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).