Confessions of a Sex Tourist--Motorcycling in Ghana, Africa--Part 1 by Lawrence Scott

Author:Lawrence Scott [Scott, Lawrence]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Lawrence Scott
Published: 2013-05-31T04:00:00+00:00

I awoke from my nap with a start. Another nightmare I guess. With the number of nightmares I awoke from you would think I was a Vietnam combat vet rather than a mellow, old, sex tourist. I had been in a pretty deep sleep so once again I was lost. I looked around the room which was well lit with sun streaming in the window. Took note of the fan turning above the bed. I had awoken in this same room a time or two so I put it all together pretty fast. I opened the door and stood on the deck in my boxers. The street in front of the hotel was jammed with hand carts, entrepreneurs selling everything imaginable.

It was almost all women that carried things on their heads. Men never did that nor much commerce at all that I noticed. Men drove the taxis, pushed the carts full of cargo, and did all the manual labor. There was very little gender blurring of vocations, everyone seem to know their place and keep it. I returned to the room and shook a smoke out of my pack. I went back outside to draw the smoke deep in my lungs. I loved smoking. I had started only a few weeks ago. I knew I was going to have to quit again soon, it shot my blood pressure up like crazy. Once I had determined that everyone was after me, I had reacquired the nasty habit. Now that I had it, I liked it. Everyone? Well whenever I went to an ATM to get some cash, so many on the streets turned to watch. I was pulling out the equivalent of a local person’s life’s savings, about 2 or 3 hundred dollars. No wonder everyone stared and wished there was an easy way to get that huge amount of money from me. Turned out there were lots of ways, not all ones that I liked. Seems to me something is on for this evening, what is it? I went back in and grabbed my camera from the end table. I turned it on and went back through photos of the morning. The Castle. The tour. I remember I had been so sad hearing the horrible life of slaves and my ancient connection to that trade in humans. There was a picture I took of our tour guide. Oh baby, she is pretty. Her name popped into my head “Stephanie”. Huh? I must have spoken to her. Yes, yes I did speak to her, we have a date! I got it. I was due to meet Stephanie at the Oasis at 6. Thank goodness I remembered. I would never forgive myself for missing out on dinner with her. I looked at my watch and saw it was 4pm, plenty of time to get it together.

I showered and dressed in my Dockers with my Hawaiian shirt. I wore a chain with some big animal tooth on it that I had bought earlier in my trip.

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