Planes, Buses and Automobiles

Before leaving, we took advantage of last minute American amenities like cupcakes, grilled cheese (thanks Rei) and free continental breakfast (thanks Mama Stipps!). We got on a shuttle to the airport and went to KLM to check in. Ten minutes later we realized we were technically flying Delta and we (and our combined 150 lbs of luggage) were very far away from the proper terminal. Undaunted, we navigated O’Hare, settled in and waited for our first flight to JFK. We might have played “Empire State of Mind” when we flew in; we’ll never tell.

JFK International was a new kind of mess involving shuttles. We shall never speak of it.

Our international flight from JFK to Amsterdam was AWESOME. KLM offers seriously good food, your own screen, and a choice of movies. We recommend this to future flyers. Unfortunately, by the end of the trip we were on about hour 20 of tiny, tight little seats. It’s good that we like each other, and that people moved to let us sit together. Also by this point we possibly did not smell very good.

When we got to Amsterdam everything was closed, including our terminal; some kind of crack-of-dawn hour there. They have a very cute airport and they sell tulips. Go figure. We got into line under economy class (we had to go through security there a second time to get to our gate) and our bodies, grateful to be horizontal, promptly passed out. We were rudely awakened a few minutes later and informed we were 2nd and 3rd in The Wrong Line, so we dragged ass over to another line in which we were 75th and 76th, respectively. Half an hour later we realized we HAD been in the right line, went scurrying back, and landed at about 30th and 31st, respectively. Watched more movies for 10 hrs on more tiny tight little seats.

36 hrs and counting, we can finally see Africa. AWESOME. We were beyond maybe not smelling good and exhausted, but thrilled. We looked at our options and decided to take a bus instead of a puddle jumper, saving a lot of money and waiting around, and giving us a chance to see both the Ugandan and Rwandan country side. We asked a few natives what a taxi to the bus station should cost - $20 each for an hour ride! Sweet. And that’s how we met Sard.

Sard, our driver, turned out to be a native of Kigali Rwanda (our home for the next 3 months) who had been living in Uganda for 7 years. As he’s old enough to remember the genocide, we could understand why he wasn’t in a hurry to return to Rwanda, but his animosity was downright funny.

“What should we absolutely see in Rwanda?”

“Nothing, there is nothing to see in Rwanda.”

“What should we eat in Rwanda?”

“Nothing, the food is terrible in Rwanda.”

And so on and so forth.

But he loves Uganda, so he gave us a tour, including Lake Victoria. Even at night everything was beautiful. We got his email so he can pick us up at the bus station when we get back.

When we got to the station he suddenly became concerned – "don’t make friends", "don’t talk to anyone about money", "you have too much luggage!", "your skin color matters here." And then he waited there until we had our tickets to leave. Sard is awesome.

It was 11:30p and we waited for a 1am bus bolt upright. When we finally loaded we were way in the back on a bench meant for 2 now holding both of us AND our carry-ons AND a large woman AND her bags. As if that wasn’t restful enough, Uganda’s southern roads are… fascinating. They appear to be paved with motorcycles, the speed bumps are as tall as children, and we had a new sympathy for tenderized meat. We did not sleep - but we did giggle, a lot.

But at 6am the sun came up, and we could see the mountains through the mist. The landscape redefined green. The richest, most gorgeous colors we’ve ever seen. Everything was so beautiful, but the further you get from Entebbe and Kigali, the more you have to adjust your concept of poverty.

When we got to the border we experienced the African past-time of “fluking” (FLEW-KING: like cheating, a word we learned from Sard) which in this case meant pushing, shoving and elbowing to get to the head of the line for the exit stamp at Uganda's customs office. A man casually twirling a baton casually admonished them they should not do that. They ignored him. We waited three times as long in line as necessary, and then turned around to find our bus was gone. Hoping it had merely “moved” and not “driven off with all our worldly possessions for the next 3 months”, we crossed the border into Rwanda on foot and were never so happy to see the Jaguar sign. We got our passports stamped and our plastic bags confiscated at the border, and at 9:30am, 3 hrs late (standard Africa time) we landed in Kigali, exhausted and unspeakably filthy. An amazing man named Jean of God was waiting for us to take us to the FVA office and then to the guesthouse. He drove very well on very paved roads but spoke only French - so, generally, we were very pleased with this part of the trip.

We’re so glad we got to experience something more than the airport, as our travels were much more interesting than the other volunteers’, and we were even more excited to SHOWER.

all our love,

the manolos