The entry begins my confessional of the surprise journey I’m taking that I didn’t tell many of you about before leaving. After the early (4 am!) departure of my professor and our other traveling companion, I slept in, packed my things and moved back into the house of our host mother (to save space, I’d been sleeping in the Red Cross dormitories just next to her house). And so begins my final three days in Rwanda.
The Red Cross dormitories are cheap, but at the end you must still pay someone. Whoever that is. My friend offered to find the person who could collect the money and key from me and, again through some phone network, located the office we would go to. We walked across the compound and up the hill into a tiny house. Apparently all of the Red Cross computers were down that day, so they had to locate a receipt book somewhere. We were left in the room for more than half an hour waiting for someone to come back. At some point, my friend had to go and track them down. Meanwhile, I was looking around the room at the improvised chairs and desks-turned-tables and filled what must’ve once been a kitchen for a larger operation. I don’t understand though why the entire place was contained in steel bars. All the windows and the patio to enter were encased in prison-like bars, with the loop for a padlock on the outside of the entrance. The outside. I wonder what that was for… Eventually the woman in charge of payments arrived with a beaten-up old book and scribbled the transaction for my records. It turns out it was a good thing that there was a miscommunication about what time our driver was supposed to be there. With all of this running around, we were definitely going to be late. No worries though, there were no real plans today anyway.
What I have noticed though, in walking around with our very popular friend, is that no one is ever in a rush to get anywhere and greeting everyone you know along the way is part of the journey. None of the pretending that I don’t see you in the grocery store, or acting like I’m too busy to say hello. Here in Rwanda, you greet everyone with at least a handshake and a how are you. In fact, whether you know them or not, you should greet everyone in the group with a handshake and a “Bonjour!” or “Miriwe!” or “Muraho!” Stopping at a shop to buy some toilet paper? “Hello!” and then shake everyone’s hands—the shopkeeper, his buddy that just stopped by to gape at you, the children, and the old lady next door. At a stoplight and see someone you know? “Bonjour!” and reach into the car to shake hands with everyone on board. I appreciate that Rwandans take the time to appreciate everyone in the room—to at least acknowledge your existence. I suppose this stems from my own fears of invisibility, but either way, I could get used to it. And of course, I can’t forget, but you must re-shake everyone’s hands at least once before leaving the conversation. If you’re in a real hurry or too far out of hands-reach, then you may tip your head up in a nod, but you mustacknowledge every person in the group. I don’t know why. It’s just the way it is. Why isn’t it that way in the US, I wonder? Maybe it is, and I’m just less anti-social here…
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| View of one of the lakes (Mountains covered in mist) |
When we finally got into the car, we headed up to Ruhungeri, in the northwestern part of the country. I’m a notorious sleeper in cars, and I take Dramamine to control the nausea of bouncing and zigzagging along mountain roads, but today I was really tired. Like hunched over on myself, bashing my head against the window at each bump kind of tired. And then I took a nap later. Now that my professor’s gone and the program’s a little more lax, it’s time to catch up on some sleep!
We checked into the hotel, which is clean and simple but has no mosquito nets. Then we scaled yet another mountain pass in our SUV to see the most expensive Eco-lodge in Rwanda. The panoramic scenery wasn’t clear enough today that you could see all the wonders this getaway has to offer. A sign at the entrance notes that visitors will be escorted at all times to maintain the privacy of guests. Only the rich and famous—not from Rwanda—stay here. Lucky for us, the lodge was closed for renovations, so we were given access to everything. We hiked up to a small plateau from which you can see the massive volcano in the distance. Shrouded in mist, the monstrous volcano towered over the villages below. Behind the volcano, on a clear day at least, you can see Uganda. On the other side, two lakes sit divided by a string of small mountains creating a breathtaking view of rural, mountainous Rwanda.
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| Fertile farmland below the volcano |
Large raindrops began to fall—so big that one drop filled the insole of my sandal. We made our way back toward the lodge just in time for a huge thunderstorm. We were at an elevation of 2,000 meters (is that right?) so the thunder and lightning was ridiculously close. As the rain poured down, we tried to entertain ourselves by taking pictures and chatting. At one point, I was trying to take a picture of my friend in a hammock when the thunder and lightning struck so close to the hotel it shook the building. We both jumped and nearly lost it. Holy cow! Fighting my animal instincts to run and hide, the lightning really put on a show. I’m sad that I didn’t really get to see Uganda in the distance, but the lightning and the mist and the rain falling in sheets really made this feel like an exotic getaway. Here I am, in the land of Diane Fossey. Preparing to see the realgorillas in the mist!
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| Volcano in the clouds |
Until the 6 am hiking departure tomorrow, I’m sitting here catching up on my blogging, chilled to the bone because I forgot to close the window of the SUV before we went into the hotel, so everything I have is soaked! It’s all worth it though. This trip has really been more than I ever could’ve dreamed!