawn which we could setup camp on overlooking the beach. It was however one of those places which is absolutely crawling with ‘hangers-on’, people who don’t actually work (there), but who have some sort of service to provide. It could be that they make the best fruit juice in Ghana, or will get that stubborn stain out of that t-shirt, or will walk ten metres out of the gate buy a pineapple, double the price and sell it to you saving your weary legs. All these things are fine if you are only asked once a day at the most but a constant unrelenting barrage of wallet weight relief ideas starts to make the paradise fade.
The water was great though and some fun was had body-surfing on the waves and generally mucking about.
The town seemed to have one main fast-food, fried rice and chicken stand, run by a local Del Boy who doubled as a source of tourist information. I can’t remember the name of it and don’t want to advertise for him anyway as prices twice what are everywhere else. Basically don’t go there! The beach was also full of Rasta’s - the real ones, not fake ones as we were constantly reassured. Not sure I have met a real one and if I have they are all possibly as annoying as each other. They speak in a strange Rasta Tongue which makes it very difficult to understand them but things like ‘Alreee’ and ‘Wassupp’ come through. I apologise if there are any real ones reading this but if you are then get back out to the beach and start selling those, Christmas Cards, necklaces, bracelets, wood carvings, pipe tobacco! (or whatever it was in those bags?)
We decided that one night was enough in Busua and so decided to head further down the coast. Beforehand we had a quick stroll over a small headland to the neighbouring town of Dixcove. This was a fairly busy and bustling fishing town with an old British Fort, Fort Metal Cross, named after the branded cross the slaves were given on the palm of the hand for identification. (Straight from the lonely planet guide.)
