It’s Thursday afternoon. One of those tropical downpours outside. In which Teresa and Steven are roaming about the city—I imagine they’ll walk in the door soon soaking wet but happy for another adventure. Good for us southwesterners to know there’s this much water left in the world.
Rwanda. It is almost too perfect here…no struggle to walk on broken sidewalks, or multiple beggars and perpetually unfinished buildings; there are restaurants of every kind everywhere and we love our hotel. It’s the “Inside Afrika,” tiny, each room with a little patio and couch overlooking a small pool and much greenery right outside our door. It’s definitely not luxury—at the low end of mid-range in terms of cost (which is still a little pricey because it is Africa) but ever so charming, friendly, accommodating and … just right for this trip. Has a fan and, even though there wasn’t a reading lamp in the room, they found one for me. Sliding glass doors stay open all day, fan makes white noise and air for us at night.
To celebrate our first evening here, we went to a restaurant recommended for local food last night. The Karibu. Big seating space outdoors under the trees and a buffet and gathering space inside. It turned out to be a longer evening than anticipated as they don’t usually serve individual meals outside which we did not know. Between asking what was what, waiting very long times between to be told something wasn’t available or would be too small for the three of us, we drank beer, talked and talked, and reveled in the fact we were in RWANDA. Then totally enjoyed the crusty delicate grilled fish that appeared and, with the addition of fat fries, fed us all very well. And our waiter was quite possible the sweetest and most clueless guy in the world which was a treat also.
This morning began brilliantly and, for me, sort of went downhill. After sleeping all night for the first time on the trip, I sprang out of bed and consumed a lot of that serious African coffee and mango juice. Poor stomach said ‘wait a minute. Remember I am your most delicate organ.’ So while the kids spent the morning at the Genocide Memorial Museum, I came home to recover. I did tour the museum when I was here before and may make a return visit Saturday when we have more time. Each of us has had some “off” moments but those 20-somethings do seem to snap right out of it while I linger a bit with my new novel and the fan.
Tomorrow is a whole day out of town. To Steven’s One Acre Fund tour and then over to the big famous Lake Kivu between Rwanda and the Congo (DRC).
Thunder, tropics, French and African voices from other patios, kids back from hiding out in a bar during the rainstorm—one that served a kind of pizza never before witnessed by their American eyes or sampled by their American tongues. But they have been raised by their mom and dad (with just a bit of help from their grandmother) to enjoy the different.