I had been feeling sick for two days, so it took me a while to get up, pack, and finally get to the bus station. I wanted to get some last minute food before the bus left and I was still feeling a bit nauseous so I asked a man if he knew where I could get salad. He took me to a local place next to the bus station and they confirmed that yes, they did have salad. Then they asked me what I wanted with my salad. "Just salad", I said. "Oh we don't have salad. Can I make you chicken and chips?" Because obviously they are basically the same. I never did find a restaurant that served vegetables, but I got some fruit from a woman selling it on the bus.
I knew I was leaving pretty late when I arrived at the bus station at 3:30pm, but I was told it was a three hour bus ride so I figured I would still arrive at a decent hour. I am not sure why I thought that. The bus driver told me we would leave by 4:00 pm at the latest. We left at 4:30 pm, went to get gas, then got stuck in rush hour traffic so that it was about 6:00 pm by the time we got out of Kampala. After stopping several times for technical issues, I started to realize just how late I would be arriving. I decided to call ahead to the hotel where I had made a reservation to make sure I would have a ride ready. I received a text back that said, "Cathy am sorry its too late now. our gates close at 6pm." It was too late. Too late to tell me not to leave Kampala as I was now due to arrive just after 9pm, at the closed gates, by myself, in the pitch black. As I pictured myself sleeping in a ditch somewhere, I called her to explain that this would have been excellent information to receive when I actually made the reservation.
Meanwhile, the man next to me, James, had still not ceased talking about how expensive his school was, how prestigious his being a lawyer was in Uganda, and his constant name dropping. It seems to be a universal thing that a bragging man is completely unaware of your sarcasm when you say, "Wow. That's amazing. You are such a hero."
The manager of Ziwa finally called me and said that if I paid 60,000 Ush then they would pick me up. I told him I was confused about why, if a boda ride during the day costs 5,000 Ush and the real issue is the opening of the gates and not the ride, it should cost that much. He directed me to call someone else. He continued calling me and ignored my requests to text since my phone was dying. I never ended up getting an explanation and then my phone died. My neighbour's name dropping finally came in handy as he knew the manager, but his phone finally lost service for good. Getting off the bus without knowing where I would go or whether I had any means of transportation or a place to stay seemed like a very bad idea, so my only option was to continue to Masindi.
Masindi isn't in lonely planet, so I had to trust my neighbour to tell me a place to stay. I could tell by the name Jakov (he thought it was spelled Jakoff) that this was not a Mzungu place, but James said it was clean and it was only 15,000 Ush a night. Clean was a generous interpretation.
At first inspection, the sheets smelled clean and there was a mosquito net and a padlock on the door. James was leaving and I didn't really have any other options at this point, so I set down my bags and went to get food. As I sat at the bar eating my chicken and chips, I got live entertainment watching the cockroaches crawl up and down the bar.
When I got back to my room, I realized the full extent of what I had signed up for: There was a large hole in the bathroom ceiling where a person could definitely fit through and hanging on the side of it was a used condom; the sink gave you just a trickle of water and the dried toothpaste on the back of the toilet made it obvious that I hadn't been cleaned in a while; in addition, the toilet didn't flush and there was a big pile of some stranger's poop floating in it. I managed to get the door closed so the smell wouldn't permeate the room, but had a mild moment of panic when I realized there was no door handle and thought I might be stuck in there with the poop. Luckily, the cracks in the door were large enough that I could still open it. I reasoned that poop in the toilet is better than poop mysteriously appearing on my bed in the night, so I tucked in my mosquito net and went to sleep. You need to appreciate the little things.
After getting sent in the wrong direction by some Link bus workers (apparently they thought I was asking them how to find the bus directly beside us as opposed to the link office), and the usual fight to get the right price for the bus ticket, I was on my way to Ziwa Rhino Sanctuary.
I arrived prepared to pay $35, but they told me that it would be almost double that because I would need to rent a car since the rhinos were far away. I told her that I couldn't afford that and asked what my other options were, to which she returned a blank stare. They said I might be able to get a car with someone else and as we were trying to find someone, the guide finally came in and said that he didn't mind walking me if I could handle walking 45 minutes. I assured him this wasn't a problem and we headed out.
It was about 15 minutes to the first rhino and another 5 or 10 to the second group. I think he meant 45 minutes for the whole walk, which severely saddens me to think that the majority of Mzungus can't handle a 45 minute walk on flat ground. My guide had actually seemed very concerned that I wouldn't make it.
I saw a total of 5 white rhinos: 2 adults and 3 babies. They are really interesting animals because you get this feeling that they are from another age. Something about them seems so old and dinosaur-like. They just don't seem like they belong in our world.
After some lunch, I caught a boda boda back to the street, a matatu to a street corner that served as the taxi stand, and got a ride to Masindi with some doctor. There, in Masindi, I found the largest Mzungu price increase so far: three-times the actual price. After some threats to call my hotel and ask them to send someone, I managed to get the right price.
My hotel, which was right outside the gates to Merchison Park, was called Boomu Women's Group, and had these cute little mud huts with grass roofs that you sleep in. During daylight hours, I felt like I was in some kind of bird sanctuary because the sound of the birds was so loud and constant. They made me an excellent African meal for dinner, definitely the best in Uganda.
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