Just Like Home . . . Almost

When we told people that we were going to spend seven months in Africa, they worried about where we would stay, what we would eat, and what we would do to keep ourselves occupied. It seems that they envisioned us living in huts, eating nothing but bananas, and spending our free time gathering firewood and carrying water on our heads. Life in Kampala, however, is practically like life at home . . . with just a few exceptions.

After spending a couple of days at Gately-on-the-Nile, a lovely little hotel in a converted colonial home located in Jinja, the town at the source of the Nile, just about two hours north of Kampala, we returned to Kampala to prepare for a training session at the International Law Institute next week. We’re back at the Mosa Courts Apartments, but we’ve moved downstairs into an even bigger apartment (for the same price) with two-bedrooms and three bathrooms, one of which we’ve designated as the toothbrushing bathroom to make sure that we get use out of all three. Our apartment is equipped with DSL internet as well as cable TV.

On Saturday, we went to the mall to see Music & Lyrics with Hugh Grant and Drew Barrymore. Before the movie, we had lunch at a restaurant/specialty shop at the mall, where Mimi found the one thing she had been missing: bagels, lox, and Philadelphia cream cheese. On Sunday, we had lunch – a lovely salad nicoise -- at a local café complete with wireless access. And this evening, we watched CNN’s weekly showing of The Daily Show with John Stewart – the international version.

And now for the exceptions: When we come home from the mall, we usually come by boda-boda (motorcycle-taxi) to avoid the uphill walk. The salon in hotel only charges $15 for an hour-long massage. And then there’s language. While English is English, our English doesn’t always translate. After having cleared out the diet soda selection from our local mini-mart, we ventured further a field and found Diet Coke, in bottles, at yet another gas station. When we discovered that there was no bottle opener in our room, we called housekeeping to bring one to us. About an hour later, someone from housekeeping arrived with a light bulb and said she was told to replace the bulb in one of our bedside lamps. Oddly, we have no bedside lamps, but she was convinced that one of us had called to ask for the bulb. After several minutes of confusion, we determined that somehow when we said “bottle opener,” they heard “lightbulb.” And so it goes . . .