I hope I never have to drive in Ugandan traffic. These past to days have been interesting driving around the city. I feel like the entire population is playing one giant game of chicken. There are pedestrians, bicycles, motor bikes, cars and buses, all sharing the road. No ts to get out of each other’s ways. Today we drove from Kampala to Lake Victoria. It was an hour and a half drive. Parts of the road were barely big enough for two cars to drive by. We pass by cars so closely you could easily reach out and tough them. In the city, cars merge leaving no space between them. Each time when we go to stop my hands clench because of the small time and space left. In the round-abouts people force there way into unimaginably small spaces. The other thing that is slightly terrifying is the fact that traffic drives on the left side of the road. I have become accustom to seeing cars stream past me on the right. But when left hand turns are made it makes me hold my breath. I feel myself pushing down my right foot in attempts to use an imaginary brak There is no opportunity for you to be a passive driver. You must be assertive and push your way in. As a passenger it is best to try not to pay attention to where you are going or, if worse comes to worse, just hold your breath and prey.
Ok, so I’m not going to lie, that last plane ride seemed to go longer than eight hours, or maybe I was finally just ready to get to Uganda.
I haven’t traveled over seas since I was in third grade. Needless to say, I’m not at all accustomed to how you’re supposed to sleep on an eight hour flight, nor am I familiar with the atmosphere of an international airport.
Traveling this far, for me at least, was absolutely exhausting – which would be fine in any other case except I don’t want to miss out on anything and it’s hard to keep your eyes open when your dogs are barkin’ like crazy.
My experience this far has given a new meaning to the term weary traveler. And I definitely have way more respect for those people who do a lot of international traveling. I’m not sure I could handle another eight hours of the crying baby that sat in front of me on the first flight.
When we finally got to Entebbe it was dark – and when I say dark, I mean it was pretty much pitch black. It isn’t like there’s a whole lot of flashy advertising with lights.
My first impression of Uganda was based purely on smell. I would describe it as a mix of campfires, New Orleans, exhaust and dirt. I don’t really know how else to describe that – it’s not really a one word kind of thing because it’s definitely unique (but not awful).