Staff Party in Butaro

Upon arrival in Butaro, Emily whisked us off to the kitchen where serious pre-partying was going on. After all the preparations for Umuganda (we’ll talk about this later) were complete, the party fell under way. Hannah and I were a little overwhelmed since we seriously didn’t know anyone outside of Emily, Oliver, Luke, and our driver. On top of that, hardly anyone spoke French, let alone English. We spent a good amount of time simply learning words in Kinyarwanda and smiling stupidly.

Some interesting observations/events from the night:

• men don’t mind dancing with each other
  
• men don’t even mind holding hands and grinding with each other
  
• the concept of homosexuality is flatly rejected on grounds that it doesn’t exist
  
• When the guy:girl ratio is 30:1, no one cares.  Notice the plethora of dudes in this picture as compared to the two women appearing in the frame.
• the body odor of 35 Rwandese men dancing together in a room with zero air flow is thick enough to cut with a knife.
• Job titles are paramount to all things – especially high-level ones. While hitting on me, a dude told me his name once, and the fact that he was Head of Radiology about 40 times. Later that night, the Mayor of Butaro prefaced a compliment he gave me not with WHO he was, but WHAT he was.
• People really are obsessed with my hair. I had a butterfly clip in that fell out at one point, causing my hair to swirl around and stick to my sweat-ridden face. The men were enthralled enough to try stealing my clip the rest of the night and cop a feel. For the first time I actually felt violated by someone touching my hair. The fact that my hair was slightly wet and sticking together only added to their curiosity.
  
• Dancing occurs in full florescent light. All attempts by amazungu (white people) to turn the lights off were thwarted by a Rwandese man who eventually stood guard over the light switch.
  
• People love Bob Marley so much that they can coordinate an entire room full of dancers to stop dancing to the thumping music that’s playing and sing “One Love” a cappella until the DJ puts it on.
• Warm beer never tastes good – no matter what brand it is.
• The compliment the mayor paid me was that I was an exceptional dancer and that he enjoyed watching me. At least he didn’t try to touch my hair.
• Kissing in public is regarded as highly inappropriate.
  
• Peter, a big-wig at the hospital, sang a drinking song in Kinyarwanda which was totally unintelligible to me, but apparently a big hit among the locals.
  
• Patrick, the other big-wig at the hospital, danced a Merengue with me that caught the attentions of the locals as well. Who knew Haitians can dance Merengue?

Ride to Butaro

Hannah and I decided we were sick of Kigali and finagled out of Emily an invitation up to Butaro. Emily works for Partners in Health there, and since there is a staff party going on tonight, we decided to head up north and check out some of the Rwandan countryside.

The first bit of the trip was paved and rather uneventful. We managed to get a ride in one of the ambulances that was carrying medical supplies up north, and climbed in the back with big Styrofoam coolers of meds with Oliver and Luke. Since the road was paved and the sun was still out, things ran smoothly, and we eventually left the city of Kigali behind the first hill.

The ride became a little more interesting after the sun went down and the road changed from pavement to dirt to a horrible excuse for a road. Suddenly we were winding around the hillsides with a sheer drop on one side of us and a solid wall on the other. The “road” consisted mainly of riverbeds washed out by daily torrential rain, a few wooden boards laid across the especially deep ones, and the more-than-occasional rock that jutted out of the road to remind me with every jar of the tire and jolt of the steering wheel that my spinal chord is on the fritz. Our driver drove slower and slower, mindful to blare the horn every time we came to a bend in the road in order to warn unseen oncoming traffic of our presence. Only, there was a bend in the road just about ever 10 seconds or so. Add to that music that was blasting on a blown out speaker system, my desperate desire to pee, and the fact that even after putting on TWO bras, I still had to hold myself down. Then make it a 4 hour ride. Oh goody. Poor Luke eventually got motion sickness from the whole thing.

Thankfully good company and a seemingly-endless-but-not-quite road brought us to Butaro’s Health Clinic safe and sound.

Uneventful Week

My apologies to all of you readers out there trying to live vicariously through me. Unfortunately, this week has been rather uneventful. My office job is just that – I get to work every morning by 8am, sit behind my computer frantically trying to build a data model, have random meetings with Erik and Pascal, eat a lunch I brought from home, and eventually go home again. I spend Thursday night at the salsa place again, and met a few more people. That was cool, although not too interesting to you guys. Friday night we went out to dinner and dancing with the PIH crew again – Heaven was having a half-price special on their cocktails and appetizers since it was a brand new menu. The food was ok, my stomach ache afterwards wasn’t. Dancing was at a place called Black and White, which turned out to be fun only because the PIH crew was 18-deep, and the club was totally empty besides us. I could dance like a maniac, and not worry about decapitating anyone. Plus, they had black lights, and I wore a white tank, so I was glowing, quite literally. Heh. Saturday I went out with the Blair Group – that’s the name we’ve given to the group of Brits that work for Tony Blair here. They live, eat, and work together, so they’re kind of one entity. We went to a Chinese place called Flamingo, and were so surprised by the speedy service we didn’t really know what to do with our evening. We were finished eating by 9pm, and knew that dancing wouldn’t happen until much later. So it was back to Papyrus for drinks (VERY tequila-heavy margaritas) and on to Planet Club and B-Club. I feel like such a crazy club-hopper now… Basically every night I go out, I end up dancing. If I don’t lose weight simply by not eating enough, I surely will with all the dancing storms I’m creating.

Dinner Party

Last night was AWESOME! Erik decided we were going to have a dinner party, and nominated me as the head chef. Since I had nothing better to do, I complied. We spent the morning wandering around town looking for various ingredients – some of which I was damn impressed to find. I decided to make a Thai Musaman curry just because I figured since we’re near the equator we must have somewhat similar produce to Thailand. It was a little bit of a stretch, but since we came across Thai Curry Paste at the grocery store owned by a bunch of Indians, we were pretty solid.

The afternoon was spent chopping and simmering. My wonderful sous chefs (Hannah, Giudi, and Erik) cut more veggies than I have seen in quite a while. I simmered that beef for a good 3 hours, and BOY was it worth it. Yum yum yum.

Our dinner party turned out to be extremely fun despite the fact that I have only been here a week and a few days, and basically don’t know anyone. Erik invited his entire network of peeps, and Hannah and I went around meeting people. I’d say we had a bout 25 people or so, and luckily, enough food to go around. I’m happy to say the curry went over VERY well… I’m afraid I’ve set a standard I may not be able to meet next time around. Uh oh. But hey, at least people think I’m a cook now. We were expecting it to be a rather low-key event, but after the 8th bottle of wine, and the majority of people had left, the party just kept rolling. Gary, a hilarious Brit, did dance moves well into the wee hours of the morning. A few local guys (from the art studio I went to the first day I was here) stuck around, and we drank and smoked a hookah. This picture is from the end of the night.  Innocent, Gary and Hannah strike a pose.  All in all, the night was a success. The question now is whether or not I can make it through this week… I definitely have NOT started out on the right foot. Oy.

Out with PIHers again: Shang Hai, Papyrus, Planet Club

Last night turned out to be another night with the PIH crew. This time Hannah came along. We started at Shang Hai for a decently good Chinese-food dinner, went to Papyrus for a free ice cream (they were having a promotion, and they’re basically the only creamery in town) that was surprisingly good, and ended up at Planet Club which was way cooler than B-Club because it was actually packed with people. They had pool tables (yay!) and a lounge and a dance floor… AND one whole wall of the dance floor is mirrors… so you can stare at yourself while you dance. Heh.

It was a good time. I’m noticing a pattern with the PIH crowd though… dinner, drinks, and dancing. Definitely something I can work with ;-) I also got entertainment as Oliver hit on Hannah ruthlessly. I think that was Emily’s plan all along.

Run-In with the Kids

One of the most iconic images of Africa white people seem to send home are pictures of themselves surrounded by local children. I always thought it was a little kitchy, but then I decided to walk home from town after running a few errands.

Town is full of paved roads and wide sidewalks, but once you go into residential areas, the roads become dirt (and extremely uneven) and little kids run around playing the street playing soccer with balls fashioned from old socks and rags. They look at any white person crazy enough to WALK shouting “umuzungu” and waving their hands furiously. Some speak English, some speak French, but most speak neither and just kind of stare at you in awe.

During the walk along the dusty road to my house, I managed to collect a bunch of kids following behind me. The girls spent most of their time trying to touch my hair and rubbing my skin. The boys just played with my camera. They managed to get a few decent shots, which I’ve posted here.

Genocide Memorial

Today Emily wanted to see the Genocide Memorial that commemorates the Tutsi Genocide in Rwanda in the 90s. Hannah and I went along. I figured it was probably a good idea if I learned a little more about the history of the people here – especially because it’s both so recent and horrifying. Everyone here has vivid memories of the time although talking about them is not common.

The memorial was actually designed by the same people that did the Holocaust memorial in Washington DC.  Here's a picture of it.  It was well designed and quite informative. It was split into three parts – the history leading up to and the actually events of the Genocide in Rwanda, Children as victims, and then other genocides that have occurred in the world. Emily, Hannah and I made it through the first part before we were totally drained, entirely upset, and ready to leave. We decided to do the other two parts another day, when we could handle it.

A little factoid I found interesting was the fact that Tutsi and Hutu differentiation didn’t even exist before the Belgian colonists arrived. Those labels used to refer to the level of income a person had, but was used across all the different tribes living in Rwanda. It was more of a label of class, and was never used as a way to limit a person’s opportunity. People could move from one class to another simply by becoming more or less profitable. According to the memorial, there were somewhere around 12 different “tribes” that lived in Rwanda prior to the Belgian imperialism. When the Belgians came, they made an effort to register people and give out ID cards that differentiated the people according to a Hutu or Tutsi label. Basically everyone that had 10 or more cows was a Tutsi, and everyone else was a Hutu. This all happened years and years before the actual Genocide, but is essentially want laid the groundwork for bad blood and irrational hatred.

The designers of the memorial put a lot of graphic imagery and video interviews of survivors throughout the space, and by the end I was such a mess I couldn’t see any more. When I walked outside, the contrast of the bright sun to my dim mood is probably the only thing that made the rest of the day possible.

Here’s a picture of Emily, Hannah and I. We made valiant efforts to smile…

Dinner with PIHers, Bel Aire, B-Club

Last night I finally went out with Oliver, the man I’d heard so much about via my multiple avenues of 2-degree separations. He invited me to dinner with a bunch of his friends from Partners in Health. They are all stationed in posts around the country, but come into Kigali once in a while to party and get much-needed resources.

We ate at Papyrus, which is one of the fanciest places in town, and a total expat hangout. They double as a creamery and specialize in ice cream, yogurt, etc. They serve Italian food that’s definitely cream-heavy, but quite good. They’re also notorious for being exceptionally high-priced. Boo.

Dinner was cool. It was good to meet some other people. These guys are mostly Americans and were younger, on average, than the crowd I’d met so far. Most of them are in Med School or doing year-long fellowships as a break from university. I even met two architects who are designing a new building for PIH. I couldn’t help but think of you, Maya, again.

I also met a girl named Emily who happens to know Hannah – my room mate that moved in Thursday night – from a previous gig in Tanzania. Oh the joys of 2-degrees.

After dinner we drove back to the PIH house which is even more giant that my house and used as a half-way house for the PIHers all over the country when they need to stay in the city for a night or two. There were mattresses and rooms all over the place. Oliver tried inventing ways to entertain himself with the infinite mattresses. Mattress-surfing down the stairs was even suggested.

Eventually we decided we didn’t want the night to be over, and went out for drinks at a place called Sphinx Bel Aire which was a 4 second walk from the house. The place was very Carribean – it was basically a big barn made of bamboo-like wood. They played random music that was reggae-heavy, shined a strobe light on an empty dance floor, and served us Waragi with Fanta (which is sort of like a gin and tonic… sort of).

Finally Emily rallied, and got a sub-set of us to go to a club called B-Club. I was a little surprised when they charged a cover of 5000 RWF, which is close to $10. Ack! Well, it immediately became obvious why when we walked up the stairs, and I found myself in NYC swank. Plush leather couches, red and black lighting, low glass tables, a DJ booth, bar tenders in bow ties… the place was like a cut-out from a designer magazine that had been plopped down in the middle of Africa.

Well, I got over the un-authenticity of the place soon enough as rockin’ 80s music came on, and I lost myself to dancing.

Salsa Dancing in Africa

Of course I should find a salsa group here in Kigali... why not, right? I found out about it via an ex-pat newsletter that Erik sent me. One of the advertisements was for a salsa event happening at a place called Pasadena. They mentioned a facebook group they had, so I randomly joined it. Thursday night finally came around, and I was unsure of whether or not to go, since I wasn’t going with anyone or didn’t know anyone I could possibly meet there. Erik thought I was crazy to go, and Judy, another house mate, mentioned she knew the Belgian guy who was running it, and said some interesting things about his style and demeanor. So, I was a little wary. But the two degrees of separation kicked in just in time. A girl named Amy sent out a facebook reminder email to the entire facebook group, and what do I find? She’s friends with Laura Noons… yup laura… you came through for me again! ;-) A quick message to Amy, and I suddenly had a name that I knew, and a face to look for in the crowd.

I arrived at Pasadena after a relatively easy cab ride (thank you Sam for speaking English) and walked in to an open-air courtyard with a dance floor in the middle PACKED with salsa dancers. Amy was there (and a little surprised I actually showed up) and get this… a bunch of MIT ballroom dancers were teaching a beginner’s lesson. Yes… MIT ballroom dancers. Once again, my two degrees of separation proved true as I mentioned my sister’s name, and a recognition light bulb went off in their heads. Whoot! Not only were there a LOT of dancers, but there were GOOD ones as well. Within two seconds I was part of the inner dancer’s circle (I only had to dance a few times with Phil, the guy leading the event, who happened to NOT be the Belgian dood, since he’s retired from running the events) and I was set.

It turned out there were several local dancers as well with some real talent. I will say, however, the best part of the whole evening was discovering that there were more MEN that could dance well than women. That NEVER happens.

So yup… I’m set for Thursday nights from now on. Obviously I’m going to become very good friends with a few of the local dancer types (many of whom learned all their salsa skills from watching youtube videos – don’t ask me how). It’s decided.

2 Degrees of Separation

I’ve now talked to a few people here and discovered that everyone seems to know each other. The whole 6 degrees of separation thing is being blown out of the water and I’m beginning to think it’s closer to 2. I sent an email a while back announcing my arrival in Kigali and was pleasantly surprised when Jared, a friend of mine, wrote back with the name of a friend I should meet, Oliver, who happens to be here in Rwanda as well. Well, I shot Oliver an email and he invited me out to dinner with a few of his friends for this Friday night.

Later, I was talking to another friend of mine, Jon, who’s completely disconnected to Jared, and find out that Jon actually worked for Oliver when he was here in Rwanda.

Later still, I was telling Amy, one of the girls that’s living in my house this week, about how I thought it would help if I could get an intern the work on the project with me. She was mentioning how she knew a few people that might be able to help, and that I could probably find an intern through the Orphans of Rwanda organization. Well, goodness me, guess who founded that organization? Oliver. I haven’t yet even met this dude, and I’ve heard his name so much already.

Burundian Drummers

The Burundian Drummers were the closing act of the ceremony. The center had brought them up from Burundi to do a show, and my goodness did we get a show. They opened their act by entering through the audience. They each carried a giant drum on their heads, and as they walked down the aisle, they banged on their drums and danced around, the whole time keeping the giant thing balanced on their head. The leader dude was actually doing high-kicks, and playing the drum with his feet! Yes… it’s true. I was convinced some giant accident was going to happen, but nothing did.

When they arrived on the stage (still playing and dancing away) they took turns lowering the drums to the ground. That’s when I realized those how much those drums weigh. The leader dude actually had to walk around helping people lower them down because they were giant and bulky and HEAVY! Judging from the level of strain these boys were exhibiting, I was guestimating the drums were probably somewhere around 50 or 60 pounds each… minimum.

Then for 30 minutes or so, the drummers did a whole act with different rhythms, acrobatics, chanting, singing… It was crazy. They seemed to be led by one guy that stood in the middle of the semi-circle of drummers and played his own rhythm. I guess based on his hand motions or shouts or something, they all seemed to know exactly what to do when. I was extremely impressed. I kept imaging my days of a cappella singing, and realized we were DEFINITELY never as in tune with each other as these boys were.

I don’t think I blinked for the full half-hour.

National Performance Dance Troupe

The performance that kicked off the Inauguration ceremonies was definitely one-of-a-kind. All the performers were dressed in the whitest white I’d ever seen, bordered by woven geometric designs in really bright colors. All the women had these white ribbons/ropes tied around their heads that made them look like Aida or something along the lines of Nubian princesses. Then, they all had bells on their ankles that they rang by stamping around.

I have seriously never seen any dancing as extreme as this was. The dancers were bending over backwards and standing up again in a heartbeat. They waved their arms around and kicked their feet up… I imagined them losing their balance every other second, and yet they managed to pull it all off without much trouble at all. For their finale they did this one dance where they all jumped like 10 feet in the air, and managed to land exactly on the beat. I thought that was damn impressive… until they did it about 400 times in a row. Then I was just astounded. I couldn’t believe none of them passed out!

Simultaneously, the other half of the troupe was drumming and singing in order to create the music for the event. They were as interesting to watch as the dancers.

First Day of Work

Woah. Let’s just say that I will NEVER walk around without a camera again. Who would have thought that my first day at work would probably be one of the most amazing cultural experiences of my life? What an IDIOT I was to not bring a camera. ARG! I apologize to all you blog readers out there who have been commenting on my distinct lack of photos as well… I will do better, I promise.

Anyway, what did day one have in store for me, you ask? Ha! Well… here goes.

The first few hours were boring bureaucratic stuff. I read a bunch of documents about the overall structure of the organization within the context of Rwanda, all the other partners and their roles, what the Healthcare Expansion Framework is, etc, etc blah blah blah. I also got a phone (yay!) and ate a croissant (yay!).

Then it was time for a field trip. Basically the entire CHAI group (all 5 of us) got in a little van-car-thingy and drove about two hours east outside of the city of Kigali. Apparently, a training center that is kind of the first really big project that Partners In Health and the Clinton Foundation have spearheaded together, was being inaugurated. This was particularly interesting to me since I worked so closely with Maya in Nicaragua, who was designing exactly the same kind of thing – a convention center / office / training facility / dormitory–esque space. The center itself is on the same land as one of the hospitals CHAI and PIH renovated together. I approached the space with a particular eye for sustainability, since that’s what I’d been so focused on in Nicaragua. I figured out soon enough, that was NOT one of the objectives of PIH nor the Clinton Foundation in terms of this building, but it was nevertheless, a beautiful space. Apparently Paul Farmer, the founder of PIH, has a side-hobby of landscaping, and you could totally tell. The entire space was landscaped beautifully with plants he’d imported from various parts of the world. There was a pond and a waterfall in the central courtyard, and rock gardens in every open space (that, at least, is totally sustainable).

The inaugural proceedings were impressively interesting as well. Granted, there were a whole bunch of VIPs that had to give little speeches, but that becomes an interesting exercise in attention when some speakers are speaking in French, others in English, and still others in Kinyarwanda. The mayors of both the district we were in, and the neighboring one gave their two cents. Then there was the director of Partners in Health for Rwanda, Mike Rich. Then there was Paul Farmer, the founder of Partners in Health, the Ambassador to Rwanda from the United States, and the distinguished and honored guest, the Minister of Health in Rwanda. The list went on and on. It was cool to meet/see all these veeps on my first day of work.

I also got to meet a whole bunch of expats from all different NGOs that had something to do with the center. Obviously there were several clinical workers from PIH, but also there were people from USAid-funded projects and smaller local NGOs. There was lots of chatting, mingling, and socializing. The best parts of the proceedings, however, were the bookends – performances by a dance troop and by Burundian Drummers. I’ll talk about those in separate entries, since they were awesome in their own right.

Anyway, we had this fancy schmancy inauguration. I got home around 8pm, after a two-hour drive home during which I slept almost the entire way. I guess I’m still adjusting to the time difference.

The Journey Home and an Art Gallery

So after Bourbon Coffee Erik and Amy and I split up to do random things. I was left alone in the middle of the city to wander around, get lost on purpose, and finagle a way home again. I discovered a few things, one of which was that a super-cute pair of shoes that looked to be about Payless quality was being sold for US$100. I guess that settles whether or not I’ll be buying any shoes while I’m here. I stopped by the supermarket, which is like a super Walmart because it sells food and TVs and office supplies, and basically whatever you could possibly want. However, unlike Walmart, it’s DAMN expensive. The yougurt was selling for about $5 for half a liter. Boxes of cereal run in the $9 range. The cheapest bottle of wine I could find was going for $12, and the whiskey was $100 a bottle!! Ugh… being broke is so annoying sometimes.

Anyway, I wandered the streets and found that two left turns actually brings you back to your starting point… so this’ll be interesting trying to navigate the city. Then, against all recommendations, I took a motorbike (they’re about a tenth the cost of a cab) back to the house. That was an experience since I didn’t realize HOW much French I DON’T know, and the driver didn’t speak a word of English. Erik had written explicit instructions on the back of a receipt (albeit, in English, so I’d understand) with landmarks and left turns all delineated, but once we got to the last main landmark in town, and I had to direct the driver myself, I was hopeless. I couldn’t even remember the word for “pond” or “road”. Seriously… I’m screwed.

With some luck, and a few questions to passers-by who spoke both English and Kinyarwanda, lots of gesticulating and a bunch of false starts, I made it back to the house. A quick shower and a change of clothes (it’s COLD here man, I needed a sweater desperately) I went to meet Erik again. He had a painter-friend who wanted to show him his studio. Oh my god… WAY cool. It’s a little space that acts as a studio and art gallery for about 12 painters. Some of the stuff in there was SUPER amazingly good. I’m jealous I’m broke and can’t buy any – especially since they’re running for only about $300. Erik wants to outfit his house with a bunch of paintings, and boy did we come to the right spot. It was also cool because a bunch of the artists were just hanging out there, and you could talk to them and ask them questions about their work and whatnot. One guy was even nailing together canvases on frames. I was really impressed. Erik mentioned that I was amazingly lucky to see something like this studio on my first day in town only because there’s not a lot of artists around – especially not any good ones – and he’d apparently been looking for something of the sort for the last several months. Anyway… the plan is to go back and make friends. Maybe they’ll even give me a class or two.

After that it was dinner with a bunch of British expats… pesto pasta that tasted remarkably like pesto. I was impressed.

Bourbon Coffee

So even though we don’t get internet in the house, we DO get it at the local hangout; a Starbucks-like café called “Bourbon Coffee”. The service here might compete with Bluefields for the worst in the world, but the couches are comfy, the coffee’s good, and there’s electricity plugs everywhere to hook up your computer. Right now they’re playing reggae music, so I’m being brought even further into my Nicaragua nostalgia, but the fact that I’m speaking English with the waiters and actually kind of chilly is reminding me that I’m here instead.

The clientele are ALL expats. I hear French, English (both American and British), Spanish, Dutch, German… I’m definitely in an international environment, that’s for sure. Everyone also has a little computer with them… most of them are Mac’s, I’m happy to note. I totally feel like I’m in Brooklyn, to be honest.

Outside it’s rainy. Boo. According to the locals, we’re in the rainy season even though the rainy season is supposed to end mid-January. The weather patterns seem to be changing everywhere you go the world. Rainy season means either a torrential downpour for a few hours each day followed by Ithaca-like overcast skies the rest of the time, or intermittent misting all day… it depends on who you ask. So far today, it’s been the torrential-downpour kind of day, but now it’s misting. I think I’m gonna assume both parties are correct, and it depends on what time of the day you’re napping.

The music’s changed to hip-hop now. Yup, I’m in New York.

The café here is sitting inside a mall-like structure that has a bunch of little stores and a GIANT supermarket. I’m going to take a little tour of the place later, when the café here becomes boring. Since I’m paying more than a dime a minute for internet service, I might peace out soon.

And we’re back to Reggae again.

So earlier today I went to a little general store called T-1000 or something like that. It’s got everything. I bought a surge protector, some hangars, and changed some money. There was a little boy that stood outside with a humongous umbrella (when I say humungous, I mean the diameter was probably about 8 feet or so) who walked me to the car like a princess. He smelled like pot and his eyes had trouble focusing, but I guess his job is boring enough he looks for other ways to entertain himself.

First Impressions

The Smell – There’s something so specific about the scent of tropical air that makes me feel so completely at home. I stepped out of the airplane and the smell of lush-ness just enveloped me. Mommy, you told me I’d be overcome by an impressive waft of heat, but that didn’t happen. I was actually quite comfortable in my jeans and leather jacket, but it felt like a clear summer night after a day rain, when the steam starts to come off the earth and the greenness of the world almost turns into a taste it’s so thick on the air.

The Moon – I don’t know if it’s just the fact that traveling again has me reminiscent of Nicaragua, but Maya, I send a shout-out to ya. The first image I had of Rwanda was a valley of lights crowned by a giant full moon. You know how intimately aware of the moon we were in Nicaragua. I get the feeling it’s going to be very similar here.

The House – It’s giant. It’s more giant than my house in Jersey. It’s got weird light switches all over the place, with no apparent rhyme of reason. My room is giant. I have a KING-sized mattress. I’ve never had a King before. I also get a closet and desk. We have a big giant living room that looks like no one ever sits in it. There are 4 long couches arranged in a square and a huge dining table that seats 10. There’s also a cat. Yay! She was insanely curious of all my stuff as I unpacked it, and had to sit in every single one of my bags and climb all over my piles of clothes. I suppose she was sniffing out my potential. I’ve already found a few of her special spots, and now, as I type this, she’s sitting on my desk (which is huge) right next to me, purring away. Word. To Do: Make a friend… check.

The Electricity – Yeah, this is gonna be interesting. The airport had four power surges, or outages, or whatever they were, in the hour or so that I was there. The people in immigration didn’t seem to have issues with it, and every time the lights went out, they pulled out their backup lamps within 13 seconds. A few minutes later, the lights would come back on, and all the backups would promptly be shut off. Now I’m sitting in my new giant house in complete darkness, because yup, the electricity’s out again. I see my computer battery will be put to good use.

The water – we have a water heater!! I actually took a HOT shower when I got in. Yes… and I mean HOT. I scalded myself all over my stomach. It’s still red, and I took a shower about an hour ago. Ow.

I’m pooped. I’m passing out.

The Flight

So I’m gone again. This flight was relatively painless. Nothing was delayed, and I only had a bit of turbulence a few times. I actually got two meals on both legs of the flight (which is debatably good or bad, depending) AND the seat next to me was empty both times too.

Hanging out in Brussels for a few hours was interesting. I had forgotten how distinctly European people can look. All the women were super tall, with short cropped hair cuts and a very euro-esque bone structure. They were all blonde too. What’s with the blondeness? There was actually a group of about 15 SUPER-platinum blonde (and natural to boot), freckled girls in their 20s on my flight to Kigali. Andy… I thought of you. I wonder what they’re doing here in Rwanda now… and how people are reacting to them. Seriously, even I couldn’t look away.

Tilke and Marissa, a shout out to you both. I impulsively bought the 2nd book in the Twilight series while in the airport in Newark, and was infinitely happy with my purchase. I finished the 600-page book before landing in Kigali, and was able to leave the thing on the plane for the next poor soul imprisoned there for eight hours. To all of you who are prejudiced against the series, you can shut it. I haven’t been that riveted by a book in a VERY long time, and even though it wasn’t nearly as good as the 1st, I’m still planning on reading the other two when they come out in paper back. I wonder if there’s a bookstore here that sells NY Times bestsellers in English.

And So It Begins Again

That's right... I'm on my way to another whirl-wind adventure.  This time I'm going with the Clinton Foundation, and it's not to Latin America, but to Africa.  Yup... time to break out those French skills I've managed to squish so way down in the depths of my brain, they're probably sitting somewhere near my stomach (not to say my stomach has brain cells in it.... ok... gaa... bad image). 

AAnnnyyyway.  So yeah, I've replaced the stolen camera from my last trip, injected myself with a live culture of the Yellow Fever, boostered up on Polio, gotten hoards of cash in $100 bills dated after 2003, washed and folded and re-stored in the basement all my clothes, and given notice at the temp job I was using to occupy myself.  Things are falling into place, and even though this time I only have a few weeks to prepare instead of a few months, I may actually be ready on time.  For all of you friends based near Philadelphia, I'll be having one last climb at Go Vertical on Tuesday the 3rd, and for those of you in NYC, I'll be in for Happy Hour at Verlaine on Wednesday the 4th.  Then it's run home, zip up the bags, cancel the phone and netflix services, and off on a 22-hour flight across the world to being a new life again.

Wish me luck, and try not to forget about me.