By McKenzee Manlupig
Wli falls. The experience was unreal—standing underneath the gushing tons of water falling from the sky, witnessing the hundreds of bats resting on the cliffside. You could feel the ground shake as the millions of gallons thundered down.
We were visiting Volta for the weekend, a peaceful countryside.
We asked a professor, also visiting from UO, if there were any fun dance places. “No, it’s not like that. Super chill and just naturey,” he said. And this was true. During this trip, we swam under the largest waterfall in West Africa, went bananas at a monkey sanctuary, and felt the breeze while boating down the river during sunset.
It was a stunning experience—a nice change of pace from the bustling crowds of Accra and Kumasi.
We arrived back at the hotel, relaxed from the hour walk, in and out. While we were sitting at dinner, a chaperone told us there was a little party on the property.
I was actually super excited to have a dance floor so close. I remember thinking, “My dream actually! I can just go to sleep when I’m tired. Don’t gotta wait for no Uber or nothing. Nice and comfy in my bed, immediately.”
Later I would kick myself while I lay with my pillows over my head, music blasting through the walls.
The floors shook as the chunky black speakers boomed underneath my window. You could see the vibrations of the TV glass. It was as if Drake was giving my roommate and me a personal concert at the end of our bed. A fate, I wouldn’t wish on my own enemy.
We had it the worst, being at the very end of the hall. A peer, four rooms down, said the noise was 88 decibels in his room.
At first, I found it amusing, at least we wouldn’t have to pay to get in! Might as well make the best of the situation and at least go dance. So my peers and I sat at the restaurant, just chatting, waiting for the dance floor to fill.
It never did.
At about 1:00 a.m., I was beat. We peeked through the fence to witness not a single person out there.
We were to leave at 8:00 a.m. the next day.
My roommate asked the hotel attendants to turn it down, turn it off; there is not a single person listening to the music. The front desk lady almost giggles, saying there was nothing to be done. We couldn’t even move rooms because apparently they were all booked up.
We were almost delirious at this point, thinking of intricate solutions. Pouring water on the fuse box? Sleeping on the bus? Driving home?
Eventually, my eyes closed. I fell asleep, while music pounded through my head, trying to imagine the shaking of the waterfall instead.
The music ended early, at 4:00 a.m., 10 hours later. It was supposed to end at daybreak but I guess there wasn’t a big enough crowd.
All in all, I wouldn’t trade the experience for the world. It’s will definitely be a story to tell for the rest of time. It’s funny to even think about it now.