On the road to Kampala

Robert and I wrapped up our joint tour with a few days on Zanzibar. I will get back to you in the near future about its many 'vibes'. I just wanted to get today's adventure out while it was fresh.

I landed this morning in Kampala, the capital of Uganda ... the driver, named "Silver" and sporting a jaunty straw cowboy hat, was waiting at Entebbe Airport with my name on a sign. The hour long drive into town, through the rolling, lush green hills of Entebbe and by the vast horizon of Lake Victoria was very picturesque, even in the rain.

The paper work at the Travel Agency took the better part of 2 hours, largely waiting for the credit card authorizations to come through, but the good news is that they did get me the require permit to spend an hour with the Mountain Gorillas in Bwindi Impenetrable Forest. It'll take all day tomorrow to get to the mountains in the south-west of the country. Then, with a very early start, it will take a full day to hike in visit, and hike out, and then a full day to drive back to Kampala. In the days that follow, I've got a half day tour of the city lined up, followed by a full day trip out to Jinja and the Source of the Nile before I fly back to Nairobi on the 17th.

In the "what was I thinking?"department, I had asked the agent to book me into the hotel described by Lonely Planet as "our pick" for amazing value. I should have paid more attention to the pregnant, lengthy pause, but she was too sweet and too polite to challenge my choice. And I of all people, I should know that the value equation has a 'quality' component. Been away from Market Research too long.

It was like something out of Star Wars. Talk about characters. After dodging the triple-parked trucks in the dirt road out front unloading flatsceen TVs, tires and big white sacks of something, Silver and I walked in, looked at each other, and walked out. "I would fear for your safety", he said, with unusual candor.

The next hotel on the list was only a little better. Luckily they were fully booked. In the end, I settled for the JBK Hotel across the street - where middle class Africans might stay. It's secure, and not visibly grimy. But it's clearly not ready for prime time. The wall paper is peeling, the view of the construction side next door is hazy with grime and diesel fumes. The towels are grey and the size of handkerchiefs. The bed looks clean, but is closer to concrete than foam. And the air-conditioner makes a huge racket ... actually an advantage, given the noise outside. How many sidewalk preachers with megaphones does one town need?

I'll make it through the night. Everyone here is bending over backwards to make me happy - even walked me down to the internet cafe in this mall after we discovered the hotel's promised WiFi wasn't working (probably never has).

After I checked in, Silver took me on a tour of the two 'upscale' hotels in downtown Kampala - the Triangle and The Grand Imperial. I'll stay in one or the other when I get back from Bwindi ... the first is new and sort of a high rise Motel 6. The second lives up to its name - it was built in 1923 and may have had an update sometime in the pre-independence '50s.

The interesting thing is that I have not seen a single white face since I got off the plane. I asked Mary where the Mzungus stay and she said - in the 5 star hotels out of town. That was confirmed when I went for a walk this afternoon - not a single white face in town. And the nice thing is that people either completely ignore me, or start up very gentle, pleasant conversations. Over the course of 2 hours, I had half a dozen chats with people who are simply passing the time by asking this scruffy, oddly-dressed stranger a few questions. The people I've met have such a gentle, relaxed manner and quick smile.

And I've never seen such industry. There are 3 million people in town and most of them seem to be out on the street either buying or selling on this Saturday afternoon. There are shops everywhere - from glossy tile and chrome Bata shoe stores, to dimly lit hardwares to tiny closets with a few personal care products on their shelves. On the main shopping throughfare, 2 storey arcades run through buildings offering fashions and leather goods. No space goes to waste. Under a ramp, two women have a hair products shop in which they can only sit. As the ramp drops to the sidewalk, a sandal maker crouches in the last 5 feet surrounded by his wares.

The sidewalk mamas display their wares by the curb, and around the fringes of the food market, women sit on the ground in the shade of parked cars, reaching into big sacks by their sides to peel the legs and antennae off of live grasshoppers. They are fried as snacks I'm told.

In the formal green park by the High Court, teens with plastic bowls full of nail polish bottles sit on the ground at the feet of their clients and paint or clip nails. "Lonkey", all of 19, tells me that my nails 'need work', and when I say I like them the way they are, plops himself down beside me and asks me what life is like in Canada.

I'm actually really loving this. Once again I've shifted to the road less travelled by.

No more news for the next few days. Bwindi Impenetrable Forest may be on the tourist track, but its far away from high speed internet. [Although I half expect to find the Gorilla's texting each other.]