Conrad Playing With Kids ... Captured by Kids!!

Today was an amazing day so far. I walked around town for a couple hours (without getting lost; but with no map ... just carefully paying attention to the direction of streets). Full of confidence, I decided to wander off the main road a bit and I ended up at a small field, where I saw a little kid kicking a football around. He kicked it pretty far so I ran over to the ball, did a trick or two, and passed it back. I then asked him if I could play ... 30 seconds later, a small group of children which were hiding in the trees came and started playing with us! We passed the ball around for about 15 minutes, before the kid with the ball had to go home. Before he left, I asked if it was okay to take a photo of the group of them! Of course it was! After several poses, the kids started asking how to use my camera, so I handed it over and let them take pictures of us fooling around, and them striking hip-hop poses. They also wanted to see how in shape I was - or so I gathered - because they challenged me to numerous races and a push-up competition (I lost one of the races, but I DESTROYED at push-ups MWAHAHAHAHA!) Here are some of the better photos that were shot:

A Part of This Complete Breakfast & Thanks a Latte!

There is definitely not a shortage of food options in Kampala. If you name the cuisine, you can find it: odds are that it might taste better than you're used to in North America. I have had some of the best Indian food I've ever had here; I have also pizza at the restaurant / cafe downstairs which will probably lead me to never look at pizza the same way again. During lunch at work, I have some of the local fare, served daily for a very reasonable price (I'll take a photo eventually). 

For my fast mornings (stumbling around my apartment, shivering after my cold shower, trying to find my phone and keys), I decided that I will start having breakfast in my apartment. Lo' and behold, after a little bit of searching, I found Kenyan Peanut Butter, Egyptian Jam and some Kenyan fruit juice (pictured above)! Alongside a little yogurt, this is the breakfast of champions. 

On weekends, and evenings when I'm doing some homework, I come down to the Cafe downstairs and enjoy some amazing coffee. I've become friends with the barrista, Moses, who makes one mean latte. Moses is really passionate about the whole coffee-making process (from growing, to roasting, to preparing drinks), and has become a self-taught latte artist, learning from videos on You Tube. Today he walked me through the Latte making process and I took a couple photos of him.

Conrad's Kampala Digs

The view from my building's restaurant (5th floor). 

After living out of a suitcase for a few days - and repacking every single night - it was a huge relief to finally find a place to unpack, put my feet up, and walk around in my underwear. 

My new digs are amazing. It's on the 7th floor of an apartment unit directly situated over a supermarket, money exchange and a place to buy cell-phone minutes. It's directly across from the university, has several interesting shops and restaurants around it, has a restaurant directly below with an amazing staff (who I have become friends with), and perhaps best of all, it is a 15 minute walk from where I'm doing my internship. 

A part of the large Makere University campus; the view from my window. 

I got during the most intense session of haggling (over an hour), led by my security officer, Asaph (my Kampala hero). I stayed silent, as was hinted might be the best route to take, while he got me a really, really good price and made sure I got all the frills as well. Initially, I was going to get a place that is unwalkable and hard to describe where it is outside of drawing a picture on the back of a piece of paper (you probably never would have heard from me again ... as I would have taken a wrong turn on Kampala Road and ended up in Nairobi).   

My boda-boda helmet and one of the football scarves I take
everywhere with me.

The living room and dining area. Two full-length couches and
yes, that is a flat-screen tv. Combine with wi-fi and I am as
happy as a pig in shit in the evenings.  

Now a 15 minute walk which involves three turns - two right turns - should make it impossible for me to get lost right (particularly since I had driven by on a boda... twice!). WRONG?! Haven't you been reading my blog!! My first walk there, I was sauntering - literally sauntering - to work, proud that I was going to make it there on foot ... when I started slowing down, my shoulders slumped a bit ... and then an all-too-familiar feeling swept over me: I was lost. I was in front of the French embassy, when I should have been in front of the Nigerian one. Ugandans - bless their hearts - are really helpful if you ask them for anything ... however, their ability to give directions to a complete idiot (me!) is a skill that the nation really needs to work on. I got a lot of complicated gestures, which proceeded to get me even more lost (or so I thought). One lady after seeing my confused stare, just blurted out: just take a boda. I ended up going for my shortest boda ride ever and stopped a bit away from the gate, so I could saunter in and tell people that I had pretty much made it there. I was then informed that I was late, so I cracked like a witness speaking with Jack Baur and admitted I had taken a "wee wrong turn". The following morning, the security officer called me at an ungodly hour to tell me that he's going to walk the road with me to make sure I don't end up in Dar Es Salaam. 

No, this isn't the bed chamber of the princess from Aladdin.
This is my sleeping quarters, complete with moss-keeter net.
Take - faint - note of my Manchester United pennent
keeping watch over my head. 

The whole thing was made more amusing upon discovering the TBayNewswatch article which was written about me:

For those who haven't read it, it starts:

Conrad Koczorowski has a reputation for getting lost in his own hometown.

But that didn’t stop the 28-year-old Lakehead University political science graduate from trying his hand at a six-month internship in a foreign country.

To your right are some photos of my apartment - so nice, I just might never want to leave!

For a link to the article about my trip down here, please go to:  http://www.tbnewswatch.com/entertainment/286254/Uganda-bound 

*Note: I actually did finish my MA, and was doing my PhD in Toronto, which I interrupted. Also, I am the only intern in Uganda. The rest are spread out over Ethiopia (3), Tanzania (2) and Kenya (4). 

Boda-Boda!

(I will do a more in-depth look at my new apartment when I take some good shots of the interior during daylight hours).

I took this photo off of Google. 

Today I went on the increasingly most popular form of transport in Kampala, the Boda-Boda. The Boda-Boda is a nickname for the motorcycle taxis – everywhere you turn you see these young men zipping in and out of traffic with passengers on the back (sometimes up to three). They are one of the most interesting things about Kampala. Many have slogans and stickers on their bikes (often football logos or biblical quotes) and they range in appearance from button-up shirts (almost a Bay St. figure out on a bit of a mid-day spin) to quirky (picture any hip-hop video really).

Interjection: the most amusing driver I saw so far was wearing a Justin Bieber “Never Say Never” tee.

Whenever you are walking down the street, at about 30 second intervals, they will come up and ask if you “need a lift” or in my case, I seem to get shouts of “boss! Boss! Ride?!” If you are a muzengo – white person – it is generally assumed that you're lost and could use a ride.While it can be distracting getting asked for a ride every thirty seconds, I always give a “no thank you, but thanks for asking!” After all, how often do you get service like that? When I appeared in the late afternoon with my helmet outside the plaza, about twelve people waved at me at once ... haha, it felt like I had set off a flare seen in a three block radius that I needed a ride. 

Their reputation is - of course - mixed, with some people warning you away from them with every fibre of their being, while others scoff and say that the warnings are overrated. A few nurses I met told me that about 80% of injuries in the ER are from Boda-Boda incidents and there are daily reported fatalities.

Needless to say, the fear of the Bodas was a beast I needed to slay for the simple sake of convenience, and today it was unavoidable. I needed a ride to a bank to pay my rent; luckily, Asaph, the AMREF security officer had swung by to visit me, so he flagged down a guy he recognized and told him exactly where I needed to go and I was off on my first ride.

I was a little tense at first as we weaved through the traffic, with many times cars being an inch away from my elbow. We weren’t going fast, but we definitely weren’t going as the crow flies (rather, more like an inebriated bee). While the Kampala fashion seems to be to look disinterested and sit with your hands at your sides - with talking on your cell, gesticulating wildly being the alternative - I clung onto his waist for dear life, and at one point put my fingers through his belt loops (this got an awkward glance in the mirror which I pretended not to notice).

However, since then (earlier today) I have been on three additional rides and I felt safe on all of them. Largely this might be because I definitely have the largest helmet in all of Kampala (the majority of helmets used here probably wouldn't pass a DOT inspection ... but they sure look cool!). On one of my rides, when I pulled up to one of the largest intersections in Kampala and I was surrounded by about thirty drivers and their passengers and they ALL turned and looked at me … at the helmet … and quite a few smirked. Yup – muzengos can be buttercups boys, deal with it. 

As a final – cute – anecdote: I had just gotten off my final ride of the evening and was enjoying a cigarette (which was a small adventure to purchase by the way) by the boda platform, sitting beside my oversized helmet, and the cutest little kid came up to me, smiled a huge grin and held out his fist to pound it! I burst out laughing and obliged him. 

The Premier Inn Lives Up to It's Name

My second day was a great day! The staff at Premier Inn have outdone their hospitality and I wish that I had more time to spend here (however, I will definitely pop by for a visit). It’s great to sit down and speak with them about the city and they also allow my natural talkativeness to come out. Today, I spoke about music with Mark, one of the security guards, and we talked about what he likes and what I like – he let me listen to some Ugandan reggae on his earbuds and it was pretty jamming! We identified American artists he likes and I pumped that he is a fan of the “Watch the Throne” album by Jay-Z and Kanye (although Kanye might be upset that Jay-Z is much bigger over here … I did see an amazing Dropout Bear tee whiz by on a motorcycle earlier). In the evening we (along with Ben and Oscar) discussed “landmarks” of a city and how they really bring out a city’s character, and I showed them pictures of the CN tower, which they loved. I also showed pictures of Kensington Market, and mentioned some of the similarities that I’ve noticed between the two cities. My fun moment was explaining hockey – “people can actually run around on the water!”

 

The ladies at the inn have also been awesome and it was nice waking up in the morning to “Good morning Conrad!!” As you can see, I have taken pictures with everyone and will be going back in the next few days to drop off some developed pictures so they can have a keepsake of my wonderful stay there. 

A Thousand Miles An Hour: Day One

My second day was just a whirlwind. I was still getting dressed when I received a call that my ride had arrived to go to the office. I lied and said I was ready, had ate breakfast, and grabbed my luggage as quickly as I could (the initial hotel had been way too expensive and not nearly impressive).

After a brief stay at the office, I endeavored to knock off some must-do errands: get a cell phone, withdraw some money … and eat for the first time. The cell phone I had brought was apparently locked to European SIMS only (somehow), and my debit card was rejected. I also discovered that all withdrawals cost 22 USD regardless of how much you take out. It wasn’t a great few hours, and my frustration increased steadily. On top of that, I was expected to start learning the city without a map … once again, I can get lost in Thunder Bay (nay, at times, even a basement), so this is a daunting task. I still haven’t figured out how I will safely and affordably travel around the city. Busses no longer exist; they have been replaced by “Taxis” which are essentially Taxi-cabs, which are utilized to carry up to a dozen people (or more) between pre-designated locations (get in the wrong one, and you are lost, son). The alternative is the boda-boda, which most of the locals warn against; they have a high casualty rate and the majority of emergency room visits in the city are by them. However, they are faster in the traffic, and if you get a good driver, you will always end up at your location. What we Canadians would label “taxis” or “cabs” they refer to as “special hires” here. They are an alternative, and definitely the best night time option, however traffic locks up at key times of the day and travel by a car can be quite time-consuming.

The highlight of the day was definitely my new Inn: the Premier Inn. Much more affordable and much more clean and accommodating than my first hotel. The staff are super friendly – I spent quite a while speaking with the security guards about football – and the house staff goes out of their way to make you feel welcome. I also ran into some Canadians, which was quite welcome and I watched a very sloppy game of cards, while I struggled with the internet. An overwhelming day, but it was nice to find a little haven in the midst of it. 

Nose Plastered to the Plexiglass: Conrad Flies to Kampala

The flight: The flight was surprisingly uneventful for me. I have a long track record involving long distance commuting being disrupted by unfortunate incidents, both out of my control and not (missed connections on the way to the EURO Cup; being stranded at a subway station at 3 AM in Toronto because I got off at the wrong Greyhound stop). With these examples and several more clanking around my head, I was a bit of a wreck getting on the plane. While I could possibly handle minor setbacks, I don’t know how I would handle something like a denied visa (for example). The flight to Amsterdam was uneventful and not really noteworthy. I quickly discovered where my connecting gate was, which I celebrated by grinning like a complete idiot. Having reunited with my vice of casual smoking, I bee-lined for the indoor smoking area, which was essentially an Irish Pub which had a closet in back where mostly Irish-accented people crammed together and breathed smoke down the back of each other’s necks. It was pretty wonderful. I explored the airport, regularly backtracking to my gate, just to prove to myself that I could still do it. I think this is how some animal’s explore new territory – it has become my approach to airports. Again, I can get lost in a basement.

The Amsterdam airport should be noted for being really well organized and everyone who works there is quite friendly. Even the security guard was smiling! SECURITY! This was a welcome change from the Pearson Airport staff who with every syllable make me believe that I am one forgotten tube of lip-chap away from getting a free colonscopy.

The flight to Kigali, Rwanda was amazing. I got the window seat, and rather than immersing myself in Hollywood blockbusters, I stared out the window the whole time, while I listened to the Discovery Planet Earth soundtrack. I could wax poetic about seeing the Alps for the first time, or watching the swirling deserts of Libya and the Northern DRC, but it’s really one of those things that needs to be experienced rather than explained. So dear readers: if you’re ever doing that particular trek, turn off the television at least for the first few hours, and stare out the windows with some good tunes and imagine Richard Attenborough crooning his sweet phrases into your ear.

My amusing anecdote during the Amsterdam-Kigali flight: an hour in, the pilot comes over the announcement and starts speaking in Dutch for several minutes. All I could make out was “Libya”. The first words he spoke in English were: “look out the window! At the strange aircraft…” I literally slammed my nose against the window looking at the strange aircraft, leaving a smeared nose print. In my mind was like “oh no! We’re going to be a BBC headline”. Turns out we were still over Italy, and the pilot, an airplane aficionado, was pointing out a rare plane used to transport airplane engines around the world (it looked like a pudgy cartoon airplane a below-average talented Kindergarten child might draw) … and we were about to enter Libyan airspace.

This picture was taken from Google. 

My arrival in Kampala was decidedly non-eventful, with the issuance of my temporary visa being rather quick and my luggage came around the track just as I cleared customs (remarkably good timing). I found my awesome driver, Hector, really quickly and we sped off to my hotel, while he explained some of the “rules” of the road and pointed out why Boda-Bodas (the motorcycle “Taxi”) can be a risky travel option. With my eyes wide open taking it all in, I waited a reasonable ten minutes before I started talking about sports, which was pretty good achievement for me (soccer being a conversation starter for me). The check in was easy – outside of discovering I was paying much more than I had hoped – and I settled in, once I figured out how to connect to internet and call long distance on the phone (and how to not electrocute myself on the lamp … which gave me a nasty shock when I first touched it). 

An Introduction

About me: My name is Conrad and I am embarking on a six-month adventure in Uganda. While this will be somewhat of a travel blog, I should add a disclaimer – I am not by any definition of the term “a traveler”. My passport is very much a blushing bride, with all of her pages very much still all in white. While other travelogues might regale with useful tips, tales of daring adventure and bashful attempts at sounding modest in the face of rapidly changing adversity, this space will be more part of a Mr. Bean Goes to Africa meets Seinfeld, Kampala edition. While I am quite quick on the draw in rural environments (my former farming colleagues might violently interject at this point), my ability to get lost (I once got lost in my friend’s girlfriend’s house: true story), stumble into awkward situations, and meet a random selection of sit-com situations and personalities is what will keep YOU, THE READER coming back. While every piece of writing one endeavors has a hope of reaching a wider audience, I am first and foremost writing this for myself, my family and my friends: hopefully so those closest to me can vicariously witness as I evolve from Mr. Bean to a Bill Bryson.