Yesterday I knew that the coming weekend had to be spent outdoors, in a place that didn’t have roads. With only two weeks left in Ghana, every day must be different from the one before.

It was a Friday night, so friends and I danced at a local club until the sun came up. It wasn’t the chicest place where girls strut in diamond tops and free champagne flows from crystal fountains, but the entrance was free and the music was good. Anyway, it’s the people that make a great night, not the place, and that I had.

It’s now 6 AM and one of my friends comes up with a great idea to stay awake and head to Wli Waterfalls for the weekend. Brilliant, just brilliant.

We walk to a road junction and hop on the first tro tro car heading north. The drive takes over four hours, so I pull out my ipod and jam to Jack Johnson.

The roads are spotted with potholes and meandering goats causing our drive to take six hours. I’ve learned long ago that time in Africa is flexible and that things never go as planned, but if anything, that’s a good thing.

We arrive at Wli Waterfalls drowsy, achy, but happy. Although I can tell that my body is screaming, “Rest!” the thought of swimming underneath a waterfall sustains me.

A sign reads, “Walk to waterfall, 4 minutes.” That doesn’t sound bad, so we all strap on our backpacks, buy some water, and begin our walk.

The forest canopy is thick allowing only a few rays of sun to peek through its foliage. Everything is a shade of green except for the dirt road and the colorful fruits. Mangoes and bananas adorn the trees with red, yellow, and green like ornaments on a Christmas tree.

It’s been over a half hour and I’m thinking, “This is way past four minutes.” My friend tells me that the sign had said forty minutes, not four. My mistake. I feel bad for the old couple behind us whom I had convinced to join us because of the “short” distance.

Suddenly, I hear rumbles of rushing water. Music and laughter echo in the distance. As I lean my head back, I can see the tip of the waterfall.  

We all start running and my legs burn. Still, the closer we come, the faster we run.

We stop, and there it is. It’s beautiful. Tall, white, and strong; the experience is almost overwhelming. Within five minutes, a few of us have our clothes off and are heading toward the water. I jump in and it’s colder than I had expected.

The spray from the waterfall feels like pins as it hits my skin and I have to walk backwards shielding my eyes. When I finally enter the center of the falling water it feels soothing and painful. The first thought that comes to mind is, “Now, this is what it’s all about.”

My skin begins to feel sore, so I head toward shore. Before I exit the water, I look up and notice that there are hundreds of bats hanging from the mountainside. Something disturbs them and they disperse into the sky.  Behind me, one of my guy friends is eating a ham sandwich and humming the Batman theme song. I laugh.

While sitting on a rotten log and enjoying the cool mist, I can’t help still thinking, “This is what it’s all about.” And, what is this “it”? I don’t know exactly, but I think it’s life, it’s traveling, it’s going out with friends, it’s being young, it’s eating ham sandwiches next to a waterfall. “It”, I think, is whatever you want it to be. It’s everything that makes you happy.