Toto, I've got a feeling we're not in Kansas any more...

So which country did I end up in...?

I woke up on Tuesday, not at all optimistic that my visa for Iran would come through. But then my contact got in touch to say it would definitely come through the following day. Cue excitement (still with a touch of cynicism about whether it would actually happen), as I started getting psyched up again for Iran. Then my contact called again. Apparently his contact in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, who had sorted out authorisation for my visa, discovered the reason it had been so hard: the rumour that my family name is blacklisted there is true. I think the reason for the blacklisting is that, back in the day, my grandad was inolved in the heinous crime of sending money to Israeli charities. So going to Iran could result in problems for me: a good chance they would confiscate my passport and make it difficult for me to leave, or even arrest or try to conscript me (they like to arrest Jews for being "Israeli spies"). The blacklisting also explains how, when I first applied, the MFA determined that my Muslim-sounding surname is Jewish.

So, believe it or not, I'm giving Iran a miss! Within a few hours of finding out, I was on a plane to Dubai (in the United Arab Emirates) instead, where I am now. I had no real desire to come to Dubai, but my flight to Iran and from Iran to India were via Dubai, so it was the easiest way to juggle my flights to skip Iran. I need to be here a week to sort out my Indian visa (I don't think they will hold any grudges or racist attitudes against me). After a great few days chilling on the beach, learning drumming from rastas, I contemplated staying in Ghana another week to sort out the visa, but I decided I needed to move on and get out of Africa, after almost 6 months. I felt my decision was vindicated on Monday, when I started to cross one of the main roads in Accra, only to be shouted at by lots of passers-by to get back. They pointed at a policeman standing in the middle of the road, a bit further up, with a 6 foot stick. One guy shouted to me "he'll beat you!". As a crossed over the bridge, I saw a teenager making the mistake of crossing the road to talk to the cop, for which he received a good hiding with the stick - in broad daylight with hundreds of people standing and watching.

The airport in Ghana as I left was an interesting microcosm of Ghanain people. I had overstayed my visa but was determined not to pay a fine, and didn't have enough cash for it. The first immigration officer was unbending and insistent that the rules must be upheld - I paid the full fine or couldn't leave. The official next to him quietly suggetsed I just hand over whatever money I had - ie give a bribe. And finally I was passed to a lady and man who were really friendly, and as soon as they found out I was a volunteer, smiled at me and let me through for free (nice like most Ghanaians). Then I stopped to ask for directions to my gate, and the three airport staff started asking if I had Ghanaian currency left, insisting I give it to them as they needed it more than I needed to buy lunch. As I boarded the plane, a traditional drumming group was striking up, in preparation for Kofi Annan's homecoming. It's a shame my flight wasn't a bit later, that would have been cool to watch.

So, after nearly 6 months I'm over half way through my travels and I've finally left Africa. There's a lot I will miss about Africa (e.g. the wonderfully friendly African people; the incredible wildlife; yummy BBQ plantains; leaning out of a moving vehicle to buy a bag of water off a kid's head; great drumming; drinking coconuts off the roadside; being able to blame my usual lateness on 'African time') - and lots I won't miss (the smell of open sewers; showering from a bucket; having to sleep with a fan cos it's so hot; having to sleep without a fan cos the electricity's died again; Shakira/R Kelly/Crying Baby dance mix blasting from next door; other people being hours late cos of African time). It feels like I've got hardly anytime left on my travels - only 2 months before I get to the States, leaving behind the 'developing' world.

My welcome to the UAE took the form of a strip search in customs. The less said about that the better... Dubai is a world apart from Africa, crazy huge luxury hotels and malls. It reminds me of Vegas, but with more headscarves and without the gambling and drinking. Which made me think, what's the point? Shopping. Apparently shopping is the point - the city seems to pride itself on two things: building man-made islands in stupid shapes (palm trees, map of the world), and its shopping malls. I was walking through a marble lined, air-conditioned mall this evening, Hugo Boss shop on my right and a replica Trevi fountain on my left, 24 hours after walking down a dusty, crazy street in Accra with an open sewer to my right and speeding cars beeping and narrowly missing each other on my left. The line "Toto, we're not in Kansas any more" sprung to mind. Last month I was in a refugee camp, now I'm in a hotbed of excessive luxury and consumerism!