A new day and a new country…and new problems. I’m sure I’ve mentioned this in the past, but just as Christi and I begin to figure things out in a city or country it is time to move on. And of course in those countries that might be considered off the beaten track the problems are more complicated, although potentially the rewards are that much greater. Uganda is definitely not on the mainstream tourist trail, although backpackers often blaze the trail for a future tourist boom (and one could argue NGOs blaze the trail for backpackers and everyone else). Uganda does of course have a troubled recent history as do many countries in this region. Memories of the notorious former leader Idi Amin are still fresh in people’s minds, while the terrorist group the Lords Resistance Army were only recently vanquished, and strife in the Democratic Republic of the Congo is never far away. One could add to that mix strife in Arua Park. Seriously the gridlock in Arua Park makes Nairobi seem like a Formula 1 grand prix circuit. We decide to speed through the problems today by hiring a motorcycle and driver take us to downtown Kampala. Christi and I ride pillion (i.e. on the seat behind the driver). Poor Christi is squashed between myself and driver, a young guy with no fear who zigzags between trucks and cars of all description oblivious to the enraged horns blaring in our direction. Christi and I feel like rag dolls, and in my case at least, very unsafe rag dolls. Actually being hit by a vehicle concerns me less than falling off the bloody bike. Ahh, Kampala, what a city.
The capital of Uganda is not high on our list of favorite places. Most everything is a struggle, beginning with finding some budget tour options. We talk to a few operators, but their prices are astronomical. Not so long ago we would have preferred a private tour, but the money is fast running out. My healthy bank balance has taken a few big hits lately as I purchased flights from Africa to San Francisco (with a layover in the UK), additional travel insurance, onward bus tickets, and our last big-ticket item (more details soon, but for now, I don’t want to spoil the surprise!). Kampala is frantic and frenetic and we are constantly harassed by locals either begging for money or hoping to take us somewhere. Our day is saved in an unlikely way when we splash just a little cash for what we hope will be a pleasant lunch at an Indian restaurant called Haandi overlooking Kampala Road, the main drag. The food is simply excellent and the atmosphere is very relaxing after the tempest that is central Kampala. After ordering garlic naan, basmati rice, vegetable samosas, chicken tikka masala, and vegetable jalfrezi, the staff bring us hot towels to refresh ourselves. At the end of the meal we are given bowls of lemon water to rinse our hands. It’s all so civilized.
Can’t face another motorcycle ride back to the hostel so we taxi instead. I didn’t realize until now that our hostel has its own travel agency and we are able to book some tours around Uganda. But first we’re leaving the country for a few days for the last of our big-ticket items. Any guesses?
Blog post by Roderick Phillips, author of Weary Heart – a gut-wrenching tale of love and test tubes
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