Freya von Bulow
4 min readMay 28, 2021


Diary Entry 23.05.2021

I am strangely exhausted.

Of Ghana.

Not sure what’s happening.

I’m feeling like I’m in a ditch.

Kantamanto Market the other day took it out of me.

Now I feel constantly harassed.


When I was at the market, the close proximity to people and lack of moving space made me paranoid.

If someone is close, I always reflex, making sure I grab my bag and phone tighter.

I hate that.


I am constantly expecting to be ripped off.

It’s not right.

You can easily adapt and make fun of it but at the moment I’m too tired and it’s getting to me.

I don’t like the feel of it all.

The potential of being taken advantage of.

Funny, when I was with a friend the other day, he got charged more too.

And he noticed and went eeeeh, what?

It pissed him off because as a local he was buying something with me in tow and only realised afterwards he was overcharged.

Being taken advantage of.

Ha, welcome to my world as a ‘white’ woman in Ghana.

It shouldn’t really bother me.

Because things are still cheap.

1 Ghana Cedi is less than 20p.

So it’s nothing.

However, for 1 Ghana Cedi you get two pouches of water.

Life saving water.

So being overcharged 1 Ghana Cedi is not nothing.

It can be everything.

It can be waking up sweaty and parched at night, after having eaten spicy Ghanaian food that evening, aching for cold water.

And not having any.

That’s how I’m feeling now.

A specific experience.

For equilibrium.

I noticed that once you’re finished with one experience, and you moved into the next, going back and re-visiting is weird.

It feels you are then experiencing an echo.

The shadow of the experience.

It’s never the same.

Just makes you realised that you (and them) moved on.

Therefore I’m not up for going back to my parent’s house in Takoradi.

What I would love to do is renting a beach house for a week just to be on my own in a peaceful environment.

Somewhere beautiful and calm.

With air con, showers and a proper toilet.

And soft toilet paper sporting puppies.

No heat but the soft ocean breeze.

No noise but for waves and palm leaves.

Fresh coconut for breakfast.

No dust.

No dirt.

No mosquitos.

Impeccable free WiFi.

I miss white walls.

White surfaces.

Window glass.

I miss clean clothes.

Light skin.

Blue eyes.

Fresh food.

I want a blender to frenzy on fresh smoothies.

With ginger.


Ginger mint tea.

I don’t feel clean.

I need a cleanse.

And I need it now.

If my money channels were flowing, I would book an Airbnb today.

And leave tomorrow.

I’m sick of people.

And the feeling of being taken advantage of.

This is how it must feel like having money (which I have in relative terms and am presumed to have) and never sure if people like you because of you or because they are looking out for their own interests.

Strange feeling.

And true, I have met loads of beautiful people too, selfless and generous.

I need a lightening bolt.

To energise me.

I need a jump start.

To bring life to this monster.

Frankenstein style.

I met someone once who got struck by lightening twice.

I wonder what that feels like.

Like an echo of the first, I’m sure.

I feel sick.

Sick of kenkey.

Sick of jollof rice.

Sick of banku.

Sick of food.

Sick of attention.

Sick of black cock.

(Yes, there is such a thing)

Sick of talking.

Sick of experiences.

Sick of itching.

And smelling.

And sweating.

It’s been a year since I started writing this diary.

Might be poignant to re-read it on a daily basis.

And see the echo.

It’s scary.


Maybe i find out that I actually haven’t gone far in the meantime.

What if I have the same thoughts?

What if I have not grown?

What if I completely recognise myself.

As the same person?

Is that a good or bad thing?

I hope that I truly don’t recognise myself.

And what if I do?

Is that a big deal?


I’ll decide when I read.

I feel demanded.

Ghana is demanding my attention.

All the time.

I don’t want to attend.


I want peace.


God’s name is being taken advantage of.

All the time.

For God’s sake.

God forbid.

What in God’s name…

God’s speed.

And his mother.

Holy Mother of God.

God, how I love/hate …

God fearing.

God abiding.

God’s Chop Joint.

Does he care people taking his name in vain?

No, of course not.

It’s funny.

So I should also laugh.

The Broni Goddess.

Tired of humans.

Not giving a shit about them for once.

I used to give one.

I don’t anymore.

Research kills dreams.

But its dubious findings build belief.

Which one?



Freya von Bulow

AMSTERDAM DIARIES 2020+ Daily Philosopher Notes — Alchemy of Words. Creative Direction & Life Concept Creator