Light Creeping In
The day does not begin with a sudden burst from night to morning. No, it arrives slowly, like a gentle visitor easing its way into the world.
Dark skies shift first to deep gray, then to silver blue. Dramatic streaks of red and orange slice through the horizon, while soft swaths of pale-yellow filter downward. From my bed, I watch the light’s gradual entrance, its beams dancing across the tall teak closet at the foot of my bed.
The wood’s natural swirls of rich browns, soft golds, and warm tans, come alive under the golden glow. The windowpanes behind me cast a crisscross of light across the doors, and the patterns shimmer, flicker, and then fade as the sun climbs higher.
Outside, the brilliance of sunrise retreats into the full blaze of day. The closet remains, still beautiful, but somehow less magical without the sun’s fleeting stamp of gold.
No matter. Sunrise always returns, bringing its eternal reminder: beauty is not only seen in the light of day, but in those in-between moments when night surrenders to morning and the world awakens to possibility.
This reflection is part of my Listening to the Day series exploring the quiet unfolding of mornings in Ghana. Here’s another one you might like: The Neighborhood Awakens.
Inside Ghana’s Centre for Plant Medicine Research
For years, I’ve been curious about plant medicine, not the vague, unregulated kind, but the scientific kind. The kind that asks real questions, such as:
- What’s actually in the plant?
- How does it work in the body?
- What’s the correct dosage?
- And most importantly – is it safe?
That curiosity led me to Ghana’s Centre for Plant Medicine Research, a national institution quietly doing rigorous, evidence-based work at the intersection of traditional knowledge and modern science.
What I discovered during my visit and interview surprised me in the best way.
This is Not Folk Medicine. It’s Research.
Let me be clear about something right from the start.
The Centre for Plant Medicine Research is not a collection of backyard remedies or spiritual healing practices. It is a scientific research institution staffed by highly trained professionals: botanists, agronomists, pharmacologists, microbiologists, chemists, and medical doctors, many with advanced degrees and dual training in both orthodox and herbal medicine.
Here, medicinal plants are treated the same way pharmaceutical drugs are treated elsewhere: They are identified, tested, standardized, and regulated.
Researchers don’t just say a plant “works.” They isolate its active chemical compounds, measure concentration, study how those compounds interact in the body, and test for safety, toxicity, and microbial contamination.
From Field to Formula
One of the most fascinating aspects of the Centre’s work is how methodical the process is.
It begins with plant identification and conservation. The Centre maintains multiple conservation sites and herbaria – living libraries of medicinal plants – ensuring that species are accurately identified and sustainably cultivated. This is especially important in Ghana and across West Africa, where overharvesting has pushed some medicinal plants toward extinction.
Once harvested, plant materials move through a carefully controlled pipeline:
- Phytochemical analysis to identify active ingredients
- Microbiological testing to ensure safety
- Dosage formulation to prevent over, or under-treatment
- Clinical observation and trials where appropriate
Only after passing through these stages can a product move forward.
FDA Approved
One of the most reassuring things I learned is that all Centre-produced medicines go through Ghana’s rigorous FDA approval process. This means they are tested, reviewed, and certified before reaching the public.
This matters, especially for people like me, who want alternatives to Western prescriptions but still value regulation, data, and safety.
Many of the Centre’s formulations address conditions that are increasingly common both in Ghana and abroad:
- Hypertension
- Diabetes and pre-diabetes
- Stress-related conditions
- Digestive issues
- Immune support
- Chronic infections
- And many other conditions that affect people in Africa and globally
The approach is often slower and more gradual than Western pharmaceuticals, but is also gentler on the body, with fewer aggressive side effects when used correctly and under medical guidance.
Doctors Trained in Both Worlds
Another detail that stood out: All of the clinicians working at the Centre are fully trained medical doctors who later specialized in herbal medicine. Others begin in herbal medicine and receive extensive biomedical training.
Patients visiting the Centre’s outpatient clinic (OPD) undergo proper consultations, vital checks, lab testing, and follow-ups, just as they would in a conventional hospital. If a condition requires orthodox treatment, patients are referred accordingly.
This is not an “either/or” model. It’s integrative medicine, grounded in evidence.
Why This Matters, Especially Now
Around the world, more people are questioning one-size-fits-all healthcare. They want options. They want transparency. They want treatments that work with the body, not just override symptoms.
The Centre for Plant Medicine Research offers something rare: A scientifically credible model for traditional medicine in a modern healthcare system.
For me personally, this visit wasn’t just educational. It was affirming. I left with a deeper respect for what’s possible when ancestral knowledge is honored and tested, rather than dismissed or blindly accepted.
Plant medicine doesn’t have to be mysterious to be powerful. Here in Ghana, it’s being studied, measured, and practiced with care.
If you’re curious to learn more about the work being done at Ghana’s Centre for Plant Medicine Research, you can visit their official website here.
A Soft Haven in Accra: My Afternoon at Yena’s Nest
When I stepped through the gate at Yena’s Nest, I felt like I was walking into someone’s home. It felt that way, because I was.
There was no stiff reception desk, no forced smiles, no sense that you were just another passing guest. Instead, Yena and her husband, K.K., welcomed me like an old friend who’d come back after a long journey.
I had come to learn more about this little bed and breakfast (B&B) tucked inside a quiet Accra neighborhood, but I left with so much more than notes for an article. I left with a reminder that true hospitality isn’t just about sheets and pillows and breakfast buffets. It’s about people. It’s about a woman who treats every traveler like an unexpected cousin, a friend, family, and who quietly shows us that home can follow us anywhere in the world.
A Dream Rooted in Wanderlust
Over tea in their cozy living room, the kind of space where you automatically sink in and start talking about life, Yena told me how this place came to be. She spoke about her love for travel, her hunger to see the world – the same spirit that made her buy the house before even telling K.K. She laughs about that now, but you can feel the quiet pride too.
Together, they turned this building into a soft landing spot for travelers from every corner. Each piece of furniture, every warm touch, says: Stay as long as you like. You’re family now.
Not Just a Bed
What sets Yena’s Nest apart isn’t just its tidy rooms or its convenient location, though both are true. It’s the way Yena herself is woven into every stay. She cooks. She chats. She’ll babysit your child so you can slip away for an hour of freedom. She might even teach you how to stir up a proper Ghanaian stew, right there in her open kitchen.
When guests arrive, she tells me, they stop being “guests.” They become an extension of her family. And you believe her, because you can feel that this is not a marketing tagline. It’s how she lives.
Where Stories Gather
One of my favorite moments came when she spoke about her guests’ stories – the families with young children, the missionaries from Korea, the solo wanderers seeking a peaceful corner of Accra. Some find their way here after searching for Airbnbs online; some, she says, simply knock on the door and hope for a room.
She laughs about gently turning away the kinds of guests who are looking for an hour stay. “That’s not us,” she says firmly, with a protective smile. “This is a home.”
More Than the Bed and Breakfast
Yena’s Nest is just the beginning. They’re dreaming bigger: a campsite near Wli Waterfalls in the Volta Region, a hostel for budget travelers. Even her farm where she’s learning to coax rice and coconuts from the land, feels connected to her vision of giving people somewhere to belong.
A Place I’ll Return To
I left Yena’s Nest with my notebook full, but my heart was full too. I came to spotlight a guesthouse. I left with the warmth of people who believe in taking care of strangers like family. That’s the kind of story I want my readers to know. That’s the kind of place I’ll return to. It’s the kind of place I’ll take you along with me, page by page.
If you ever find yourself in Accra, craving more than just a bed for the night, find your way to Yena’s door. She’ll open it like she’s been waiting for you all along.
The Neighborhood Awakens
The day begins early here. Before the sun rises, the neighborhood is already stirring. The Imam’s call to prayer floats through the dawn between four and five, answered by the shuffling of early risers.
From my armchair by the window, book in hand, I listen. Good morning greetings drift in English and Twi. Parents coax sleepy children awake. Buckets clank as kids fetch water from the neighborhood tap. Gates slide open, engines start, taxis honk, vendors call out. A woman passes by balancing “sweet bread” on her head. Her hands are free, and her voice rises above the morning chorus.
The air fills with the aroma of breakfast cooking. Birds sing, dogs bark, children laugh (or cry, if they are not yet ready to get up). Step by step, sound by sound, the town comes alive.
And then, almost unnoticed, the sun joins the chorus, spilling its glow across the people below.
This reflection is part of my Listening to the Day series of short morning meditations on sounds, stillness, and living fully.
Coffee Before the Sun
“Ease into the day.” It’s one of my favorite sayings, and one I live by. For me, it begins before the sun, when the house is still wrapped in quiet and everyone else is asleep, or just gently stirring behind closed doors.
This is my Mary time. A moment to make that first cup of coffee and let the aroma drift through the air like a gentle promise. Strong coffee, a teaspoon (well… maybe a teaspoon and a half) of sugar, and a splash of cream until it turns that warm golden color that I like so much. It’s café au lait for me, no matter the season. No matter the temperature. No matter where I find myself in the world.
Nothing is so important that I would skip this ritual. It is a small, delicious gift I give myself every morning. The warmth of the cup in my hands, the rich taste of beans from Kenya, Colombia, or wherever the world’s farmers have grown them, lingers on my tongue and in my spirit.
After my coffee, I’m ready. Ready to ease into the day.
Morning coffee is more than a drink; it’s a reminder that joy doesn’t wait for the grand moments – it’s right here, in the quiet beginnings. Good morning.
This reflection is part of my Listening to the Day series of short morning meditations on sounds, stillness, and living fully.
Listening to the Day: When the Rain Comes First
This morning, the day didn’t begin with roosters or birds. It began with rain.
There’s something about the rainy season in West Africa that makes me feel both grounded and alive. I’m most productive when it rains. Maybe because the rhythm of raindrops on the roof keeps me company as I write. Or maybe it’s because the rain itself insists that we slow down and listen.
I love the way it transforms the world around me. The fresh air, the way everything suddenly smells clean and new. The lush green that follows, bright and unapologetic. Even the puddles feel like little blessings, reflecting the sky.
Rain is a reminder that life refreshes itself. That we, too, can pause, reset, and come back greener, softer, stronger.
So this morning, I’m grateful for the rain. Not just because it cools the air for a moment, but because it cools the spirit, too. And as I sit here, windows open, notebook nearby, I’m reminded of this; sometimes the best days begin when the rain comes first.
This reflection is part of my Listening to the Day series, short morning meditations on sound, stillness, and living fully.
A Morning Concert in Ghana: The Sounds of Slow Travel
Good morning!
Today I woke up early, really early, wide awake at 5 a.m. The first sound I heard was the rooster crowing, as he’s been doing for quite some time. But what caught my attention this morning was how the rooster seemed to have a duet partner.
Right after each crow, a little bird chimed in with a song that, to my ears, sounded like: “Wait for me, wait for me!”
So there I was, lying in bed while everyone else was sleeping, listening to this unexpected concert: rooster, bird, pause, repeat. A call and response. A greeting to the day.
It reminded me of why I love slow mornings in Ghana, those quiet, unhurried beginnings when the world wakes gently and life feels both simple and full. When you take the time to truly listen, the ordinary becomes extraordinary.
Slow travel and slow mornings in Ghana invite you to notice the beauty in small moments: the duet of a rooster and a bird, the soft hum of life just beginning.
Today, I’m grateful for that simple duet: one rooster, one bird, one listener. Me.
Does the idea of slow travel appeal to you? Check out my article on Slow Travel After 60.
Why I Travel to Ghana to Rest My Spirit
I’ve traveled to Ghana almost every year for the past seven years. I might have missed a year somewhere in between, but Ghana keeps calling me back. At first, I went for business. Now, I go for my peace.
The very first time I went, it was just a vacation. My mom had gone before me, and when she came back, she spoke a lot about how much she loved it, especially her time in Accra and a little town called Hohoe. She said, “I think you’d really like Ghana.”
And she was right.
From my very first visit, Ghana reminded me of Nigeria, where I grew up, especially Enugu, the town that shaped so many of my early memories. The sights, the sounds, the rhythm of daily life… it all felt familiar. Ghana has that same warmth, that same sense of community.
How It All Began
My mom had met a Ghanaian reverend sister, and through her, I met the sister’s younger sister, Celestine. At the time, I owned a little African import store in the U.S., and Celestine became one of my suppliers. I’d order handmade products from Ghana, and she’d ship them to me.
When I finally decided to visit Ghana, Celestine said, “You can stay with us.” I didn’t know a soul in the country, but I took her up on it. That trip turned into something I never expected. It opened a new chapter in my life.
Celestine and I became close friends, and later, business partners. We started a small travel consultancy together. She handled things on the ground in Ghana, and I worked with clients in the U.S. For a few years, my trips were all about business.
But somewhere along the way, things shifted.
From Business to Blessing
As I started slowing down in my work, my trips to Ghana became less about meetings and more about meaning. Ghana became my space to breathe again—to quiet my mind, rest my body, and just be.
You see, life in the U.S. moves fast. Too fast sometimes. You blink, and weeks disappear. But Ghana? Ghana moves differently. People take their time. They talk to you, really talk to you. There’s warmth and community in the air. It’s a gentler pace, and I love that.
When I land in Accra, I can feel my body immediately relax. The noise and rush I left behind in the U.S. fade away, and something in me settles.
The Simple Joys That Heal
And then there’s the food. Oh, the food!
In Ghana, I eat fresh and eat well. Fruits and vegetables straight from the farm. Real food with real flavor. There are fewer additives, fewer chemicals, and more goodness. I eat to my heart’s content and somehow still lose weight. My body thanks me for it. My mind clears. I sleep better.
And if it’s rainy season? Even better. The rain has a rhythm I love. It’s soothing, steady, musical. The air smells fresh. The earth feels alive. The rain reminds me that rest, too, is nourishment.
The Energy of the Land
Everything about Ghana fills me up, from the beaches lined with coconut palms, to the rolling hills and waterfalls, and the sound of laughter and music. I’m drawn to water and green spaces, and Ghana has plenty of both. I drink coconut water straight from the shell, watch the waves roll in, and think, this is how life should feel.
Being in Ghana helps me remember what’s truly important. There’s peace there, real, grounding peace. I’m not bombarded by dark or violent news every day. I’m not racing from one thing to the next. I just am.
My Kind of Reset
These days, I’m not organizing full tours or marketing small group trips anymore. I’ve stepped back a bit. I still consult here and there, and I love helping people experience Ghana for themselves, but now I do it at my own pace.
Now, when I travel to Ghana, it’s not about work, it’s about wellness. About reconnecting with who I am at my core. I travel to Ghana because it resets my spirit. It’s my refresh button.
Every time I go, I come back feeling lighter, inspired, and re-energized. My creativity wakes up again. I get new ideas about living fully, writing boldly, and of course, traveling deeper.
Ghana gives me that. And that’s why I keep going back.
Slow Travel After 60: Embrace the Art of Traveling Deeper
These days, everyone’s talking about slow travel, the art of traveling intentionally, the wonders of moving at your own pace, and the joy of truly soaking in a destination.
But what does slow travel really mean, especially for those of us in our 60s and beyond?
As someone who has worked in the travel industry for years curating tours, advising travelers, and journeying alongside clients, I’ve come to see slow travel as more than a trend. It’s a mindset, a lifestyle, and honestly, a gift we give ourselves at this stage of life.
What Slow Travel Really Means After 60
When you reach our age, life naturally slows down whether we want it to or not. Our bodies change, our energy levels shift, and our priorities evolve. And that’s perfectly fine!
Slow travel is about honoring that rhythm. It means cutting your coat according to your size and recognizing that what we did easily at 30 or 40 doesn’t have to be the same at 60, 70, or beyond.
Remember when it was nothing to pack at midnight, dash through airports, and sprint to make tight connections? We could take long, multi-stop flights just to save a few dollars. Those days were fun, but they don’t fit every season of life.
Planning with Intention (and Less Stress)
For me, slow travel begins long before I get on a plane.
I give myself at least two months to plan. I know where I’m going, what I want to do, and I make sure everything is in order: passport, visas, vaccinations, and medications. There’s no rushing to the pharmacy or travel booking sites at the last minute.
As I share in my checklist for senior travelers, having your documents and health preparations done well in advance makes travel so much smoother.
Even packing becomes a more thoughtful process. I try to pack early, though there’s usually a little last-minute scramble. Old habits die hard!
The point is: no stress. No rushing. Just deliberate, mindful preparation that lets the journey start smoothly.
Taking It Easy Along the Way
When traveling internationally, I might even consider an overnight stop in a connecting country just to rest and reset before continuing. Or I’ll choose a direct flight, like my usual 11-hour route from New York to Accra, Ghana.
I’d rather arrive rested than spend hours changing planes and running through terminals.
And when I land, I don’t rush off the plane. I take my time. I breathe. I move through immigration and customs at my own pace.
Once I reach the hotel, my host family’s house, or my short-term rental, I spend the first day or two simply regrouping. Long flights, especially international ones, take a toll. A little time to rest, stretch, and adjust makes all the difference.
Staying Longer, Going Deeper
Slow travel isn’t about how far you go; it’s about how deeply you experience each place.
When I visit Ghana, for example, I don’t try to see everything. There’s no need to jump from city to city, packing and unpacking every two days. Instead, I choose one city as my base. I take a few day trips, but I always return to the same cozy home away from home.
This gives me time to settle in, chat with locals, explore a market or art gallery without rushing, and savor a meal.
If you love art, spend several days visiting museums, studios, and cultural centers. If food is your thing, try a different restaurant each day and discover the flavors that make a region unique.
That’s the beauty of slow travel. You create space for connection, discovery, and rest.
Why Slow Travel Works So Well After 60
At our age, traveling slowly just makes sense. It’s kinder to our bodies and minds. It reduces stress and increases joy.
You’ll return home refreshed instead of exhausted, and with no need for a “vacation from your vacation.”
Slow travel gives you the time to experience places more fully, meet people more meaningfully, and enjoy life more deeply.
We’re still adventurous, still curious, and still full of life, just wiser about how we spend our time and energy.
So, here’s to traveling at our own pace, savoring the journey, and finding joy in every moment.
Happy slow travels, friends!
The Strange, Beautiful Pull of a Country You’ve Never Been To
Have you ever felt an unexplainable pull to visit a country you’ve never set foot in? A place you have no ties to—no family roots, no ancestral connections, no practical reason to go—but still, something deep inside whispers, Go there.
It’s a funny kind of pull, isn’t it? Mysterious. Intangible. Almost otherworldly. It makes you wonder if it’s from another life, a past existence, or maybe even a parallel one.
Why would you feel so strongly about a place that, on paper, has nothing to do with you?
And yet… the feeling lingers.
That Country for Me Is Ireland
Now, I have no personal connection to Ireland. No Irish heritage. No family stories passed down. I’m not Irish-American. And yet, somehow, I feel a deep draw to that little green island across the sea.
Maybe it’s not just Ireland. Sometimes, I lump in Scotland and Wales too—they’re in the same neighborhood, after all. But it’s Ireland that pulls at my spirit.
Why? I’m not entirely sure. But I have a few guesses.
The Lilt of Their Voice
Maybe it’s the way Irish people speak—the cadence, the rhythm, the musicality of their voices. I remember once listening to an Irish man talk. I don’t even remember what he was saying. That wasn’t the point.
What caught me was the sound of his voice. It felt like a little musical performance, like poetry with a melody. I wasn’t listening to the words—I was listening to the song underneath them.
Is that strange? Possibly. But it was beautiful.
The Landscapes That Call
And then there’s the landscape.
Those emerald-green hills, dramatic cliffs, moody skies, and lonely coastlines. The kind of scenery that makes you feel like you could sit for hours, staring out at the sea crashing against the rocks, and just be.
It feels like a place where you could walk with your thoughts. A place for quiet reflection, for journaling, for reconnecting to yourself.
It looks like the kind of place where stories are born.
The Warmth of the Culture
Maybe I’m drawn to the idea of Irish pubs, filled with laughter, storytelling, traditional music, and warmth.
A space where people gather—not just to drink, but to connect. The kind of cozy, lively place where you don’t need to know anyone to feel welcome.
And oh, the music. Celtic music, especially when paired with traditional dance. Fiddle, flute, drum. It’s full of life, rhythm, history, and joy. I’ve always loved it. Maybe the music remembers something I’ve forgotten.
Maybe It Was the Books…
Or maybe it started with a book I read long ago. One of those sweeping family sagas set in Ireland, where the characters were strong, the land was wild, and the stories dug deep into the human spirit.
Sometimes the seed is planted early, and we don’t even know it.
The Pull Is Strong
I haven’t been to Ireland. Yet. But I have a feeling I will go. One day.
The pull is too strong to ignore.
And when I do go, I imagine I’ll arrive and feel something familiar. Not necessarily like I’ve been there before, but like I’ve finally stepped into a story that’s been calling my name for years.
What About You?
Have you ever felt that kind of pull?
To a place you’ve never been—maybe you saw it in a movie, read about it in a book, heard its music, or caught a glimpse in a photograph—and something inside you stirred?
Maybe it’s Morocco, or Bali, or Ghana. Maybe it’s Paris in the fall, or the quiet beaches of Zanzibar.
And here’s the question: Have you gone?
Have you followed that whisper and turned it into a journey? Or is that place still waiting for you?
What If It’s Time?
Maybe now is the time to explore that mystery.
Book the ticket. Make the plan. Follow the pull.
Sometimes the places that call to us—without explanation—hold something powerful for us. A lesson. A memory. A piece of our soul we didn’t know was missing.
So go. Follow the nudge. You never know what you’ll find.
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