Le Pays de Mille Collines

Such a short time in such a lovely place.. but as David says, there's never enough time.

Scenery: Bienvenue au Pays de Mille Collines...
This is one of the most breathtakingly beautiful countries I've ever seen. Truly the "country of a thousand hills" - likely many more - Rwanda is also heavily populated, creating a landscape of rolling, vividly green terraced hills, bands of bright red earth separating plots dotted with jungle palm trees. Surprisingly, there are remarkably few donkeys and other beasts of burden here, a fact David noticed first - instead, people use bicycles piled high with all manner of unbelievable loads. (One bicycle-cargo company here brags quite aptly, "Any road, any load!") Unsurprisingly, we did occasionally see these fearless bicyclists hanging gamely onto the back of truck bumpers as a way of getting up the long hills.
A long history of volcanic activity means that the earth itself literally sparkles in many places with the glitter of rocks created during eruptions. (Ask my dad for more detail on that.)

Strangest sight seen: Driving through mountains on our way to Gisenye, David and I caught a flash of white outside the window - two snow-white rabbits, nestled in a natural crevice of an otherwise sheer rock cliff-face. Neither of us could figure out what they could possibly be doing there. All theories invited.

Food: We ate pretty well in Rwanda, enjoying a mix of foreign specialties in the capital and African buffets outside it. The local food seems to be pretty hearty, based on cassava/ maize, potatos, fried breads like chapati, and rice. Local dishes usually include a bit of boned meat too, most often chicken, beef, or pork. Around the lakes, though, you can get a pretty tasty tilapia, as I did in Kigali.
Worst meal eaten: David and I found ourselves wandering around the usually-bustling capital on Sunday morning, surrounded by Bible-toting churchgoers and closed storefronts, starving and desperate for food. We probably shouldn't complain about the breakfast we did eventually find, but it wasn't anything special. Sort of like a plate of blah.
Best thing eaten: In the border town of Gisenye, David and I tried our luck with a hotel buffet serving a series of hearty, basic dishes and a choice of meats. It was absolutely delicious. Tender cooked vegetables on a heap of brown rice, mashed cassava with a savoury sauce poured on top, steamed pumpkin cooked still on the rind, and (the absolute tastiest and zealously defended against David's unconscionable poaching attempts) fried plantains. SO good, and so hearty.

Strangest Event: This odd prize is gonna have to go to that time in Kigali when, after an interesting but natural conversational evolution about beaches, David offered to put his feet in the creamer.

New Words Learned: Given that Rwanda is apparently NO LONGER A FRANCOPHONE COUNTRY, ahem, my entry for this is gonna have to be: NOT MUCH.

I did, however, have a good time exploring the various local-language words for hiccup.

Quote: There are a few French-speaking areas left in the country, particularly near the Congolese border. Getting a ride to a hotel here, we discovered a pretty significant discrepancy in the price as understood by locals and the price I was charged at reception. The taxidriver seemed to be confused about it, so I explained to him a bit cynically, "I think we got the muzungu [white person] price." The taxi-driver began to laugh. "Because you're muzungus..!" he chortled gleefully in French, really enjoying himself. Having already had to pay him an outrageous fare, I was a touch nettled and replied with a hint of sarcasm, "Yeah, traveling in Africa as a muzungu is really charming." This just set him off even more with a belly laugh that was infectious, and against all pride I found myself laughing along with him, no longer cranky about the artificial elevated prices or the great joke he found it. We shook hands warmly. I suppose il faut avoir un ici...

New Hygienic Lows: I amaze myself with how I continue to descend to depths I never before imagined. One of my odd little particularities is (or used to be) that if a bit of food dropped off the fork onto the table on the way to my mouth, I wouldn't eat it. I suspect David has privately been keeping a bet for how long it would take me to crack on this since the first day in D.C. when he was amazed to discover it. 95 days in, and - you get hungry sometimes! - I'm willing to eat off the table.
Of course, combined with the fact that I'm getting dirtier, gaining weight, and now losing my hair, this is perhaps just indicative of the general tendency: I really am turning into a bona-fide pig. Hey, pigs are smart. It ain't so bad.
Amazingly, I'm still brushing off random men who discover David and I aren't married. Who are these people? We've established they can't smell, can they even see??

Best experience: The Kigali Genocide Memorial Center was one of the most incredible museums I have ever visited. Considering the scope and the political nature of the tragedy, it was also remarkably tastefully done.

Worst experience: The memorial was also really hard. Aside from the horrifying and unbelievable figures related to everything that happened and the suffering endured by so many people, it was embarrassing to learn that the amount of soldiers immediately sent by the international community to protect and evacuate the foreigners would have been enough to stop the massacre.
At least, though, I don't have the shame of seeing huge photographs of my country's armed vehicles formally and protectively escorting the genocidaires - still holding their guns and bloodied machetes - safely into the DRC. Where they would proceed to recreate their terrorist government over a virtual country-in-exile of 800,000 petrified and traumatized Hutu refugees.
No, that shame belongs to another nation.

Could I live here? No.
But I would come back to visit in a second.