I’ve just come back to Sierra Leone after spending a month in the UK, and it got me thinking about all the mundane little differences in life here. Not the big, dramatic ones people expect when they ask “What’s it really like?”, but the everyday quirks that sneak up on you and make you laugh, sigh, or wonder how you ever lived differently.

Laundry is the first culprit. In the UK, I could get at least two or three wears out of a t-shirt, maybe four if I wasn’t seeing anyone I wanted to impress. Here? Absolutely not. Ten minutes outside and it looks like I’ve run a half-marathon. Clothes here get one wear, max. It’s not unusual for me to go through 3 outfits a day. The laundry basket is never empty. Ever. I swear it’s multiplying behind my back.

Then there’s the jumper situation. In Scotland, I had a whole wardrobe of cosy knits. Here, the only time I put one on is either on the ship (where the air-con is fierce) or when the rainy season drops the temperature to a “chilly” 24 degrees. Back in the UK, 24 degrees is what we’d call a heat wave. Here, people are pulling on hoodies and talking about how cold it is. Perspective is everything.

Food shopping is another fun adjustment. In the UK, I could walk into a supermarket and emerge with hummus, cheddar, and Jaffa Cakes without a second thought. In Sierra Leone, it’s a bit more seasonal roulette. Right now, mangos are out of season, which feels like a personal betrayal. Cheese is basically mythical. But bananas, groundnuts, and fresh bread from the roadside? Glorious.

And then there’s power. In the UK, I never gave electricity a thought. Of course the lights work. Here, the power supply is more of a game of chance. You’re halfway through a movie, and suddenly it’s just you, the dark, and the hum of the generator (if you’re lucky). It’s mildly inconvenient, sure, but it does make board games and candlelight conversations much more of a thing.

Time itself feels different too. In the UK, I was ruled by train timetables, bus schedules, and the BBC. Here, “soon” is its own flexible timezone, and meetings last however long they last. At first it’s baffling, then it’s freeing. I’m still learning not to plan laundry for “later,” because you never know when the rain will swoop in and double your workload.

So yes, life in Sierra Leone means more sweat, more laundry, fewer cheese boards, and occasional jumpers on “cold” 24-degree days. But it also means brighter skies, warmer hellos, and enough quirky little differences to keep me on my toes (and my washing line permanently full).

Turns out, it’s the mundane things that remind me most that I’m home.