us vs. the hotel staff

** Sorry that I haven’t written in a while. I wrote I think three posts in a row and then got tired for a month. Story of my life. If you love me, you love every part of me.**

** I’ve discovered that I’m not really as interested in development and helping as Rivky is, apparently. Really, I just like to explore the world for my own amusement. I like to go to a culture that doesn’t make any sense to me, immerse myself in it for a while, wait until the things that seemed backwards now make sense, and then abruptly leave. I like to live on a cultural norms rollercoaster. (Does that sentence make any sense even after I’ve explained it?) Unlike Rivky, I am not going to discuss theories that I have for improving Ghana. I’m just gonna tell funny stories.**

**I’m not sure if I’m able to see the humor all of the sudden because I just got back from Israel (with all its glorious running water) or because this past weekend was just particularly bizarre.**

CIEE (the exchange program we’re on) took us on a group trip to the Volta Region last weekend. When CIEE takes us on weekend trips that start on Saturday, they have been sending Rivky, Yamit, and me a day early with one of the Ghanaian UPals. This particular trip, they sent Gabriel with us. He was not particularly friendly, and eventually when we got to the hotel, he just dropped us off and left. No goodbye, no waiting to make sure we got inside, no nothing. It was the three of us alone (literally not a single other guest) in this random hotel in the Volta Region. This is the story of the hotel.

When CIEE takes a day early, they pay for the transportation and send us with a UPal, but we have to pay for food and the cost of the extra night in the hotel. Fair. When we first got there, we asked the receptionist if we could stay three in a room to save money. She said no. We asked why. She said it was the policy. Fine. Whatever. Thus starts the battle of us versus the Volta Region hotel receptionist.

We checked in around 4pm, and shabbos was around 5:45pm. We got two rooms. Yamit and I were going to stay in the big room and Rivky in the small room. The first thing we notice is that the light in Rivky’s room is out. She tells the receptionist right away. The receptionist says she’ll fix it soon. The next thing we notice is that there is only one towel in each room. We asked for another towel, considering that we’re two in a room, as per their policy. They said no. We asked why. They said one towel per room; it’s the policy. Keep in mind this wasn’t a normal size shower or beach towel. It was about half that size, not enough to cover your thighs if wrapped around your body. No worries. We had a plan. Yamit would take a shower and limitedly use the towel to dry herself off. Then, I would take a shower and use the same towel. Brilliant. The truth is we’re never clean in Ghana anyway. The second you get out of the shower, you’re already sweaty from the heat and humidity. So the plan was set in motion; Yamit was on her way to the shower. A minute later, I heard, “Zahava. I need help!” I went into the bathroom to notice that the water is no more than dripping out of the faucet. Of course. Why would there be water? Where do we think we are? Israel? I went to the receptionist, and she turned on the pump. Yamit showered, baruch Hashem. In the mean time, Rivky got out of her shower and went to the receptionist to remind them to fix the light in her room. Also, while Yamit’s in the shower, it started to pour outside, lightening, thunder, the works. After Yamit got out, I went in. My shower was quite an ordeal. First, the side of the tub was about two feet thick. To get into the tub, you either have to sit on it and swivel around or basically do a split while holding the wall because there is no traction on the shower floor. I finally got in, and the storm cut the power. Rivky went to the receptionist, asked them about the electricity, and reminded them about her light. They said they would turn on the generator in 10 minutes, and they would fix the light after the storm stopped. I struggled to get out of the shower and asked one of them to hand me my phone, which has a flashlight on it. Although the water in the shower head was supposedly flowing, the lack of pressure was stressing me out, so I wanted to a bucket shower. But they didn’t give us a bucket! What? Now they think this is Israel? So I used a Tupperware container that we had brought to hold salad. Nice shower: splashing water on myself with a Tupperware container, using cell phone flashlight balancing on a toilet tank as a source of light. Shabbos came. We still didn’t have power, and we still didn’t have a working bulb in the other room. We lit shabbos candles in the big room, hoping they would light up the room somewhat. Nope. We sat around talking for a little because we couldn’t see enough to daven (pray). Then the power came back. In the room we were in, the lights came on but not the air conditioner. We freaked out for a little until I remembered that I had kept in mind not to accept shabbos until I said mincha, and it was not yet shkia, and I hadn’t said mincha. I turned on the air and said mincha. Then we remembered that the receptionist was going to come by to get the key to the other room to fix the light (that’s right, they only have one key for each room). Technically, one is not supposed to have a non-Jew do work for him/her on shabbos, so we got a little nervous. While Yamit and I were saying Kabbalat Shabbat, the phone in our room rang. We looked over at it and shrugged. A minute later there was a knock on our door. The receptionist was like, “I just called.” We got a little flustered. She was like, “I need the key to fix the light.” Rivky tried to convince her that never mind, we don’t need the light anymore, we never needed the light, we like the dark, we’re gonna go to sleep right now, um, we’re blind. It didn’t work. She insisted on fixing the light, and she insisted that Rivky go with her to the other room. Turns out, she brought the wrong light bulb. As she left to get the correct one, Rivky was able to convince her not to bother because she really didn’t need it.

On shabbos day they called again. Rivky walked over to the reception. Remember when we asked if we could stay three in a room, and they said no? When she got to the reception, the woman asked Rivky to move into our room because they needed to squish to make room when the rest of CIEE comes. She awkwardly tried to explain that we couldn’t because of shabbos. When she got back and told us, we decided that we’re not paying for the extra room if their “policy” is a load of hoo-hah. In the end, I assume CIEE paid for us.

An excerpt from the rules listed on our door. “8. Guests are to note that eating in the hotel room is not allowed. Room service are available at a fee.”