It's 2 am and Mike and I are sitting next to each other. It's hot on the bus, the seats are small and neither of us are skinny. “Mike, a little friendly advice. If your arm comes on my side of the seat one more time, I will get violent. You have been warned.” “OK Nicole”, he whispered, slowly shifting away from me.
At about 4.30 this morning we arrived at the Ugandan border. We were all fast asleep when we got there, so it was a bit of a shock to the system to get up so quickly and go through immigration. We're standing in the office waiting to buy our visas, when we hear singing in the background. Mike, not knowing what it is, pipes up with his assessment of the situation. “It sounds like a goafer call. GOOOEEAARRR! GOOOEEAARRR!”, at the top of his voice, in a room full of Muslims. It was the call to prayer.
Classic.
Back on the bus for another 16 hours.
We got home at about 8.30 pm exhausted and irritable. The total travel time was 39 hours.
Before leaving the UK I thought that long bus journeys across East Africa were all part of the adventure. Well that's one adventure I’d be happy never to have again. I want to travel but not like that. Buses and economy class flights are absolutely out. I need to get me a private jet.
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