Please excuse our blog silence. We've been busy visiting relatives.
On Friday evening, we set out on an adventure to Rwanda to see the endangered mountain gorillas. Humans and gorillas share 95% of their genes, making the gorillas our close relatives. There are only about 700 of these endangered animals remaining, and a small area in Uganda, Rwanda, and the Congo is the only place in the world they can be found. Only 40 people a day are allowed to visit, so before we left the US, a wire transfer was sent to Rwanda, and an email came from Esther telling us our $500 permits were waiting. So far, so good, although visions of Whitney's entire bank account disappearing or us showing up ready to trek only to be told we had no permits kept creeping into our minds. Thus began our slightly shady, too-close-calls-for-comfort trip.
We decided to fly to Rwanda and then drive back, so we booked tickets online. Well, kind of anyway. We chose our flights, typed in our names and ages (much more important than passport number), and received an email saying we should bring $234 each to the airport on the day of our flight. In cash, US dollars. Hmmm, again, shady.
Our flight was at 10 PM, so our driver (Paul, of course) appointed a time to leave to ensure we got to the airport in time. Only K'La nightlife (and resulting traffic) was in full swing. After an hour in the car and still not clearing city limits, Whitney turned to Paul:
Whitney: Paul, our flight is at 9:30 and we haven't paid.
Paul: You have no tickets?
Whitney: We have tickets, we just haven't paid for them.
Paul: {blank stare}
Whitney: Are we gonna make it?
(keep in mind this was the only flight we could take to make it to the gorillas on time)
Paul: {crickets, starts breathing quickly}
From here began death car ride #1.
We made it to the airport with an hour before our flight left. We asked where we needed to pay for our tickets, and even the manager had no idea what we were talking about. I guess online booking is a new thing... This left us waiting, again wondering if a silverback sighting would allude us.
We made the flight, arrived in Rwanda, and got to our hotel about 11 PM. Four hours until we needed to be up and on the road to the national park. Flying by the seat of our pants, we had no driver booked for the 3 hour drive to Kinigi at 4 AM. Several calls, and a tense hour of picturing the gorillas slipping through our fingers, later we had a driver.
Our driver arrives at the hotel with a car full of people. Judging from the beer bottles clanking in the floor, they had all just come from the bar. Off we went with our questionably sober driver to wind up and down the mountains. At one point, Whitney (the most tolerant of the driving here, possibly because it mirrors her own) awoke to see the driver madly wiping at the window which was completely fogged over. Not that it made a difference because the fog outside was so dense you couldn't even see the road. Nonetheless, Remmie was determined to get us there or die trying. The hairpin turns were still being taken at frightening speeds. Whitney did a mental sign of the cross and squeezed her eyes shut. Death car ride #2 ended with an interesting game of chicken with hundreds of people walking to work on the road, many with 8 feet bundles of wood atop their heads.
Arriving in tact but with soiled pants at the park headquarters, we were told that Esther did not tell anyone we had paid permits. Frantic muzungus waited while they tried to sort it out. During that tense hour, we hatched a plan involving distraction, running, and- if it came to it- violence, to get to the gorillas permit or not. In the end, the planning was for naught, and we were placed in a group with 3 other Americans. After 12 hours of close calls, we were finally trekking!
0 comments:
Post a Comment