Two Worlds, One Trip: West Africa to the Atlantic Islands
I don’t think I understood this trip until it was almost over. On paper, it was one itinerary: Benin, Togo, Ghana, Senegal, then north to the Canary Islands and Madeira — by way of a small ship and a plan the weather would later revise.
In reality, it was two trips.
The first was hot and loud and alive in a way that made me feel constantly aware of myself. West Africa did that, Benin more than anywhere. Motorbikes everywhere. Women walking along the road with impossible loads balanced on their heads. Bottles of fuel lined up on roadside tables. Languages I couldn’t speak. Heat that made a one-mile walk feel like more of an athletic event than it should have.
We stood in places where Voudon wasn’t something explained on a sign. It was happening around us. Drums. Dancing. People dressed in white. A woman falling into what our guide described as a trance. A man dancing with a dead goat in his mouth.
I still wasn’t ready for it.
There were moments that were beautiful. There were moments that were uncomfortable. There were moments where I was very aware that I was a visitor moving through something that wasn’t built for me.
And then, almost abruptly, we were in the Canary Islands. Same ocean. Different world.
Sidewalks. Cafés. Wine. Spring weather in January. Spanish and Portuguese islands that are geographically closer to Africa than Europe, but feel unmistakably European once you’re there.
And if I’m being honest, after a few days… it felt a little boring. Not because it wasn’t beautiful. It was. But it was familiar in a way that didn’t ask much of me. I didn’t have to figure anything out. I didn’t feel out of place. I didn’t have to pay attention in the same way.
I could just exist there. One part of the trip demanded something from me. The other let me drift.
I remember heat. Drums. Dust. Plantains. The smell of fuel and smoke. The rhythm of things I didn’t fully understand. And then I remember the ease of a glass of wine on a quiet street, and how quickly that started to feel normal again.
I’ll start with West Africa.
