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!