Did He Really Just Say That???

This past week has been full of … “really, he said that?” situations.  For example, last Wednesday was a Liberian National Holiday for Decoration Day.  (Decoration day as far as I can tell is the equivalent of our Memorial Day).  Anyway, at 9am I arrived at the gym, very proud of myself that, on a holiday, I was going.  Not only that, BUT, I was there when they opened.  After finishing my 30 minutes on the elliptical trainer and before starting my next exercise, I was called over by a trainer.  Let me insert here that the trainers are paid by the gym.  Everyone is entitled to a trainer at no cost.  So, I go over to him to see what’s up.  He says to me while pointing at my sides, “That’s tummy, you should work on that.”  My response, “I’m sorry, pardon?”  Thinking that maybe I misunderstood.  Nope.  Again pointing to my sides he says, “right there, tummy, you should work on it.”  Okay, thanks…. In my head I’m still of the opinion that he’s joking.  <sigh>  a girl’s ego is an amazing thing.  I go row for about 15 minutes before starting my ab routine.  As I walk by him again, he looks at me again and says, “no, really, you should work on that…”  Okay <I break down> what do I need to do?  He showed me three different exercises which I have since worked into my routine.  I think it wouldn’t have been quite so bad if I wasn’t going to be wearing a swim suit later that day…

Then there was Ghana… I spent last Thurs – Sun in a wonderful resort in Accra.  Upon arrival, Dave, Adams and I headed out into town to see what there was to see and buy.  At one of the stands Dave and Adams were having conversations with the vendors so I took the opportunity to look at one guy’s artwork.  After looking I decided I wasn’t interested in what he had and started to walk away.  The friend of the artist proceeded to ask me why I wasn’t buying something.  “I’m not interested” I responded.  “Then why were you looking?”  Um… “Because I’m waiting for friends.”  “Well, he thinks he had a sale and now you’re not buying.”  “Sorry… I’ll wait somewhere else next time…”  As I turned my back the guy called me a “white chicken.”  I don’t exactly know what a “white chicken” is … maybe like a yellow chicken but white?  Are there varying degrees of colored chickens?  Is it worse to be called a white chicken vice a blue chicken?  Or a red one vice an orange?  I guess I’ll never know… But really, I think I’ve been called worse.  Adams heard as we were leaving, “slave master.”  I won’t go into where slavery started, because, I get the idea.  But, really… he said that? Ah, who said customer service is dead?

As for Accra itself, it was nice as compared to Monrovia.  Not being war ravaged and all it actually had nice buildings, good cars (except for the taxi Adams and I took which broke down) and cranes!  Now, if you haven’t seen a crane in a while you forget that that is the normal way to build buildings.  Here, there are no cranes.  There is scaffolding.  Lots and lots of scaffolding… Anyway, I don’t think I would go back to Accra except to fly through the airport.  It was a great weekend escape however, “white chicken” comments notwithstanding…