#26: Bloomington, Indiana, USA

Back in the U.S...A.! The past week has entailed a ton of moving around: Nairobi -> Accra -> Washington D.C. -> Columbus, Ohio -> Danville, Kentucky -> Nashville, Tennessee -> Bloomington, Indiana. And now I'm at school, mostly unpacked and organized back in my house and with two days of class under my belt.

The journey home was fine but long. Apart from a boring and annoying eleven hour layover at the Accra airport things went pretty smoothly. Apparently the Accra airport isn't properly designed for layovers--when I disembarked from the plane I was met by airport staff yelling, "transfers! transfers!" I followed them straight through immigration. There I argued with an officer about paying for a visa. You need to buy a visa if you're leaving the airport. I wasn't. However, to get to the departures area you have to leave the arrivals building and cross the street. Therefore, the guy was trying to make me pay. A nice Kenyan lady who was also transferring and I argued with him about my case. We won. And then I had to sit in the departures lobby (which had almost nothing) for ten hours. When I went through security again I got in another argument with an officer, this time about my hair scissors. I measured them; they're within regulation size and this was confirmed by officers in both Columbus and Brussels who also measured them. However, this time I lost. The officer refused to measure them so bye, scissors. But toward the end of my long sit I met a girl who had spent a couple of weeks volunteering in Ghana and we chatted for awhile, so that helped.

The flight to D.C. was long and we got in just before 6am last Tuesday, 23 August and they opened customs for us. All of that was fine and my new airport friend suggested we get breakfast. We went to Starbucks and I got a fancy pants frappuccino and we split a chocolate chip cookie and it was so, so, so delicious. I don't think Starbucks has ever tasted that good to me! I missed a lot of the food from the States! After my quick flight to Columbus my family accompanied me to the North Market and I continued to gorge: Greek food and Jeni's ice cream!

I spent a couple of days in Danville, hanging out with my family and catching up with a couple of friends. And then I spent a couple of days in Nashville, seeing Ben and his new place (and eating more tasty foods that I missed, including more Jeni's). On Sunday I drove back to Bloomington, arriving the day before class.

Things have been good here so far. There has been no rough adjustment at least yet and my classes (Sustainable Development, Energy Analysis and Markets, Law and Public Affairs, African Political Economy) are so far, so good. In fact, I may even have an additional job here, we shall see.

Now that I'm back and settled it's strange to think that just a bit over a week ago I was still in Kenya. It's certainly a lot different from my life here, which I suppose helps it feel pretty removed from my "normal life." I guess it's also good not to let that illusion completely take hold though, because I know I experienced a lot and learned important things over the summer and I don't want to forget them. I don't think I will, though I also think there are also things I need to make sense of and I at least hope to gain a better understanding of what I saw. Maybe my African Political Economy course will help with that, haha. The first class of that is tomorrow evening!

And so ends my summer of leah na twiga. Now that I'm back and can access youtube, I will end on this note (heh!):

#25: Mombasa area & Nairobi, Kenya

Back in Mombasa, Tuesday, 16 August. Our flight landed at 7:30pm and Hayley and I had a taxi (a friend of Hayley’s host family) waiting to drive us to Mtongwe, where Hayley’s host family lives. To get to Mtongwe from Mombasa the only option is to take the Likoni ferry across the bay. I’d taken the ferry before, way back at the beginning of the summer when I was at the coast doing fieldwork with KEFRI. It’s free for foot passengers (which is good because so many people rely on it to get to work, etc) but there’s a small fee for vehicles. It can also get really hectic. But anyway, this time around we rode uneventfully across the bay and made it to Hayley’s host family’s home.

Hayley and I were greeted by the family and were served some dinner leftovers. Mama Kibibi, Hayley’s host mom, is a really nice and welcoming lady and Hayley was told she should feel free to have visitors. Hayley had a spare bed in her room which I got to use, no problem. We ate and then went to bed fairly early. The family is Muslim and is celebrating Ramadan so they have to get up before 5am to eat breakfast. The walls of the house don’t reach the roof, which is elevated somewhat. This also makes it possible to hear everything going on. Therefore, my sleep was a bit fitful between the heat and hearing the family get up at 4am to eat.

Hayley and I got up a bit later than the others for our breakfast (tea, chapatti, and some kind of sweet buns). Mama Kibibi kindly warmed us some water for our showers. The house doesn’t have running water so people have to take bucket showers but by now that’s absolutely no problem for me, especially when the water is warm! After eating and getting ready, Hayley and I set off for Mombasa. When I was at the coast for KEFRI work I didn’t have much chance to see the town itself so I was excited to see it properly now.

First we headed to Biashara Street, which is known for its fabrics. Lesos, a type of fabrics with prints, are a big part of the culture in the Mombasa area. We checked out some shops with those and other fabrics before heading to Jahazi, a Swahili coffee shop, where we got to sit and caffeinate. I got a milky iced coffee, which was especially tasty because they added some nice spices. Then, Hayley and I set off to Pirate’s beach in Mtwapa to meet the SPEA abroad summer course that was in the area.

It was nice to catch up with everyone. We just sat on the beach chatting for some hours. Then, Hayley and I had to leave around 4pm so we would get back before dark. Returning to Mtongwe entailed taking a matatu to the Likoni ferry, taking the ferry across the bay, and then taking one last matatu. This particular ferry ride was not pleasant. I don’t think they ever are really—they are crowded and people really push and shove and run to get on, though I don’t see the need. But this one was uncomfortable because once we got on and were moving a guy on the upper decks started yelling in Swahili. I think he was saying something religious because he said hallelujah a few times, but then he started saying “wazungu” and all eyes turned to me and Hayley, obviously the only two white people on this ferry which had easily over a hundred people on it. The guy would say things about us in Swahili, which we clearly couldn’t understand, and everyone would just laugh. A few times he asked us questions in English, the stupid ones: “Hey, wazungu! How is America? How is Obama?” to which Hayley sarcastically retorted, “I don’t know, and Obama is my next door neighbor, so I’ll ask.” The guy ended up saying even more in Swahili (met with more laughs, with everyone staring at us) and then trying to give us his number so we’d M-PESA him some money.

It’s stuff like that which really angers me. I’ve met many Kenyans who are very, very kind and hospitable (including the people at the guesthouse I’m at now). In fact, I would venture to say that if you have a connection with someone (for example through work) and come to Kenya, you could probably expect more in the way of invitations into people’s homes, etc than you could in the States. However, I still don’t think foreigners are treated well in Kenya in general, based on instances like this. I still don’t understand why people think it’s okay to laugh along with an entire ferry at two girls about something they clearly didn’t understand. I am sure I looked visibly uncomfortable. And I can’t imagine a situation back home where a Kenyan would be walking down the street and someone would shout something equivalently stupid at them, like “Hey black person! How are the lions?” And I especially can’t imagine the whole rest of the street laughing back. I know mzungu/wazungu isn’t inherently a mean term, but I don’t think it’s okay to indiscriminately shout it out and pick on people like that. It’s even less excusable in a way there, at the coast, which gets lots of white tourists so we weren’t a novelty. But anyway, I do think the general treatment of foreigners is an issue here.

Anyway, a little incensed, Hayley and I arrived back just before dark, which meant dinner was about ready to be served at 6:30pm, the breaking of the fast. It was really cool to stay with her host family for a few days—not only were they super nice, but it was also cool to see how they lived and to eat some tasty Swahili food. This time, I ate chapatti, spiced potatoes, vegetable stew, beans, watermelon, some Swahili bread buns, and tea. Yum. After that, Hayley and I putzed for a while before an early bedtime.

The next morning we got up at 6am so we could get to immigrations services in Mombasa so Hayley could get her visa extended. After our breakfast of chapatti and tea (I’ll miss chapatti) we headed into town. During rush hour to work, sometimes the ferry only allows foot passengers on one, and vehicles on another, which makes things a little easier. Of course, at immigration we had to be sent to a couple different places before we got the right person, but luckily a nice guy walked us down the road and up the stairs to the correct office and Hayley had no problems. After that, I left Hayley in town to do some work as I joined the SPEA class. They were going to be snorkeling and I thought it’d be worthwhile to join them.

We gathered at Pirate’s beach again, but it turned out to be a few hours of hanging out because the snorkeling fell through. The course got permits through Kenya Wildlife Service and included in those fees is the cost of the boat. However, apparently the boat guys were trying to double charge and it ended up being a fiasco. Oh well, I got to hang out with people. So back to Mombasa town I went, met Hayley, and went back to Mtongwe.

I had a nice last evening in Mtongwe, learning how to do some dangerous Swahili cooking! I say dangerous because it involved slicing veggies without a cutting board. You sit on a stool by the jiko (little charcoal stove) and slice them in your hand. Eek. However, I’m proud to say I peeled potatoes, carrots, and eggplant with a knife and without cutting myself at all. Then, I learned how to make some spicy Swahili potatoes (bhajia, apparently they are also Indian food). This involves putting a spicy sauce on the potatoes and then deep-frying them, which I did successfully without hurting myself. It was pretty fun! Hayley and I also ended up taking some photos of our activities and of the family, especially so Hayley could have photos of her hosts. And then at 6:30pm we broke the fast and ate what we just had cooked. For a bit after that we all lounged around, chatting and watching TV before bed. I am a little jealous I didn’t have a host family like Hayley’s!

The neighbor kids.

Mama Kibibi cooking.

Hayley and baby Mwalimu.

On Friday, I met up with the class back at Pirate’s beach. I was catching a ride with them back to Nairobi but they had managed to work out the snorkeling situation so we were doing that first thing. We suited up and got on our boat, which had to turn back in a circle after a minute because apparently they didn’t have enough snorkels and life jackets on board. Good job. Finally we got out to the reef and got to snorkel. I had never been properly snorkeling before, so it was cool to try. The reef wasn’t super spectacular like I imagine some others to be—it was a bit deep down and there wasn’t a ton of coral or loads of fish. But I did see some cool stuff—a huge clam, a clown fish, and parrotfish. So, our quick snorkel was pretty fun and then after sneaking into a nearby resort to change out of our bathing suits (sadly no shower) we loaded up into the bus to drive back to Nairobi.

The drive was fine. Later on, once everyone got tired and loopier we had some fun sing-alongs (or duos as the case may be—mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head!). Once we got into Nairobi I got to quickly see my Kenyan SPEA friend/fellow TA Susan since some other people had left stuff at her place. And then back to my KEFRI room. I arrived at 9:30pm or so, spent a couple of hours packing, and then woke up at 4:15am so I could catch a ride to Nairobi as Bryson was brought to the airport.

For my last couple of days I decided to return to Kifaru house, where Sarah and I stayed a handful of times at the end of July. It’s really nice here so I’ve just been catching up on blogs (obviously, and apologies for the speed-blogging—I wanted to catch up!), contemplating packing (about to start that this evening) and reading. Also, after lunch today Ken the cook baked a cake with me! And then we also made bhajia and he showed me how to make chapatti. Sadly, chapatti seem to take a lot of practice to get right. Anyway, I’ve been having a fine, relaxing time here and I think it’s a nice place to spend my last few days in East Africa. I leave tomorrow morning—my flight takes off at 9:30am meaning I have to leave the guesthouse at 6am. I’ll fly to Accra, Ghana, where I’ll enjoy an 11 hour layover before flying to D.C. and then Columbus. I’ll arrive in Columbus Tuesday morning. It seems so sudden that I’ll be home so soon! I’m excited though. In a way it seems like the summer has flown by, but it also seems like I’ve been here for a long time. But I guess that’s a typical feeling. Regardless, home soon! And I’ll see some of you blog readers once again!

The last photo of me in Kenya.

#24: Bujumbura, Burundi & Kigali, Rwanda

Friday morning, 12 August, Hayley and I woke up, showered, double-checked our packs, ate breakfast, and then headed to the bus station. Our bus company was called New Yahoo! I’m not sure if Yahoo! is affiliated or knows about this; the font they use on their signs is even the same! But anyway, we met up with Kelly and secured three of the four backseats in the bus for ourselves. The fourth seat was occupied by an Indian (I think) woman who I sat next to. We didn’t talk much but she seemed pretty nice. As the bus departed, a bunch of people started arguing in Kinyarwanda and of course we had no clue what was going on. She kindly translated and said one guy was mad because his box wouldn’t fit on the bus so they just took off without it… Hmm. Other than that rocky start though, the ride went by pretty smoothly. It was a bit longer than I anticipated, but no matter. The roads were nice (though windy and hilly as expected) and I just read and listened to my iPod most of the time.

The border check turned out to be interesting. We went to the Rwanda checkpoint, submitted our exit papers, and got our passports stamped, all as usual. At the Burundi stop, however, in order to purchase our visas we had to hand over our passports, walk across the border and pay at another building, and then walk back and have our passports stamped and returned to us. I certainly didn’t feel comfortable about handing my passport over but it turned out fine. In fact, the guys working the border check were pretty nice and let us use the place’s toilet (hole in the ground).

The landscape didn’t change much once we crossed into Burundi, but it was quickly evident that we were in a different, poorer country. For one thing, plastic bags once again littered the ground as they do in all countries around here except Rwanda, where they’re illegal. Second, there were many more mines visible—Burundi has abundant copper and cobalt. Also, the amount of begging sky-rocketed. Whenever the bus thundered by a group of kids they would start screaming, hold out their hands, and chase us. I started wondering whether buses actually ever stopped and gave them stuff, but then Kelly speculated that people might throw their empty plastic bottles out the window for them. Apparently these bottles are really good to have for carrying water. When we stopped many more adults would beg at the bus too. Burundi is one of the absolute poorest countries in the world. In fact, right now Wikipedia says it has the lowest per capita gross income. The economy has been shattered by ongoing civil war, and even now rebel groups stage frequent grenade attacks. The capital, Bujumbura, is considered relatively safe (though it has been attacked by rebels in recent years), but visitors are strongly advised not to leave the capital due to the ongoing violence.

It’s interesting to compare Rwanda and Burundi. Burundi experienced the ethnic violence between Hutus and Tutsis like Rwanda did, with two genocides since its 1962 independence. When the plane carrying Rwanda’s president Habyarimana was shot down in 1994 (the event largely considered to have been the major spark for the genocide), The Burundian president Ntaryamira was also killed, which also led to a lot of violence. I have wondered why internal attention has been almost exclusively focused on Rwanda, and whether that attention (and therefore, aid) has meant that Rwanda has gone through some pretty rapid development while Burundi remains one of the poorest countries in the world. I don’t know, but I’d like to learn more.

We pulled into the Bujumbura bus station around 3pm or so. The bus station wasn’t right downtown, but after buying return tickets from the office we were able to catch a free shuttle downtown to exchange money and figure out the hotel situation. From the start people were very helpful, though there was a bit of a language barrier because it is French, not English, that is widely spoken. I had to pull out all of my French knowledge which consists of random words and phrases I’ve picked up from my grand-mere (“Oui, allo! Mon petit chou!”) and things that I guess to be French (manipulation of Spanish words in a French accent… ha), but it kind of worked. Luckily, Hayley and Kelly have studied a bit of French so they helped pull us along.

After exchanging some money, we caught a taxi and told them to take us to Bora Bora, which we knew as a hangout on Lake Tanganyika and is only about a ten-minute drive from downtown or so. We were hoping to stay on the lake, which is really large and the second deepest in the world. The beaches there are really nice. So off we went, and a waiter at Bora Bora pointed us to a hotel just a short walk down the beach. We checked in there and then decided to get dinner (it was getting dark at this point). Luckily, our hotel had many things, including a restaurant right on the beach. We headed there and ordered food. In my case, it was a little difficult because I had to avoid meat on a French menu and I don’t know all of the meat words in French. I ended up just ordering a plate of vegetables, haha.

The lake by night.

It was nice to be on the lake at dark, though in a way a little eerie. The lake is so large you can’t see to the other side really, though we saw some distant lights that we speculated could be across and coming from the DRC. The city was lit up, but unlike most capital cities I know, the amount of light was a tad sparse. The staff set up a bonfire on the beach so we relocated and sat there to eat. As we ate we were joined by two Canadians, a father and a son, who were also visiting there from Rwanda. Apparently every summer they go work at a school in Rwanda. Apart from them, though, the place was empty. It’s really a pity because the hotel was pretty nice (apart from having a chimp and a baboon in a tiny cage that kids were taunting… oh, I almost really yelled at those kids but then got afraid of being swarmed or something). But I suppose Burundi isn’t exactly a happening tourist destination because of the violence and all…

Kelly and Hayley by the bonfire.

Saturday morning we woke up and had our standard hotel breakfast of eggs, a bread roll, and fruit. Then we were off to relax on the beach. We wandered over to Bora Bora, where they have a restaurant by a pool and plenty of lounging chairs. I read over there for some time and then Hayley, Kelly, and I ordered a pizza to split for lunch. During this time, we were approached by a guy who heard our American accents. He was American too—a marine stationed there, or something like that. He introduced us to two other expats living in Burundi. One was a British geologist and the other was a Kazakh chemist and they were working to build a Chinese owned mine (though they said 10% would go to the Burundian government…) somewhere in the south. Apparently they get grenade attacks out there kind of often.

Bora Bora, the beach, the lake.

Hayley and I at Bora Bora.

After eating and chatting, the three of us decided we wanted to move downtown for the night. We had plans to meet with a friend of Kelly’s friend for dinner, so we thought it would be both more convenient and interesting to divide our stay between beach and town. We moved to a hotel right downtown that we had seen coming in, right across from the money exchange bureau. After hanging out there for a bit we went off to meet Ben, the friend of Kelly’s friend.

We met Ben near his home, and he took us the rest of the way there. He works for Heartland Alliance and he had a lot of friends (many of them colleagues) over at his place, hanging out before dinner. I spoke with a number of them about what they do, which is supporting LGBT rights in Burundi. What a job, especially when being gay is illegal there! They were telling me all sorts of stuff, like how the LGBT community has certain key words and phrases that one member can say to another person they suspect might also be gay in order to find out of they actually are. Also, they support some groups which somehow have connections with the rebel groups. One lady working for Heartland told me she travels around the country a bit, but sometimes gets warnings from her connections telling her not to go on certain roads because they heard rebel groups might stage attacks there, and so on.

After chatting we moved on to a restaurant that didn’t have a vegetarian friendly menu. Luckily one of the ladies I was chatting with speaks excellent French and managed to order some salad and banana fries for me, after finding out the restaurant was out of vegetables. After a very slow dinner (it took forever to get our food so we didn’t finish until almost midnight) we ended up heading out as a group to check out Bujumbura’s nightlife—namely, to go to a club called Havana.

This turned out to be pretty interesting and funny. Unsurprisingly, after seeing the state of the hotel and downtown Bujumbura, the club wasn’t really that crowded and our group definitely dominated the dance floor. We were joined by a nineteen year-old Burundian guy who apparently works for Heartland (brave kid!) and who has some excellent dance moves. There were some expected bothers such as older Burundian men consistently and annoyingly approaching the ladies in our party and old white men with younger, scantily clad Burundian girls (probably prostitutes). However, overall it was quite a bit of fun and we ended up staying far longer than we planned and dancing quite a bit. I know I looked awesome(ly hilarious) dancing in my hiking shoes with my sparkling water in hand. And now I can say I have been out in Bujumbura.

The next morning we wandered down the road to a café called Tropicana for breakfast. It was quite nice there and we sat out front, watching the street. After that, we headed to a massage place that had been recommended to us by our friends from the night before. A full massage there costs about $8 so why not? I had never had a professional massage in my life anyway. It was fairly nice, but the oil they used got all in my hair and I felt greasy for a couple of days afterward.

After that, Hayley, Kelly, and I decided just to wander around downtown Bujumbura. We wandered in a grocery store to see what they had and then we looked around the large covered market. Afterwards we checked our email in an internet café, partly to make sure the state department hadn’t emailed us any Burundi alerts before wandering back towards our hotel. I was extremely careful about my stuff during these wanderings, actually wearing my money belt stuffed down the waist of my pants and certainly not carrying my camera around (hence so few photos; sad, but I was not about to pull out my SLR there). On the first day, Kelly had quickly gone to the market to exchange some money and someone had tried to get in her purse then, so I think we were all being extra careful.

At around 2:30pm we were a bit tired of walking around and had seen what we knew to see. Bujumbura as a whole, like club Havana and our beach hotel, seems empty. There aren’t people crowding the streets everywhere like in Nairobi. But it also just feels like something is missing. The city is really run down and dilapidated (Osgiliath, only without the former glory?) and there’s not a ton going on. But anyway, we headed back to Tropicana for more tasty coffee and to read for a bit before ordering an earlyish dinner. I got a really tasty veggie sandwich. Eating there was somewhat sullied by the amount of flies flying around. There is definitely a positive correlation between flies and trash—both Bujumbura and Mombasa have lots of trash and plenty of flies. However, I had no fly problems in Kigali. Sanitation is essential!

After eating we headed back to our hotel before dark so we could safely sit up on the balcony and chat. We did that for a bit before heading down to our room for an early bedtime (our bus left the next morning at 7am). I went to use the toilet. Now, our toilet would not flush for some reason so we all agreed to pee only. However, I noticed something dark in the toilet. For a second, I thought someone had broken our rule until I saw the brown thing move. I did a double take, and then hurried out of the bathroom, informing Hayley and Kelly that there was something alive in our toilet. We called for the hotel ladies (who had been extremely nice to us, by the way) and they came and looked. It turns out that there was not one but two rats in our toilet. Not only were they in our bathroom, but they had also decided to hang out right in the middle of an accumulation of a day’s worth of three ladies’ pee. SICK! A guy came in to take care of the problem, which he solved by flushing one rat down and carrying the other through our room and out the door on the toilet scrubber. We all screamed and absolutely everyone outside who had been watching our drama started laughing. And then we moved rooms. I’d rather not have pee rats climbing around at night, thanks. Gross problem solved and it makes a pretty funny story, but ugh, it was nasty!

The next morning we had another uneventful bus ride back to Kigali and I worked on re-reading the first part of The Poisonwood Bible along the way. Once we got back to Kigali, Hayley and I said goodbye to Kelly, checked back into our hotel for the last night, and then went to hang out in Bourbon Coffee for a time before checking our email. We decided we wanted something tasty for our last night in Kigali (though I think we only ever ate tasty things there) so we went to a buffet called Africa Bite. We had to wait inside for a while for the buffet to open which was hard because we were hungry, haha. Apparently the place is really crowded at lunch but less so at dinner because we were the only ones there. All of the staff were really nice and helpful and the food was tasty, so it made for a good last night.

Tuesday morning, 16 August, we got up, showered, and made one last souvenir run to the collective of stalls nearby in order to spend the rest of our Rwandan francs. After some successful bargaining, we took motos to the airport. We flew from Kigali to Nairobi and then to Mombasa where Hayley would rejoin her host family and I’d have one last stop on my trip before returning to Nairobi one last time.

#23: Kigali, Rwanda

Hayley and I arrived back in Kigali late in the afternoon on Wednesday, 10 August. After moving our bags back to our hotel we decided to go find some food. I was especially hungry, my “lunch” that having consisted of poached food from the Spaniards on top of Bisoke added to the fact that I probably burned a ton of calories during the climb that needed to be replaced. The two of us decided to head to New Cactus, a restaurant we had been meaning to check out. Apparently it’s known for its pizza and its French cuisine (read: heavy on cream and cheese) and the latter was what I felt like gobbling after the strenuous hike.

Finding New Cactus wasn’t easy at all! We had an address, but most people don’t seem to know road names and moreover, many streets don’t have signs. Our moto drivers brought us to the neighborhood the restaurant was located in and we started asking people who either gave confusing directions or didn’t know. Finally, we were pointed down a short street so we paid our moto drivers and wandered into the restaurant there… wrong one! So off Hayley and I walked. We asked something like four or five people before we found the place. At this point it was dark but as I’ve mentioned, Kigali is really pretty safe. Most of the people we asked, in fact, were security guards (who are almost everywhere).

The search was worth the food though! I ended up ordering spaghetti in a mushroom cream sauce, which certainly reduced my body’s diminished energy supplies and was tasty indeed. After that, Hayley and I got motos back to our hotel and went to bed.

Thursday morning we had more errands to run. Hayley’s high school friend, Kelly, had let us know that she wanted to join us on our weekend trip to Bujumbura and she took Friday off work to make it possible (Monday was a national holiday, Assumption Day, so now she had a four day weekend). So Hayley and I did some internet research to confirm the visa situation (Americans can get transit visas at the border for $40 but must be sure not to stay in Burundi longer than 72 hours) and to find names, numbers, and addresses of possible hotels. After that, we went to buy our bus tickets. The first company we tried was sold out for the next day, but we got tickets on our second try. Bus tickets are cheap, by the way—I think ours were the equivalent of $10 or so.

After successfully purchasing our tickets we went to Bourbon Coffee for some putzing, zucchini bread, and (in my case) an iced mocha. Hurrah coffee shops worldwide. Then, we made the moto trek out to Kimironko market. Kimironko is a huge indoor market with produce, hardware, fabrics, souvenirs, and plenty of random items. After much deliberating, I ended up getting a bag that is going to be handy for my packing later tonight. Shopping took awhile between our wandering and our bargaining attempts. One successful bargaining strategy is to look at an item you’re interested in, tell the price you’d pay, and when the vendor tries to get you to pay more, walk away. Then later you come back and try again. The process may have to be repeated a few times, but it usually works. And that’s how I got my bag and Hayley her fabric. I must say it was actually a bit more fun than usual to bargain there. In some places it seems truly serious, like a real competition, but a lot of the vendors here took it in good spirits so all parties were smiling the whole time, recognizing each other’s bluffs and strategies but still going along with it and playing the game. Anyway, after that Hayley and I got two motos (again using the almost-walk-away bargaining technique to get the right price) and went to the collective of souvenir stalls across from the UTC to look around some more to pass the time before heading to Hotel Des Mille Collines for happy hour.

Hotel Des Mille Collines ("Hotel Rwanda").

We were both curious to actually go in the place, and apparently there are lots of people at the happy hours, and live music too. We got there a bit early for most of the action though. It was fine, but the live music was later and my juice and Hayley’s tea were definitely overpriced. But there we were, in Hotel Rwanda, by the pool. After our drinks, we went back to good old Shake and Sip to split a veggie burger for dinner. Upon arrival back at our hotel, we picked up some laundry that had been done during the day. I had my muddy-from-Bisoke jeans washed and was shocked to see how blue they were when I got them back! All of my clothes here seem to have an embedded layer of dust that doesn’t go away despite my hand laundering attempts. I am excited to toss my clothes in the washing machine right when I get home! Which is the day after tomorrow, woah. Anyway, that Thursday evening Hayley tried to call some of the possible accommodation places in Bujumbura but every time got either no answer or the number didn’t work. So the next morning we were off to Bujumbura, Burundi!

#22: Musanze/Parc National des Volcans, Rwanda

The bus ride to Musanze was pretty uneventful. I mostly watched the scenery go by and tried to spot buildings with the X for demolition painted on them. The bus was full and therefore pretty crowded. There are five rows (I think) of seats—two seats to one side and one to the other. However, after those fill up, there are little seats in the aisle that fold out for people to sit on. Luckily I had a window seat.

We pulled into Musanze and got a taxi to our guesthouse, which we had booked ahead of time for once! It was inexpensive and also just a five minute walk from the tourism office, which one has to visit before 7am to confirm or purchase permits for any activities in Parc National des Volcans.

The park is located in the Virungas—a string of volcanoes situated where Rwanda, the DRC, and Uganda meet. The Virungas are famous for being the last place mountain gorillas can be found and they are where Dian Fossey did most of her work at Karisoke research center between the mountains Karisimbi and Bisoke. She was brutally murdered in 1985 and was buried alongside Digit, her favorite gorilla, in the graveyard by Karisoke. Probably the most common, and certainly the most expensive, activity in the park is gorilla tracking. If you have a permit, you join a group and a guide leads you to one of the gorilla groups inhabiting the mountains and you can observe them in close proximity for about an hour or so before trekking back. Thing is, these permits are $500 each. Ouch. They also sell out far in advance. That being out of my price range, the other available options were golden monkey tracking ($100), climbing to the crater lake at the top of Bisoke ($75), or hiking to Dian Fossey’s grave ($75). There are also treks over other volcanoes, but those take several days. Hayley and I had decided on doing the hike to Dian Fossey’s grave, which would take less time (we were thinking of heading to Gisenyi, on Lake Kivu, before going back to Kigali) and would be less strenuous. I also was really interested in Dian Fossey as a kid, so I wanted to see Karisoke and her grave.

Sadly, when we got to the guesthouse, Hayley got sick again and hiking the next day was out of the question for her. She didn’t want me to have come to Musanze without doing something though, especially since visiting the Park was a big motivation for me to go to Rwanda. We agreed that I’d get up in the morning for my 7am check-in at the tourist office and try to do the hike to Fossey’s grave myself. I was getting nervous about going solo though, mainly for financial reasons. The hikes don’t start from the tourist office—groups must be brought to trailheads in a 4x4 and the drive takes about half an hour. Getting a ride is $80 per car, which I really did not want to spend all on my own. I was hoping that I would find a group kind enough to let me join theirs to split costs. For a little while before bed I nervously tried to watch TV, but the only station that worked was in Arabic so I gave up and listened to the new Bon Iver instead.

I got to the office in the morning and waited my turn in the line at the desk. There were some middle-aged Spanish guys in front of me who were arranging to hike Bisoke. When it was my turn and I asked the man at the desk if anyone was doing the Fossey hike he said there was no one unless someone turned up suddenly. I’m not sure if I could have done it alone even if I hired a car by myself—there might be a certain number of people required to warrant a guide and park rangers (which are needed). Not wanting to turn around and give up, I approached the group of Spaniards. Luckily two of the four spoke English pretty well (because oh man, is my Spanish rusty and it wasn’t all that good in the first place) and I explained my situation to them. They were so nice, immediately telling me to join them and that there was no reason for me to be alone. Of course I could ride with them to the trailhead and hike Bisoke! So, plans changed, I bought the Bisoke permit.

There was a group of us hiking Bisoke: me (the only American and loner), my newfound Spaniard friends, another group of four Spaniards (I think two couples), and a group of four Belgians who study together at the country’s military university. We introduced ourselves and were off on the bumpy ride to the trailhead. Once we reached the spot, we disembarked and were joined by a host of porters and armed guards. The armed guards were there to protect us from wildlife—the mountain is covered by a dense forest and animals apart from gorillas that could also harm you, namely cape buffalo. And off we went, hiking on a dusty path through farms until we reached the buffalo fence, meant to keep buffalo from the crops and to denote the beginning of the park. From there, the trail became tough.

Bisoke.

The trail became steeper and rougher, and we hiked for a while until we reached a clearing where we took a break. At this clearing, those wishing to visit Fossey’s grave and the old research station turn left while those hiking Bisoke bear right and begin the truly challenging part of the hike. So that’s what we did. The guide warned us about stinging nettles (and I may have brushed a few), but for me the biggest danger was the trail itself. It was basically a steep, bumpy mud path up the volcano with no switchbacks. I was also not properly dressed for the hike. Since I thought I would just be going to Fossey’s grave (no problemo) I was in jeans and had my camera bag rather than a small, easier to carry backpack with snacks inside. Between my jeans and my short legs, some of the slippery steps up were a challenge. Luckily, about halfway up, a porter offered to carry my camera bag and began giving me hands up certain steps. I befriended one of the Belgian students on the hike and we took turns being led up the particularly steep sections of the hike by our helpful porter. He, by the way, was wearing galoshes—it was really muddy! My mere hiking sneakers were covered in mud, inside and out. So were my jeans, poor things.

The dense forest harboring gorillas, buffalo, and probably ents. Check out the mud path.

So the hike was challenging. My partial hike of Mount Kenya was actually much easier! Sure, that was strenuous but I felt good and healthy basically the whole time and by the time I got to the meteorological station I was so euphoric and filled with adrenaline that I didn’t feel tired—in fact, I felt quite energetic! Bisoke was different. The trail, being so muddy and steep, was much more of a trial. We were also climbing a lot faster. Bisoke is 3711 meters, or 12,180 feet, high. We climbed it in less than four hours, straight up. By the time we were nearing the top, I felt like our porter was basically dragging me and the two other people hiking nearby at that point up the steepest bits. I was really just putting one foot in front of the other and hoping I wouldn’t slip down backward. It got easier after we passed the tree line and reached the scrubbier landscape, partly because there was less mud and partly because I knew we were close!

Finally!

The lake. And I'm not sure how you'd get down there to swim...

At last we reached the crater lake and then I started feeling good after struggling my way up. I had been hiking along with one of my Spanish friends and we joined the rest of the group. After taking a few photos and cooling down it became evident that it was truly cold up there because of the altitude and mist. I only had my thin white jacket to put over my t-shirt (Fossey’s grave would have still been in warm territories!). Also, after the longer-than-planned-for hike I was quite hungry and everyone was pulling out their snacks. However, the Spaniards turned out to be wonderful and without me pitifully having to ask, they began to share everything with me. “Here, drink some coffee! Eat some of these cookies! Eat this half of my sandwich! You’re cold, take this jacket. And this hat.” They were so nice! The coffee, by the way, was truly amazing. I almost never drink coffee with sugar but their milky sugary warm coffee hit the spot. They also insisted that I join their group photograph by the lake. It was really very lucky that I found them!

Guide, guards, porters, and mist at the top.

Me, sweaty at the top and about to get really cold.

With my Spanish buddies!

The hike down took about two hours. I could almost say “our run down,” too—the trail, so steep and muddy, almost demands that one jog down nimbly or lose her footing. So down we went, shedding layers along the way, and luckily I didn’t slip and fall on my butt. There were a few ominous rumbles of thunder, but no rain. After the scramble down I tipped my porter and joined the Spaniards for the ride back. They gave me some wipes for my now dirty hands and I found some old sticks of gum I had forgotten in my bag, which were all I could offer in exchange but at least they gladly took them. I also offered to split the cost of their vehicle but they wouldn’t have it; they wouldn’t even take the cash I offered so they could get drinks on my tab that night (“we will drink, but to your salud!”). I at least got their email addresses so I can send them the photos I took as soon as I get a better internet connection.

It was a really nice hike despite the strain and my general unpreparedness. It’s always nice to find such generous people while you’re traveling as a reminder that people can be really nice and welcoming and that things tend to work out somehow. The hike itself was great too. I have never really done mountain hiking before, but I think my appetite has been whet and I’d really like to do more! This also means I should get in better shape again so the activity won’t be as painful, haha. I suppose I’m not terrible at the moment at least. Our guide was surprised that everyone completed the hike because apparently it’s rare for a whole group to succeed. Nevertheless, I should exercise!

After all that, I went to the guesthouse to pick up my pack and then took a long moto ride into Musanze town to meet Hayley at the hospital, where she had gone to get checked out. Thankfully she was feeling a bit better again and she got some medicine that seemed to help. We decided to return to Kigali to play it safe, so back we went.

#21: Kigali, Rwanda

On Saturday morning, 6 August, Hayley and I had special breakfast plans—bagels! Specifically, bagels from the African Bagel Company, which is probably the only place you can get them around here. ABC is run by some expats (of course) and on Saturday mornings the place is hopping with the Kigali expat community. We decided to check it out to see who was there. And I for sure didn’t want to miss an opportunity to eat a bagel. And a doughnut. And some coffee. It was delicious. It also made me excited for the Bloomington coffee shops. This year I’m going to try to spend more time studying in coffee shops as opposed to my room, which will certainly put a larger dent in my bank account but will probably be better for my stress levels. And because I love bagels and cookies and coffee. Ha.

After our bagels and doughnuts, Hayley and I caught motos to the genocide memorial centre, which is just outside of town. It was cool to take these longer moto rides and see the city. Kigali is spread over four hills and simply walking around probably does wonders for one’s calf muscles. It is also nothing like Nairobi. There are strict litter laws (even besides the ban of plastic bags) so the streets are actually clean! And the traffic situation seems fine—not much congestion at all. It’s much nicer to ride motos when you aren’t afraid of being crushed in the traffic jam. Also, apparently street vendors aren’t allowed, nor is thatched roof housing. Traveling through the countryside, one can see houses with giant red X’s painted on the doors. This denotes a run-down building that is set to be demolished because it is unsightly and right by the road. It is pretty clear that President Kagame and the Rwandan government are making great efforts to make the country look nice.

The genocide memorial centre is split into a few parts. The first part details the 1994 genocide (including a brief history of Rwanda leading up to the genocide and a final section with several walls covered in photos of the victims that were donated by family and friends), the second gives brief descriptions of a number of other genocides that have occurred around the world, and the third part is the gardens outside. The gardens are located over several mass graves, containing up to 250,000 bodies. It was haunting, to say the least. 

The gardens at the centre.

It’s strange to walk around Kigali, imagining that some 15 years previously this now clean and organized city was in a turmoil of gross violence with bodies lying everywhere in the streets.  In Kigali now, there is little obvious evidence to show that happened but there are a few small signs. One is the scarcity of dogs. In other places I’ve been in the region, there are at least some stray dogs running about, but not really in Kigali. Apparently many people in Rwanda harbor a strong fear of dogs because during the genocide dogs were eating the bodies. Apparently after the genocide most dogs were killed. But anyway, knowing there is this extremely dark recent history under the seemingly calm surface of Kigali is unnerving. I felt similar when I was in Berlin and when I was in Saint Petersburg (sense a common thread behind some of my academic interests?) but in Kigali this feeling is probably the starkest because the genocide happened not long ago. Think about it, I was four years old when it took place—certainly old enough to have memories of it. Therefore, almost all Rwandans around my age or older lived through it and remember. Walking down the street I would sometimes look at people and wonder what role they played, for good, evil, or as victim. I did learn at the centre that Saint Paul’s (it was its guesthouse that we were staying at) provided refuge for about 2000 people.

View of Kigali from the memorial centre.

To lighten up after visiting the centre, Hayley and I wandered to a shop where traditional Rwandan handicrafts were sold and then to the UTC to hunt for postcards and to explore the Nakumatt (East Africa’s version of Walmart). Then, across the street to Shake and Sip again, where we split a tasty veggie burger. After that we spent a relaxing Saturday night in our guesthouse, reading and figuring out our upcoming travel plans.

The next morning, Hayley and I shouldered our packs and walked over the hotel we were moving to. Then, partly because most things are closed on Sunday, we settled in at Bourbon Coffee. Bourbon Coffee is, obviously, a coffee shop in downtown Kigali but there are also joints in a few other Kigali locations such as the airport, and apparently there are even locations in D.C. and NYC! It was a pretty standard nice Westerny coffee shop (and therefore had Western prices). I’m not complaining though because it is nice to get real coffee and not Nescafe every chance I can! Furthermore, they had tasty zucchini bread. Hayley and I relaxed there for a bit before doing a bit more internet research and then heading to a trade expo that was taking place in the city.

Hayley, her tea, and my coffee hanging out at Bourbon.

The trade expo was a lot like a state fair. There were vendors selling popcorn, ice cream, and other junk foods one would find at a fair (though no fried Snickers [or if you’re from Texas, fried beer]). There were several large tents that housed booths of vendors. Most people were selling different crafts that you could find around the city elsewhere, but there were some other interesting stalls. There were a handful of vendors selling Indian slippers for example, and I curse my wide feet that wouldn’t fit comfortably in them. There was also a guy from the U.S. embassy giving information on some sort of trade/corporation stuff (okay, I don’t really remember) and representatives from other companies. It was pretty interesting, though I quickly got tired because it was completely jam-packed with people! This was compounded by the fact that in East Africa, people tend not to respect lines. If you don’t queue up right behind the person who is in front of you, people will cut. And they usually do anyway unless you physically prevent them from doing so, if that’s possible. So there were no organized viewing patterns here, just people shoving through. By the time Hayley got a call from Cher-wen, a former intern that lived with Hayley’s current host family and now works in Rwanda, I was ready to go and meet her.

Off we were again, this time to Khana Khazana, an Indian restaurant! Alas, we got there a bit after 5pm and it didn’t open until 6pm. But no problem, Cher-wen was coming from outside the city and would arrive after us anyway so Hayley and I went to Heaven, a restaurant one street over, for an appetizer. I got some really nice iced tea and we split some guacamole (yes, more avocadoes!) with chapatti chips. There was still a bit of guac left on the plate after we finished the chips so I shamefully asked for a spoon. Waste not! The waiters were kind and amused by us (me) and brought even more chips. Win. And at 6pm we walked back over to the Indian joint, met up with Cher-wen, and had some wonderful Indian food. It was really interesting to meet with Cher-wen and to learn about what she is doing now (working for FACE AIDS/Partners in Health), how she got there, and her experience in Kenya. After talking with these ladies who now live in Kigali but have also lived in Kenya, I feel a bit gratified because a lot of my feelings (especially those regarding, well, gender relations) were echoed by them. We all agreed that one thing we really liked about Kigali is that it felt safe. We could walk around even after dark and not have to worry (something I would not do in Nairobi). Further, I experienced much less harassment from people (mostly from vendors and men). I honestly felt like I could be myself walking around Kigali, not constantly on the defense, and that was one of the things I liked best about being there. I really liked Kigali.

Sadly, after our delicious Indian dinner, Hayley got ill (though probably not from that food specifically). Luckily, we had rearranged plans for the next day. Originally, we were planning on heading to Musanze and the Virunga Mountains (where the mountain gorillas live) the next day (Monday) but we had delayed our departure until Tuesday evening because we had been offered a free night at the Kigali Serena, courtesy of my contact. Still not sure why, but oh well. Anyway, not wanting to pass up free lodging and food for a day (especially this free lodging) we had changed plans. After running some errands around town Monday morning while Hayley rested, I checked us out of our hotel and got a taxi for the two of us to the Serena. It was good because Hayley got to relax and I didn’t mind wandering around the hotel and reading by the pool.

As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, these hotels are truly swanky and I’m sure it will be a long time before I stay someplace like this again. The room was huge with all sorts of stuff (including q-tips that I stole) and a great shower. The hotel also had a spa, an exercise room, and a nurse who came to check on Hayley (who was starting to feel better). As Hayley and I had dinner the hotel manager sent a waiter to let us know that part of our bill was going to be covered by him! We paid nothing for the time we spent there. It was good to relax and to take a nice shower and to have a buffet with a ton of special cheeses and fruits and goodies, certainly (though overall the food was mediocre). To be honest, though, I was getting a bit annoyed at the hotel. I felt this before, but it’s just weird to be staying at a place like that when it’s stationed in a really poor region of the world. I can imagine people coming and going from places like these and never seeing the countries themselves for what they actually are. Sitting and re-reading The Master and Margarita by the pool I was actually started to feel a combination of annoyance and guilt at being there. I could be doing that at a nice pool almost anywhere in the world, but I can’t wander Kigali anywhere else… but it was free lodging, a kind of a gift I guess… Blah. I got more annoyed when I turned on the TV that night and saw that they had a station devoted to detailing all of the hotels and lodges in the chain. One of the adverts proclaimed, “come visit the real Kenya!” Hell no, that’s not the real Kenya. But anyway.

After my nice shower and my müsli and fruit breakfast, Hayley and I went back to the UTC (of course) for errands: namely exchanging money at the forex, getting plane tickets from Kigali to Mombasa, checking the internet, and getting our bus tickets to Musanze that evening. Then we crossed the street (!) to go to a collection of souvenir stalls and look around. Then, back across to Bourbon to relax and eat a late lunch/early dinner before our bus ride. I got a veggie burger. I ate a lot of those in Kigali. And then, we walked to the bus station and were off to Musanze!

#20: Nairobi, Kenya to Kigali, Rwanda

Well, I’m back at Kifaru House in Nairobi after about two and a half weeks of traveling. My flight back to the states leaves Monday morning so I’m just going to relax, pack, and begin catching up on things here until then. And catching up means writing about my travels! And hopefully posting these write-ups. My modem is working at the moment, but slowly, so we shall see.

My travels began early the morning of 3 August. I grabbed my pack and walked out of KEFRI, down the bumpy road, and caught a matatu to Westlands where I met Hayley who had arrived on an overnight bus from Mombasa a few hours before. Hayley, a SPEA friend and classmate, had been working just outside of Mombasa in Mtongwe with a community development initiative. We had been planning on doing some travels since spring semester and now our ideas were coming to fruition.

So we met and decided to bide our time at a nice coffee shop in Westlands until our bus at 1pm. I also knew of a forex bureau in the same mall as the coffee shop and since it appears to be the only one that takes traveler’s checks on Sundays, I assumed they would also be able to exchange Kenyan shillings for Rwandan francs. We wanted to get plenty of cash before arriving in Rwanda because ATMs accepting international debit cards for withdrawals are scare. But problem! This forex apparently did not exchange for Rwandan francs, but we were told of a nearby bank that did. Off we went, only to discover that, no, this bank doesn’t exchange for francs either. At that point Hayley and I just had to give up because it was time to catch our taxi to the bus station.

Getting on the bus was pretty stressful. The day before I had called the bus company and reserved two tickets to be paid for before departure. I was explicitly given two seats—J1 and J2. And I mean explicitly, because I confirm information at least three times on the phone here to make sure it’s understood. But if only it were that easy. After battling the infamous Nairobi jam, which in this case was largely caused by a matatu trying to go the wrong way down a one-way street, we made it to the station with about 20 minutes to spare before the bus left. We went to pay and the lady at the desk informed me that I had only reserved one ticket and not just that, but also the bus was fully booked. I must admit, during this summer I’ve become a lot more aggressive about things like this (meaning, more outwardly annoyed at incompetence—maybe good in that I stick up for myself, maybe bad in that I’m not as polite about it). I proceeded to inform her that the man on the phone gave me two seat numbers so it was up to them to make sure we both got on the bus. She just made us go stand in a corner and wait to see if a seat opened up, which I was not pleased about. Finally things were settled with the bus not only being two hours late but with Hayley and I getting the two seats we had been assigned in the first place! Huh, I wonder why.

My foul mood about incompetence dissolved pretty quickly once we actually began traveling though. Hayley and I caught up on each other’s summers, exchanged book and music recommendations, and made some plans for the upcoming semester. The bus ride itself was a twenty-four hour-long drag. We were seated toward the back, which meant more bumps but at least we were removed from, well, a particularly foul odor coming from the front. We also stopped at some of the nastiest toilets I’ve seen. As Hayley pointed out, they made her long for gas station toilets. But on we went through Uganda to Rwanda. At the Rwandan border crossing they searched through our luggage and took away any plastic bags, which are illegal in the country.

Rwanda is very hilly and one of the most densely populated countries in the world. The scenery is beautiful: hills beyond hills, heavily terraced with absolutely every space possible allocated to agriculture. It looks nice in a way, but it does make me think about the environmental consequences. Rwanda no longer has the wildlife that other East African countries are famous for, and there are very little forested areas left. Also, the roads improved once we crossed into Rwanda. They were inevitably very windy, but generally quite smooth.

We pulled into Kigali around 2pm local time (one hour behind Kenya). Hayley and I had a list of possible hotels and guesthouses, but no real idea of how to get to any of them. Luckily, we had been chatting with a very nice lady and her daughter on the bus and when her husband came to pick them up, he offered us a ride. Not only did they bring us to the guesthouse, but they also stopped by a forex and got us the best exchange rate we received the whole time we were in Rwanda. Overall, people were extremely helpful when approached. In fact, the guesthouse we arrived at was booked but since we had tried to call beforehand (and got no answer) they managed to arrange a room for us for a few nights. Perfect!

After settling in, Hayley and I decided just to putz around a bit. We were staying in a great location, right downtown, so we just had to walk uphill for five minutes to reach the Union Trade Center (UTC), a prominent mall, and after exploring it we decided to try to get a place to stay for the nights after the ones we’d squeezed in at the guesthouse.

The main method of transportation around Kigali is the motorbike taxi, or “moto.” They are cheap and easy to take around, with a journey across town only costing the equivalent of something like $3. Also, compared with the ones in Kenya and Uganda, they felt relatively safe. Rwanda has some pretty strict laws that are actually followed and these include having only one non-driver passenger per moto and that everyone must wear a helmet. This means every time Hayley and I went somewhere we’d have to rope in two motos, but this usually wasn’t a challenge as they are everywhere. Further, every moto driver carries a helmet for the passenger. Admittedly, these helmets aren’t the best (the straps are pretty loose) so I think if I spent an extended period of time in Kigali I’d buy my own, safer one.

Hayley and I called over our first two motos to try to find a hotel on our list that seemed relatively inexpensive (stuff in Kigali costs more than in other East African countries, though it still isn’t terrible, especially when compared with U.S. prices). We didn’t know its location other than that it was someplace downtown so we decided to have motos take us. We agreed on the price of 200 francs per person and off we went. Turns out we could have easily walked to the place. Hayley and I went to pay our drivers and I handed over a 500 franc bill and asked for my change. He would only give me back 200 and the other moto driver was trying to charge Hayley more as well. Even though 100 francs is a paltry amount of money, Hayley and I started arguing with the drivers. Thing is, since we’re wazungu (whities), we’ve had people try to raise prices on us a lot. I’ve spoken with a lot of people about this and they say they usually end up doing the same thing—arguing over a tiny amount of money because of the principle of it. We’ve lived here for three months now and know how much stuff costs so we’d rather not be ripped off because of our skin color. Also, we had agreed on 200 with these guys beforehand. It ended up that the guy I was arguing with drove off with 300 and Hayley’s moto got 200. Later we were warned that moto drivers here frequently try to change prices after the fact so we needed to watch out for that. I suppose that’s the downside of motos in Kigali. Anyway, we did book a room. We also were getting hungry for dinner and the receptionist suggested we go to a restaurant called Chez John.

Off we went, this time on different motos. As we sped along we passed Hotel Des Mille Collines (known as Hotel Rwanda because of the movie). It’s eerie to just speed by places like that knowing their dark history. Of course, because of the genocide, there was a lot of that feeling. Chez John turned out to be decent—not great—but our waiter was really kind. He was a refugee from the DRC (there are many…) and was nice enough to walk down the street with us and help flag down motos back to our guesthouse.

The next morning we wandered our way back over to the UTC and found an internet café so we could do some travel research. After that we went to a juice place across the street where I got—surprise, surprise—an avocado shake. I have to eat them while I can get them cheap! I will miss the ample avocado consumption that is financially possible here. Then we crossed the street again, back to the UTC, to meet Kelly. Kelly was a high school classmate of Hayley’s and she now lives and works in Kigali. She also had an internship in Kenya a few years ago. Since it was Friday, she was able to meet us for a late lunch. Apparently, people get off work early on Fridays so they can go exercise. We headed back across the street (we crossed the street in front of UTC so many times) to Shake and Sip, a cheap and tasty burger joint with not one but two types of veggie burgers! I didn’t try one of those yet though and settled for a vegetarian samosa. I was saving up for the Ethiopian buffet Hayley and I were planning on going to that evening. Turns out that restaurant is near Kelly’s place so she invited us over to hang out with a friend and her housemate before dinner. Her place was really nice and we sat and chatted up on the roof for a while before we all (sans her housemate) headed off for dinner.

The dining situation in Kigali is really very good for a city of less than a million in East Africa and this Ethiopian place was one of my favorites out of the many restaurants we tried. After stuffing myself with injera and pumpkin mush I was quite satisfied. While chatting with Kelly, she suggested that we visit Burundi while we were in Rwanda. I had been curious about going there, but the state department information on Burundi says you must obtain a visa at a consulate. Nope, apparently you can easily get them at the border. Our original plan was to spend about a week in Rwanda and then head to Arusha, Tanzania but Hayley and I began to discuss the possibility of staying in Rwanda for our whole travel time, taking a long weekend trip to Burundi and visiting some other places outside of Kigali instead. After a few days, we settled on that plan. I’m glad we did.