First Week Back
on Blog From Beyond (Rwanda), 15/Aug/2009 19:49, 34 days ago
Gloucester Folk MuseumRight, time to begin the catch-up I suppose :)Dad and I had been planning my return trip for about three months beforemum’s birthday. I used the Socor travel agency in Kigali, up near KBC bank. On the whole they were pretty helpful although when I finally went to buy my ticket I did feel somewhat invisible as everyone in the room carried on their conversations as if I wasn’t there – focused on office gossip rather than on the customer and then they lost my phone and e-mail address so sent my e-ticket to Martine because we’d been booking our flights together and they remembered her contact details.I had no idea what happened to my tickets as Martine had limited internet access so didn't forward them instantly. I ended up having to go all the way back to their office to sit there with my laptop whilst they re-mailed it to me from the other side of the room. Bit of a pain in the arse and completely defeated the object of e-tickets saving time over printed tickets, but essentially the details were right and although the price had gone up considerably in the two weeks between my first quote and actually buying the tickets, I was starting to get excited.The weeks flew by and I got a taxi from town to come and collect me at around 4pm on Saturday 18th July. He stopped to re-fuel at Gikondo garage and I feared I might die before reaching the airport: chatting away on his mobile and idling his engine whilst the tank was being filled! The gods of health and safety were on holiday themselves that day ;)But we got there and I started smoosing in duty free– met a woman fromCapacitar Internationalwho works with trauma victims and knows Father Murenzi and theKomera Centreand another lady who is a haematologist and trains people how to used specialist blood testing equipment at the hospital– she even trained Pierre. I sat next to her on the plane and we spent most of the journey chatting about life, the world and everything.I got to Kigali airport just as the sun was starting to go down and treated myself to a large glass ofAmarula Creamwhilst watching it from the comfort of the big leather sofas. I couldn’t really imagine what I was going back to because it’d been so long, but I enjoyed watching the people and the traffic going past; a lasting image of the place I was leaving behind.The flight was pretty uneventful: Kigali to Brussels via Entebbe then a quick 20-minute hop over to Heathrow.I was horribly under-whelmed byBrussels Airlinesthough. The food was congealing and in this day and age, having tiny monitors down the central isle on a long-haul eight-hour flight is just not on.Kenyahad personal entertainment systems and the food was much better. Kenya, in my not-so humble opinion, earned their slogan:“The pride of Africa” (for their safety record if nothing else) but I would have expected much more from a major European provider, their staff could at least have cracked a smile instead of the glum back-of-a-bus expressions they touted.When we touched-down in Brussels I saw rain for the first time in two months. It was a wonderful sight but one that sadly lost its novelty value over the coming weeks.On the hop-over flight to Heathrow some guy had sat in my window seat. Usually I wouldn’t make a fuss over such things but it was my first time home in almost two years, damn right I was pushing him to the isle. I sat with my nose pressed up against the glass as we did a spectacular descent over central London: Canary Wharf, that giant pine cone thingy, the Mayor’s Office, Tower Bridge and all the way down across Kew Gardens – it was spectacular.Dad and Marilyn were waiting for me on the other side of customs with a banner and balloons. They bundled me into the car and took me for a full English breakfast at Reading Services (glam eh ;) )– it tasted divine but the first thing that blew my mind was the speed of traffic on the motorway! Well, firstly how big and shiny all the cars were – and how numerous – and then how fast everyone was driving! Took a good couple of weeks for that to wear off. Little bullets of multi-coloured alloy fired along a straight tarmac barrel. Scary.Dad lives in Gloucester within easy walking distance of the centre of town and I spent the first couple of days just wandering around in a total daze. It was p’ing it down with rain which quickly lost its appeal: the cold, wet, grey kind of rain. At least in Rwanda it has the decency to throw in some thunder, a bit of lightning and a mud slide – and it’s still warm enough to drink a beer outside. Rwandan rain is just more sophisticated than that half-hearted, continuous drizzle stuff we get in the UK ;)I quickly bought shoes and some clothes and tried to unwind by attending asinging bowlmeditation at the local hippie shop, which was a mistake. I thought it would relax me and help me to unwind but it didn’t. I used to go toFWO Buddhist Centreswhen I lived in Croydon and Colchester, attended theMetta BhavanaandMindfulnessmeditations and got a lot out of them both experientially and socially. This one was a bit odd, more like listening to a one-woman concert. I like the bowls when they run the wood around it and they humm but the gonging of them grates on me, I’m just getting into the vibe when ‘clunk, ping ping, clunk’ – it’s like trying to drift off to the chimes of Big Ben in miniature. Didn’t do it for me and I wasn’t quite ready for the obligatory general chit-chat about whose nephew’s done what, who shops where or what the papers sayabout climate change. I’m glad I went, but I was also glad to leave. I took a wander down the road and sussed outGloucester Folk Museumwhich was good for a couple of hours.I also treated myself to going to the hair dresser– something I do about once every six or seven years – only I almost tore my hair out trying to find one. Some new EU directive says that hairdressers aren’t allowed to dye your hair without doing a 72 hour patch test, which includes any products you bring with you. This same ruling also seemsto have led to a national henna crisis as shops likeBody Shopstopped selling it as they feared they couldn’t test the product accurately or something to that effect. So not only could I not find the henna I wanted, I couldn't find anybody willing to do it even if I could! Although oddlyLushstill sell it but I wasn't sure what you did with the bars.Thank heavens for hippie shops and Barton Street. One box of‘mahogany’ henna powder and a Jamaican hairdresser equalled the best conditioned hair I think I’ve had in years. Was lurvely.Always get fed well at dad’s, he and Marilyn are great believers in decent veggie fry-ups and we went to our favourite Indian where we had a meal just before I first flew to Rwanda. Was a lovely relaxed way to begin the holidays. Then on the 24th we didmum’s birthdayand I stayed on with her.Oh, and after all this time, Ifinallygot to see the thirdPirates of the Caribbean. Thanks Julie, I fair enjoyed that :)