A glimpse into the past week of my life. Take all sarcasm seriously and situations to be truth.
Phuket Thailand: December 29th 2010
Pack up my life, back into the backpack.
Load up the 30+ body bags ( I mean pack duffles) into 3 vans, a pickup truck, while cramming all racers in closely behind.
Get to the bus station, all racers and duffles out, piled up on the sidewalk.
Have a few people guard the things, everyone else ventures out for snacks at 7eleven.
Lay down on the road, eat, laugh, wait.
Bus is here, load all the packs on, get your seat.
Double decker. Snuggle with Chels, watch a movie, eat snacks, pop some Benadryll
Somewhere in Thailand: December 30th 2010
Woken up to the bus stopping and “everyone out” walk into a huge weird room with tons of marble tables and silver platters, being yelled at to sit down, served rice and spicy food with tons of Asians running around yelling. Wondering what the heck is going on, (you would too if you were drowsy off allegery meds and woken up close to midnight to be ushered into a strange place.)
Back on the bus, not able to get comfortable enough to sleep, taking matters into my own hands. Moving bags out of the aisle and laying down on the floor. I mean we made it through six hours, but we still have six hours to go.
Bangkok Thailand 5:30am:
Get to bus station, wake up. Unload packs, wait for another bus. Bus arrives, packs loaded, racers loaded.
7am:
Arrive at hotel, unload packs, unload people, still have 4 hours ’til check in, have people watch the bags and venture off for breakfast.
[Few days in Bangkok for debrief]
Bangkok Thailand: January 1st 2011
Time to leave; pack up my life into a backpack once again. Bring it downstairs by noon for checkout. Our bus is not coming until 9pm. Packs go into a storage room, things to do ’til then.
Bus arrives, load up the busses with our packs, load up people, head to airport.
Arrive at airport, 10ish, flight leaves at 3am. Pile the stuff into a corner. Dance around on the floor, eat banana chocolate waffles with rancid whipped cream. Hang out ’til we can check in and check bags.
Bangkok Thailand: January 2nd 2011
Check in, head down to the gate, lay out on some chairs and go to sleep. Wake up, grab your passport, load onto the plane. 3am? I don’t know, or care.
Freezing plane, middle aisle row of seats, chair will not recline, 9 hour flight, sweet.
Bennadryll, tray down, pillow, sleep. (attempted)
A few hours into the flight, “mam wake up MAM WAKE UP, Chicken or fish?”
“Really? Its 5 in the morning, and I will take chicken, thanks”
Eat. Go back to bed.
A few hours later, “mam good morning wake up time for breakfast”
“Oh, ok, sure, Dinner was a few hours ago, yes I want coffee, no I don’t want that scalding hot towel on my face, I would like to go back to bed thanks”
Ethiopia: Africa. January 2nd 2011
Get off the plane, arrive in Ethiopia. Freezing. I mean where are my Ugg boots? Matthew is sick, laying on the floor, no body will let me buy water with a card and there is no starbucks. Sweet.
Back through security, bus outside, waiting outside load on the next flight.
Next flight, seat reclines, praise the Lord.
Kampala: Uganda. January 2nd 2011
Land in Uganda. Arrival cards. Stop, $50 USD for visas per person, “were not even staying here” too bad, whip out Emergency money and pay the fee. Load up the packs onto carts, through security, look for busses.
Find busses, load on packs, squish in, soak in the scenery thank Jesus we are in Africa.
Get to the hostile, unload packs, find a room, drag pack into, refuse to unpack and stay in the same clothes I have been in for the past three days.
Find out were staying an extra day in Uganda. Cool. I am still not unpacking or changing my clothes.
Uganda: January 4th 2011
Time for Rwanda. Matthew is still sick, he is staying in Uganda to go to the hospital, will meet us in Kagali. Cool. Not. Pack up the hostile, load packs and racers onto two Matatus head to the bus station.
Oh, the bus is bigger than we thought; Bets and I have the same seat, that’s fine I will wait for another one. Back row of five, corner seat is open next to Lars, I want it. Take the seat. Does not recline, window does not open. Clint busts out his knife tries, still will not open.
You know when you are driving kinda fast down a road and you hit some pot holes to the point where you fly up and down off your seat and hit your head.(I mean you may not unless your car does not have shocks on it), but anyways. Imagine that for 8 HOURS straight.
2 hours in, pee stop. 25 girls running out in a huge open field screaming, “where do I pee?!” Girls peeing everywhere, still screaming
“Everyone CALM DOWN AND STOP FREAKING OUT” – Curt yells from behind a bush.
Back on the bus. Hours pass by. We get to the border, everyone out with passports, Wait in line, get stamped, pay money to pee… on the floor of a cement shack. Cant find the bus. Walk down, find the bus, with every duffle and day pack out and opened. Awesome.
Get in line for Rwanda stamps, more forms, more hassle. Sarah and Shannon are from Canada. People from Canada needed to have applied for visas two days ago, they will not let them in. We all start praying. Bus driver making us get back on the bus “we can’t leave without them” They still will not let them cross. Curt grabs his stuff, stays with the girls, wave them bye as the buss rolls out without three of our squad mates.
Back on the bus. Please Lord not much longer.
Kagali Rwanda: January 4th 2011
Arrive at bus station, look for our contacts. Thousands of people everywhere. Cant find my duffle, find it, drag it over to the corner, wait for smaller busses. Pile 8 people, 8 duffles, 8 day packs, two guitars, 5 contacts into the van, roll out to the ATM.
Van stalls several times going uphill
Get to bank, no cards are working.
New van rolls up, ours broke down, get all luggage onto that one, pile in. Sit in the middle of the jump seat and normal seat, can’t move an inch. Disco lights come on, African music is bumpin.
Get to our contacts house. Maybe 8ish? EXHAUSTED. Talking to James, trying to stay awake. What are we waiting for? Dinner. What time is dinner? 10pm… oh yeah that is past my bed time.
Eat dinner
Two bites left, about to die. “Uhm, excuse me, where can I go if I am to get sick?” “Oh, in the sqauttie pottie?” OH. Rush to the squattie pottie (a hold in the ground)
Puke my brains out, hoping for good aim
Lift my head up and hear the words from the Shakira song…
” This is Africa…”
