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Another Wild Ride

Thursday, January 8th, 2009

Day 283

Finally our last day in Kampala, I mean it has to be.  We’ve been here too long and really we’ve seen just about everything we have wanted to.  It’s been a good stay and both of us have enjoyed Kampala.  We would have been off today if not for the copious amount of Nile Special beer we consumed last night.  I was up before Jordana today as I have somehow come up with a way to not feel hung over.  I simply put it down to drinking loads of water before bed but who knows.

I sat in the restaurant having breakfast alone as Jordana slept.  Did I mention before how good the coffee here is?  Well it’s so good it should be stated again, it’s fantastic.  I knew today we weren’t going to be getting up to much so I wrote some blogs and drank lots of coffee before Jordana rolled out of bed.  “OK, the only thing we need to do today is get tickets for the bus tomorrow.”  I laid this very easy task in front of my tired looking wife and before she said a word her look told me she wasn’t leaving the hostel today.  “Can’t you just go?”  So off I went alone to try and fetch us some advance tickets for the bus tomorrow.  I just hoped the guy who sold tickets was at the office today.  I walked out of the hostel and down to the main road looking for a minibus.  “Sir!  Sir!  Moto!?”  One of the motorcycle taxi guys was yelling at me.  They have these taxis all over here and they are cheap but I’m not so sure about the safety of them.  He gave me a good price so I figured why not?  It be faster than the hot and crowded minibus.  I think it was about 10 seconds later that I was missing the stink of sweat from the minibus.  Wow!  This guy is flyin!  OK, just hold on tight and it’ll be alright, it’s only 6km.  I wondered how much it would hurt to be tossed off the bike.  We flew threw traffic at 50km/ph, weaving so close to cars that my legs brushed up against the sides of them.  It felt like forever but soon enough it was over, I asked him to stop short of where I wanted to go.  I figured why risk another km when I was safe here, walking never felt so good.

I walked down the main street of Kampala, looking at the newly formed blisters on my hand.  Godfrey had mentioned that there was another bus company that ran nice express buses to Kabale so I thought I would check that out first.  They left from their own office and not the crazy bus yard so that was a plus.  They did have a bus going to Kabale but it left at 3am!  The final destination is Kigali, Rwanda so I guess leaving at 3am gets the bus to Kigali at 10am, so the 3am time ruled that option out.  I continued on to the post office to try and buy tickets for the post bus.  Like yesterday the post office was a classic display of inefficiency.  I asked information where to buy a bus ticket, I was sent to the “stamp desk”.  There a lady informed me to find the transport desk.  I found that and waited, finally I asked for two tickets for tomorrow’s bus.  I was informed that advance tickets were not sold at this desk; I had to find the transport office in the building and get them there.  So back inside I went and searched for this office.  Another woman led me outside, down an alley and to the back of the post office.  She pointed me through a door that looked like a delivery door, actually that’s exactly what it was.  I climbed over boxes and entered a hall with doors on each side.  “Can I help you?” a man asked.  I told him I was looking for a ticket for the bus tomorrow.  Now I was led into an office, told to take a seat and then proceeded to watch 3 men write up 2 tickets for me.  They asked where I was from, told me how nice Kabale and finally I paid and they sent me on my way.  All in all it took me 45 minutes at the post office to get tickets and I dealt with at least 10 people.  In the end I had two tickets for the 8am bus so I wasn’t complaining.

Returning to the hostel I opted for the safety of the hot and sweaty mini bus, these things really cook in the afternoons when they are full with commuters getting home.  It’s always fun to watch people’s reactions when I get in one as well.  They look at me with a face of, “You’re white, why don’t you just take a nice taxi?”  Actually the “nice” taxis aren’t air conditioned and are about 10 times the cost so really this is a better option.  I returned to the hostel with my tickets and found Jordana under the same patch of shade as when I left hours before.  We just had dinner at the hostel tonight, tasty veggie burgers again and turned in early to catch our 8am bus out of Kampala.  The city has been good but I’m looking forward to small town Uganda and getting away from the noise and filth of the city.

Getting Irish in Kampala

Wednesday, January 7th, 2009

Day 282

Rafting tired us out; we slept in our small double room till 10am before we made our way into the Red Chilli’s restaurant for breakfast.  The coffee here is fantastic.  It’s Ugandan grown and comes in a big French press, it’s strong and flavourful and some of the best coffee I’ve tasted on the trip.  We are both really enjoying being at a proper hostel with a good restaurant, free internet and talking with other travellers.  It sure beats the usual crap hotel found in African capitals.  The vervet monkeys actually woke me up this morning, crossing over our tin roof, otherwise I may have slept till noon.

We took our seats in the restaurant/common room and ordered breakfast.  We were both really feeling the after effects of rafting.  My body feels like it went through a washing machine on extra rinse.  The plan for the day was to take it easy and I was content with sitting here with my coffee, moving between the pool table and the shady grounds of the hostel.  Kampala doesn’t exactly have a ton of sights to see but as I mentioned before it’s one of the more pleasant African capitals and finding a good place to stay we are really enjoying just staying put for a few days, free from dusty, bumpy bus rides.  Eventually we worked up enough energy to leave the comfort of the hostel.

Red Chilli is about 6km outside of the centre of Kampala, which is a bit inconvenient but then again it’s also why we love it here so much.  The grounds are green and it’s such a peaceful spot sometimes I forget we’re in a big city.  Jordana and I walked downhill about 300 meters to the main road where minibuses do the route into downtown.  We flagged one down and squished ourselves in, these mini vans are always packed but they are a much cheaper option than a taxi.  We were walking, looking for the bus station to try and find out about transport to our next destination, Kabale.  I guess we were a bit lost but since I was holding the map I wasn’t about to admit that.  The station should have been one street down, but all that we saw was a chaotic market.  Jordana suggested we just walk through and see where we end up; sounded good to me although I made sure I had a good hold of my bag.  It didn’t look like this area of the city saw many tourists, this was confirmed judging the comments and stares we got.  It’s something that bothers me or maybe it unsettles me here in Africa.  Random comments about us as we walk by and stares, for example one classy gentleman commented in a very sleazy voice, “Nice, just my size.”  As he looked Jordana up and down.  Besides the comments the market was complete mayhem and the further in we went the more interesting it became, a real assault on the senses.  I just hoped we got out without being assaulted, really though we never felt unsafe here.  Intimidating?  Yes, a bit but Kampala feels and is much safer than other cities in the region.  Soon we found our way out of the market and onto a busy street; we saw buses to the right and figured that was the station.  Sure was but I’m not quite sure what we were thinking.  I think we thought we were back in Argentina for a second, I men there was no way we were going to get an advance ticket or any information.  The “station” was a filthy, muddy parking lot with buses everywhere and people screaming at us to get on there bus.  One very drunk man came over and asked where we wanted to go, he reeked of alcohol.  “Kabale, tomorrow though,” I told him.  Another man, sober come down from a bus and told us to just arrive early tomorrow, before 8am and we’ll find a bus no problem.  Sounded fine to me, although the buses looked less than fine.  We moved on and walked back toward the roundabout where we could take a bus back to the hostel.

Along the way we stopped at the post office to mail a postcard, I remembered reading that the postal service runs buses around the country and that they were safer than the private companies.  We asked around and in true postal bureaucracy after 10 minutes and getting about 6 people involved we were informed there was a bus.  It left from here daily at 8am and we could even buy advance tickets.  Well we could have but the guy who sells them went home so they told us to be sure we were here by 7am and we should get a seat.  Sounded great and we would avoid the chaos of the bus station.  We walked to find a mini bus and along the way saw a sticker on a shop, “I’m Ugandan for Obama!”  The hype and love for Obama in East Africa is incredible.

Back at the hostel we had dinner and just relaxed, thinking we were going to turn in for bed around 10ish.  We got talking with Godfrey, a young Ugandan who has his own company that does anything from running safari tours to providing transport for business travellers.  He hangs out at the bar here and we’ve talked to him a few times since we’ve been here.  “You guys want to go see some live music?”  We were planning on bed but it sounded like a good offer.  Godfrey offered to drive us and even drive us back to the hostel as he lived nearby.  We climbed into his small car and drove into downtown Kampala.  We pulled up to a bar that we’d seen earlier in the day, it wasn’t as African as I had thought it might have been.  An Irish pub in Kampala, every city seems to have at least one no matter where they are.  The bar was a busy mix of well off locals and foreign aid workers, maybe a few other tourists thrown in.  We sat down with three guys who Godfrey’s car service was driving around Uganda.  2 were in the country clearing mines and headed to southern Sudan in the morning and the one was working with the Ugandan government on the security situation in the north.  We had some interesting conversation and many pints before Godfrey drove us back to the hostel.  It’s a great thing when you can meet locals travelling who are genuinely friendly and helpful and just want to show you around their town.  As we stumbled into bed I was thinking there was no way we were leaving tomorrow morning as we had planned.  We were thinking of taking the 8am post bus to Kabale but that was in less than 7 hours from now.  It looked like another lazy day in Kampala.

Nile Wild

Tuesday, January 6th, 2009

Pearl of Africa?

Sunday, January 4th, 2009