Stone Town on Zanzibar is probably the most surreal places I have ever been. Every single view down its endless, tortuous alleyways is worthy of immortalizing in a photograph, so rich is the character of the city. The entire place feels like an impossible anachronism – you truly wonder how it can still exist in this form, with culture and architecture seemingly so untouched by history, so distinct from anywhere else in the world. The answer, of course, is tourism, which it attracts in droves – while I’m sure part of it is that I’m on the island during the high season of Christmas and New Year’s, the main boulevards are rammed with tourists. It would shatter the fantasy a little bit, were it not so easy to avoid them by taking a turn down a random alley and getting completely and utterly lost. The street layout has no real rhyme or reason, twisting and turning, with angles and widths that are consistent only in their inconsistency. Getting lost is what Stone Town is for, and at least during the day, there’s no good reason not to – inevitably, no matter how far you walk, you will end up at the ocean, or at Creek Road, the main thoroughfare that divides Stone Town from the rest of Zanzibar Town to the East. From what I gather of the history (while I rushed through the museum exhibits at the House of Wonders with far too little time), the road was built by British colonialists to reorganize the city, separating the well-to-do in their stone houses (hence, Stone Town) from the village rabble. Whatever its original inauspicious reasons for existing, Creek Road is remarkably convenient, allowing you to wander endlessly, pleasantly soaking in the sights and sounds of this unique city so steeped in Swahili culture, without any possibility of getting truly lost (in a bad way).

As I did my second night in Dar es Salaam, yesterday I ended up eating an impromptu dinner at a cheap local place that a street tout showed me too – both times I was a little bit disappointed, expecting that it would be more flavourful given the context, but in both cases is was pretty much quintessential African food (i.e. bland but filling staples). And while local food is cheap, the balance becomes a little bit less dramatic when I let my de facto guides guilt me into buying them dinner, too. I discovered shortly afterwards that I should have held my appetite for the Forodhani Gardens night market.

The night market is yet another one of those magical aspects of Stone Town where you need to pinch yourself just a bit to reassure yourself that its really happening. After night falls, the laneway (unassuming during the day) is quickly packed full of locals preparing fresh seafood, grilled meats, soups, breads, and snacks, all by the warm glow of lantern-light filtered through the haze of cooking smoke. It’s also crammed with mzungus, so after I ordered my dessert pizza (a fried, doughy snack filled with bananas and chocolate) I spent a while chatting with different groups of travelers.

I also tried some freshly squeezed sugar cane juice. Seasoned with ginger and lime, it is absolutely delicious – comparing it to soft drinks is like comparing fresh baked cookies to packaged ones (though obviously the cane juice isn’t carbonated, but you get the analogy).

I ended up wandering over to a local bar (a hot, stuffy, slightly dingy place, but with the cheapest drinks I’ve seen on the island, and a nice character, regardless) with some Malawian Peace Corps volunteers for some Serengetis - definitely the best of Tanzania’s popular beers. Afterwards, the night walk through the twisty, intermittently lit alleys was a little bit nervous until I came to a street where I could grab a moped taxi back to my hotel. While safety is one of the disadvantages of solo travel, I’d say the more noticeable one is the you don’t always have someone to share just how special what you’re seeing is with.

Saw another museum today (Beit al-Sahel, the palace of the Sultans), and spent the rest of my morning getting lost and sampling street food. The afternoon and evening will be spent doing much the same, I think. Tomorrow morning, I head up to Nungwe, the tourist-y party beach at the northern tip of the island, where I’ll (hopefully, assuming there are still places to stay) be spending New Years and getting a bit rowdy, like the filthy mzungu tourist that I am.

There will be plenty of pics to come at some point.

So Christmas in its entirety – and then some – was taken up by a 30-hour long straight bus ride from Kampala to Dar es Salaam on the Tanzanian coast. It was by far the longest trip I’ve taken so far in East Africa, and probably on the worst roads, so considering some of my previous transit experiences in the region, I was not looking forward to it. That said, it wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been - Scandinavian Express isn’t cheap, but the seats were reasonably comfortable (and I actually had one to myself!) The constant bumps on many stretches of road made reading or writing pretty difficult, restricting bus-ride pastimes to staring-out-the-window, nibbling-on-bread, or the ever popular attempting-to-sleep. The three made a surprisingly good combination, and I spent a considerable chunk of the trip drifting in and out of consciousness, pleasantly surprised by new scenery every time I opened my eyes. Ironically, I had the most difficulty sleeping at night – I hadn’t realized just how cold it would get (in stark contrast to the baking heat of the days in Kenya and Tanzania during the dry season), so I didn’t think to get any extra long-sleeve clothes from my stowed pack. As it happened, the consistent jolting of the road made keeping the windows closed impossible, rattling them open within minutes and letting chilly gusts into the cabin. I did my best to sleep with my arms tucked inside my t-shirt. The last stretch during the day seemed to be on better roads, so I spent most of it window-staring or reading my Lonely Planet and pretending to memorize some rudimentary Swahili.

As much as the long transit can be frustrating, it always makes me happy when I emerge into a new country and find a totally different world waiting for me. Everything changes - the climate, the scenery, the architecture, the people, the culture, the food, the mood. As much as its nice to be able to chill out somewhere for a while, I find that before long the wanderlust sets in and I’m craving something new.

Dar is a pleasant enough city. It’s very hot, but there’s an ocean breeze. The traffic is downright placid by Kampala standards (with barely any zipping bodas!), and at least where I’ve explored in the city centre, the overall laid-back feel belies its size - it’s the biggest city I’ve yet visited. The population is more diverse than I’ve found in the rest of the region, with the addition of Arabs and South Asians into the mixture of Africans. Perhaps as a result, eating here has made me realize how much I’d missed spicing in food. I like Ugandan staples as much as the next guy, but I’m really enjoying the Indian influence here.

I spent the day wandering about. It’s well-signed by African city standards, so it wasn’t too difficult, and the core is very walkable. I visited some Botanical Gardens (where I was startled by almost stepping on a peacock!) and the National Museum, which was somewhat haphazardly organized, but has some really interesting history on the region, and the trade routes (including the slave trade) in particular.

I also wandered along the coast and headed to the fish market. Smelly, but kind of fun, and I enjoyed seeing the slightly-decrepit ships of all shapes and sizes plying the waters. I also bought my ferry tickets to Zanzibar, fending off scams from the official salesman who wanted to charge me an extra ’service’ charge. His undoing was lowering his charge after he admitted that since he hadn’t mentioned it, it was ‘his fault.’ I have to say, it gets tiresome when everyone tries to rip you off.

My sandals were also starting to come apart, so I paid a cobbler on the street corner to fix them and learned a couple words in Swahili. He also reminded me that I need to try some of the local Tanzanian beer - I think some Safari Lager is in the cards with dinner, tonight.

So my hopes of riding the ferry across Lake Victoria were dashed when I visited the Port Authority yesterday. Perhaps its for the best, since it seems that service was curtailed after a spate of accidents and sinkings (along with hundreds of deaths). Oh well.

After discussions with a few travellers, I’ve decided to skip Arusha and the massively popular safaris at Serengeti and the Ngorongoro Crater to take a slightly more offbeat path. The overwhelming tourist presence, especially at this time of the year, is a bit of a turnoff - I think you lose some of the magic of the safari experience when a lion sighting brings with it a dozen Land Rovers crashing through the bush to satisfy snap-happy ‘customers’. So tomorrow morning I’m taking a lo-o-o-o-ng bus straight from Kampala to Dar-es-Salaam on the Tanzanian coast, thus fulfilling my mostly-joking prediction that I would spending Christmas on a bus. So it goes, I guess. From there, I’ll be heading back west a little bit to Morogoro (though the dude I had been hoping to meet there is out of town) to follow up on some interesting sounding hike/safari suggestions and maybe a safari to Mikumi NP. After that, the tentative plan is to go to Zanzibar for a few days, then leapfrog my way up the coast, into Kenya and Mombasa, before heading over to Nairobi, and climbing Mt. Kenya and/or doing a safari in Masai Mara and maybe Lake Nakuru, depending on timing. Safaris are nice and all, but somehow I don’t feel like I’m missing out on that much, and maybe this way I’ll see some things that not everyone who goes to Africa does.

I’ve really loved Uganda - I’d say its certainly my favourite country so far, and from what I’ve heard from other travellers, that opinion probably won’t change after Tanzania and Kenya. I’m sure I could spend plenty more time here, but with my time in Africa dwindling, and the long distances I need to cross, it’s time to say goodbye. I think the next trip I take I’m going to make a point of not booking all my flights in advance. Somehow a monetary budget feels less oppressive than a time budget - I can always slum it and do some more self-catering to save dough, but try as I might, I can’t stretch the month I’ve got left.

Here are a few miscellaneous snaps from Uganda:

The Red Chilli Hideaway where I stayed for a while is far enough outside Kampala that there’s a bit of a charming animal presence. Roosters wake you up loudly and obnoxiously in the morning; monkeys tease the dogs, pester campers, and then retreat to the trees; to get breakfast in the morning you may have to nudge aside billygoats butting heads, vying for the affection of the one female. Fun.

If you think pigeons in Toronto are bad, Kampala is quite literally infested with marabou storks. These are the coolest things ever - they look downright prehistoric, like hideous pterodactyls. They have two meter wingspans, steal entire branches to make their nests, and paint the city white with their crap. I have no idea what they eat, or how they can possibly find enough of it, but they’re everywhere.

No significance to this one, just a little bit of irony.

Interesting how the most time I’ve spent on a mountain bike (and by a good margin, at that) happens to be in Uganda, of all places…

Yeah, I most definitely went beyond that point. Though Bujagali Falls was one of the few rapids (and probably the only class 5) that I managed to stay in the raft for…

I just thought these were kind of pretty looking.

So Jinja may not literally be the source of the Nile, since both Rwanda and Burundi have claims further south, but Uganda’s stake is certainly the most impressive. The river is truly spectacular here, with some of the best rapids for kayaking and rafting in the world. It’s also home to the breweries of some delicious Ugandan beers, and is a nice, lazy town in general. A great spot to hang out, in contrast to the frenetic pace of Kampala.

After Murchison, I spent a relaxed day in Kampala, explored the markets a bit, and ran some errands (including picking up some pills for schistosomiasis, which I suspect will be incubating in me, since I’ve been swimming in African fresh water). The next morning I took the free shuttle bus that Nile River Explorers operates between Kampala and Jinja (it even picked me up at Red Chilli), and hired a mountain bike (a proper one, this time!) for my first day in town. I rode from Jinja town to a lookout point at the top of a big hill on the outskirts, and then after the (slightly terrifying) descent, I made my way up to NRE’s campsite outside of town. I dropped off my stuff at the dorm, had some lunch, and took a much-needed dunk in the Nile to rinse off the dust. I’d been hoping for a relaxing float after my ride, but the current kept tugging on me, so I had to keep swimming to stay roughly in the same spot. Afterwards, I went on a bike tour around the town of Bujagali with a local dude named Grease (who bore a striking resemblance to 50 Cent). I got a chance to see some of the serious rapids I’d be taking on in the raft the next day.

The rafting itself was pretty epic. Our guide, Peter, had a hilariously flat, slightly off-kilter sense of humour, and I think that even though the raft I was in had three quite-nervous girls, we must have taken a few rough routes, since I was dumped on almost half of the rapids we ran. On one long, particularly intense rapid (dubbed Silverback) I was out early on, so the swim was pretty wild. We ate a light lunch of tasty pineapple while floating down one of the long stretches of flatwater on the river, and then were back into it. After a few more dumps (and maybe a successful run or two), I opted to do the last rapid of the day (many didn’t) called ‘The Bad Place,’ which is a class 5 hole after a truly insane class 6 waterfall. It lived up to its rep, and I ended the day slightly shell-shocked and gasping for air. It was a pretty amazing experience on the whole, utterly spoiling me with warm water and huge volumes of water - anything less than class 5 will be anti-climactic, should I decide to go rafting again. The only regret is that everything happens so fast and so intensely, so my memory of specifics is vague at best.

After a barbecue feast back at the campsite, I took a nap, and in the evening went with a kayaker girl from Vancouver to get some of the millet beer at a local pub, which she assured me was good. It’s a grainy slurry mixed with hot water, served in a cut-off jerry can, that you suck through long straws (in our case, electrical wire casings stretched over a metal tube with a filter at the bottom). It’s definitely interesting, and I didn’t mind it so much at first, though I noticed it reminded me of something. After a while, I realized that it was reminding me of vomit, and it thrilled me a little bit less. I think the girl was the only one we met who liked it, so I don’t suspect warm millet beer has much marketing potential in the West. Still, the whole bucket was only the cost of a regular beer, and it was worth the experience, anyway.

Having biked for six or seven hours, and then rafted for five the next day, it’s been by far the two most physically active days I’ve had in Africa, so it was quite refreshing. I’m not sure if I’m quite the extreme kayaking sort, but in addition to mountain biking, I think I’m going to add rowing (non-sequitur) to the list of activities I need to take up at some point when I get back into Toronto.

Some girls from Denmark renewed my hopes of the possibilities for catching a ferry from Port Bell, south of Kampala, across Lake Victoria to Mwanza in Tanzania. It certainly seems like a more interesting route than another lo-o-o-ong overland bus, and should even be a bit more convenient, since I don’t need to go through Kenya, first. I’ll check that out today, hopefully.

After hitching back from Mukono with Leslie, I had a chilled-out Tuesday at the Red Chilli Hideaway, a backpackers hostel that organizes budget trips up to Murchison Falls NP. The trip I went on was all-inclusive except for food, and cost $240 for two nights in the park, so it’s a pretty good deal by safari standards. Even hanging out at Red Chilli itself was a totally different experience than anywhere else I’ve been for the rest of my trip – nearly everyone is a travelling mzungu, except for the staff. The ride up to the park in a Toyota safari van (with pop-up roof) felt like a private jet in contrast to local transit. I appreciate now, more than ever, that people who travel Africa in all-inclusive, organized overland truck tours don’t get the African experience at all – you’re so isolated from the realities of local travel, food, and people.

The first night that we arrived at the park, we had a little bit of a hike around the top of the falls. Impressive scenery, blah, blah, blah – as always, my words, and even (or perhaps especially) the photos, can’t possibly do it justice. Back at the camp, I got a special little thrill out of being warned about the warthogs, hippos, and baboons that roam freely through the camp (though I didn’t see any hippos – probably for the best).

Our early morning game drive the next day was disappointingly vegetarian, though our group was lucky in that we spied two lions, very briefly, that had been sitting in the tall grass and crossed the road. We also saw plenty of antelope-like mammals of various shapes and sizes, buffalo, some giraffes, a few monkeys, baboons, and hippos, though no elephants. I almost had to pinch myself to remind me that I was actually seeing these impressive animals in their natural habitat – for once, I was the one that was out of place, not them.

Later in the afternoon, the boat launch up to the falls and back was, surprisingly, much more eventful from a wildlife point of view. Not as many hum-drum ungulates, of course, but plenty of hippos, a few elephants, and a close-encounter with a big crocodile that tried to thrash our boat (there was no threat, but it was a little bit exciting).

On the last day, we went to a wildlife sanctuary that is slowly trying to rebuild Uganda’s rhino population, which had been wiped out in the early 1980s during the country’s conflicts. Currently, there are six white rhinos (the big, docile grazers, in contrast to the smaller, charge-happy black rhinos) in the park. Even though I expect I’ll see more rhinos in the wild in Kenya and Tanzania, it was still a worthwhile experience, since we had to track them on foot. You get a much greater appreciation of just how massive and powerful they are when you’re standing on their level, with nothing separating you. The rhinos mostly just sat around (Africa’s a hot place in the afternoon), but it was still pretty awesome.

On the way home, we bought a jackfruit by the roadside for 1000 shillings (50 cents), which is a spiky, watermelon-sized behemoth that is so incredibly sticky that you need to dip your fingers in oil before you eat it. Really interesting taste – not-too-sweet, with an almost meaty texture unlike any other fruit I’ve had. Weird stuff.

The plan is to hang out for another day or two in Kampala, and then head over to Jinja for some whitewater rafting in the class 5 rapids at the Source of the Nile. Whoo!

More backdated posts now that I have an internet connection:

We spent our night in Savannah in style, holed up in bedrooms throughout Kim’s mansion out in The Landings, a breathtaking retirement community a few minutes outside downtown Savannah. Sleep came on oh so quickly that night. In the morning we woke up to a real southern breakfast of grits, eggs, and sausage - we even got to feast on red eye gravy. This old cowboy favourite is just coffee mixed with sausage grease. And unlike the grits we had at the Doubletree in Nashville, these grits were buttery and delicious.

What would a trip to Savannah be without seeing the ocean? After our grits and gravy, we explored The Landings a bit (6 golf courses, 2 marinas, and 4000 homes) on our way to the western marina. There, we tried our hand at crabbing, even though we were out of season and our odds were slim. To do this, we basically tied a turkey neck to a metal basket that is dropped to the bottom. Eventually, the basket is pulled up (closing it) and any crabs which may be feeding there are dinner. We didn’t catch any.

The weather being what it was (a balmy 24C), a trip to go swimming seemed in order. A little jaunt over to Tybee Island brought us to huge beaches, warm water, and decent surf. All we had was a boogie board, but that was all it took to have a great time. This was undoubtedly the highlight of the trip so far (although the post-swimming grouper sandwiches were close).

I have to end this section with another comment on the notion of southern hospitality… It is alive, real, and just so AUTHENTIC. Everyone we have met in the south has just been so friendly. So here goes a sappy thank you to Kim and her family for the hospitality. It was much appreciated.

Last night was the most intense part of the roadtrip so far. We finally got loaded into the van at 6:30 pm, and didn’t stop until we reached Texas at noon the next day. Most of the trip was during a snowstorm. Apparently the biggest snowstorm in Lousiana in at least 50 years. I now officially hate both Mississipi and Lousiana and am never returning to either. I will return soon with tales of Texas.

Continuing my backdated posts:

We got to the Georgia Aquarium for opening Tuesday morning. The whale sharks are far and away the most hyped attraction here, so we decided to save that exhibit for last. Touring the rest of the aquarium gave me a favourable impression for sure, but everything was somewhat underwhelming. Maybe it’s just that I tend to be a fish guy, but the emphasis was definitely on big, flashy exhibits. Most of the freshwater collection, for example, was big catfish and sturgeon in huge curved aquariums rather than smaller exhibits showcasing the diversity of fishes for example. My conclusion seemed to be that while Georgia had one of the nicer aquariums I’ve seen, it was no Shedd (Chicago’s aquarium). This all changed when we got to the “Ocean Voyager” exhibit, home of the whale sharks.
The entrance here is a moving sidewalk down a long (30m), clear tunnel directly through the 6.5 million gallon holding tank. This trip took us about 20 minutes each time (trust me, you can’t do it only once), and releases you in the greatest viewing gallery I have ever seen. Everything revolves around the viewing window, apparently the second largest one in the world. It is so big that the four whale sharks swimming around look small. You have to see pictures to understand.

While we were at the aquarium, each of us made the same observation, confirmed to be true throughout the south by many southerners. Everyone down here gets married and has kids really young. The aquarium was full of 21-25 year old moms with their kids, and this hasn’t changed throughout Georgia, Louisiana, or Texas.

We explored Hotlanta for a little bit after we left the aquarium, but an invitation from Kim, one of Adam’s McGill friends, to a barbeque in Savannah, Georgia (just over 4 hours southeast) had us scurrying back to the van and on the road again. We arrived at the Green Drinks social and BBQ around 7:00 Wednesday night, just in time for the last of the pulled pork and fried pickles. The fried pickles are apparently quite popular around these parts, and most of us really liked them (I didn’t). Anyway, Green Drinks was a Georgia based networking group for young professionals concerned about environmental/social justice type issues, so we fit in rather well considering we were from far away. We were overjoyed to learn that pints here were 3 bucks, although that ended up being moderate-upscale pricing according to the locals. Played some beanbags, and then went to drop off the van where it would be safe overnight before getting drunk.

The capper for the evening was a little dive bar, The Rail. This was a great experience complete with all the southern cliches - peanut shells covering the floors, old people smoking cigars, and the local delicacy - toaster hot dogs on white bread. Seriously. They even have a metal tube insert in the toaster for cooking the hot dogs. And the best part – when we were leaving we ordered “travellers”. These are just pints in plastic cups, and you are allowed to leave the bars with them and drink on the streets anywhere downtown in Savannah. You listening, Toronto?

So I caught a Sunday performance of some traditional song and dance from around Uganda (and one from Burundi, actually) at the Ndere Centre on the outskirts of Kampala. I think it may well be the highlight of my trip thus far. The energy was just amazing, the music was deeply enjoyable, the costumes were vibrant, the skits in-between were interactive, humorous, informative, and uplifting – really, really enjoyable overall. One of the more incredible dances involved the girls carrying six or seven pots stacked up on their heads, often doubling their height! You could also order dinner in the outdoor amphitheater while the performance was going on - I tried tilapia (a fish), which tastes a bit like chicken, actually (no joke). Towards the end, people from all the different countries around the world were called down (there was quite an eclectic mix in the audience), and we had a giant dance party to traditional African music – just incredible.

Of course, stupid me, I had no real idea of what to expect, and thought that it was a ‘performance,’ in ye olde Western sense of the word, and just assumed photography would be prohibited (it wasn’t), so I didn’t even bother to bring my camera. You’ll just need to trust me that it was a terrific show, and if you’re ever in Kampala on a Sunday or Wednesday, check it out for yourself.

Had a bit of sticker-shock when I posted a box with a few African crafts back to the fam in Toronto – it came to almost $50 USD (far more than the value of the contents)! Had I realized just how pricey shipping was, I would have made a point to buy more crafts here in Uganda – I was planning on accumulating them from around the region as I traveled and sending them back piece-meal. It also occurs to me that the crafts that they sell here are practically identical to the ones in Rwanda (just way cheaper), and are presumably the same as in Tanzania or Kenya – I swear they’re all made in China. Oh well, live and learn.

I spent Monday night in Mukono, at the ‘Real Uganda’ guesthouse (where my brother Christopher volunteered two years ago) and had an interesting chat over lunch with Leslie, the organization’s coordinator. Mukono is a small-ish town outside Kampala (only 18 km away, but the minibuses take an hour to get there because it’s along the main route to Kenya, so it’s pretty busy). There’s not an awful lot to differentiate it as far as I can see, but I’m sure it would have plenty of nostalgia value for those who have volunteered here (the guesthouse certainly has its fair share of messages scrawled on the walls by former volunteers – yes, Christopher, I saw yours.) Heard two ambulances drive by that afternoon – I think they may be the only ones I’ve heard in almost a month in Africa.

On Wednesday I am doing a trip up to Murchison Falls, the first big (read: expensive) ‘activity’ of my trip, though I will be cramming in a bunch more now that I’m moving around the more interesting bits of East Africa. It’s a shame that I’ll probably end up in Tanzania and Kenya in the high travel season around Christmas and New Years, since there will undoubtedly be tons of rich mzungus around to push up safari prices.

Miscellaneous thought of the day: you don’t realize just how much North America has defecated on the world with its trend-driven culture until you see it crop up, second-hand and forlorn but still brand new, in the far corners of the earth. See “Give Me Some of Your Tots” t-shirt (care of Napoleon Dynamite) on a Kabale girl, or the “G-Unit Saloon” in rural Rwanda as examples.

I also saw a minibus on the way to Mukono that said “Straggle 4 Futur” in the back window in that big, tacky appliqué lettering they all have. Something about the typo, and running out of space gave it a poignancy it would otherwise lack, I think.

Saturday was pretty much the definition of a non-day. Woke up before 6:00 o’clock, grabbed a cold samosa from the security guard (I had them cook it for me the previous night to take), and went to catch the PostBus. I’d heard it was the way to get to Kampala, because it is reasonably priced, leaves at a fixed time (rather than ‘when uncomfortably full’ like most buses in East Africa), and rarely stops to pick up more passengers. As well, one of the main bus lines to Kampala has had all its buses hired by the UN to take out Congolese refugees, so other options were more limited, anyway. Well, the PostBus may be a safe, reliable way to get to Kampala, but it is by no means fast. It took nearly 9 hours for a route that is probably not much more than 300 km. And inevitably, we stopped to pick up more passengers – it wouldn’t be overland transit in Africa if there weren’t more passengers than there are seats. That said, I sat at the very front, so I had plenty of leg room, and it wasn’t too-o-o overcrowded – the 9 hours could probably have been far more grueling.

Got into Kampala, checked into my room, changed some cash, got a new SIM for my phone, and grabbed some very tasty Indian food (who’da thunk it, after Idi Amin, eh?). Besides doing some much-needed laundry in the shower (the humidity of the drying clothes have turned my room downright tropical), that was essentially my day.

Kampala is definitely the city-est of cities I have yet visited in East Africa – I will probably end up going in perfect order of smallest to largest, assuming I go straight to Dar es Salaam from Uganda, skipping through Kenya until later. While some might call it generic, the urban familiarity is kind of refreshing.

I was planning on visiting the Kasubi Tombs, but I’ve heard it is mediocre and that the prices have been jacked up dramatically (around $10 USD now) - it’s also way out there, and Kampala is huge and sprawling, so I’m not really in the mood to figure out transit. Instead, I’ll wander around a bit, take it easy, and maybe check out some traditional music/dance later in the evening, since there is a show tonight.

(so it seems editing posts doesn’t seem to be working, so I wasn’t able to add those extra pictures after all. This will all get consolidated eventually, but here’s the text to go with yesterday’s pictures)

While making my way to Lake Bunyonyi was a bit iffy, wearing a fully-loaded 70L backpack while clinging to the back of an underpowered scooter, riding up steep mountain roads in questionable shape, the sights may have been the most beautiful yet on my trip, which is saying a lot. (You may be noticing that a lot of these journals mention transit quite frequently – it’s because in East Africa, getting around is not always straightforward, and the trip is often a bit of an adventure in itself, for better or worse).

Lake Bunyonyi is a bit of a magical place. It actually reminds me of cottaging back home – the hills are a bit steeper (though on the way up, some of the cliffs that have been blasted even reminded of the Canadian Shield), and the plants are a bit more tropical, but the climate, the water, and the ambiance are just like on a nice summer’s day at Rainy Lake. I got a furnished tent to sleep in, with a little deck that comes complete with a power-outlet, so I can sit here typing away. There is plenty enough to do around the camp, but more importantly, there is plenty not to do. Solo travel can be a bit draining – besides the aforementioned transit and finding accommodation, it forces you to pay attention all the time. As it stands, I am perfectly content to enjoy a lazy holiday on the Lake for a day or two before the bustle of Kampala.

I rented an optimistically-named “mountain bike,” (really just another one of the ubiquitous heavy, single-speed WWI-era Raleigh DL-1 clones that fill Africa’s roads – all the bikes with gears were broken) to ride around the lakeshore a bit. It was ill-fitted to me, ill-handling, the too-slack chain rattled against the frame with every bump, and the rod brakes (Wikipedia that) were a little bit terrifying on the steep, deeply rutted, uneven downhills, so there was a lot of time spent walking it. Exhilarating in a bit of a different sense than I’d expected. At first I was pretty disappointed, especially since it was more expensive than advertised (twice as much as I paid for my room last night!), but it was fun anyway, and it gave me a lot more appreciation for how people get around in much of Africa. Having the bike also made for an an easy way to make friends with the local kids, who were eager to give it a try riding down the hills (perched awkwardly over the top-tube, because they were too short). It may just be the Anglophone factor, at last, but Ugandans are super friendly people.

A truckload of mzungus (28 or so?) arrived at the camp a truck last night as part of an overland East Africa tour. A few who I’ve talked to are using the tour as a capper for extended world travel itineraries – one woman had spent almost nine years as an itinerant traveller. Lots of stories to be had. It changed my assumptions a little bit about those who take organized tours - though not that much, given that the few who I asked didn’t even know where they were going to be tracking gorillas (for their ~$650)! It seems traveling solo overland in Africa is a little bit unusual.

I went for a hike in the morning up the hill to get a good look at the lake and all the islands in it. Along the way I walked with a kid who said he would meet up with me later to take me out on the lake in his dugout canoe. It would have been sort of fun, but I had some mild stomach upset and was feeling generally lethargic, so I wasn’t really up to it. Another one of my travel revelations that I’ve come to is that I’m not on this trip to fill out any sort of adventure checklist – exactly what I feel like doing is worth more, in my books, even if that means doing much less than I planned. I decided I would be boring, relax, and go for a swim, instead. I was planning on maybe spending another night at the camp, but the resort pricing at the Overland Camp was getting to me, and I wanted to get on with things.

I spent the night back in Kabale at the Home of Ederisa hostel. There are plenty of volunteers and travellers to chat with, the lounges are awesome, there’s even a (very) small attached museum, and the price for .a bed in the dorm is right ($2.50). Recommended, for whatever that’s worth, since so many of you are going to be hitting up Kabale, Uganda…