14/03/19-20/03/19
Country: Uganda (not Rwanda)
Distance: 196 km / 122 mi
Elevation: 2,239 m / 7,346 ft
Boy has it been a tough week this week. After leaving our lovely beachside camp, we caught a much shorter ferry from the west side of the Ssese Islands back to the mainland and planned to make a beeline for Rwanda. And with only 257 km from the ferry terminal to the border, we should have been there already. But we’re not. I kinda don’t wanna talk about it, but I guess being a weekly blog and since not much else happened, I suppose I have to…
My Ortlieb bag ripped this week too.
We’ve now been in Uganda twenty-nine days and if truth be told I was ready to leave a week ago. Nothing particularly has happened – but that’s the point. The cycling has got very samey here and I’ve gotten very bored very quickly, which is ludicrous thing to say on a round-the-world cycle tour, I admit. But I am ready for something new; I’m ready for Rwanda. Dan’s still enjoying the rural (monotonous – sorry) riding. Okay, you got me: there’s no denying that it is lovely, I’m just someone who gets bored very easily. Poor Dan has a hard time of it at home; he’ll want to sit, relax and watch Sunday Brunch on C4, but I’ll feel like a cooped up bird and drag him out whether he likes it or not. I once got so bored one Saturday night I rounded up a carful of friends and we drove to Paris for breakfast. Now that’s on the extreme end of my boredom scale, but you get the point.
Anyway. Dan’s had to listen to me harp on all week about desperately wanting to be in Rwanda and the more I harped on the further away the border seemed to get (hence us still not being there). The rough roads and relentless climbing has meant we haven’t been clocking the 50 / 60 km as planned to reach Rwanda within four to five days. We’ve been hovering around the 35 km mark – and adding further kms to the journey by detouring to hotels because neither of us has had the energy to camp. We are absolutely worn out. Although we’ve still not been sleeping properly, as every hotel this week has blared music past midnight – oh the irony. I mentioned Rwanda was only 257 km away, well despite doing 166 km (30 km across the island) this week, we’re still 118 km away. Do the maths. We seem to be going 10 km forward and bloody 20 km back.
It’s not just me feeling the brunt of nearly a year on the road, moving almost daily. Dan’s fed up too. He’s tired of squatty potties. He’s tired of not sleeping properly. He’s tired of everything constantly being dirty. He’s tired of the ants. He’s tired of me being bored – I’m with him on that one.
I mean I could go on… but I’ll stop there.
I’ll also apologise for being a right Debbie Downer this week. Like I said, it’s been a tough week. It’s certainly been a mental challenge to stay positive and keep pedalling. Literally. We’ve gotten off the bikes and pushed them up several hills, physically unable to complete a full rotation – and not because of the incline. As soon as your mind gives up, your body has no chance. Edit: I just read the blog to Dan, as I do each week, and he said he did push up the hills because of the incline not a mental breakdown – and the only thing he found difficult this week was listening to me complain. So there you go.
It hasn’t all been doom and gloom. A kid cried at the sight of us this week and it made us laugh out loud (with his mother, of course, we’re not monsters). Like all cycle tourists, Dan and I look weird wherever we go. We’re a couple of grubby white kids on funny looking bikes. In Europe, Asia and Africa people have stared. While buying some cold Cokes – now on two-a-day, it’s fair to call it an addiction – from a shopkeeper, we all had a giggle at her baby’s expression, who was resting on her hip looking like she’d spotted two ghosts. But it wasn’t her who cheered us up. When the shopkeeper turned around, her young son was stood with his hands over his eyes, shaking his head. His Mam said something to him and when he took his hands away from his face and locked eyes with us, he burst out crying. Like literally tears rolling down his little face. Totally horrified. Reactions have been priceless throughout the trip, but this toddler’s was exactly what the doctor ordered. That and a cold Coke.
We haven’t just succumbed to Negative Nancy, try as she might to ruin our week. To lift our spirits we’ve been thinking a lot about seeing Dan’s family on Zanzibar in a fifty-nine days, six hours and thirty-two seconds (not that we’re counting). We actually can’t wait. We’ve also been looking ahead to our time in New Zealand and getting back into the real world of work, Friday night beers, Saturday morning bacon sandwiches, five-a-side football, run club, and new jeans. With all that in mind, we’ve started putting together our portfolios ready to send to agencies. Mine’s now live, with Dan’s due to follow imminently. If you fancy a nosey at what I do for living head to jennieburton.com. Spoiler alert: I make ads. You may recognise some.
Did I mentioned we’re not in Rwanda yet? With 118 km to go, we just better be there by next week’s blog post, that’s all I’m saying.
PS. I promise we’ll be in better moods next week. You just caught us on a bad day (week).
EAST AFRICA CHILDREN’S PROJECT
If there was ever a week we need a donation to cheer us up, this is it.