Worn out from a night not sleeping on an airplane, I checked into a guesthouse in order to not sleep on a proper mattress.  I spent my first hour settled into Ghana trying to repack my two backpacks so everything could fit into one bag.  This was successful, until I realized I needed to get something that was all the way in the back of the backpack.  So I emptied the bag and started over.  This whole process made me sleepy, which is good.  I needed sleep.

I hadn't really thought about A/C.  But now I realized that when people said Ghana was very hot, they were not joking.  So I soaked my sheet in cold water, wrapped it around myself, and passed out.   Two hours later, I heard a thump somewhere downstairs.  3:30 AM a rooster kicks in, like a snooze alarm that goes off every thirty seconds.  This keeps me up until 5 AM, at which point I get to enjoy a man yelling outside my door.  Presumably he's yelling into a cell phone, but in retrospect that's just one possibility.  Maybe he's yelling to himself, maybe he's yelling at someone who is too soft-spoken to be heard.

5:30 AM, and all is quiet.  But by then it is far too hot to have any hope of sleeping.

Sunday morning, my initial plans centered around trying to find a new place to stay, somewhere that has A/C.  But as daybreak cast this strange new world into light, I didn't care about sleep anymore.  I'm on vacation, and I can chalk this up to an experiment in downward mobility!  And there are people here that carry items on their heads, and people who give me puzzled looks when I try to say "wo ho to sen?" (how are you), correct my pronunciation, then teach me some new words that I can mispronounce.  Mehuye (I'm fine) Bibia a ako (everything is okay).  So I better have a great trip and be okay ALL the time, because I don't know how to say "i'm not okay" in the Ghanaian language, Twi.