blah, blah, blah

I'm back in Tanzania, having again taken the plane the size of a peanut. No, seriously. I used to complain about the old Rwandair Express plane being peanut sized, but it held something like 24 people. This plane holds 12. 12! That's not a plane, it's a van in the air. It is narrower across than a car. Unacceptable. Of course, it's free, which makes even the complete lack of amenities (read: seats that date back to the 1970s, at least, with armrests that are broken) a rather good deal. We puttered our way back to Arusha on this beast, me trying all the way to remind myself that prop planes are safer than jets because if the engines go out the plane can glide for a while.

So... Arusha again. I have nothing to say about Arusha. I miss Kigali. There's nothing like a city where every hotel and restaurant yields someone you know, or at least recognize. Okay, sometimes it feels really claustrophobic and you wish everyone would just leave you alone but then your friend's phone gets stolen and you realize that you have the phone number of the chief of security for the capital city and that there are people everywhere who will take care of you. For two days, I had no money because I needed to change some and people just kept buying me things. I ate three meals a day, without money. I drank cappucino, without money. I took taxi motos, without money. I swam in the pool at the Novotel, without money. Two of those things (the cappucino and the pool) were paid for by people I had never met before.

I love Rwanda.