Banana Pancakes

They're tasty things, banana pancakes. They're also symbols of a culture, one that's almost completely absent from West African travel: backpacking. In other parts of the world, youngish people with absurdly large packs and absurdly low budgets have created a very visible subculture that changes very little from country to country. Sometimes they take over a street, sometimes a whole neighbourhood.

Thamel in Kathmandu. Khao San Road in Bangkok. Paharganj in New Delhi. I've stayed in all of them and can testify that the mix of hostels, cheap hotels, cybercafes and restaurants serving up spaghetti (and banana pancakes of course!) is pretty consistent. I remember meeting a fellow in Bangkok once who was actually there to attend a conference on backpacker culture - held, of course, on Khao San Road. This culture also has a pretty strong foothold in South America and even in the Middle East and East Africa. Even where the density of backpackers doesn't support a traveller's ghetto, there is often just one hotel that they congregate at, and businesses to serve them spring up around it.

Let me be clear that I by no means dislike this. I can be a big snob about travelling, but backpacker-oriented places do provide a ton of useful things. They often have message boards and info centres catering to poor travellers like me. There are book exchanges and Western movies on DVD, and other travellers to swap stories (read: drink) with. I've always thought it's not a bad thing to have this around. Every traveller can choose whether or not to burst out of the bubble, and if they really want to drink smoothies with white people all day, well, it's not really my business. I was stuck in Kathmandu once for more than a week, and would be lying if I didn't say that a nightly dose of lasagna was a nice change after two lonely months in China.

In West Africa, I've rarely had that choice. Morocco gets plenty of tourists, but I stayed largely away from where they stayed, as the places in guidebooks were too pricey. Mauritania gets plenty of wealthy French people, but not in the summertime. I pretty much had the place to myself. Ditto with much of Senegal, except for in the south, where I did bump into a few backpackers (and book exchanges!). From then on, though - through Guinea, Sierra Leone, Liberia, and Cote D'Ivoire - I saw not a single other backpacker. The cheap places to stay were brothels more than hostels, and I passed my evenings drinking beer with locals and reading in my room.

I didn't particularly mind this, and certainly got used to it. The result? Ghana is a shock. I'm in Cape Coast right now, the centre for tourism along the coastal beaches-and-castles circuit, and even though it's low season, there are plenty of backpackers (and richer tourists) about. There are definite signs of smoothies, vegetarian cafes, and probably a banana pancake somewhere, if I were so inclined. There is also, wierdly for me, company. I spent a night drinking wine with a dreadlocked Austrian fellow from one hotel, and am heading off to a national park tomorrow with a Polish girl from my current one. I toured a castle in a group that included at least 25 white folks, which was a mighty change from the fleeting glimpses of them passing by in NGO landcruisers. My throat actually hurts - I've gotten used to spending long hours silently, and a couple days of hanging out with other backpackers has given the ol' vocal cords quite a workout.

In many ways, Ghana, with its developed backpacker trail, will be an exception. I don't expect to see the same number of foreigners anywhere else other than (possibly) Mali, where they also have quite the scene. It is certainly convenient - but I think I'll stick to my rice, sauce, and streetside beers.

Peace
Josh