from the "conjunction junction" dept.

I've been back in Canada for more than a month now and it still surprises me how the 11 months I just spent in Ghana seems like a dream.

Life has become so normal -- just like it was before I went to Ghana -- that I sometimes wonder if I ever actually left. Pinch.

One of the things that helps to remind me of the not-at-all distant past are words of the current (and final) crop of JHR folks in Ghana. I read their blogs daily, hoping for new tidbits, new pictures, new stories to refresh my memory of what a crazy experience Ghana was. I now live vicariously through them. Our roles have flipped.

One thing that I find amazing is the differences in storytelling.

Some of the blogs paint the picture as it really is: Gritty. Depressing. Hard. Rewarding. Eye-opening. A sometimes difficult challenge peppered with amazing moments. In other words: Real life.

Others skip over the bad and portray a land of lollipops and daffodils (or, more accurately, a land of banku and vanilla orchids). Perhaps this view comes from our ingrained fear of offending someone? The dreaded beast of political correctness rearing it's head even in personal writings?

But, I suppose it's similar to Western media, in that you need to hear a variety of voices to get the full story.

It is now though their words that I remember (and miss) the experiences I had. It scares me to think that I am on the cusp of full-time work back in a newsroom. Am I giving up my freedom? Am I selling out?

No, I tell myself, I'm heading back to the grind in order to pay for the next big adventure. After all, travelling isn't free.

Part of me wishes I was back in Takoradi, standing in the blistering noon-day sun, arguing the proper fare to town with a belligerent taxi driver. Yes, it was a pain in the ass. But it sure was different.

And the end of a sweaty day, I would sit on my roof, beer in hand, looking out over my adopted home -- feeling so lucky to be in the midst of such a life changing experience. I miss that.

Cheers!