Solo traveling

I had an absolutely wonderful dinner the other evening. At the advice of my trustworthy guidebook (on loan from Deborah) I am staying at the Royal Princess Motel- I know, I was destined to stay here- which is right down the road from The Oasis of Life. It fixes up an English/American cuisine (cause of course those meals were broken!) and I first had a plate of fresh vegetables, followed by a beef and mushroom pie, and the best part- Apricot crepes for dessert, accompanied by a French press full of Uganda’s best coffee. In all, I had a fantastic evening- sharing the medium sized dining room with no one but some (naturally very loud) Japanese tourists and my copy of 1001 Nights.Backing up a little, getting here to Mbale was a little bit of an adventure- by my subdued, lackadaisical American standards that is. I spent the morning in Jinja, soaking in the source of the Nile (and avoiding a persistent walnut-sized bee). Oh, and I saw monkeys! They hang out in the park there. Anyway, I sauntered over to the bus station/chaotic free for all, to find that the bus had already left, and it was the only one of its kind that day. But there was hope, all I had to do was catch a bike to the highway, and there I could hop on a Taxi headed my direction. In Uganda, a “taxi” is a 15 passenger van, which I think is government owned (because they are absolutely everywhere and all the same year) which drives in a direction, and picks up whoever wants to go for a small charge. They are incredibly crowded, as most people who travel are doing so to sell their wares- be it plastic chairs, foam mattresses, bags of a seemingly random assortment of clothing, or (and I am not kidding) a live lamb (which cried out the entire ride, and if you don’t know lambs “crying” make the same sound as children bawling). Anyway, the van showed up, and someone was asked to give up the treasured front seat for me- I am forced to assume its an honor- but in reality I am not talking about the front passenger seat- but the chump seat squeezed into the middle, almost on top of the gearshift. Compared to any back seat not over the wheel, its worse, but people here seem to covet it nonetheless. In case this needs explanation, I am somewhat a spectacle here in Africa- particularly the farther away from Kampala I travel. Whenever I travel, the drivers want me to sit in front- they look and feel important with a white person next to them. A little girl asked her mother to sit next to me earlier today, and was amazed beyond just my looks when she discovered and felt the hair on my arms! The local term is “Muzungo” for a white person, and I am 99% sure its not derogatory, cause I have heard it in pleasant company as well- and when I am walking around I occasionally hear comrades pointing me out to their friends.I know I am off topic from my traveling story, but I must say that in the midst of all this, the people of Uganda are amazingly friendly and courteous. Across all social and economic lines, I have experienced basically nothing that would make me feel uncomfortable here. As an example, after about a week here I walked into a dimly lit dance club (a feat of its own) with about 200 Ugandans, and felt at ease. (except of course from the music which was generally awful and always too loud) This is also helped by the general knowledge of English, allowing me to exchange pleasantries easily. Back to the bus…the driver found it increasingly difficult to shift into gear, and after forcing it for a couple kilometers, we broke down on the side of the road, flanked on both sides by farmland. While I watched the driver open the hood and attempt to solve the problem with a rock (I kinda wish I was joking) the other passengers were using their time more wisely hailing another “taxi” that drove up not 45 seconds later. (I am telling you, these vehicles are everywhere) I think I caught the third one, mostly cause I was not willing to elbow my way through ladies with parcels jostling to get on. I made it to a town about a third of the way to where I was going, got on another taxi (accepting now grudgingly, particularly since I knew that the reason my but was so hot the whole way was that the front seat covered the bare engine, the front middle seat) and got to my destination; covering the 150km in a little over 5 hours.