Jaunt to Kampala, 8-2-09

So yesterday, February 7th, was a day to remember.

We woke up late, about 9 or so, and just sat around until 11, talking and drinking coffee, hot chocolate, and tea. We snacked on bread (brown bread, with extra fat and sugar!, according to the label) with nutella, peanut butter, and “Blue Band,” which is margarine-type stuff that doesn’t require refrigeration. It tastes pretty good, surprisingly, and the bread is awesome! Very filling, too. It was so wonderful just to move slowly, talking about whatever we want and feeling as if we have all the time in the world. It was actually our first Saturday morning together since the very first day we were here, which of course was not a relaxing day.

At about 11 or so we started getting ready to go on our big adventure, which basically meant Kelsey and Ashley showered in the freezing cold water and I tried to talk myself into taking a warm basin bath, but with no avail. So I settled for washing my face while they lamented the absence of blow dryers and curling irons. I’ve never been so grateful for thick, wavy hair that doesn’t show dirt or oil in my life. I know that sounds awful, but you don’t know how much effort it takes for me to talk myself into getting my head wet. Bathing is one thing, but putting your head under cold water when the air is chilled from the rain and you have no robe to look forward to? I always have to promise my unwilling body hot chocolate when I finish, in order to get my head under the water. : )

Anyways, we (me, Kristen, Kelsey, Ashley, and Katie) decided to get kinda spiffed up for our little outing, so we all wore sundresses and put a little extra effort into the make-up/hair battle. It was really fun to look all cute and know we had somewhere to go, even though I was really nervous about the actual act of getting ourselves to Kampala.

Katie had been to Kampala on Friday afternoon/evening, so she promised to be our guide to the taxi system. So we walked into Mukono, meeting Mark and Phil on our way in, luckily. Mark affirmed our choice of restaurant as really good, and gave us some pointers on getting there once we were in Kampala. We got to the taxi stand and it was quite a rush to actually be able to respond to the hordes of taxi hawkers shouting, “Kampala? Kampala! Kampala? KAMPALA KAMPALA KAMPALA!” Once they realized we actually wanted to get on they were pretty thrilled, but we made sure that they were only going to charge us the standard fare of 1500 Uganda shillings (about $0.75), because sometimes they do try to rip “mzungus” off. It’s funny to think of our scruples because the highest they ever charge anyone is 2000 Ushs, which is a difference of a quarter. We’ve definitely been absorbed by the local tendency to quibble over even only 100 shillings, which is hilarious. It’s the principle of the thing, though, we want to not seem like gullible tourists, but like people who do actually live here and have a clue as to what’s going on.

The taxi was not as scary as I expected, having seen these 14 passenger vans barreling down the roads with reckless abandon. The seats were pretty comfy and covered in plastic, so no bugs. There were also bars along the side to hang on to, though no seat belts. Haha, a Ugandan would laugh so hard at the idea of seat belts, especially with the thought of a boda boda (motorcycle taxi) in their heads. The ride wasn’t too rough at all, and only took about an hour fifteen.

Once we got into the city, though, we had no idea where to get off. They wanted us to get off at one point, but Ashley refused to let us because she had a feeling they just wanted to trade us for new paying customers. However, in hindsight it might have actually been at a spot close to our desired destination, Garden City, we just didn’t realize. We’re so wary these days and very stubborn. Anyways, we went a little farther until we felt like we knew where we were and then paid the guy who seemed to be in charge of the shuffle and got off.

As a matter of fact, we had no idea where we were in relation to Garden City, the Kampala mall. So we wandered for awhile, debating whether or not to ask someone for directions. The area was pretty nice and we kind of liked feeling our way around, because it would make us more comfortable the next time we came. Plus, it was only about 1:30 and none of us were hungry. We planned to go to Garden City to change US dollars and get some drinks, then to head over to the restaurant. Mark had told us that the best thing to do would be to use the taxi to get us somewhere we knew pretty well (we had been to Garden City a couple weeks ago, with USP) and then to get a private hire to take us to the restaurant, because it was a bit hidden. So we did eventually make it to Garden City, after asking about 5 different people for directions (always official-looking women, don’t worry, Dad), and crossing too many streets for comfort. That in itself is an adventure –pedestrians are like squirrels here. I think I’ve said this before, but right-of-way is definitely determined by size.
Trucks first (they can’t really stop, anyways, so I accept that one), then matatus (the taxis, who will only stop if they think someone wants to get on), then cars (who are feisty, so they pick fights with bigger vehicles but tend to lose), then boda bodas (who just swerve around everything, anyways), then bicycles (but surprisingly, the bigger the load they have, the less respected they are by other cars), then livestock (big deal, if you hit someone’s goat), then I guess pedestrians.
So basically, I am terrified of crossing the street, but I’ve never had a close call so I suppose my wariness must be paying off. Apparently it’s also perfectly acceptable to cross halfway, then stop in the middle of the road to get your bearings or let a car pass. It almost feels safer than standing just off the curb, where the stray boda boda occasionally takes a turn too sharply (just kidding).

Ok so, we made it to Garden City and I changed some money and we used the toilets. It took us a bit to get a hold of the private hire driver Mark had recommended, so we got some sodas at the little café on the first floor. I did eventually talk to him, in my clearest, most Ugandan-like, unaccented, slow as dirt voice. It may feel funny and my friends may laugh, but it sure does cut down on misunderstandings. We arranged to have him pick us up outside the mall and drive us to “Sam’s Restaurant” for 8000 shillings, or $4. Pretty good deal, as we had basically no idea where it was and Mark had said it was about a 45 minute walk from Garden City.

The drive to the restaurant was fairly calm, though we did almost hit a lady when a car pulled away suddenly, and we SHOT FORWARD and there was a woman there and she SCURRIED like a bunny! Luckily all was well, except I may have instantaneously developed a heart arrhythmia.

We were so thankful that we had decided to get a ride there, even if we had to squish four people in the back seat. The driver, Rogers, pointed out the place where we could catch a taxi home later and a pretty craft market on the way. Plus, the restaurant was like down a side street, looking nowhere near where we’d thought it be, according to Mark’s directions. But we did find it, and it was beautiful.

My writing stamina is wearing down so I’m going to get to the main point: the food. I having been craving bacon for weeks, so I just had to order the American traditional breakfast, even if it was after 3 pm. This magnificent array included a literal pile of bacon, two English-style sausages, half a plate of home fries (big ones), two eggs over easy (Ugandan style, so the yolks were like off-white instead of yellow, but tasted the same), and two pieces of French toast with 6 cubes of butter and an entire pitcher of syrup. Plus, mango juice and half a pot of coffee.

Yes, it was beyond amazing, and Yes, I felt very sick afterwards. It was so so so great, though. Katie called our meal “spirit food” because it was an entire existential, not only culinary, experience.

Katie, by the way, had fresh grilled Tilapia with steamed vegetables and roasted potatoes. Kristen had a beef fillet with steamed vegetables and mashed potatoes, which Ashley also had, except with chicken. Kels had a Philly cheese steak sandwich with chips (French fries), which she said was awesome. She took her first bite, held the sandwich back a bit, regarded it thoughtfully, and said, “I love sautéed onions.” As if such a thought had never occurred to her in her life. Kels and Ashley also split a ceasar salad and Kristen had a garden one, because we never get fresh vegetables at school or in Mukono. If you hadn’t already noticed, the meal I was craving, body and soul, included not a vegetable in sight, green or otherwise. Personally, though, I find my aversion a blessing because I am spared the intense chlorophyll cravings most of my friends have. Plus, my body’s used to not getting the vitamins vegetables usually provide, so my whole maintenance of homeostasis is proceeding much more smoothly than most. Who knew my distaste for healthy foods would pay off so mightily? : )

--Emmes