Chyngugu and Nyungwe Forest

Taking a bus from Kigali to Cyangugu was fairly painless.  We bought bus tickets just fine (10,400 franks) and had to sit and wait for a couple of hours before our departure.  That time flew by for me.  I think it’s because Africa’s completely changed me.  I went from being a busy body, which I still am most of the time, to learning how to enjoy to just be still.  I made friends with as many people within arms length that I could.  I started speaking with a young man who spoke who didn’t speak English but did speak Swahili.  He was very nice (and cute).  Then his brother sat down and he spoke very decent English.  An hour or so later they left with their grandmother who was waiting for a bus and the boy next to me started chatting me up.  I’m telling you, everyone here is so friendly, helpful, and interested.  Most people I strike conversations are very willing to get us where we need to go, give us tips about what to see there, and are also eager for my contact info.  (Imagine this in a high screechy voice) I’m miss popular!  My facebook and email will probably be swamped when this trip is all said and done. 

We got off in Kamembe and found a far too expensive taxi to take us to the Peace Guesthouse.  This place was recommended in the LonelyPlanet East African Travel Guide I hijacked from our last hostel.  Okay, I didn’t hijack it.  I traded my very large three-books-in-one for it.  I feel it was a fair trade.  And boy was it worth it!  That book has been so helpful, especially with the Guesthouse.  The staff is wonderful (socially and physically lovely) and the accommodations are very homey.  It also has phenomenal views of the southern bay of Lake Kivu and we arrived just at sunset to capture the breathtaking view.  Another perk is that right across the water is the Congo!  It looks like just any other quaint little water-side village.  I can’t imagine it being held hostage by young boys with AK-47’s anymore than I can imagine my mouth residing on my forehead.  But, if the Congo decides to invade Rwanda, we’ll be so close to danger we’ll be surely safe from harm.  I think that’s how that saying goes.  Either way, the enemy will never expect it.  Maybe Andrew and I may even sneak across the border into the DRC (Democratic Republic of Congo) to throw them off our trail. 

12/17/11

Andrew’s birthday.  Yup, that’s what it is.  The big 21.  T-W-E-N-T-Y O-N-E!  What do most Americans do for their 21^st?  Get shit faced.  What should we do for Andrew’s?  Oh, and by the way he doesn’t drink so alcoholic drinks are off the list, but one too many sodas and hiking through a rainforest aren’t! 

I got his sorry butt out of bed, well it wasn’t sorry but he definitely wasn’t feeling well earlier this morning, and we went into town to catch a 1.5 hour bus ride to Nyungwe Forest, the largest protected rainforest in Africa. 

Before I tell you how awesome it was, let me just preface with the kind of dynamic Andrew and I have gotten in to.  I’m horrible with the names of places around here.  Andrew has had them all memorized since his name day.  So, all of the solidifying plans, all of the talking with people and enquiring about places, how to get there, and when, etc are left to me since I like and am good at talking people.  When I’m asking about a certain place, I begin by saying, “We would like to go to,” turn and look at him with a confused look, he fills in the space with a name, and I go back to chatting in Swahili or English.  Most of the time, this also means that because my butt is up at six every morning and his butt sleeps in until ten if I let it, I spend most of my morning arranging taxis, living quarters, payments, food, water, where we’re going that day, etc.  Honestly, I don’t know how he’s going to get by without me in a week.

For example, we took a bus out to the middle of the forest today to where the trail head is and where you have to hire a guide.  We took a breathtaking (literally- I haven’t puffed that much nor thought my heart was going to break through my ribs like that in a long time) hike along the Pink Trail through dense vegetation, mud, a lot of humidity, beautiful flowers, many butterflies, and spectacularly interesting trees.  Even though we both felt so out of shape that we sat down and agreed to wipe Mt. Karasimbi (an almost fifteener) off of this week’s list, we finished a 3.5 hour hike in two.  Go team Andenny!  Or Jendrew! 

I forget the species name of this monkey, but it's a new one for my sight list.  We actually hiked the whole trail and didn't see a single animal but saw these guys along the road.  More wildlife outside the park than in it?  Ya, that happens.

This is our guide Ceaser and Andrew (left).  And this is the birthday boy (right) looking very nervous though trying to hold himself together after I just told him we're going to have to hitch hike.  I told him it'd be okay, which we were, but he never trusts me.

 

After our hike we got another point for our resourcefulness.  We realized that there was no official bus stop where we were and we had no means of calling a taxi or bus company.  So, we stood on the side of the road and waved down a bus like proper hitchhikers.  When we got on, every seat was full so we sat on the doorsteps.  From the minute we got on people were craning out of their seats to stare at us and murmuring “wazungu this, wazungu that… blah, blah, blah WAZUNGU!”  I guess mzungus don’t hail down buses nor sit on the dirty floor of them a lot.  Literally, everywhere we go Andrew and I confuse and surprise the locals.  This pattern was continued the minute I asked one of the men staring at me “Je, unajua Kiswahili?” (Do you know Swahili?)

Really, my Swahili is getting a little better every day and I’m loving it!  Can’t speak any Rwandan but to say thank you, and I think I even do that wrong because the women here at our lodgings always giggle at me when I do.  But at least my Swahili’s okay. My speaking abilities in conjunction with my being American also seems to make me a desirable wife.  Got proposal number eight on the bus.  What about my disheveled hair tied back in a bandana, flushed cheeks, dirty boy’s shirt and mud covered men’s trousers and hiking boots screams “I am a young woman looking for a husband!  I will cook for you, clean for you, work for you, all while nursing children until my breasts hang to my knees!”?  Honestly!  I should just go find a fake ring to try to put an end to such enquiries. 

But a lot of people here know at least a little Swahili, and the man I had directed my enquiry to definitely did. He’s from the Congo where they speak much Swahili.  That’s where this bus was going.  The Congo.  We got on a Congo bus.  Have I mentioned the AK-47’s there?  Interestingly, everyone on that bus recommended we go there too.  Apparently the wildlife is spectacular.  Wildlife in one hand, AK-47’s in the other.  Which one’s going to win?

I’m glad they let us off though, even barely.  After our almost two hour ride they opened the door at Kamembe and Andrew jumped off immediately, but I lagged behind.  Not such a good idea.  The door-opener held tight to my forearm and said they’d drive me to where I needed to go and I told him it was okay but he wouldn’t let go and all of this time the bus is driving and all my new friends are saying things and people outside are watching a mzungu girl in the doorway of a bus drive by and Andrew’s chasing after the bus and finally after about a hundred yards I get the man grasping my arm to understand that I’m fine walking and he lets go.  I hop out the door hollering a goodbye to all of my new friends.  I have a huge grin on my face as literally every person on that bus popped their hand out the nearest window and waved goodbye while echoing “Kwa heri!” or the Rwandan equivalent.  God, I love Africa, even with everyone roadside staring. 

One of the Congolese men on the bus I had made friends 

with took this picture.  It was the first picture he'd ever 

taken in his life.  I think he did a pretty decent job.

Back to Andrew’s birthday.  I think he gets annoyed with me sometimes, which makes sense.  I’m not an easy person to be around constantly.   I think he’s also just plain tired of having to move so much.  He hasn’t been feeling too well either.  Tomorrow we head north to the beach for a couple of days.  Lying on the sand doing nothing and turning into a raisin will do him some good.  Though I admire his drive and successes at reaching so many developing countries already:  Mexico, Peru, Costa Rica, and those we’ve been to in Africa, he doesn’t seem to have the patience or super positive outlook on some of the experiences we’ve had like I do.  I loved our kamakazi bus ride in Tanzania.  Him, not so much.  I loved having to commandeer a stair on a bus and make new friends today.  Again, he started talking about how he misses airplanes.  Where I am super outgoing and love talking with the locals, especially our staff.  He is not, and even seems to get slightly peeved with my talking.  At least my talking demeanor helps him sometimes.  For example, this evening he got a surprise birthday cake and was serenaded with “Happy Birthday” by our beautiful staff not once, but twice!  By this time he was beaming and the alone time he had taken earlier had helped greatly and we were laughing hysterically with one another.  So far I think we’ve been a sufficient fit. 

That's the Congo from our view on the hill

The birthday boy cutting his cake, and probably one of my favorite pictures of Andrew ever!  Maybe it's the face, maybe it's the colors in the scene or the bread-like birthday cake.  I don't know, but it's wonderful.

The wonderful women who waited on us during our time at the Peace Guesthouse.  They were all wonderfully friendly and so accommodating, and I think they thought we were a little crazy.

World class cake designs...