Rejection Expenses [part two]

 

6:30am – awake, restless, and I have to pee. Still no electricity.

At 7:30am our hungry bellies lead us out of our rooms and down to the dining room of the Sun Inn Motel. It’s a cold morning, and the sun is obscured by the morning fog; it makes the city street glow with a warm, soft light.

Breakfast of African Chai and stale fried doughnut type bread from the night before: $500 UGX per person.

 

 

 

The day then began to unfold like a Chinese finger trap falling apart. We had such high hopes of leaving Uganda before sundown that day, that is until we found out about all the things there are to do in Kabale! We found out about Edirisa Home thanks to Britta’s Lonely Planet. It’s a hostel, museum, and restaurant all in one. We also found out that there was gorilla trekking not too far away. We considered our options as we sat outside the Flockline Hotel for a good hour, passing the time with eating more leftover bread, PB, & J, sipping hot drinks, and playing a few thrilling games of Mad Libs (thanks, Mom). We headed back to our favorite internet spot and found out we were still in transitory limbo.

 

Getting creative with our adverbs: priceless.

A good 10 minute walk and stalk with a boy named Bryan led us to Royal Supermarket and Crane Bank, both of which were landmarks that meant we were close to finding Edirisa. While we considered the likelihood of Bryan having not-so-noble intentions, we zipped into Royal Supermarket to grab some snacks. 

 

Two 1.5L bottles of water: $2,000 UGX

OJ & nuts: $2,500 UGX

 

 

Upon exiting the store, Bryan resumed his place by our sides and made sure that we could see Crane Bank. He asked me to give him something, so I paid him in roasted, salted soy nuts. Soon after the exchange of directions for nuts, we found the hostel. We again sat for over an hour, waiting to hear from our contact Moses about the status of our Visas. Around 4:30pm the word on the street didn’t give us much hope for getting across the border that day, so we booked some beds in the dorm room at the hostel.

 

The best plan of action at that point was to “do something”, so we found a big hill that looked promising and started walking up it. Good call.

 

The views were spectacular as the hills rolled all around us, full of farms, houses, and various patterns in the greenery. Suddenly Lonely Planet’s description of Kabale as “nothing to write home about” seemed totally and completely farcical. Hey Lonely Planet, for the record, this is me writing home about Kabale, so there. We saw goats, locals, cows with huge horns (which Curt playfully smacked the snout of), and stunning panoramic views that completely revised my preconceptions of what Africa would look like.

 

After our evening stroll we settled in for dinner at “The Nest” (Edirisa’s in house restaurant) and shared some extremely delicious food. Chapatti here is definitely one of my favorite things, especially with a nice mellow masala to dip it in. As we cleared our plates and the sun fell (resulting in being swarmed by aggressive African mosquitoes), we navigated our way down the steep ladder by candlelight and set about washing up and getting to bed. You know you’re on the World Race when you wash your face with a bar of hand soap that’s been sitting there for who knows how long and been used to wash who knows what. We talked well into the night, and when I say we I mean Britta, Shannon, and Curt. I surprisingly fell asleep first (that’s sarcasm, I’m convinced there is a senior citizen inside of me, trying to claw her way out and making me fall asleep ridiculously early and have this deep passion for flax). 

 

I slept peacefully in my bunk bed despite the constant noise outside, and woke up the next morning to electricity and a hungry belly. We congregated together at a table in the dining area which happened to be right next to the employee’s living quarters. Nothing says good morning like the sound of a complete stranger going pee behind a curtain that’s less than 6 feet away from you!!

 

Seeing as it was Curt’s 23^rd birthday we splurged and got ourselves a breakfast feast!! Someone should get a medal of honor for putting passion fruit on my bananas and pineapple, dang! As we bumbled around making plans for the day, we got a call from our contact in Rwanda giving us some much awaited news.

 

 

Internet: $2,000 UGX

Hearing the words “Your Visa’s have gone through” and no longer feeling like a Canadian reject: priceless.

 

As we rushed around getting the last details sorted (printing out our Visa’s at a local internet café), Britta and Shannon snuck off across the street and bought Curt some birthday cake. There’s something especially charming about three abnormally large pieces of African birthday cake that you practically need a hacksaw to get through. “Freshly baked” … last week.

 

We were guided through town by a local Ugandan pastor sent by our contact in Rwanda to help us catch a ride to the border, we found out that it was laughable to try and get a taxi for the same price we’d come in on. Thankfully, we still had Denis’ number from the initial rejection day, so we phoned him up, told him where we were, and he said he would be there promptly. Promptly, by African standards, would have been God only knows how long.  But Denis isn’t your average taxi cab driver, he’s very conscientious and very punctual, and arrived in a matter of minutes. We once again piled into the car and drove our way to the border. As we drove, the heaven’s opened up and poured down rain on us. The rain did had not ceased by the time we got to the border.

 

 

Finally, we had made it back to the Rwandan border! We were soaked, but were smiling like fools none the less, because we finally had proof of acceptance! But as I’ve come to learn, nothing is ever as simple as it seems when you’re on the World Race. They told us it was a $60 USD fee. No problem, we had emergency money. Actually, problem. The bills we had were not new enough. Apparently in Africa they don’t like US currency that is older than the year 2000. Were they serious? Were they not going to let us through because our money wasn’t new enough? Curt assured them it was real, it had come with him all the way from the real US of A. Thankfully, Britta had bills that suited their picky taste, our passports were stamped, we grabbed a taxi and finally crossed the border into The Land of a Thousand Hills. As we snaked along the winding roads on our way to Kigali, I stared at the emerald green slopes full of trees and the smooth valleys of tea leaves, and thanked God for the crazy fiasco that was the past two days.

 

Taxi (not with Denis) from Gatuna to Kigali: $9,000 Rwandan Francs

Finding out your taxi driver likes really cheesy American music and listening to musical stylings of Lionel Ritchie tell me I’m once, twice, three times a lady: priceless.