Our first night was refreshing, reinvigorating, and just what was needed after a long few days of travel. We walked around our guest house (St. Paul’s), which is a calm and relaxing lodging in the middle of the city. I met several other travelers and groups, all of whom were extremely friendly! There are a couple of stray kittens hanging around, but they’re pretty skittish, and so far have eluded being photographed (though they serenade us quite loudly at night).
Several of us took a walk this morning around the neighborhood outside the guest house. The area is so green! It’s pleasantly warm, but not smothering - perfect t-shirt weather. The landscape is drop-dead gorgeous - the rolling hills are visible from every part of the city, with the modern buildings perfectly nestled in between. Speaking of modernization, Kigali is a surprisingly modern city. It is clean. Everywhere is absolutely spotless, and any visible dust/trash was quickly being swept away as we walked. Traffic (on foot, bicycle, scooter, motorbike, car and bus) ran like a well oiled machine. I almost believed I could drive here for a minute - at least, until I saw a terrifying 5-way intersection with no traffic signals. I was convinced an accident would happen at any minute, bu it moved remarkably smooth - I wish I could have gotten a video! An interesting distinction about the traffic here is that horns are blaring constantly. In America, we tend to associate honking your horn with annoyance, or irritance; a feeling of anger, resentment, and/or negativity. However, this is not the case here in Kigali. Not once did I observe a driver yell out their window, make obscene hand gestures, or even glance with ill will towards their fellow drivers. Instead, the horns seemed to serve as gentle reminders (an “I’m here” as opposed to “get out of the way!”). To be fair, Rwandan car horns are softer and less obnoxious than those in American cars, but it helped emphasize the friendliness of the city. Our walk took place early in the morning, and we came across several students on their way to school. As a group with several visible minorities in Africa (particularly me, with my pasty skin, gawky structure, and thick glasses), I was expecting us to attract a bit of attention. Not only did we attract attention, but we were STARED at - as in, full stop, head rotation, and even some pointing. Adults as well as children were intrigued by our presence. It’s funny though - the staring did not feel uncomfortable in any way. Back in the states, staring is generally done in a negative, condescending or predatorial fashion (looking suspicious, getting catcalled, etc.). It’s not something you really want to happen to you. However, none of that was the case on our walk. We were observed with a curious, kind and peaceful eyes. Eyebrows were raised instead of furrowed, welcoming. Several people (mostly the kids) smiled back at us, and we were greeted with a welcoming “Muraho!” at every turn. It was wonderful and encouraging to witness wide eyed, innocent curiosity - something that many (indeed, most) of us lost in childhood. Warm, friendly and welcoming - those are three words to describe the feeling in Kigali this morning (except the showers, which so far are bone-chillingly cold). I love it. Today’s itinerary is packed with a visit to a local women’s market, city tour, and a genocide memorial visit - all in the next 8 hours!! Expect more soon! :)
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Ever wondered what 30 continuous hours of travel feels like? It turns out I have a ton of time to document it when not connected to wi-fi, SO:
HOUR 1: June 1st, 5:30AM EST It’s here! After probably two hours of sleep I have arrived at my pre-departure location: Buffalo State campus. The delegation is carpooling to the Toronto airport, where we will all fly as a group to Africa. there are a LOT of backpacks and suitcases in the lineup outside the bus. I am ready. I am rested (kinda). I am hungry for adventure. I am noticing that the zipper on my backpack keeps getting stuck (likely due to my nervous fidgeting with it). HOUR 2: June 1st, 6:30AM EST We’re begun driving out to Toronto. Honestly, it's kinda boring. i tell myself to get used to the boredom, to help prepare for the long haul flight. I find myself reacting with childish glee over the smallest things - driving past Fantasy Island, the sun rising out the window... I make a pact to myself (the first of several on this trip): I will not be an annoying seat mate, I will not be an annoying seat mate. I can’t resist being annoying one last time before departure, though; I send annoyingly funny texts to my siblings before losing service in Canada. I briefly reflect on the humor that my last text message sent before 17 days of travel is of Detective Pikachu dancing. HOUR 3: June 1st, 7:30AM EST At the airport. We made pretty good time, without any serious issues at the border. Doug, our driver, hands off our luggage and says goodbye. I take note of his name. I want to remember the names of all the kind helpers on my trip, and Doug is the first. HOUR 4: June 1st, 8:30AM EST Cleared security pretty quickly. The flight doesn’t leave until just past 11, so we’ve got some time. I consider doing some shopping, but quickly stop after breakfast costs me over $20 (even with exchange rates…). Granted, it is delicious (Garam Masala spiced eggs and potatoes), but I need to conserve my money for the trip, not the airport. As I walk through the terminals, I take note of the plane. It’s an Ethiopian Airlines Dreamliner - one of the most technologically advanced and comfortable planes in the world. I’ve flown one once before, and am quite eager to do so again. HOUR 5: June 1st, 9:30AM EST A game of Uno has broken out amongst our group in the terminal. Two children who will also be on the flight have joined in. It’s intense. I lose by a wide margin. HOUR 6: June 1st, 10:30AM EST WE’RE BOARDING WE’RE BOARDING!! I was lucky to be booked in a bulkhead row - TONS of legroom. I’m seated between Drew and Molly (for 13 hours…yay…). I joke with myself that this could mean one of two things: I’m being placed in a position of respect alongside the two chaperones, or I’m not considered trustworthy at all and need to be constantly watched. I settle with the former. HOUR 7: June 1st, 11:30AM EST WE’RE DEPARTING WE’RE DEPARTING!! Takeoff is nearly silent. I make a pact to not watch any movies on the flight, just to see if I can. There are more children than average on this flight, and they are not shy about exercising their voices. I’m very happy I have my large, industrial, over-the-head ear protection. HOUR 8: June 1st, 12:30PM EST Drew has miraculously fallen asleep before takeoff and not woken up since. I’m incredibly jealous. I’m sure i look ridiculous - I have over the head ear protection on my head (headphones underneath, because why the not), eye shades from the amenity kit (they turn everything a light shade of gold) a neck pillow that’s comfortable but restrictive, a flimsy airline pillow and blanket for seat support (probably giving me sciatica), and a baseball cap that’s smushed on my face from everything else around it. Is it a wonder why I can’t sleep? HOUR 9: June 1st, 1:30PM EST SLEEP HAPPENED. SLEEP IS A GLORIOUS THING. HOUR 10: June 1st, 6:30AM EST CONTINUED TO SLEEP. HOUR 11: June 1st, 6:30AM EST Woke up. I honestly believe that my body got bored of sleeping. I decide to watch an hour pass without doing anything. It’s an interesting experience. I may blog about it later. HOUR 12: June 1st, time irrelevant I’m going a bit stir-crazy. What else can there possibly be to do on a plane??? I’ve stared at the lovely bulkhead wall in front of me for the past 30 minutes. it’s a creamy off-gray color. there are three holes in it to hold a bassinet if necessary. There’s a TV monitor that I'm too awkwardly placed to view properly. I stare, desperately hoping to notice something new. it’s a staring contest. the bulkhead wall wins. HOUR 13: June 1st, time irrelevant I caved and watched Interstellar. It’s a 3-hour movie. Yee-haw. HOUR 14: June 1st, time irrelevant Interstellar is still going on. HOUR 15: June 1st, time irrelevant Interstellar is STILL going on. HOUR 16: June 1st, time irrelevant Interstellar has ended. Verdict: Pretty good! I’m still bored. I randomly pick another movie to watch. This one is Jim Carrey’s Yes Man. Rotten Tomatoes score: 46%. HOUR 17: June 1st, time irrelevant Movie over. Verdict: Pretty good! (note to self - to increase enjoyment of movies in general, watch them on a 13-hour flight). On an unrelated note, my compression socks feel like they have begun to merge with my skin. HOUR 18: June 1st, time irrelevant The flight attendants keep feeding us. I’m not picky about quality (honestly, it was pretty good) but I've never been given so much items on a flight before. They aren't stingy at all!! HOUR 19: June 1st, time irrelevant aAAaghhh. I have to pee SO BAD. i made the mistake of chugging an entire bottle of water about 45 minutes ago, once I realized that I was showing signs of dehydration. Unfortunately, we’ve just been cleared for final descent, landing in an HOUR. why……? HOUR 20: June 2nd, 7:30AM We've landed in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. Despite this aircraft holding close to 300 people, we deplane outside on steps, and take a bus ride to the terminal. Everyone is so friendly. I have never been so hyper-aware of restroom locations in my life, but luckily they are plentiful. HOUR 21: June 2nd, 8:30 AM For the main airline hub in Africa, Bole International Airport (Addis Ababa, Ethiopia) has fairly small terminals. Not that I’m complaining. I do a few laps. I buy coffee (but DON’T drink it before the next flight). I buy water, and remind myself not to drink the entire thing in one go. HOUR 22: June 2nd, 9:30 AM Still waiting on that next layover. I’ve been informed that our flight has been cancelled, and replaced with another that has the same location, but a secondary stop. At this point I’m so tired I’m kind of indifferent to this change. HOUR 23: June 2nd, 10:30 AM We go through security and sit down to wait again. I forgot that only 3 oz of water are allowed and I chug my whole bottle again (not smart…). I think about how bad of a decision that was for a whole hour. HOUR 24: June 2nd, 11:30 AM We board the flight. Not only are our destinations different again (stopover in Bujumbura, Burundi instead of Entebbe, Uganda before Kigali, Rwanda), but our aircraft is different. Even on a short-haul flight, Ethiopian provided another Dreamliner. I can’t believe my luck!! HOUR 25: June 2nd, 12:30 PM We’re in the air again. Honestly, this is starting to feel pretty routine, the flight is barely two hours long. HOUR 26: June 2nd, 1:30 PM We are served a full sized meal. I’ve never experienced this on a short-haul flight before! The service is simply outstanding. HOUR 27: June 2nd, 2:30 PM We’ve landed in Burundi, and the majority of passengers have disembarked. It’s very pretty! The airport is surrounded with fields, and a light breeze flows through the open plane doors. The passengers destined for Rwanda begin to board. HOUR 28: June 2nd, 3:30 PM We’re still on the ground in Burundi. The plane feels pretty empty, honestly. There are many empty chairs, particularly towards the front of the plane. HOUR 29: June 2nd, 4:30 PM I MADE IT TO RWANDA ON JUST A 1/2 HOUR FLIGHT!! HOUR 30: June 2nd, 5:30 PM Whirlwind of activity once we arrived. Cleared customs, got shiny visas, got checked baggage with no issues, rode to guest house, and wrote this blog. SLEEP IS NEAR :) Hello.
It’s 2AM on June 1. And I just finished packing. Yeah. I don’t really consider myself to be an anxious traveler. I actually LOVE flying on planes, exploring airports, and the general bustle of activity. That’s the fun part. Instead, all my anxiety/nerves/fears/etc. are crammed into the week before I travel. On this particular instance, they were all crammed into TONIGHT. I actually took photos of my suitcase and travel kits - they look nice and organized, but the extreme tightness (yes, the clothing is rolled instead of folded) and hyper-organization point to a level of anxiety I haven’t yet experienced. You see, anxiety isn’t really something I let myself express in my household. I’m the oldest of three siblings, and the only one to attend college. Anxiety is kind of a big thing for us. My siblings and I are hyper-aware and sensitive (them much more so than me), and while that hyper-sensitivity is great for studying, analysis, and broadening our minds, it never leaves us. It is our blessing as well as our burden. Naturally, as the eldest child, I want to make things easier for my siblings, helping to guide and assist them. Unfortunately, that often means putting my anxieties aside in the hopes that others might mirror my behavior, or (more likely) to calm others’ anxieties. And where does that leave me? How do I deal with my own anxieties? Well, I avoid things. Procrastination replaces productivity, and when things absolutely have to get done, they happen in a manic burst of frenzied activity (hence, packing being completed at 2AM on the day I depart). It’s not a habit I’m proud of, but now that I’ve taken the time to reflect on myself, it’s something that I need to notice and change. I’m hopeful that Rwanda can become a place for that change to occur. I'm also sleepy and not sure why I'm still up. Here’s to 2 lovely hours of sleep. :) This is it. My last final has been graded (hopefully a B+), paperwork has been signed, auditions (and callbacks!) have happened, vaccination appointments have been booked, and I am finally DONE with my semester. My plane ticket is taped to the front of my desk; a reminder that my flight to Rwanda departs in exactly 14 days, 15 hours, 37 minutes and 22 seconds. I could just sit here in my room and count the seconds down until it’s time to go, but instead I’m writing. I haven’t truly written, purely for the sake of writing, in a long time. It’s an unusual feeling. This blog is not a graded assignment, nor is it something mandatory that I don’t care about - I’m writing purely because there are thoughts in my head that need to be communicated to the rest of the world.
My backpack is empty. Carrying it is an odd feeling. With everything removed, it is as if the weight and pressure of the semester has physically been lifted off of my shoulders. I can feel myself standing up straighter, and my gaze is now focused up and ahead of me - “a place of dignity,” as Drew often refers to it. I meet people’s gazes. I see their smiles. I see the sky, the rain, and the sunsets. They’re simple things, but in my mad rush to finish college, I too often overlooked them. I honestly should pack. My backpack has been empty for days, and there are literal piles of items surrounding my bed that I need to take with me. Why don’t I? Perhaps it’s the realization of responsibility. My empty backpack symbolizes the finality of college. Probably for the last time in my life, I have the overwhelming sense of finality, that I have completely finished all of my projects and am free from responsibility. Putting any item in my backpack will signify the transition to something new, another adventure. I’m keenly aware that my backpack (and, by extension, my life) will probably never be this empty again. So I look at my empty backpack, and leave it for one more day. Packing will happen; it always does. But for now, I remain introspective, empty, and ready. Well this was fun. Got a little deep for a second there, but it’s all in the name of introspective writing. Looking forward to more journaling in Rwanda. Follow along, why don’t you? Lucas :) |
About LucasI am traveling to Rwanda with the intent of a sponge - I want to absorb as many unique experiences as I possibly can, and bring them back to share with my culture. I am a multifaceted artist, and Rwanda is a treasure trove of valuable experiences to draw inspiration from. As a visual artist, I look forward to seeing unique handmade art, and letting it inspire an artistic vision. As a musician, I look forward to hearing vastly different than what I’m used to, and letting that inspire music from my soul. And as a teacher, I’m looking to see teaching methods different than what I have known. I want to bring these gifts back and share them with my culture. ArchivesCategories |