Calabar: Where Heat & Drumsticks Collide

so i landed in calabar with my snare drum slung over my shoulder, sweating through my shirt before i even hit the tarmac. this humidity is no joke-i just glanced at my phone and it’s *31.79°C outside right now, feels like 33.53°C if you’re into that kind of swampy embrace. my sticks were practically melting in the case, and i swear the humidity made my cymbals fog up.

first stop? obudu cattle ranch for some altitude therapy. the drive up the twisty mountain roads had me white-knuckling it with my drum case wedged between my knees. worth it though-42km of switchbacks and jungle views that’ll make you forget the city’s heat. if you get restless, akamkpa and bebi are just a short drive away for that real jungle gym vibe. heard the cross river national park is basically a giant humid hug from mother nature herself.

then it was time to hunt for calabar carnival gear. stumbled into this tiny textile shop run by a woman named ama who sold me a hand-dyed fabric so bright it probably violated some color laws. while there, i overheard a couple of drunk tourists arguing about nkwere street food. one kept insisting that akara balls were better than puff-puff, which honestly is like comparing jazz to rock-blasphemy. later, a local whispered that duffer’s bar has the best palm wine in town if you can stomach the taste of fermented tree sap.

gig night hit at tantalizers where my drumsticks turned into little sweat-soaked noodles by the third song. the soundguy kept complaining about the humidity affecting the acoustics-like, dude, it’s calabar, not a cryo-chamber. someone told me that the mary slessor road bridge is haunted by a drummer who lost his sticks to a rogue wave. honestly, wouldn’t surprise me. after the show, i crashed at obudu resort where the cold shower felt like a gift from the gods. pro-tip: pack extra drum heads and maybe a dehumidifier for your case. check out calabar carnival vibes if you’re into that. palm wine spots here for the brave. local food boards are a minefield of mixed reviews about afang soup*-apparently you either love it or think it tastes like swamp moss. your call.

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