You're a champ, Champs

We've been in town since mid-afternoon, Joseph, Catherine, and I. J & C are trying to change some details about there flights out of Accra. Not much was achieved. Exhausted from bureaucracy, we leave the airline offices behind. Our new mission: a cool place to watch the Milan-Liverpool game. Luckily, I've brought along my Lonely Planet guidebook and we decide on Champs Sports Bar. Champs claim to fame? It serves the only Mexican food in Accra (and perhaps all of Ghana). We jump in a taxi. The driver suggests a local bar in Nima, we accept. When we get to Nima, it becomes obvious that there is no electricity in this part of town tonight. It simply will not do, so we head off to our original destination. We wander about for a bit, stop in at a posh hotel to ask for directions, and are personally led to Champs. 60,000 cedis (~$6) and a 5-minute wait later, we've pushed our way into an upscale ex-pat sports bar with standing room only (and barely). Joseph pushes his way to the bar and orders a round of Carlsbad-I mean burg, Carlsburg... slip of the tongue... We settle in to watch the game. I don't even know which team is which, but I don't care: the place is crazy busy and there's A/C, so what the fuck do I care?

The beer doesn't taste so bad halfway through the second pint, by the third, it's good. So here we are, the three of us drunk as skunks, in the room of a thousand languages. Within 30 minutes, I've heard English, Twi, Ewe, Ga, Wolof, Swahili, Italian, Spanish, Russian or something close to it, German, Dutch, French, and who knows how many others are there. It gives the place a very cool atmosphere.

Before we know it, the game's over, we pee (taking time to enjoy the running water and flush toilets), walk out front, and hop into the first taxi car we see.

"Teshie Camp 2 - you know it? How much? 60,000? Great." We pile in. The wind rushing feels amazing as we whiz by bright city lights and honking car horns. They drive fast and crazy here. Seatbelts are rare. Catherine and I whip out our cameras and take photos of things we won't recognize the next morning. We get into Teshie - we're getting very close to home now. It becomes obvious that our taxi driver does not know the way to Teshie Camp 2. Unfortunatly, neither do we, even when it's light out and we're sober. We stop and ask about a half dozen people for directions as we wind around Teshie suburbs. Eventually, we get going in the right direction. Catherine spots Happy Your Self, a familiar watering hole that we've frequented several times now and we ask the driver to stop here. We get out, pay the driver (he seems happy to see us go), and stumble back to Big Mamah's, our host house. We're late - it's 9:50, our curfew is 9:00, but no one cares. I have established myself as "The Good One" to our handlers: all who pass with me are safe! We head straight to bed, the room still spinning, and sleep fitfully.