My few trips outside of the city have definitely been my favorite times in Uganda so far.  Although, I am thankful for Kampala because of the few luxuries that city life provides.  For example, Kampala boasts the only movie theatre in Uganda, as well as one of the few bookstores with titles other than "The Praying Wife" and "Becoming Closer to Christ."  Small things such as finding Diet Coke in a restaurant provide a level of comfort that I wouldn't be afforded outside of the city.  However, life here is also loud, dirty and chaotic, and it is always a relief to spend a few days in a more relaxed environment.  Therefore, we usually jump at any opportunity we can find to travel.  Especially since we can spend a very relaxing weekend away for just a few dollars, literally.  Last Sunday, we woke up early and set out on a quick trip to Jinja, a sleepy little town whose only real claim to fame lies in its vicinity to the mighty Nile.  I can tell how much more comfortable I have become with life here just by how much easier it was to conquer the public transportation system this time around.  We knew exactly where to catch the proper matatu and just 10 minutes and 25 cents later, we had arrived at the taxi park in the center of town.
     The taxi park is something that deserves its own little description here.  Every time I go there, I feel like I'm stuck in the middle of a video game a little reminiscent of my days playing Frogger when I was younger.  There are literally hundreds of matatus crammed into a space about the size of a football field.  I'm honestly not sure how they all get in there, or back out for that matter, but the seemingly unsystematic chaos obviously has some sort of system behind it.  In the taxi park, there is no such thing as the "right of way."  Instead, its more like "get the heck out of the way."  When Hobbes wrote about life in a state of nature being nasty, brutish and short, he must have spent some time in the Kampala taxi park first.  When the taxis start to move, its your job to get out of the way because they definitely aren't slowing down for you.  You can be walking through a nice sized gap when just seconds later you are dangerously close to being squashed between two giant silver fenders, horns honking, fourteen blank faces staring at you through half-open windows.
     Finding the proper taxi is yet another battle.  There seems to be no rhyme or reason to how they are organized.  Yet, everyone always seems to know exactly where they are going, except for us mzungus.  You start by asking the first guy you come to.  "Jinja?"  He eagerly agrees to show you the way, walks a few feet, then waves his hand in some general direction.  We walk in the direction of his hand wave for a few minutes before stoping to ask the next person.  Eventually, you are close enough to the general vicinity that someone can show you the exact taxi that you are looking for.  Even then, you ask once more at the door of the taxi for confirmation before hopping aboard, just to make sure that you don't end up getting dropped off 3 hours later in the middle of some rural village that you can't even pronounce, yet alone navigate.
      We finally made it to the right taxi and were off to Jinja for a mere 4,000 shillings (less than $2).  The beauty of the Ugandan countryside makes even the bumpiest bus ride a rather enjoyable experience, despite the fact that Ugandans can't seem to handle even the slightest bit of cool air, insisting that the windows remained closed for the entire ride (even though its 80 degrees inside the bus).
     It is in these moments that I realize why Uganda has earned the title as the "Pearl of Africa."  Everywhere you look, you are surrounded by hills that seem to be bursting with a green lushness.  It's the kind of green that you just want to lay down and lose yourself in.  The kind of green that makes you want to take your shoes off to feel the mud ooze between your toes.  This green is broken by dagged red dirt roads that slash across the countryside.  Splashes of orange and blue from the patterned dress of children, other bursts of color from all the exotic flowers that litter the side of the road.
   The city itself left more to be desired.  There was not much activity outside of the bustling market, especially considering it was a Sunday.  We wandered the streets for a bit, and eventually came to a beautiful art shop that I lost myself in for a good 30 minutes before I finally settled on my two favorite paintings to purchase.  Artwork is the one thing that I purchase in every country that I visit.  Paintings are so much more special than any of the traditional souvenirs.
     We eventually made our way out of town so we could visit the alleged 'source' of the Nile (although this is a topic of heated debate).  The site was a rather long but pleasant walk outside of town.  When we finally reached the road that led down to the river, we were stopped by a policeman who asked us to travel through the field instead of using the road.  He informed us that they were shooting a movie on the road and didn't want us to interfere.  About ten minutes into the walk, we were knee-deep in grass, on the lookout for any African creature that might be hiding underfoot, when we heard several rounds of gunfire followed by desperate wails.  All we could do was laugh.  I almost wish we hadn't been informed about the movie because it would have made quite a story.
     The actual 'source' of the Nile was very touristy but still beautiful.  I actually didn't mind all of the tourist activity.  After all, we are visitors here and it felt nice to be a little self-indulgent for once.  We enjoyed a Nile beer on a little bar built over the river.  I had to suck up my intense dislike for the taste of beer and, in the spirit of the moment, have one as well.  After leaving the river, we caught a boda boda to Bujagali Falls where we were planning on staying the evening.  It was about a twenty minute boda ride that took us past several wooden roadside villages that included a few groups of excited children, jumping up and down, waving and shouting at the passing Mzungus.  One particular little girl seemed almost frantic in her quest for acknowledgement, shrieking at us as we flew past.  We finally made it to Eden Rock where we stayed in a cute little two-story cottage.  That night, I fell asleep to the distant roar of the Nile outside my window, even having the pleasure of being awakened in the middle of the night by the rains of a passing thunderstorm pounding on the tin roof just a few feet above my bright blue mosquito net (which I use more so to keep all the lizards out of my bed than for the mosquitos).
     The next morning, we made our way down to the Falls before heading back to town.  Unfortunately, the storm from the night before left us battling some pretty nasty mud.  It was worth it though because the rapids truly were a sight to see.  Of course, I made my way right to the edge and just watched the water rush past.  I could have stood there for hours in worship of that river.  So powerful and unforgiving.  It came as no surprise to me to read that the Falls were actually believed to be the home of one of the river spirits.  I will be going back as soon as possible (September 26th to be exact) to battle these rapids on a raft.  Its supposed to be some of the best white water rafting in the world!

I took me four weeks, five days and 15 hours to fall in love with Uganda.  I don't fall in love easily, but when I do, I fall hard and fast.  I first realized that Uganda and I had started this new love affair on the bus ride home from Jinja earlier this afternoon.  Although, I've felt the feeling creeping over me these last few days.  I would find myself cruising on the back of a boda-boda, a giant Uganda flag flying from the handlebars, watching the streets and people flash past in a blur, grinning from ear to ear the entire ride.  Things that stressed me out and made me angry a few weeks ago now just make me laugh.  No electricity today...The showers are out of hot water...The internet stops working in the middle of a skype call...My professor shows up for class an hour late (or not at all)...nothing seems to phase me.  All of this country's little idiosyncrasies are now just a source of amusement for me.  Being called a Mzungu (white person) on a daily basis doesn't even offend me anymore.  I've just come to think of it as my second name...Caro Mzungu.  I'm either referred to as Caro or Mzungu.  Never Caroline.  I guess I've been called worse, so I can't really complain.

     The first lesson that Uganda has taught me: PATIENCE!  This has always been a virtue that I somewhat lack.  I've never been a patient person.  In the American culture that is "Go, Go, Go" all the time, I feel right at home.  I hate waiting, I always have to be busy, and I don't like being late.  Here, things are the exact opposite.  Everything is done so SLOWLY!  I feel almost like I have been in slow motion since I arrived here about a month ago (that is hard to believe!)  They walk slowly.  They talk slowly.   The restaurants are slow.  The University is even slower.   

      At first, I found this to be extremely frustrating.  Ugandans seem to be just perfectly happy doing absolutely nothing.  Meanwhile, I wanted to go places, see things, do things....anything really.  My classes were supposed to start about a week and a half ago.  However, the professors were on strike, pushing back the start date until the beginning of this week.  On Monday afternoon, I was so excited to be heading to my first class.  Well, I get there, sit and wait for 2 hours....and nothing happens!  We go home and decide to come back and try again the next day.  We get there on Tuesday, sit and wait for an hour....finally someone shows up!  He talks to us for about an hour, we do introductions....and then go home.  I go back again last night.  The first professor again didn't show up so there was 2 more hours of waiting.  However, our second professor actually showed up right on time.  We, again, spent about an hour doing introductions, went over the course outline and then went home.  All this waiting might seem a bit tedious for some, but I was just so excited to actually be doing something! Even if it was just waiting for two hours for a professor who didn't show up.

     After 3 and a half weeks of being here, I can honestly say that Uganda has already taught me to mellow out a bit.  Maybe that's a good thing.  I've had to take my fair share of "deep breaths" since arriving, but I think I'm finally starting to catch on.  I've learned to just sit and take it all in.  I don't necessarily have to be doing something all the time to accomplish things.  I can learn and grow by just being here and existing within such a different and foreign culture.  That's not to say that I won't be doing anything while I'm here.  I plan on starting my volunteer work at a local babies home next week.  I'm also working on finding a part-time internship, hopefully at either UNHCR or USAID.  All these things just come about a little more slowly here.  I have to keep reminding myself that it's ok.  I'm going to be here for a year....no rush.  Nevertheless, sometimes I just have to power walk to where I'm going...just to get somewhere quickly, despite the looks I get from all the Ugandans that I speed past