Today was highly successful. As you know, I took a mototaxi to Bourbon Coffee, pretty much a better-than-Starbucks place. I paid a fortune for an excellent smoothie ($7) and sat down to make and upload the moto movie in the previous post.

The cafe was filled mostly with foreigners, but there were some Rwandans. The place was huge and comfortable, again, I'm seeing how you could very easily cut the Africa out of Rwanda. I remember how there were families in Portugal who did that as well - created their little bubble of America in Lisbon (no idea why you would do that) - and I am finding the people here that do that. It's nice to have the cafe, but I can't imagine going there often, especially since we [usually] have internet at the house, the main pull is not there for me.


As I was leaving I asked one of the women working if I was anywhere near where I needed to go. She said no and suggested getting on another bike. "How much do you think I should pay for that?" I asked, knowing it was about the same distance as where I'd just came from. She quoted a price that was a fifth of what I volunteered to the guy - I can guarantee he's sitting at home right now laughing at the retarded muzungu who just handed him a day's worth of pay for a 5 minute ride. Whatever, I really don't mind that I gave him the money, just that I had a moment of naiveté (those of you who know me will understand).

So I got on the motobike and was dropped at Novotel, which I knew was near Ivuka Arts, my friend Collin's studio. After giving him less than a dollar for the 5 minute ride, I was standing in an area I'd never been before, with no idea where to go. I texted Collin who gave me very basic directions - take a right after Novotel, then walk down the second dirt road. That's great, but a right from which direction? I just started walking, away from where I'd come. There was a wedding on the grass by the hotel, I wanted to take a picture but refrained. There were a thousand people on the lawn. Not really, but a lot.

I turned down what seemed like a dirt alley to the right of Novotel. I'm getting into a pure Rwandese neighborhood, no houses, all little shanties and bungalows. Everyone is looking at me like I'm crazy. Some wave and smile, some just ignore you, most just stare. I text Collin again; I had passed a sign. "Am I going the right way?" Yes, he says. Good. I keep walking. It's far. There's a bend in the road and still I don't see anything remotely resembling an art studio, but that doesn't mean much in Kigali because everything is gated and often a house that's been converted. You would not be able to tell the restaurants we've gone to are restaurants from the outside - you need to know exactly where they are. There were two guys standing to the side of the road, so I go up to them and start speaking in French, which they don't understand, apparently. So I just say "Ivuka?" and make brush strokes. They kind of look at each other and then wave their hands further down the road. Though on the right track, I still don't know how far it is.

Fortunately, it was just a bit less than a mile. I instantly recognize the art studio because it's painted brightly, and there was art hanging all over the gate and the brick walls. The place is incredible. When you enter you walk down stairs and into a courtyard - there's a little three room house that he has converted into the studios and his office - piles and piles of canvases everywhere - paintings hung on every inch of wall outside, metal sculptures all over the place. It was so beautiful, and such a rarity. Collin has done an amazing job of creating an artists' haven in the midst of all that is Kigali. There are no other art centers in Rwanda, and he opened Ivuka two and a half years ago. There were four or five guys painting while I was there, then some boys came to hang out. I do have a video of the studio area but it's taking way too long to upload. Maybe I can get it up another time, or when I'm at Bourbon. We'll see. For now, live with this outside view and some cute little boys.