So yesterday with Larry and his friend Garu was interesting. Lawrence being older, and few friends in Monrovia tends to go out of his way to be dramatic….and to say he shouldn’t be driving is an understatement! He drives too slow, in the middle of the road, and does not look ahead so we found ourselves always sitting behind a taxi that gets pulled over. HE did take the time to show me a few sites, including a bar we have never been to, A lagune beach – which is behind the Chinese Embassy Compound and quite lovely with a quiet lagoon-of course this was too close to town for my comfort – meaning too close to raw sewage – let alone a lagoon that traps the sewage! But definitely a place to try out in the future for sure.
As we traveled towards our destination ( I thought we were going to Kendeja Resort – a “resort” built by BET President and a cohort of African Americans after the war and the election of Ellen Johnson Sirleaf.) a random locally owned bar/café on the ocean somewhere “near” Kendeja. Well, fine – it is daylight and we are traveling with a Liberian friend, so surely we can’t get into too much trouble. As we travel the road to the airport (yes this is how you name roads in a war torn country) we get waved over by the police – and of course my stomach immediately turns. The police come over to the car and want to know who were where we came from and the like – this is how police folks secure bribes.
Larry and I became quick friends because we are both from NY, and even though he is a few decades my senior, a New Yorker is a New Yorker – of course sometimes I think I am Jewish which helped us to get along even further. Well needless to say Larry and I had little tolerance for such bribe techniques and we were quickly confused by the officer’s low comprehension for conversation. So we asked questions at the same time and we both feigned confusion – of course I was scared out of my mind – thinking how Vamsi is 8 hours away and if I mess up while he is gone: 1. I am on my own 2. He is not going to be happy.
We continue to ask the officer questions in return to his questions, “Where are we from ? Now? Or our nationality? Or where we live? Or who we work for? (Of course, even though I am unemployed the standard response in these situations is nose in the air and speak the acronym USAID – this is how I swept through customs without even stopping my gait.
We could see that peppering the officer with questions was causing him a headache – ha! So upon seeing his weariness Larry then started to ask for directions – and even though I think the officer was still looking for a bribe – I gave a look of satisfaction and job well done to the officer, Larry gave a big ol dramatic why thank you so very much and pulled away – phew – now I really need a cocktail – but no we still had more to drive and Larry and his 4 x 4 skills were going to be put to use shortly.
Once we found the only “paved” road toward the ocean we realized this was the road to Kendeja – and Larry only knew that the bar we were looking for was nearby and we had to take one of the dirt alley’s between compounds and little huts to get to it – so after several attempts and Larry asking locals who had no idea what he was talking about – we finally found MYRTLE BEACH. Yes the bar café is called Myrtle beach – So in the compound we go – and driving through sand and hills it was beyond worrisome that Larry was going to flip the truck – and even though he was prompted by the security man to back in Larry of course pulled in – I knowing all along that surely we would be blocked later (I would come to find out I was right).
The parking lot is completely protected by a high wall – even higher than my own compound – and is quite large at least ¾ of an acre so I was very impressed – until I noticed the wild pheasants running about next to the burning trash heap – but c’est la vie, eh?
We enter the gate through the beach and PERFECTION! A few small palm leafed huts, tables, chairs and UMBRELLAS – not even the Lebanese owned popular expat locale Golden Beach has umbrellas – and even a dance floor, music, and CLEAN Bathrooms – so far so good. Even better was the lovely service from our waitress who could actually communicate with us – I was so pleased – and so excited – I ordered a bottle of wine – yes the very best in your cellar. And this fabulous Liberian owned establishment only serves the best, she brought me a chilled bottle of Carlo Rossi Chardonnay for $25! Hey, when in Rome…..
As a side note – when drinking at anyplace less than an “upscale” expat location, the rule is to only drink from unopened bottles – so in that case you even have to be careful with your water –you must immediately test the cap when the bottle arrives – because it is known that owners refill their bottles to save money. So my choice would have been beer – but as I tend not to drink beer (Local Liberian or Heinekin) – Lawrence and I agreed to share the bottle – lol.
All of a sudden I was transported to another world – here we sat with Liberians – in a safe wonderful quiet (no expats running about) setting, enjoying the surf, a casual conversation or two with other Liberians and the actually delightful bar food – I had fried chicken and chips for $5 – you can’t get that at an expat owned establishment – so I was super excited and it was super tasty – I thought I snapped a picture but somehow I did not – But I will back! I spoke with Sia, our server – I found out her schedule and told her I would return often only if she were here!
We spent a lazy afternoon, snacking, drinking, and conversation.
As we watched the sunset, we decided to leave as not wanting to drive after dark ( I was 100 percent for Larry not driving after dark!). We paid our bill and our respects to the owner and thanked everyone for their hospitality and promised our return.
Of course, as I knew, Larry had to jiggle the truck out of a very tight spot – once we escaped that near catastrophe, Larry wanted to take a “short cut” he now remembered back to the main road – omg MISTAKE – Larry drove too fast so he wouldn’t get stuck in the sand and next thing we knew we were stuck in small circle of huts and trees, and a gaggle of children.
My fear was not that we would get hurt – my fear was that Larry was going to run over one of the children or even worse yet the well right behind us – I prayed very hard and Larry had to do a 250 point turn and the children looked OH SO confused running around with their brightly colored buckets jumping from the well pump – oh my goodness dear God protect these children from my crazy friend – then oh no out of nowhere a brood of chickens scattered followed by dogs – oh surely this was going to end badly – but no! By the grace of God and Larry’s experience – and probably my screaming from the back seat- we escaped hurting anyone or anything and finally made it back to the main road whence we come.
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