Finger licking good junk food!

Dear Diary, #Cravings! All I’ve thought about this week is food. Not just food, but some serious junk American unhealthy I can hear my arteries blocking kind of good food. I am craving junk food soooo much, it is indescribable. It started with someone bringing a burger into the conference room at the start of the week, and that was all it took. OMG! The smell of a quarter pounder with extra cheese, melted and oozing out the sides of the burns and bacon, lord have mercy! Everything tastes good with bacon. There is nothing like going to Burger King for a burger, and crossing over to McDonalds for French fries, taking the time to sit, eat and pushing it all that down with a large coke. Lol! Boy, am missing junk food!

There are some places here that have burgers, pizzas, ribs, mac and cheese etc, but nothing beats the ones made in the U.S of A. Heck, let’s give credit to whom credit is due. Americans, in my opinion have mastered the art of making junk food.

Get me a toasted cinnamon bagel smothered with cream cheese, and a cup of coffee to slowly send that baby down through the pipes and down where it belongs. The sweet aroma will wake your senses up. Talk about boasting productivity. I’ve found a bagel place close by, that serves bagels close enough but it is not exactly there yet. I still feel something is missing.

Dear Dairy, I am yet to find a good pizza. All they have is thin crust, and never enough cheese. What happened to having a nice well rounded edge, infused with cheese that I can still pull like a cheese string? All these thin crust thing makes me feel like am being forced to eat healthy. Not that eating healthy is bad, but why? I mean, if I choose to each unhealthy food, that should be my …. don’t you think? Making me eat thin crust for no reason! And, the large pizzas are not large! Those things are considered medium size, thank you very much.

Let’s talk about some ribs, covered in some good barbeque source, olala! Not the store bought kind, no, no, no, but the ones in the hood, where you have to drive about thirty to forty five minutes to go get in some shack of a restaurant, with hygienically questionable people. Where the lady at the counter looks like she needs serious shower, some serious dental work and an intervention from Clint and Stacy on what not to wear. Mmmhhhh, those are finger licking good. Put some mac and cheese on the side with emphasis on the cheese.

Yes, I know all these are not good for me, but heck why not? What is a girl to do when McDonalds has 20 pieces of chicken nuggets for $4.99 and a large coke for $1.00 really whose fault is it that? Now I get forced to eat things like Apem with palava source for lunch. Who on earth came up with the name “PALAVA” source? It’s good, don’t get me wrong, the food here is good and there are varieties to choose from, they are all finger licking good but in a healthy way.

But this week, all I want is food that will make my arteries scream, eyes popping as the food goes down my throat and ask what the ***** are you doing to us down here!

All I want is some really good junk food, is that too much to ask for? TIA!

ROOAAAARRRRR………………..

Dear Dairy, Listening to Katy Perry’s Roar made me realize something, I can somehow relate to the lyrics of the song. “I used to bite my tongue and hold my breath, scared to rock the boat and make a mess, so I agreed politely…” Life has tamed some of us, it’s not how we were created, and it’s not in our nature. Most of us African’s are lions & tigers caged because of one reason or another or tamed. I classify myself in the caged group. Tamed? No, Caged? Yes. Please note that the word caged is not being used in a derogatory manner.

Coming back home has somehow opened the doors of my cage, am I out? Not really, I poke my head out survey my surroundings and go back in. In the beginning I barely did that, now I do that a lot. Come out, look around and go back in the cage. Remember that this cage has no master, am free to do whatever I want, but when you have been caged so long in one way or another it’s difficult to just come out of the cage.

Out of either fear, the need to assimilate or fit in, we slowly caged ourselves into becoming certain people that we were not created to be. What cage? Let me give an example, a few days ago, I noticed a policy truck behind me on the highway, and automatically, I slowed down. I did not realized how slow I was going until the truck zoomed past me, and the cop looks at me as if to say DRIVE WOMAN!

We have new neighbors, and I have no clue who they are, as in name etc. I drive into my gate and drive out. I live in a culture where there is a need to know your neighbors, notice the word NEED, but here I am looking like I don’t care but I do, another characteristics I have developed from my other world.

Then there is the part of me that just shuts up. Lol, not because I wanted to but because life forces you in that direction and when you are not home, then you are not home. I remember some days in my western world life when I just wanted to ROAR, and speak my mind, but weighing that with the consequences I chose to shut up.

Lately, the tigress in me has been coming out and not just to poke around but to “dance through the fire, and hear me ROAR louder than a lion”. So, today as I listened to Katy Perry’s ROAR, it dawned on me that the best is yet to come and yes, I am going to ROAR because I have “earned the stripes and the right to”, so you Africa, are going to hear me ROOAAAARRRRR!  THIS IS AFRICA. # TIA.

Harmattan!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Dear Diary, today is one of those days that I am tempted to get on the next available plane and leave. Am having such a hard time today. Seven months later and I can’t believe am saying this. It’s like falling off the wagon. Why? Well nothing really. The harmattan is killing me. It’s cold-dry. I have a cough that never leaves and asthma that keep flaring up. The nights are cold, I don’t remember them being this cold.

The last few days I have had the windows open for cool air, heck no wonder am sick. What is wrong with me thinking am so Americanized that this cold air will not affect me. People ask, how did you live out there in the cold and not get sick. Well, it’s called central heating, my house was always warm if not hot, my car was the same, and office was same so there you go. The dust in the day time is not helping either, so I close the windows, and turn on the air condition, which in turn does not help my situation.

Then while dealing with that, I manage to get to work and on the way, I see a “boutique” those mom and pop little stores that sell bend downs, but call themselves boutiques, a mannequin with a dress that I have and paid good money for before returning. Like seriously! Someone is going to buy this dress at a lesser price than I did and here I was thinking I brought mine from abrokyere (overseas).

A word of advice to my fellow returnees, do not swipe your high interest credit cards to shop for cloths when coming home, because there is a huge mall in Accra called Kantamantu and I can guarantee that you will find the dress you are looking for there. They cater for your designer bags and purses. A Michael Kors might have the K slanted and looking like it’s hiding, but you will find it. Lol! You will be shocked at what the girls are wearing. There are ladies that get to the Kantamantu mall at dawn, to make selections. Eii, you make the dollar but will not be able to keep up ooo! They have moved from Brazilian hair to Peruvian hair and God knows what else. Mani-Pedi’s are done by the side of the road in Makola market. Heck, you can have an eye lash extension done in makola. Lol, and here we are coming home for vacation, shopping so much on credit just to go back to the states a few weeks later to work overtime to pay. There is nothing more painful than to see a koko and nkati seller, dressed exactly like you, when you know you paid an arm and a leg for yours. Lol.

Then I get to work, all drugged up and in a crappy mood, I figured a Coca-Cola will do the trick, ask the security guard to go get me a bottle from across the street, and he brings the coke, but no change. A few minutes later, it hits me, where is my change. I call him and ask, how much was the coke 3.50ghc he responds, so where is my change and he digs in his pocket for it. Dude was keeping my change just because am the boss and I have money so…   Granted I buy him coke and food often but does that give him the liberty to start keeping my change? This place and I have a love hate relationship and today, it’s more hate than love. The sun will come up tomorrow, I will feel better and I will love this place again. TIA!