Chapter Twenty-Three: No Ruwenzori Colobus Monkeys For Me
John Lennon: "Give Peace a Chance"
12.19.2021 - 12.19.2021 70 °F
View Morocco + Uganda + Rwanda on paulej4's travel map.
Still in the Nyungwe Forest National Park, today was to be devoted to still more hiking, this time to see the largest troop of Black and White Colobus monkeys on the African continent. Four hundred members gather here clustered around both waterfall and swamp. These Black and White Colobus monkeys stand just over a foot tall. To say they are sociable is similar to describing me as enjoying travel. They love to, well, sleep and are considered, therefore among the least aggressive of all primates. Sunning in trees seems to make them very happy. Their long white tails dangle below their bodies as they perch in trees making them easier to spot which is a good thing as it is rare to see one on the ground. Like leopards in Sri Lanka or elsewhere in Africa, the giveaway to their whereabouts is the unnatural break to nature of a tail hanging down. It stands out among branches mostly growing up.
Having said all of that, however, this final "trekking" day in Rwanda is predicted to bring rain, some heavy. After yesterday's fearsome day and given that I do not wish to have wet clothes in my backpack on the way home, I decide to stay at the fabulous One&Only and chill.
After sleeping long and well, I went to the main lodge building for breakfast around 7:30. David indicated that, should I choose it, he had prepared a place for me outside. I chose it. An oasis among tea plants, my table for one beneath an umbrella left only one thing to be desired: that it be a table for two with B4 at my right hand.
A lavish presentation of food arrived with meats and cheeses, fruits and pastry and Eggs Benedict.
Breakfast inside a tea plantation, the only sound being the songs of bird friends in the trees, being looked after by two solicitous waiters, in the sun (temperature a tiny bit chilly without its warmth), well, what could be a better way to begin the day?
With but one technical complication potentially blocking my path out of Rwanda and into Belgium, I checked with the Rwanda Biomedical Centre at exactly 8:00am when last night's PCR test results were due to be posted. Nothing was there. "Relax, Paul," I said to myself out loud. Seated as I was, too far from anyone who might overhear the elderly Papa talking to himself, I could have--had I chosen--engaged in a robust conversation between me and me without embarrassment. I limited myself to silent thoughts, however. As one nears the finish line of any race or endeavor, there is a feeling of anxiety, melancholy and anticipation. I am ready to begin the long journey home, satisfied that I saw what I came to see, lived what I had dreamed of experiencing and am now almost fully recovered from bruises, scrapes, blisters and other minor trauma both physical and emotional.
My meal completed, I checked again at 8:45. Eureka, I found it. There is a palpable sense of relief at seeing the word "negative." That relief is heightened by the "positive" readings delivered to acquaintances a few days back as they were in my position and ready to fly out of the country. The "positive" test result (one turned out to be false and the other accurate) not only kept them from flying but it also put them in a ten-day quarantine period in Kigali. I don't care how many movies one has downloaded onto a iPad, ten days is a long time. Deep in my heart, I feared that. Coupled with yesterday's fear of tumbling into the abyss and the now satiated fear of a delaying missing or, worse, positive COVID test, the final few sips of my coffee--Rwandan coffee of course--were all the more satisfying.
A final treat to discuss is the now frequent appearance of the Rwandan Tree Tomato. Made into a drink and a jam, this fruit is not native but has a growing population of local and regional farmers making a market for it. Imported to Rwanda from the mountains of the Andes in South America to grow here, this egg-shaped fruit is quite nice; one wonders if it will gain a foothold in Whole Foods--or if it already has and I am unaware.
Now for a different musing as I pass this relaxing day: I have often, perhaps too often, referred to a quote in both my past speaking and current writing: “The thrill isn’t in the winning. It’s in the doing.” These words were said to a reporter interviewing Chuck Noll, head coach of the Pittsburg Steelers, immediately after he had guided his team to an unprecedented sixth Super Bowl win. Many times in my life I have lived the reality of his words. One's surging adrenaline abandons you once the goal, long sought, is achieved. It is soon replaced not by calm or satisfaction or jubilation but by anticipation of what comes next. It is what B4 has described when experiencing each of her now fifty retail Christmas seasons: "How do I top this?"
For me, I am already feeling it. B4 and I have a couple of nautical adventures on our calendars. And, in conversation with someone these past few days, when asked how many countries I had visited (127), the question came up: "And, what's your goal? 150?"
I don't know about that. When you have visited as many spots as I have, you wonder what might earn a spot on the now shrinking "bucket list." To work such a list, one has to be healthy enough to carry it. Time lessens the load one is capable of bearing. As my peers are sidelined or expire, I am reminded about both mobility and mortality.
I think Greenland. In the Caribbean, Guadeloupe, Montserrat, St. Barthelemy, St. Pierre and Miquelon, St. Vincent & Grenadines and Trinidad & Tobago are all unvisited by me. In Europe, Cianán has visited Andorra and I have not. The Isle of Man, Guernsey and Gibraltar sound nice. What about the Faroe Islands? Cianán and I had planned to visit Myanmar (Burma) together but a military coup scuttled that plan. Niece Betsy raved about Nepal. In the Pacific, I've never been to Fiji or Kiribati or Nauru or Palau (which I should go to just because it has all the letters of my first name plus only one). I had once begun planning a trip to Easter Island but abandoned it and now I don't know why. Shouldn't I go to Tonga and Tuvalu and Vanuatu? Just this week Fiona was speaking about the Falkland Islands; I've never been there. And a couple of weeks ago, Emma now working in the Central African Republic cautioned me about coming there and insisted, instead, that I must visit the Republic of Côte d'Ivoire (known to many of us as The Ivory Coast). David at Natural World Safaris raves about Madagascar. I've heard wonderful things about the Seychelles. Just those would put me over 150. Last time I checked there are only 195 United Nations members.
I've no interest in war zones or places where my safety is truly in question. No trips to Venezuela or Afghanistan or Iran or Iraq or North Korea or Lebanon or Pakistan or Syria or Yemen or Algeria or Angola or Tunisia or either South Sudan or Sudan appeal; at least not at present. I almost flew through Ethiopia on the way here but did not. There are troubles there.
There's a funny thing about setting a goal of how many countries to visit. I recall years and years ago setting it at 50. When I achieved that, it was briefly set at "the same number of countries as I am years old," but that was quickly passed. Then it was 100. When that was passed the number was no longer updated. But, reality is, that one without a goal is aimless, adrift and even haphazard. Being without a professional goal is unthinkable to B4. Being without a travel goal is similarly impossible for me. But a goal without a plan is just a dream. I wonder: is it time for me to now go back to the drawing board while I still have the wherewithal to draw? What do you think? Many of you have commented on this blog but more of you have not. Here and now comes a perfect opportunity for you to guide me.
I am quite happy to be inside now, just after lunchtime--I skipped lunch because of the big breakfast I enjoyed. When the heavens open in Rwanda, they employ true African gusto. I am, about now, delighted to not be in the forest--truly now a rain forest--or on a hiking trail. Even with a rain suit, which I have, one becomes a bit damp in this situation. And the suit itself? Let's just say one doesn't want to pack a wet rain suit and then travel with it for a couple of days.
A performance preceded dinner.
After desert, my phone vibrated with this news: "Strike Planned At Brussels Airlines for Monday" "Passengers flying with Brussels Airlines are set to face disruption tomorrow due to a strike at the Belgian flag carrier. The strike is planned to commence at 05:00 local time, and last for 24 hours. Over 100 flights have already been canceled at one of the busiest times of the year." The bulletin went on to say, "...the unions involved in the strike want to avoid disrupting passengers as much as possible. This is reportedly why the strike has been announced in advance." Well, thank you very much. My flight is at 9:10pm tomorrow, sixteen hours after the strike is scheduled to begin. On the Brussels Airlines website, working backward, my aircraft leaves Brussels at 10:40am tomorrow, almost six hours after the strike is to begin. Their web site says my flight from Kigali is "on Time." It says the inbound aircraft is "On TIme."
What will tomorrow bring?
What else could go wrong?
