While we have indeed started off on the wrong foot, I have decided to come to terms and be thankful nothing more was lost as losing my Canon would have been devastating. Perhaps dinner out will start things anew, that is after touring some beautiful museums of African scripture and art (sadly, no photos allowed). But before we eventually sit down to a down to a delicious meal, let us begin with discussing your differences from my other lover; dear Ghana.
The obvious one at this moment is your AZERTY keyboards are difficult to use for those QUERTY users. Your Hotel de Galion is one of the best thus far with rooms for about 15 bucks and a first floor restaurant reminiscent of the outdoor/indoor cafes of your former colonial overlord (France). Your toasted sandwich on French bread with ham and melted cheese melted my tongue as my Ghanaian lover has no clue as to a sandwich (being a former English colony). Your omelettes are succulent and fulfilling. Wine is an of course instead of a rare treat. Beer options appear to be more broad than Ghana’s big five. Despite the inherent dangers of being helmet-less, your motorcycle taxis should make themselves available in Accra as their speed and fun factor would be most welcome there. You even have imported a precious few rickshaws from the subcontinent! My dear, you actually care about the condition of your beaches as seashells far outnumber the rare pieces of trash. I love well kept women. Due in part to your lack of tro-tros, lack of too many taxis and economic development, traffic remains a characteristic of only my Ghana lover. Your small size and lack of that urban renewal attitude of dear Ghana, you have kept your capital quaint, quiet and very pretty.
Despite those clear advantages, we have a number of differences of opinion. Let us not forgot you robbed me. Then, your taste in women and their obvious pairing with your advanced age; balding head, eyepatch, and other characteristics of a poorly aging Frenchmen, right in the broad daylight of the breakfast table is most disgusting. Could you not confine your ladies of the night to well, the night?
Your occasional rejection of pants is another turn off. I suppose I should not be surprised given your colonial heritage imparting the time honoured phrase that “they don’t wear pants on the other side of France” which you seem to have misinterpreted. Its roots lie in the fact that during the era of the Three Estates, one Estate wore pants so expensive and of such high quality that the term pants was woefully inadequate. Dear Togo, you do not seem to understand that they still wore something. While I am used to seeing young black males and some white ones wearing pants well south of their buttocks, that usually reveals a dilapidated pair of boxer briefs instead of bare buttocks. You even did away with the concept altogether at one point. Surely Togo you can afford to buy a pair of pants with my stolen funds?
While your food was great, your top restaurant experienced a change of ownership and name change, both of which for the worse. Two and a half hours, and then lost entrees beguiled us. Your seefa or CFA needs to loose some wait and could certainly drop at least two zeros. Your blunders thus far I think have impede what could have been a wonderful relationship.
Despite all oft those incidents, I am alive and even able to overcome the evil AZERTY keyboard (French of course) in order to pound out two blog posts. I have my health, a full stomach of delicious food, a nice hotel room, and a nice day planned. I even have a wonderful relationship with the real woman of my dreams to boot!!! (Sorry dear Ghana and Togo, you have no hope on this front).
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