"You know they call it the New York of East Africa"

My body is still in shock from the last 48 hours, I think. I can't say I would ever suggest taking 18 hours of bus rides to spend a day in Kampala during the rainy season. To say the trip was brutal would be generous. I wrote a long email to my family describing most of the trip, and it was, of course, lost on the hostel computer. Incredibly aggravating - I'll try to recount here but my head is about to explode.

Everyone says Kigali is the best city in Africa - beautiful and clean clean clean. I can tell it's well maintained, but you don't actually realize how clean it is until you've actually traveled elsewhere in Africa. Now that I can add Uganda to the list, I really understand what everyone means. I went to the store this afternoon (in Kigali) and the streets seemed to be paved of gold after being in Kampala yesterday.

It never stopped raining on Friday when I was there, so that definitely adds to the dirtiness. There are very, very few sidewalks, mostly just little rivers of mud, and huge potholes you can either willingly step in or unintentionally fall into; either way you're going in. After the first hour of walking around, I completely gave up, and by the time I went back to the hostel in the afternoon, my feet and ankles were caked in mud. My black jeans are now black and bright dirt red spotted. My hair was matted and my overall feeling was clammy and gross.

Unfortunately, I didn't take a single photo the entire trip - it was never conducive. There are so many amazing shots I wanted to take, but it was pouring rain, there were 30 million people around, my camera was inaccessible ... etc. I googled some photos and none really seemed to be accuratively descriptive - I guess you have to be there and in the midst of the people, the buildings, the mud, the cars, the buses, the motos, the livestock, the stalls, the incessant stores, the noise, the chaos.

The people were quite a bit kinder than in Rwanda, though, and incredibly honest. They never tried to cheat us in price on the motos (they call them boda bodas in Uganda) whereas in Rwanda the guys quote you a price that is usually inflated about 300%. A guy ran after us and handed us 2000 shillings ($1) he said he saw us drop. We were in shock (especially since we don't think the money was ours anyway). I only heard muzungu twice and it was no way near as condescending as it sounds here.

The boda bodas, however, were pure insanity. Apparently there are 5 deaths a day related to motos in Kampala. All of the rides I took were quite scary, but there was one where I was sure that we were going to get in an accident - I eventually just started laughing hysterically out of sheer fear and adrenaline. It was pouring rain during rush hour, and the traffic was so tight. Nonetheless, the driver felt the need to drive at breakneck speed, going in and out of cars that were so close together I'd have to turn sideways to get through. We slipped and slid, he would dash in front of oncoming traffic and I'd feel the graze of the bus that just barely didn't kill me. When we finally got to where we were going, I practically fell off the moto and had to regain my mental state for a second; my legs were shaking.

There were some fun parts - mainly to do with shopping. They even had a mall and a cineplex. We saw Valentine's Day (even a first run movie!) and it was so nice to sit in a theatre and relax, especially after the day it had been. When it was over I said to Megan, "You know, when we walk out of this theatre, we're still going to be in Africa." Definitely didn't feel like it.

It was shocking to see how well stocked the stores were - they had so many products, things you would never dream of finding in Kigali. We got giant bottles of olive oil and balsamic for about $4 each - in Kigali they are about $20. We bought box cake and frosting, vodka ($7 compared to $40 here), microwave popcorn, granola, maple syrup, and probably some other things.

I was able to buy some clothes very cheaply too - some shirts, sweater, shorts, and dresses, all for about $40. The highlight of my trip was at one of the stores where I was bartering for a tshirt and a sweater - I wanted them for 10k and 20k (Ugandan shillings - $5 and $10) and he would not go down from 40k total. We're doing the usual routine - arguing, yelling, waving hands up and down, pacing, threatening to go to another store - and he will just not take my offer. Finally, a genius idea strikes and I say, "Ok! I'll give you 15 for this one and 15 for this one." "Ok sister!!" he accepts joyfully. I stood there in shock for a second, my mouth agape, expecting him to realize what he just agreed to. Amazingly enough, he proceeded to put the clothes in a bag, hand me his card, and ask me to come back to the shop. I definitely will next time I am in Kampala - afterall, I didn't get the 10 and 20 price that I wanted, but I did get 15 and 15.