* more pics coming soon, computer is being difficult 
I’m not going to say much about Tuesday. Tuesday was a challenge, in an odd way. Most people would be perfectly fine having things move a little bit slowly and not have much work to do, but I’ve always had somewhat of a type A personality, as much as I might not like to admit it. And Tuesday… was slooow. I was picked up late and wasn’t given much work to do, followed by a 3-hour meeting that lasted until after 9 pm. It frustrated me to no end to sit in an office for hours and have barely anything to show for it… but I’ll get over it. I knew before I got here that Africa time is MUCH different than US time. Productivity isn’t as much of a priority. It’s there, but it’s not there in a manic sense like I’m used to, I guess. Trying to embrace this.
Today was much better. I started the day with some PB&plum jam toast and strawberry-mango tea and rolled into work around 11 (again, this is when the driver picked me up haha.) I got to work on the hippos with Anthrax brochure and then broke for lunch a couple of hours later. I thought I knew where the market was, but I got lost, and asked a dude on the street for directions, and then a boda-boda pulled up because he smelled an American tourist.
“Eh, sistah!” (I’ve started responding to “sistah,” by the way.)
“Where you going?”
I told him I needed to get to the market. He nodded.
“Ah yes, supermarket and restaurant? Get on.” He tapped the seat behind him.
“Ummm, no no, where is it?”
“I show you. Get on.”
Gah, fine. I hadn’t been on a boda-boda yet, and I figured I needed to at least once. Plus, I knew it was a short distance. And I was mega lost and didn’t want to be late getting back to work.
“Okay… but I’m not paying more then 2,000 shillings.”
“It’s fine, get on.”
Hmmm. I got on.
My first boda-boda ride was short, sweet, and accident-free. The seat was comfortable, the bike didn’t feel like it was going to explode, and the sweet African breeze was riffling through my hair. It was over way too soon. I got to my destination and the driver asked for 3,000 shillings.
“That wasn’t a very long ride,” I said skeptically. “Two thousand.”
“Nonono, three thousand,” he insisted. I argued some more. He wouldn’t budge.
Bah. Fine. I gave him the 3,000. Keep in mind that 3,000 shillings is $1.50, so I wasn’t exactly handing over a fortune. Next time though, I’ll be more firm.
I had an awesome lunch at the Crocodile Café—a ham, cheese, and pineapple sandwich on toasted French bread, with an orange Fanta (I don’t think I’ve had Fanta since I lived in Germany… I always choose diet drinks in the States, but they don’t have those here anywhere. So I indulge in the orange goodness.) They hid TOMATOES in the sandwich though! The tomatoes here plague me so. No worries, I picked them out. I’m really really missing my veggies. A lot of the veggies at restaurants probably wouldn’t make me sick, but I’m not willing to risk it.
After lunch I walked back to work and got honked at for walking on the wrong side of the road (GAH, still not used to that!) and got word that Josephine had found me another place to stay after my reservation runs out at the Red Chilli (yeah, another thing I found out yesterday—I’m not leaving for Bwindi until NEXT weekend, not THIS weekend. Umm.) I’ll be staying in a guesthouse at the local university. I went to check out the room with Sam, who is a student there, and Kitkjo (sp?), the driver. The room is nice, and has its own bathroom, with a legit toilet and a bucket shower (WOOO! Seriously, I’m excited for this.) 20 bucks a night, plus breakfast. Balllerrrr.
I then worked a little more and drank some water out of a jug that Gladys said was safe to drink because it was boiled. When I poured myself a second glass, dirt came out with the water. Hmmmm. Sketch. Don’t fail me now, strong insides.
To close, a few interesting things about Uganda that I’ve noticed:
— Ugandans don’t end phone conversations. They don’t use the standard closings or even say goodbye. They just kind of end the conversation. I have no idea how the other person knows that the conversation is just over. Sometimes they’ll just say “mmm” instead of goodbye, which is better than nothing, I guess.
— A lot of people have asked me about what my religion is. In Uganda, you are either Christian or Muslim. There’s this one guy, Sam, who is super cool but hard for me to understand sometimes because he has the thickest accent of everyone. He’s really gotten on me about religion ever since he asked me if I was Christian and I told him I didn’t believe in anything. He pointed at an article in the paper today and said “another person like you.” At first I thought he meant a white person, but it was someone saying that Uganda didn’t need prayer, they needed action. Apparently, the president of Uganda shot back at this remark saying that Uganda, in fact, did need prayer. Sam kind of gave me a “see?” look and sat back down at his computer. But then I got a different response from Michael when he asked and I told him that I wasn’t anything, and he said “Ah, so you just live?” WISDOM. Thank you, Michael.
— As I mentioned, work hours here are very… loose. I asked Gladys what my official work time was and she said from 8:30 to 5…. But that they usually “start late and end late.” So I’m wondering if anyone will be at the office if I actually show up at 8:30 once I’m able to transport myself next week. Hmmm.
— Also, I think these dudes tend to underestimate me since I’m a girl. Stephen had some doubts about me going to Bwindi because there are mountains there. I showed him the picture of me scaling the dune in Michigan, which was 450 feet tall and I told him I did it in 17 minutes. He seemed mildly impressed and said to Richard “Well, if she can climb that, I think she is strong enough to climb the mountains in Bwindi.” Richard nodded and agreed; “She looks strong.” I felt like a warrior.
— Saw a white dude coming out of the restaurant today using the word “bro” very seriously in a heated phone conversation. So there you have it… the bro phenomenon really IS everywhere.
— One more funny quote to end with:
Michael: “Where in America are you from?”
Me: “Ohio”
Michael: “Ah, where the rich people are.”
the mzungu chronicles. 
you ARE a warrior! How much are your meals costing you there?
peace out sistah
hahaha thanks Chris 🙂 as far as surprising cultural differences, I’d say the whole not saying goodbye on the phone thing is really weird to me lol. Also, women are expected to ride side-saddle on boda-bodas, which i do NOT do haha. And flip-flops are considered a “house shoe” and should not be worn outside (although I’ve been wearing mine outside and nobody’s said anything, and lightning hasn’t struck me yet haha). Meal costs vary a lot. My meals at the hostel cost me about 2 bucks, and I got a sandwich at a nice restaurant the other day for 4 bucks. You can get a steak for like 8 bucks. I’m eating cheap!!
LMAO! Yes, OH: land of the hillbillies and rich.
Why does it not surprise me that you got lost in a foreign country? DO NOT GET TRAFFICKED!
hahaha of COURSE i got lost. and I promise I won’t get trafficked!!