Umuzungu!

That is what we are.  Umuzungus. (I think that's how you spell it.)  More on that in a minute.

Last night was pretty rough, sleepwise.  We were both totally exhausted from 20+ hours of travel--that is, until we went to bed.  Ellen drugged herself into a coma while I stared at the ceiling waiting for that 20+ hours of travel to catch up with me, which it finally did at about 3:30am (right before Steven texted me-- thanks dude).  So when our 7am alarm went off, we decided to make it an 8am day.  That helped a little bit. 

Just a small part of an "American" Breakfast

We were scheduled to meet Eric at 10am, and we got downstairs around 9.  Today, it turns out, is Rwandan Independence Day, so many businesses and restaurants are closed.  So we went to the restaurant at the Gorillas Hotel and enjoyed an "American Breakfast" consisting of croissants, porridge, omelettes, fresh fruit, tea, juice and hot chocolate. We will have to get used to the pace of meals here-- we've eaten two, and combined, they've taken about 7 hours.  Luckily, I'm genetically predisposed to this style of eating--thank you, Kolker side--but it's an unexpected part of life here.

Ellen and Eric

Eric was right on time, of course, so we began the day with a drive through Kigali, which was absolutely swarming with people.  The majority of people here do not have cars or motorcycles, so they walk everywhere.  Rwanda is the "Land of a Thousand Hills" though, so walking here is a more daunting prospect than in most American cities.  Imagine San Francisco without streetcars and with people carrying huge baskets on their heads.  I've already been shamed (in my mind, anyway) by the dozens of eight year olds I've seen traipsing effortlessly around with packages that must weigh 30-40 lbs balanced perfectly on their noggins.  It's remarkable.

After the short tour (we'll have more time to explore Kigali later) we began the drive to Musanze, which is about 90km away.  The scenery is stunningly green, brown and orange; much of it reminds me of the mountains and canyons outside LA, but every inch of it is cultivated, with terraces where necessary.  Even outside the city, there are people everywhere walking alongside ("alongside" is a relative term-- "in the middle of" is probably more accurate) the road to the markets.  Most noticeable are the children; Rwandans, it seems, give their children significantly more freedom than we do, and they love waving to our jeep as we drive by or running up to it when we stop. My arm is tired from waving back--I feel a bit like a combination of Prince William and Justin Bieber, except with a disappointing lack of Pippa and swooping gorgeous bangs to my name.  "Umuzungu!  Umuzungu!" they yell at us, which Eric tells us is equivalent to them yelling "White people!  White people!"  This is not derogatory, he assures us-- umuzungu is associated with wealth and prestige.  So just owning a car or finishing a degree might make you umuzungu.  Regardless, it's a little weird to hear.  As if we needed reminding of our privilege here.

At least it stayed hot.

We arrived in Musanze and had lunch at our hotel, which was relatively uneventful except for two things: (1) when Ellen got served tea in a giant thermos and (2) when Ellen was trying to talk her way out of eating some incredibly overcooked chicken by saying that it was difficult to eat with a knife and fork, and our incredibly helpful waitress, Kamalisa, suggested that she simply wash her hands at the conveniently located sink and go to town.  By "conveniently located," I mean right next to the table.

Soooo convenient.

Eric then suggested that we go take a look at a place called Twin Lakes, which are right next to the Volcanoes National Park (where we'll be gorilla tracking tomorrow morning).  Having no other urgent plans in Musanze, this sounded good to us, so off we went.  He drove us to a place called the Virungas Lodge, which apparently goes for about $800-$1000/night, but since he's friendly with the staff there, we got to walk around.  It  was a very cool place with spectacular views-- on one side you can see the Twin Lakes, Bulera and Ruhondo, which are only separated by a small strip of land, while on the other side you can see several of the Volcanoes that give the PNV its name.  He wanted to get us there right at about 4pm, because that's when some of the local schoolchildren show up to sing for the tourists.  As teachers ourselves with no compunction about the humiliation of schoolchildren for our amusement, we enjoyed this immensely.  The kids did a rendition of the Rwandan national anthem, and then were eager to test their English on us.  "Hello.  My name is Janni.  What is your name?  It is nice to meet you."  It was, in a word, adorable.  Ellen even met a kindred spirit named Jacquelyn who was--I kid you not--knitting a tiny scarf on two little twigs while she sang.

If you look carefully, you can see the tiny scarf taking shape in the hand of the second girl to the left of Ellen.  Oh, and the Twin Lakes are back there too.

See!  Urn.

The highlight of our stroll around the Virungas Lodge was not the spectacular views or the singing children (ok, maybe it was the spectacular views and the singing children, but hear me out) but rather the most interesting Port-o-Potty I've ever been privy to, because it required both skill and strength to use properly. It came with posted instructions.  You see, the toilet "bowl" had TWO HOLES at the bottom-- one for number 1, one for number 2.  I was specifically requested not to get any of my number 1 in hole number 2, or any of my number 2 in hole number 1.  That would compromise the system.  After properly dispensing my numbers 1 and 2 in their corresponding depositories, I was asked (this was step 5 on the instructions, I believe) to take several small shovels full of volcanic ash from the giant urn (did I mention that, right next to the toilet seat, there was a giant urn of volanic ash?) and bury my number 2, while delivering its last rites.  I made up the part about last rites, but everything else was true.  I would say this poop interment ceremony was the most mentally and physically challenging part of the trip thus far.  But we don't track gorillas until tomorrow...