Cause I gotta have faith, faith, faith

Lila and I just returned from a four day excursion to Uganda. She’s leaving for the states tomorrow to finish up her degree at Tulane (enter stage left: Aims loses her entire social network and becomes a huge loser), so she convinced me to tag along for her final hoorah in East Africa. We left Kigali at 5am on Saturday morning in a horrible rain storm and the pitch dark to board the bus to Kampala, Uganda. It goes without mentioning that I was awake roughly 25 minutes of the 9 hour trip…long enough to gracefully accept a cookie from my Kenyan seat mates, watch two Michael Jackson videos on the bus TV, and get in an argument with a rude face (no cuts, no buts, no coconuts) at the Rwandan/Ugandan border.

We got to Kampala at around 6pm. I felt instantly at home…much more the African city scene I’m familiar with—oncoming traffic dodging the same monstrous potholes; people throwing litter out of bushtaxis; mud; men peeing on walls; streetfood chapatis; mud; oversized billboards promoting HIV testing (or cell phones); loud music; traffic, traffic, traffic; flip flops; mud. We were greeted by two very bubbly Ugandans named Julius and Michael. Julius is the nephew of our Tulane colleague who graciously hooked us up with a free place to stay. Evidently, they took their hospitality very seriously in showing Lila and I around town. We had a blast! Ugandans are incredibly lively, friendly folks. Loads of great restaurants, bars, clubs, music. We spent the evening shuttling around all the hot spots in town, meeting Julius and Michael’s friends from law school and dancing the night away. It was fantastic. Also, I just have to mention that Julius and Michael really restored my faith in men. Two well-educated, attractive, compassionate, thoughtful, hilariously funny men who were giving up their weekend to host Lila and me around town? Maybe there is hope for me after all.

Sunday, we headed out to Jinja in late afternoon…a small town about an hour outside of Kampala world-renowned for its rafting down the Nile River. We arrived after dark at the Nile River Explorers hostel. I always love getting thrown back into the backpacker’s scene…gritty, adventurous, adrenaline junkies seeking out their next thrill and global wanderers hoping to experience Uganda in an authentic, down-to-earth sort of way. Within moments, I questioned my decision to pursue two Master’s degrees and amass an ungodly amount of debt when I could essentially be an extreme sports fanatic with ripped arms, a great tan, and cheap beers at my disposal. Damn.

Rafting was ridiculously fun. The most extreme sporting activity I’ve participated in in recent adult years was learning how to simultaneously hold a can of Bud Light while playing beach volleyball. I had forgotten how exhilarating it is! Our raft consisted of three Brits and a South African, Lila and I, and our Australian guide, Jesse. Obviously, Jesse informed us within moments that Americans complained the most and when Lila suggested we come up with a team name, Joel from the rural UK muttered, “How bloody American of you.” Totally weak sauce. We had some serious moments of extreme sports, I am proud to say. Although we dubbed our raft the “super sloths” (for obvious reasons), we actually did quite an impressive job of battling the raging rapids. We flipped the raft twice. Not only did I miraculously manage to hold on both times, but managed to keep both my contact lenses and come out unscathed (minus the loss of a perfectly manicured pedicure and almost my bathing suit bottoms). It was five hours of hilarious conversation, beautiful scenery, and swimming. With the small exception of the torrential downpour which clearly resulted in an outbreak of hives and Jesse yelling for our sloth asses to paddle harder, it was a perfect day. Totally extreme. Totally awesome.

We really lucked out with our raft mates (I’m not entirely sure they feel the same about us). The two couples were both on an overland journey from London to Capetown…Angela and Andrew in a Land Rover, and Joel and Hannah on a motorbike. Not only was I unbelievably envious of this voyage, but was almost instantly pummeled with questions challenging my current place in life. My self-esteem plummeted by the sheer fact that I could not conjure up one soul that I could take such a trip with and not want to murder after 3 days, not to mention how the hell would I ever be able to afford such a thing? Additionally, my three chronic health afflictions: being allergic to the cold, Irritable Bowel Syndrome, and travel narcolepsy, would essentially make me the worst travel partner in the universe. I have to say, it was unbelievably refreshing to be around them and listen to their experiences and stories up to this point of their journey…and even more inspiring to see how affectionate, loving, sweet, and playful they still were. Ahhh, the perfect partner. The flexibility and freedom (and money!) to travel through the continent of my dreams! Why oh why is my life so hard?

All in all, the weekend recharged the batteries (as Vince Vaughan so aptly states in Wedding Crashers) in numerous ways. It was a break from the stresses of work and Kigali. It reminded me of the goodness and joy in meeting new people. It reinforced that being 30 is not, in fact, the beginning of the end as I sometimes think it is…and most of all, encouraged me to continue to believe in living my life with intention and purpose…and from this, only good things can come.