Car Shopping - As far as I can tell, there is nothing you can't buy from the 'comfort' of your taxi window in Accra. Let me set the scene - it's 100 degrees and I climb into a white and orange taxi (one of many that has been vying for my business, honking and waving) but only after bartering with the driver over the cost of the journey - a very important step to take and a mistake you need to make only once. We pull off and I roll down the windows hoping for a breeze, I don't worry about reaching for the seat belt; there isn't one. The initial panic I felt about this gave way as I realized the speed would never exceed 10mph due to both the amount of traffic and the state of the roads. As we navigate the pothole filled dirt roads it seems that there are no rules on which side of the street to drive - it seems more governed by which part of the road is navigable with drivers weaving in and out of one another, left to right and right to left, almost like some kind of traffic conga line. Each time we come to a stop throngs of people rush out into the road all vying for attention and business, some of the things for sale: toilet roll, gum, Cd's, plantain chips, a large clock(!), flags, t-shirts, water, juice, carvings, cloth. The list goes on. As the traffic pulls away again they jump back to safety at the side of the road, waiting for the next opportunity to make a sale. This was possibly my favorite thing about Ghana, being right in the hustle and bustle of a busy city. Tourist shopping - I found that you can't go to Ghana without buying some type of carving, the talent is just amazing and by the end of the week I was beginning to worry about how I would get everything I had purchased back home. My first encounter with the local craft work was just past Independence Square along the beach - we stumbled upon a row of shops (or wooden shacks) each full of beautiful handicrafts. Masks, in all shapes and sizes - some covered in beads, others in hammered metal, drums, walking staffs, spears, wall hangings, small statues; The 
Thinking Man, Mama Africa, elephants, giraffs. Some large statues were stand out in front of the shacks - 6 feet or taller, calved from a single tree trunk. The artists were sat under a line of trees that ran infront of the shacks, carving new pieces. At the end of the row was the National Cultural Center, a large open building full of stalls, here you could buy clothing, paintings, jewellery, hand woven Kente cloth, more wooden carvings, anything really. This was definately more of a tourist trap and competition runs high with people pulling you this way and that to come and look at their stall. On the beach there was a nice breeze but here among the indoor stalls the heat is stiffling and the atmosphere a little overwhelming; I barter over a couple of beautiful paintings and two stalls selling traditional Ghanaian clothing compete for my Kenyan friends attention - this all culminates in several other stall owners gathering round and joining in the conversation. Someone begins to fan the air as we surely look close to fainting, we make our purchases and stumble back out to the breezy sand.
Thinking Man, Mama Africa, elephants, giraffs. Some large statues were stand out in front of the shacks - 6 feet or taller, calved from a single tree trunk. The artists were sat under a line of trees that ran infront of the shacks, carving new pieces. At the end of the row was the National Cultural Center, a large open building full of stalls, here you could buy clothing, paintings, jewellery, hand woven Kente cloth, more wooden carvings, anything really. This was definately more of a tourist trap and competition runs high with people pulling you this way and that to come and look at their stall. On the beach there was a nice breeze but here among the indoor stalls the heat is stiffling and the atmosphere a little overwhelming; I barter over a couple of beautiful paintings and two stalls selling traditional Ghanaian clothing compete for my Kenyan friends attention - this all culminates in several other stall owners gathering round and joining in the conversation. Someone begins to fan the air as we surely look close to fainting, we make our purchases and stumble back out to the breezy sand.
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