Kigali

Joey and I woke up early the following morning, hoping to take care of a couple things in Gisenyi before heading back to Kigali. We successfully registered my phone but failed to meet up with John and Safari. We wandered around where they said the "factory" was and eventually found it but nobody was inside. We tried to call and text Safari but to no avail. So we hopped on a bus and as we were leaving the city both John and Safari tried to call us and we told them we were already gone. Too bad. Things had gotten weird the night before but for the most part they seemed to be friendly, hospitable guys.

The ride to Kigali was beautiful as expected. At one point, though, the road had been washed out/collapsed due to some heavy rainfall. So for about a two kilometer stretch we had to get out of the bus, walk along the road and then below it through the mud as construction crews tried to clear the mud and make it possible to repair the road. It wasn't too bad but I did feel bad for a woman in front of us who was on crutches. I saw one person try to help her, though her pride chased him away. As we boarded a new bus and pulled away from the washed out area, another bus came speeding around a corner, on the wrong side of the road, and was inches away from clobbering into our bus. In fact, the bus took off our side mirror and sprayed glass and mirror over quite a big range. A huge argument ensued, the police came over and they even busted out the hand cuffs when people weren't complying with their orders. Our passengers quickly reboarded and then we sped off. I saw the other bus driver recede into the distance, still arguing profusely with the police, evidently proclaiming his innocence--thought I find it hard to see his point of view considering he was going pretty fast in a congested area and driving on the wrong side of the road.

Once in Kigali, Joey and I took a series of shared mini van taxis to the area of town that Peace Corps had booked rooms for him and some other volunteers. We were returning to Kigali for a little Peace Corps conference on malaria that Joey was attending. We showed up at the hostel and I was hoping maybe I'd be able to crash on the floor of his room. That wasn't going to happen so I ended up getting an over-priced bed in another dorm room. It was a bit steep but this way I wouldn't have to be too far from Joey and the other volunteers.

Joey, myself, and a few other volunteers decided to wander in search of a beer and some food. We were staying in a pretty ritzy neighborhood (around a bunch of embassies and the presidential palace) so the options were somewhat limited. After about 15 minutes of wandering we found a "blue bar," so called because the front and walls were painted blue to advertise it as a place that sold Primus, the most popular beer in Rwanda. We hung out there for a while, played some card games and ordered some surprisingly good brochettes of goat. I'm normally not a fan of goat and I was quickly not becoming a fan or Rwandan food but this turned out to be one of the better local meals I had there. After a few rounds of brochettes our number was getting pretty big so we decided to roll over to another bar that had some pool tables and a dance floor. Well, it was a Tuesday so the place wasn't exactly hopping, and the beers weren't exactly cheap. So we stayed for a little bit before heading over to a bar in the transit neighborhood of Nyabagogo. We danced a ton there and I was able to do some awesome mirror dancing for the first real time since leaving Cameroon. I guess I was a bit of a snob, though, as one volunteer asked me how I liked mirror dancing and I replied, "Too bad the mirrors aren't full length."

The next day, Joey woke me up before he left for his Peace Corps session and gave me his Rwanda travel book. I'd had a few ideas for stuff to do that day so after breakfast and a shower at the hostel and taking care of some internet stuff, I headed over to the main Genocide Memorial. I'm finding it difficult to describe the memorial. I'd just finished reading "We wish to inform you that tomorrow we will be killed with our families," a book about the Rwandan Genocide of '94 and the bulk of the memorial was very similar to the events and numbers in the book. A lot of the memorial involved a walkthrough on the second floor detailing the events of the genocide--how it started, background, how it progressed, the aftermath, and then a few hopeful, human stories. The bottom floor, though, had some artifacts from the genocide: torn, blood-stained clothes found on bodies; machetes and clubs used in the killings; photos of people missing and never found; and the bones and skulls (some caved in) from some victims. When I walked into the last room with the bones I broke down and started crying. I'm not a person who cries easily but something about the unsentimental, almost spartan way that the bones and skulls were presented was a bit too much for me. I did however, make myself sit down in that room and regain my composure in the room, I didn't want to run away from the facts and forget or pretend that I was in a peaceful, shy little country without a dark history. I wanted to accept it before I left.

After the memorial, I need to sit down and relax a bit so I went to the city center and a cafe there. I got some coffee, a little bite to eat, and read for a while--Chinua Achebe's "There Was a Country," about the brief, tragic nation of Biafra, in southeastern Nigeria. I also talked to my parents for a bit there and eventually headed back to the hostel to meet up with the other volunteers who were finishing their sessions for the day. Some of the volunteers wanted to go to a Chinese Restaurant right next to the hostel, and I was not very excited by the idea--especially as I'd be in China in a little over a week and a half. I didn't want to be the stingy, arrogant guy who didn't want mediocre Chinese food and, while Joey may have been in the same boat as me, he seemed to really want to hang out with his volunteer friends so I said alright and had an incredibly mediocre plate of stir fried noodles.

After that, some people wanted to just go back to the hostel and have a beer but the beers there were twice the normal price and I didn't really feel like hearing more Peace Corps Rwanda gossip so I declared I was going back to the blue bar from the previous night and Joey decided to join. So the two of us walked over there and watched a soccer game on TV that turned out to be quite interesting. We also attempted to talk to the sullen, silent, waitress who eventually told us her name was Giselle. She was almost always silent and seemed annoyed to be serving us. I wasn't sure if there was a language barrier or not, as she seemed to know a few phrases in English and French and she was equally non-communicative in Kinyarwanda with Joey. Eventually she overcame her shyness and talked with us a little bit, but she was still pretty reserved. As we left we said we'd be coming back to her bar another time which she seemed embarrassed about because it wasn't her bar and I think the owner was standing behind her.

The next day while Joey was in his sessions I went to the West African/Muslim neighborhood in Kigali that Joey had told me about. I was expecting Garoua, the seedy, eventful, heavily Muslim capital of Northern Cameroon, and found something more akin to a Rwandan neighborhood with a few mosques and a little more street activity. I was thoroughly disappointed and walked around for about 30 minutes before giving up on finding something interesting and left. From there I went to the main market in Kigali and was also disappointed. There was next to nothing of interest there for me and I couldn't even find a good soccer jersey or something. So I walked around a bit and eventually found a little restaurant to have a soda and some food and read at. I was getting seriously sick of Kigali, it's blandness, and lack of flavor. Sure it was nice, paved roads, palm trees, a couple tall buildings and nice foreign restaurants, but there was nothing for the casual traveller to do there. Somewhere in mid-afternoon I went back to the hostel and watched a little soccer and talked about the teams with a Rwandan there. I eventually moved outside onto the patio and then started talking with a 21-year-old named Bonheur who it turns out worked at the Memorial. He was a really nice guy, very informative and with a quick wit. Our group slowly got larger with a couple other Rwandans, some Ugandans, a Dutch guy and a Brit. 

I spent a couple hours chatting with them and waiting for Joey but finally around 7:30 he called and said he was again getting more Chinese food with volunteers at another restaurant. He invited me to come along but both of us knew I wouldn't be doing that. So instead, I went back to the blue bar, ordered a beer and some brochettes and started talking with a Congolese guy named Jean-Baptiste. Jean-Baptiste and I talked for a few hours about politics, aid, Congo, Rwanda, among other things. He seemed a bit upset when I didn't want to have more beers with him but wanted to get back to the hostel because I'd just found out that Joey had left his orange bag in the back of a taxi. In that bag he'd had tons of documents but more crucially, his computer. Well, Joey was a bit upset, understandably, and I think we both agreed that had he not gotten Chinese food he wouldn't have left his bag in the car afterwards. Maybe I was the only one who thought that.

Bonheur was still there on the patio as well, hanging out with some Rwandan friends. I started talking with him again and we switched to French--partially because I wanted the privacy of the other volunteers not being able to understand our conversation but also because Bonheur was more comfortable in French than English. He turned out to be the only Rwandan I actually spoke about the genocide with and he had some illuminating comments and points of view about it. His message wasn't so much "forgive and forget" but "most people want to just move on and make a new future." 

After Bonheur and his friends left I started talking with some of the volunteers again and got quite angered by one volunteer there. She seemed to me to be incredibly opinionated in a small-minded, not-fully-understanding way. She decried the corruption, apathy, and political system of Rwanda, and while I argued she simply dismissed my points with a wave of her hand and saying "well you've only been here for a few days." Finally after she kept doing that I looked at her point blank and asked "Have you ever been to another African country?" "No," she replied. "Then you have no frame of reference or room to speak about the politics here." She looked a bit stunned and most other people got a bit quiet before Joey tried to help, "being to another African country helps put Rwanda in context…" She also seemed to blame the genocide on the Rwandans themselves which, while having some validity, ignores so much of the intricacies, causes and problems, including the interference of the Congolese and French on the side of the genocidaires. She spoke with the naivety of somebody unknowingly without the shadow of a grasp on reality but with the certainty of somebody who is far to young and inexperienced to be that cynical. I can't say I was in love with Rwanda, in fact I wasn't a huge fan, but I certainly had respect for the country and it's people. To come from one of the most brutal horrors since the holocaust and build a country firmly on the road to middle-income and with tons of promise, I couldn't help but admire it a little bit--even if I was a bit bored at times. This girl reminded me of some of the volunteers and attitudes I'd despised and avoided in Cameroon. I avoided her the rest of my time in Kigali.

The next day, I decided to entertain myself by going for a run. It was a bit drizzly when I set off in the late morning. About two blocks from the hostel the drizzle turned into a steady rain and another half a block after that it was a full downpour. So I found some shelter under an awning at a gas station and stood around for about 45 minutes while the rain continued. Once it died down again, I tried to run a bit further but my heart wasn't in it anymore so I headed back to the hostel after another few blocks. I then read at the hostel for a while and messed around on the internet until Joey & Co. got back from their malaria sessions. That night we got some more beers, brochettes, and grilled potatoes at the blue bar. Some other, older volunteers were in town for their one year anniversary in country and they were all heading to a bar called Sundowners. The beers were a bit more expensive than normal but the atmosphere was festive, there was a DJ, and it had a huge outdoor area. We stayed there late in the night, until it seemed like closing time was rapidly approaching and then headed back.

Intro to Rwanda; Off to Kibuye and Gisenyi

I've been putting off writing this blog for a while. How do I begin to write about a place with such a diverse and tragic history as Rwanda? How do I attempt to tackle my own small understandings of the place, of the sadness, of the incredible, albeit precarious, promise for the future? How do I pretend I know what the country is about when I spent just a little over two weeks there? Also, I admit, I'm having a difficult time writing about a place that I wasn't a huge fan of. So I suppose I will just start at the beginning and let it come as it does.

I got off the plane in Kigali and it was early afternoon. I quickly spotted Joey waiting for me past security but I did have to buy a little tote bag as a security guard spotted my plastic duty free bag, and plastic bags are banned in Rwanda. This was to be my first taste of how Rwanda differs from many other countries in Africa. Well, Joey and I caught a couple different shared taxi/vans to the bus station and quickly hopped on a bus to Kibuye, a lake town about four hours directly west of Kigali. Once we got on board, people started trying to sell us everything from boiled eggs to Sambusas (Indian influence?). Another weird anomaly of Rwanda is that it is very improper to eat on the street or in public--in fact, street food is actually banned. Exceptions are made when you're traveling on a bus, hence why everyone waited until we were on board to attempt selling us things.

The bus ride was beautiful. Rwanda certainly earns its nickname as the land of a thousand hills. I found it peculiar that every single hill was under cultivation. I could probably count on one hand the number of places I spotted that weren't tilled on that ride. Rwanda is such a dense, small country that there's really only just enough space for everyone, so there's very little open space for forests or jungle.

We got into Kibuye around dusk and met up with another Peace Corps Volunteer there named Brian. We quickly grabbed what would be the first of the many unfinished meals I had in Rwanda. I firmly believe that while traveling in developing areas, one should try to finish everything on the plate. Many people find it an insult and a waste if you don't finish the food but this time I lost my appetite about four bites in. The food looked incredibly appetizing and delicious: boiled plantains, beans, a tomato stew, some leafy green-sauce, rice. There was, however, almost no taste in it. I was flabbergasted that so many great ingredients could produce so little flavor, but it was a trend I saw repeated over and over in Rwanda. Sometimes, it was a struggle with the serving staff to even get some salt or, heaven forbid, some peppers or spice to accompany the dish.

We then found our guesthouse and dropped our bags off and the three of us ventured back into town to find some beers and amusement. We went to a bar called the Right Bar, and ordered a couple beers. Not long after we arrived a drunk man came up to us and started trying to talk to us. He seemed harmless but a little annoying and without us even asking the security guard for the bar came up and gently ushered the guy away. I was a little surprised by the civility of it, the drunk man didn't object and the guard wasn't overly forceful. I commented that maybe we should buy the guard a beer as a thank you, Joey and Brian nodded in agreement, but the guard never returned to our table and Joey and Brian also said that it's possible he would refuse it out of principle. Apparently in Rwanda, security guards don't work for kickbacks. That night turned into a bit of a dance party later and the guys at the bar not only recognized Joey but had copied the music from his thumb drive the previous time and soon enough we were dancing to "Party Rock Anthem," "Call Me Maybe," and P-Square, among other timeless gems. I was also introduced the initially off-putting practice of dancing with other men. Sure enough in Cameroon you can dance with other guys but everyone always keeps their distance. In Rwanda, guys held hands and not only danced, but grinded on each other. I would have thought it was a gay club had I been in the states but Joey and Brian assured me this was par for the course in Rwanda, a country where the majority of the population doesn't believe that homosexuality "affects" Rwandans. Maybe that stuff happens in Europe (a blanket term for the western world) but not in Rwanda. Or so they say.

The next day, the three of us had some omelets in town and then went down to Lake Kivu (pronounced Chee-voo) to see a man about a boat. Well, we found a fisherman who was willing to let us rent his boat for a few hours and we paddled out into this huge lake that forms the majority of the border between Rwanda and the Congo. We paddled out for an hour towards an island and about halfway there I realized my shoulders and neck were becoming incredibly pink. I looked up and it was still partly cloudy, but Joey was soon warned, "watch out for that equatorial sun." I'd forgotten that the closer you are to the equator, the easier it is to burn. So I draped my shirt over my shoulders and neck and tried to keep splashing water on my face to keep it cool. The island we went to was pretty small and uninhabited--though the perfect peaceful place for a picnic and some sandwiches.

Back in town we went to a hotel overlooking the little bay and had a couple beers. We contemplated having some dinner there but Brian eventually peeled off to hang out with some ex-pat friends he had in town and Joey and I decided to make some sandwiches back at the guesthouse. We stayed up late that night talking, playing cards, and listening to music.

The next day was Sunday and Joey and I left mid-morning to catch a bus north to the town of Gisenyi. Gisenyi is at the top of Lake Kivu and just across the border from the Congolese town of Goma, which has been making headlines lately as a hotly contested town between the Congolese government forces and M23, a rebel group located in the area. The ride was about 4.5 hours and all on an unpaved road, winding through tall hills, small mountains, and on the sides of cliffs. I dozed off at one point, only to wake not far outside of Gisenyi and Joey pointed out the window and said, "check it out, a volcano." I initially thought he was pulling my leg but he reiterated what it was and said, "Look at it. It's the shape of a volcano and smoke is coming out. It's a volcano." Sure enough, that was the famous Nyiragongo volcano outside of Goma. 

We checked into a guesthouse and then ran off to one of the beaches on the lake to grab some brochettes and fries and relax. After we had some meat at the first bar/restaurant, we wandered down the beach a little bit, mostly to avoid some sketchy people from the first bar who were eyeing us and trying to make light but suspect conversation. We found an outdoor garden bar and had a couple drinks there while they played Jason Derulo, Pitbull, and LMFAO--we were in heaven. That place closed around 10 so we decided to walk into town and see what was going on. I was getting tired but sometimes you just gotta go with the flow.  We ended up finding a bar near the town center and after a little while there we started talking to this big group of Rwandan men, some were students from Kigali, others were local politicians. They were much more fun and outgoing than the stereotypically shy Rwandan I came to know better. They were making jokes, speaking in a mixture of English, French, and Kinyirwanda, and even singing songs at some point. As it was Cinco de Mayo, Joey and I had a little tequila with us which we shared with the big group of guys. Well, they absolutely loved this, especially the one guy who'd been to the US. For the rest of the night, they kept ordering beer after beer for us, to the point where I had to start sneaking/giving them to some of the other people at the table because I was just too tired to keep going.

We got up in the morning and found a place to try to get some breakfast. We found a place and Joey ordered an omelet, while I saw something that looked like the Cameroonian dish Corn Chof, which is corn mixed with beans and was one of my favorite dishes in Cameroon. Well, it was pretty terrible in comparison and I again didn't finish it. We also had to keep asking for salt from the workers there as they'd bring us salt, we'd put some on our food and then they'd quickly take it away again. But there was never enough salt for that food, never enough.

Joey and I had contemplated leaving Gisenyi and attempting a hike on the way to Kigali but decided against it. Instead, I picked up a sim card for my old Cameroonian phone and we relaxed on the beach again, this time taking a couple quick swims. We made it back to the guesthouse in the afternoon, after picking up some more sandwich supplies, and relaxed there for a couple hours while it rained outside. Eventually the rain let up and Joey and I started heading towards the center of town around dusk. 

Once we got to the main street and started making our way down it, I felt a little something in my back pocket. I swung around immediately to see a 15 year old kid scampering away--he'd been trying to pickpocket me. Luckily, I only keep my wallet in my front pocket when I'm traveling. I started yelling "Voleur! Voleur!" which means Thief, Thief! It was a busy street and the kid just ran down the middle of the road, nobody stopping him. A couple guys nearby me asked if I was alright and then with an upset yet dismissive glance at the boy running down the street, they just let him go. I was astounded by this. In Cameroon (and from what I hear, many other countries on the continent) if somebody is caught stealing or attempting to steal, Street Justice usually comes into play. I've heard stories of people getting killed, beaten, or at least apprehended for stealing something. Instead, here in Rwanda, the kid just scampered off and nobody did anything. I found it very bizarre, and another way that Rwanda is an anomaly for Africa.

Well, we found a bar on the second floor of a building that had a nice balcony on the back. During moments when the clouds cleared up a little bit, we could see an orange glow suspended in the distance. It was the glow from the lava lake on Nyiragongo. Unfortunately it was still a bit too cloudy to see if for long stretches of time but I periodically looked in that direction to see if I could see the volcano.

Joey and I ordered a couple beers and then started playing some cards. In the middle of our second game we heard somebody ask us from a table behind us, "So where are you guys from?" I couldn't quite place the accent at first but we started talking with this man who's name was John. John, as he kept saying, had quite a story and we got bits and pieces of it throughout the night. He was born in Rwanda in the 60's and then when he was nine, he was adopted along with his younger sister by a family in Redding, California. He lived in the US for thirty years and had returned ten years beforehand and now worked at a coffee and furniture making factory in Gisenyi. Joey and I later made tons of conjectures about him and tried to fill in the blanks a bit more. For example, he was very clearly from the Tutsi ethnic group and probably fled Rwanda in the 60's during one of the earlier, smaller genocides that predated the big one in '94. He returned about ten years after the genocide, and that seemed like perfect timing for somebody looking to return to his home country and start some business. It did seem a little too convenient, though. And after all, he did say he had quite a story, so Joey and I both wondered if he got into some trouble in the US or if he was fleeing somewhere when he returned to Rwanda. Well, regardless, he did say that he had been unable to find any of his family members from before when he fled. I didn't ask about his parents but he did seem to think that maybe some uncles or aunts or cousins would still be alive. He'd attempted to track them down but as he had a hard time remembering their names he encountered quite a few roadblocks. He was also even having a hard time trying to look through old records, most officials simply told him that all records were lost during the genocide but who knows if they don't want to bother with him or are hiding something.

Anyway, we had an interesting time talking with him and his two friends who were with him, a guy named Safari who worked with John and another guy named Habyarimana, which Joey notified me was the Hutu president whose death started the genocide and civil war in 1994. I decided to call Habyarimana by his nickname "Mr. Cool." He spoke next to no English and zero French, so I was mostly left to chat with John and Safari. Well, they kept getting more and more drunk and eventually we moved inside because it started raining again. Some guys at a different table got mad at John for smoking and asked him to stop, which really pissed Safari off. Safari, who I'd found to be a nice and easy going guy before this, was loudly cursing in English and Kinyirwanda and gesturing towards the table of people he was pissed at. Joey and I had to calm Safari and Mr. Cool down as we really didn't want to have a bar fight over somebody else simply smoking. Eventually Joey and I split the bill with them as they'd just lumped us all together and we bounced, promising to try to come to their office/factory in the morning before heading back to Kigali.

Angers

Baudouin and I woke up on Monday morning as Paul was getting ready to leave. My original plan for France had been to stay in Paris the whole time and see Baudouin on that weekend because I knew he was very busy studying for his final exams for his masters. Well, the day before I left Seattle I got an email from Paul saying that he felt bad but had totally forgotten that he'd made plans to go on a trip with a couple friends leaving on that Monday. So I frantically tried to find somewhere else to go and contemplated heading down to Montpellier to see another French friend from Cameroon, Tim. Unfortunately, he was studying his tail off for his final exams and wouldn't really have been able to host me. Luckily, though, Baudouin pulled through and said I could stay at his house as long as I didn't have a problem with him studying all day.

So that morning Baudouin and I took the metro over to a place where we were meeting a guy who was going to give us a lift to Angers. Because the trains are so expensive in France, there's a new system emerging where, if you've got to drive to a certain town, you can post that on a website and ask people for some gas money to help get you there. With how expensive the trains are, I don't imagine it's too hard to find people to go with you. So Baudouin and I got some coffee and croissants and then met up with Sven and Daniel who were also heading to Angers. Sven was moving to Angers soon so I think he was trying to scout out where to live, etc. and I'm not sure what Daniel, who was Colombian, was doing there. The ride was pretty nice and we had some nice chats along the way.

Once we got to Angers, we said goodbye to Sven and Daniel and headed over to Baudouin and Annga's apartment. Annga made a bit of food for us, some curry and rice, if I remember correctly. I then took a shower, and walked around Angers while the two of them stayed at home and studied. It was a beautiful sunny day, if a little crisp out, but I left the house in just a t-shirt. Well, after walking around the town for a bit, I started getting a little chilly so I popped into a store and got a long-sleeve shirt that was on sale. I eventually found a cafe and sat there for a couple hours, reading, writing, and enjoying a bit of red wine. One interesting thing I discovered on this, my third, trip to France is that a glass of the house wine is generally the cheapest thing on the menu. My €3 glass of wine was cheaper than a latte and about the same price as a coke.

That night Baudouin's indoor soccer team had a match. Baudouin had severely twisted his ankle not long beforehand so he was sitting out this match. Baudouin had also not told any of his friends that I was in town--I'd met most of them the year before. When Fabien pulled up outside of Baudouin's apartment to pick us up, he was really surprised to see me! Big hugs and kisses on the cheeks were exchanged, as they were at the indoor field where I saw Sebastian and a few other guys I'd previously met. The match was good, I'm pretty sure that Baudouin's team won, though at about halftime we retired to the little cafe and each ordered a burger. While we were sitting there we saw one guy from a different field being carried off and in incredible pain. Turns out that he straight broke his leg near the ankle. Like, broke the bone straight in two, the ankle lower half going in a different direction. It looked terrible and the ambulance certainly wasn't making haste to get there. Anyway, after the match, I could really tell that Fab wanted to hang out some more and party but I was pretty tired from our long weekend as well as the drive earlier and so we instead promised to meet up the next day. I read for a while back at Baudouin's and then fell asleep.

I slept in a bit the next day and around 1 Fab came over and picked me up. My dad's only request for my trip was to find him a soccer jersey from somewhere around the world, and I was more than happy to oblige him. So Fab and I headed over to the SCO Angers store--SCO Angers is the local soccer team and they're in the French second division. I picked up a jersey and then Fab and I went and got a Kebab for a little late lunch. After that we played a bit of pool at a bar that had, bizarrely enough, some MLB games on. After a few games of pool we went back to Fab's house where he made some dinner.

After dinner we headed over to Matthias and Amelie's house, some old friends of Baudouin and Fabien. They had already heard the news that I was in town (I think Annga told them!) and were having a petite soiree, and invited a bunch of friends over. I felt much more comfortable speaking French that night than I had in a really long time, which I think is a little weird considering that I hadn't regularly spoken it in over a year. Baudouin and Annga had to leave around midnight because the had a full day of studying the next day. No matter, I stayed until around 2:30 talking music with Matthias and Sebastian and sharing some bands. I eventually left their house and right when I thought I was lost heading back to Baudouin's I realized I was in his old neighborhood, which right on the way, and I was able to find my way back to the apartment.

I slept in a little bit again the next day and Baudouin got back from school as I was getting up. I had a little coffee and then borrowed Baudouin's bike to head over to the train station to get a train ticket. Well, on the way there I took a bit of a spill as I was trying to hop from the street up onto the sidewalk. I knew it was going to happen and luckily I wasn't really hurt, my palm was just a little sore. The biggest injury was suffered by my pride.

Anyway, after getting my ticket I went back to Baudouin's and then Fabien came over around 3 to pick me up and we went and we watched This is 40, though it was dubbed in French. While it wasn't the most complicated plot line, I was pretty proud of myself that I understood most of the movie. I also discovered that I'd given Fab all of my music the previous year when I'd been there and he still had it on his computer under a folder titled "harley musique." Since my last hard drive had broken, I was really excited to get it all back. Unfortunately, my new hard drive, being formatted for a Mac, didn't work on his PC. Oh well, I told him that next time I came back I'd grab it from him.

Around 8 we went to an Irish bar called James Joyce and watched the Barcelona vs. Bayern Munich game with Baudouin, Seb and Annga. After the game, I hopped on the back of Baudouin's bike and we started riding back to his house. Well, a little over halfway there, a police car pulled up, filled with four policemen. (Question: What would the policemen have done if they'd had to detain somebody? Put him in the trunk?) The police honked at us and then sternly lectured us that we weren't being safe with me on the back of the bike. Baudouin and I apologized and then just as quickly as it'd started, the cops pealed out and left us. Not wanting to get into any more trouble, we walked back the rest of the way and Annga also dismounted and walked with us. At their house, I gave them a bottle of wine I'd picked up as a thank you for letting me stay with them. We had a couple glasses of wine and played some darts before going to sleep.

The next morning, Baudouin and Annga accompanied me to the train station where we had some pastries and coffee while waiting for my train, which ended up being about thirty minutes late. I could be wrong but I think I ended up making a good impression for Americans on Annga. Over coffee that morning she was even talking about how they might try to come to the states next year for a visit to Seattle. I feel like my own personal mission when traveling is to show the peoples of the world that not all Americans are closed-minded, gun-loving, Hooney boo-boo fans (yes they do have that in Europe now). I had a bit of a difficult time saying goodbye to Baudouin. He and I had spent a good deal of time together in Cameroon, frequently even staying over at each other's places. But we had to say goodbye, this is life. I feel very fortunate to have so many special people in my life, so many good friends, but it just makes it so much harder saying goodbye to them. But again, this is life. We said goodbye, I got on the train and waved to them out the window. Back to Paris, then to Rwanda, via a brief stopover in Addis Ababa.

Paris

My flight landed in Orly about 30 minutes late. I immediately pulled out my phone, found some wifi and shot off a couple quick emails to Baudouin and Paul letting them know the deal. It also seemed to take forever for our luggage to hit the carousel. I began to wonder if the luggage handlers had decided to momentarily strike in favor of a siesta. But after  about 45 minutes our bags finally arrived and I made my way into Paris. 

It took me probably about an hour and 15 minutes to get to Paul's apartment and once I arrived, I had no way of letting them know I was outside. I didn't know their apartment number, nor did I have a phone, and I didn't know the code to dial up to them. I tried shouting up at the building a few times in the hopes that a window was open but I didn't succeed. Thankfully, a guy was walking down the street and let me use his phone and Paul quickly came downstairs to meet me. It was around midnight at this point and they'd started getting worried about me, wondering if something'd happened. Nope, just tons of delays.

Up in the apartment, Baudouin had arrived a short time before from Angers and the two of them were hanging out with Paul's other roommates, Justin (who was also in Peace Corps with us) and Lisa (who is a classmate of Justin's). Baudouin and I hadn't really had time to have dinner so Paul made us a little pasta as we sat around and had some beers. Lisa and Justin soon found their ways to their respective rooms and Baudouin, Paul, and I stayed up in the living room which doubled as Paul's room. We talked, drank beer and attempted some fighter whiskey sachets that Paul had laying around. Whiskey sachets had been a very common and popular thing in Cameroon and a few former volunteers who rolled through Paris a few months before had brought Paul a few which he'd dutifully kept for Baudouin's and my visit. Well, those sachets were terrible, really made us wonder how the hell we'd had them in Cameroon. Anyway, the three of us stayed up until around 5:30am. Our spirits wanted to stay up and catch up more but our bodies were achingly tired so we hit the hey.

Paul made us breakfast the next day of Eggs and yogurt with a spot of coffee. The three of us wandered around Paul's neighborhood and tried to check out this event at a park nearby that was billed as a "cirque d'hip hop," the idea being to mix hip hop and circus into a cohesive whole. Well, it wasn't starting until later that night and it also looked to be a bit pricey so we decided against it. Nearby, though, we grabbed some kebab which really hit the spot.

We strolled through the neighborhoods and came close to where Baudouin had volunteered for a few weeks a little while back. Part of the program for his masters in teaching is that he needed to volunteer at some organization with children that didn't involve education. So he found a little children's cafe that was established near his girlfriend's former apartment in Paris. We decide to stop by this children's cafe and it was under huge renovations. It was a really cool place and seemed like an awesome place for kids to hang out after school. There were a couple "bars" where the kids could get teas, juices, or sodas; some places to play cards or foosball; and a little area they called "le marché" where kids could bring old toys or the like and sell them to other kids. This was a very cool place and of course everyone remembered Baudouin and were so happy he'd stopped by for a visit and brought along a couple friends!

After a bit of time there and Baudouin promising to come back once the renovations were finished, we left and walked along a canal for a while. Baudouin knew a bar nearby that was permanently located on a docked boat. Well, the beer was surprisingly good, not too pricey, and the view was awesome sitting on top of an old junker and looking at the canal and rows of trees and buildings. We then decided to walk around a bit more and contemplated maybe trying to go watch the Liverpool-Newcastle game. Ultimately, though, it wasn't on anywhere nearby so we went to this weird artsy place not too far away. The place was almost like a big warehouse/art gallery. We got a beer and sat down outside only to have the workers come and kick us out after a few minutes because the place was turning into a restaurant in a very short time. No matter, we went to a little area outside the door where a bunch of other people had congregated and hung out there for a while until we got too cold and decided to get up and move around. 

We were debating about what to do for dinner and settled on getting some frozen pizzas at a store and taking them back to Paul's. Well, along with the pizzas we also picked up some beer, a bottle of champagne--to celebrate our reunion!--and some limes for a bit of tequila we had. The teller looked at us with a smile and said something like "that looks like a balanced meal." Baudouin responded that with the limes we had our greens and the teller raised an eyebrow and said "that's not for the tequila?" "No," Baudouin responded, mock shocked. "Those are our vegetables for the meal." We all laughed as we walked out and made our way back to Paul's. HIs roommate Lisa was sitting at home and we quickly started cooking the pizzas and opened some beers. Somewhere along the way we also opened the bottle of tequila. Lisa was convinced that we were going to finish the bottle that night. Paul and I responded that we didn't think we'd be able to, but we definitely would finish the salt and limes! That was a refrain we kept coming back to throughout the night: "On doit finir le sel!" We must finish the salt! Well, we ended up putting some Cameroonian and Nigerian music on and dancing out hearts away that night. I realize that I'm not an unbiased party but I think Cameroonian music is probably the best to dance to.

The next morning Paul again made us some food. It was an interesting stew (from a can!) that had hot dogs, beans, and rice (among other things) in it. We then made our way over to Lions bar, an English pub only a couple subway lines away, to watch the Arsenal-Man United game. Paul is a big Arsenal fan while Baudouin and I are United supporters. United had just sealed the title the previous game and so this was a bit of a victory lap. Well, it turns out Lions bar is an Arsenal bar and Baudouin and I had to seriously mute our celebrations when United scored. All the Arsenal fans were singing songs and a couple guys were shouting obscenities and cursing profusely at the screen, in particular at a few United players and the United coach. Another guy in the room, evidently another closet-United supporter, began singing a few lines of a new United song that said something along the lines of "We've now won 20 titles, when's the last time you won anything?" Well, he quickly disappeared after the room fell silent and he got some death stares from everyone. The game was a good one but I was very happy I'd decided against wearing my Rooney jersey as that wouldn't have gone over too well.

After the game, we made our way up to the 18th arrondissement to go to a Cameroonian restaurant we'd heard of, Chez Mich. What I really had been craving was a little koki which they were unfortunately out of. So instead, we all got poisson braissé, grilled fish. In typical Cameroonian style, it came topped with sliced onions and a spicy chili sauce on the side. I'd gotten mine with grilled plantains while the other guys stuck with baton de manioc, crushed cassava that's boiled and then wrapped in banana leaves. Incredible meal. After that we stopped at one more bar to have one last beer together and watch the end of a French game. We took the metro home and then I read a bit and fell asleep.

Boats, then Bornholm

Ben and I woke up on the morning of the 24th and hopped on the metro downtown to grab some coffee at his cafe. We then sauntered around and found our way to a spot where we could take a boat tour of Copenhagen. I'm usually not terribly into these types of things but Ben had never done it either so we played tourists and jumped aboard! (After having some ice cream, of course.) The canal tour was actually pretty interesting, lots of history in it and I got to see Copenhagen from a different view than I'd ever seen before. It was a bit chilly on the water, though, and I wished I'd brought my down jacket rather than just the sweatshirt Ben was letting me borrow.

After the tour, Ben and I got some more coffee. Scandinavians sure love their coffee and I was happy to just say "When in Rome" and toss back another cup. We then headed back to Ben's, grabbed my bags and sauntered over to the train station where Ben saw me off. The train ride across the southern tip of Sweden always goes by faster than I think and by the time I knew it, we were at the ferry terminal waiting to head to Bornholm. The ferry ride was unmemorable, and I got into Rønne a little after 7 PM. Uncle Pete was waiting for me and we went into the town center and caught up over a beer and a plate of nachos before heading back across the island to their house. We split another beer from this local brewery which I believe is called Svaneke bryghuset--very high quality little brewery. Towards the end of the bottle, Aunt Maibritt returned home and we opened one last bottle to split three ways before heading to bed.

The next morning Uncle Pete and I loaded up his moped onto their little trailer. It needed some repairs so we did out best to anchor it in the trailer upright with a few straps tied haphazardously around the steering column and seat. Well, we had to stop halfway to Rønne to retie some of these traps as the moto had started to turn diagonally in the trailer. After dropping the moto off we went a little north along the island to a town called Hesle where Pete and Maibritt had a glass exhibition. There were some very big glass pieces and some striking contrasts in colors too. 

After the exhibit we drove along the northern coast of the island and found ourselves in Allinge. We stopped at a seafood restaurant and had a great traditional Bornholm meal. It was buffet-style and there were tons of different dishes ranging from a seafood chowder to pickled and smoked herring and curried salmon. Delicious. After lunch we started to walk south along the coast only to get a call from my parents about 4 minutes into the walk. They really wanted to Skype with me and due to time differences and work they wouldn't be able to wait much longer. So we hopped in the car and drove back home where I skyped with them for a bit. Following that, we got back in the car, drove a little further south and walked along the coast. The ground was covered in wild garlic that was pretty new and fresh, indeed there weren't any cloves sprouting yet. So we picked handfuls of wild garlic leaves as we made our way along some paths and down to the rocky coast.

Back at the house, we started working on dinner for the night. Uncle Pete and I concerned ourselves with making pasta while Aunt Maibritt sautéed some vegetables and lamb chops and used the wild garlic leaves to make a pesto sauce. Let me say, you've never had a pesto unless it's been made with garlic leaves.

Maibritt dropped me off at the ferry the next morning. I got back in to Copenhagen around 1 and went straight to Tess's apartment. She and I went and got some bread and made some sweet ham and cheese sandwiches. After that, we went for a walk over to Christiania and had some coffee in a dingy, high-roofed place full of dreadlocked and pierced anarchists. We wandered around the lake a bit and then finally went back to her apartment and grabbed my bags. Walking over to the metro, we met Ben who was going to accompany me to the airport while Tess split off and went to hang out with her boyfriend. 

Ben and I had a bit of an emotional goodbye at the airport. The last time I'd seen Ben had been 2010 and neither of us knew when we'd see each other again. Ben's starting school again in the fall, as am I. Ben and Camilla had talked about coming to Seattle next summer so hopefully that pans out but in this big world, who knows. We said goodbye and I grabbed one last pint of Carlsberg before hopping on my slightly delayed flight for Paris. Next stop: Orly.

Two sides of Copenhagen

I had no problems getting to the airport bright and early on the 20th. I stared out the window at the severe, but hypnotic Icelandic scenery for the hour trip to the airport. I checked in and saw a pretty funny sign in the airport: "Notice: Sleeping, Camping and Cooking are forbidden in the airport". I found that amusing, was there a problem with people pitching a tent and busting out the camp stove?

Anyway, I slept for most of the three hour flight to Copenhagen. My cousins, Ben and Tess, met me at the airport and it was really good to see them. I'd last seen Tess the previous autumn in Seattle but with Ben, I think it goes back to 2010, when I went to Denmark during a short vacation from Cameroon. Our original plan was to immediately go to Ben's place and drop off my stuff but I suggested we go to the "free city" of Christiania and grab a bite to eat as I was pretty famished. Well, it was a beautiful sunny day, a little chilly, but gorgeous. We each grabbed a falafel or kebab in Christiania center and then got a few beers and sat down by the lake. After maybe an hour there we gathered my stuff up and hopped back onto the metro to go to Ben's apartment. Leaving the gate of Christiania back into Copenhagen, there's a sign that says "You are now entering the EU," which always makes me smile. At Ben's apartment I got to meet Camilla, Ben's girlfriend, and the four of us made burgers that night.  Tess was feeling pretty tired and went home not too long after. Ben and I then decided to go down the street to a smoky, old timer Danish bar. I believe the only beers they had were Carlsberg and Tuborg, and everyone inside was at least 50. Well, that place closed pretty soon after we got there, so we went for one more beer at another place down the street. The crowd was a bit younger, and the music less ABBA-based, but it seemed to lack a bit of character that the first place had. Anyway, after a beer we both rolled back to Ben's and went to sleep.

On Sunday, Ben and I took the metro into the town center and first went to a mall. My mission was to find a new Danish soccer team jersey, as my last one (from five years ago?) was in tatters back home. Well, no luck at the sporting goods stores in the mall, the only sizes they had were for kids or very wide people. After the mall, we walked back to the walking street but since it was a Sunday, most things were closed so we eventually gave up and went to a permanent and somewhat upscale farmer's market a little ways away. Ben works in a little coffee shop there and we were able to get a couple cappuccinos on the house. Right outside of the market they were celebrating what Ben directly translated to me as Cow Days. It seems that April 21st is the first day that the farmers let their cows back out into the pastures after keeping them all winter in the barns. So there was a big promotion for a milk and cheese company, a cow was standing there in the street, and there was a big screen with a live feed from a farm on the Jutland peninsula, showing some cows lazily grazing in the pasture. The whole celebration of the Cows coming back outside seemed a little ludicrous to me, but it certainly made for a good cultural experience. Ben and I then went back in the market, got some duck sandwiches from a French stand and the sandwiches were very savory and delicious. 

We'd been walking around a lot so Ben and I went back to his place to relax a bit. I tried and eventually succeeded in streaming the Tottenham vs. Manchester City game, and the Spurs came back from two goals down and pulled off quite the upset. That night, Tess met up with us and we went to an Italian restaurant not far from Ben and Camilla's place. Camilla had found it online and there was some 20% discount with a diner's club she was apart of. Well, the food was amazing but the service was quite possibly the worst I've ever had in my life. He never cleared any plates, willfully ignored us and refused to give us tap water, instead telling us that we could only get bottled water because he "had to make money somehow." Regardless that our bill was around a hundred bucks. I'm generally pretty forgiving for mediocre service if it seems the person is at least trying. This guy was making it known to us that we were a nuisance to him and that he was intentionally trying to make us feel unwelcome. Camilla wrote a two-page email the next day to the restaurant, the dining club, and posted the review on yelp too. Take that!

Sunday night, though, Tess and I went to Rub-a-dub sundays. I can't remember the name of the place but every Sunday night they do a dub and dancehall night. The venue was like something out of a punk rock movie from the 80's. Graffiti on the walls, cheap beers, dark, dingy, a room upstairs where people smoked, and tons of characters everywhere. I talked with a Ugandan guy for a while who was getting his masters at a Danish university, and Tess and I split most of our time dancing downstairs and mocking the emcee who was a pompous, inebriated asshole who the DJs eventually had to tell to get off the stage. We left around 3 and caught the metro home, where I promptly fell asleep and started snoring on Tess's couch while she was still sitting next to me and checking her email.

We woke up around 1:30 the next afternoon and quickly got up to go meet Ben who was getting off work at the coffee shop. He had a few different types of coffee prepared ("cupped" he called it) so we could taste them and see the differences between the different beans and roasts. After that, we grabbed some pizza down the street, Tess caught a bus home and Ben and I walked back to his place. He and I watched some TV and then I got ready to go over to Tess's for dinner. I went over there just as Tess and her boyfriend Emil were finishing making a chicken caeser salad. Tess's friend Krista also joined us for dinner and the four of us had a nice time eating and talking. At around 9pm, I hinted that there was a soccer game coming on soon that I wanted to watch. Emil, though not a huge soccer fan, was into the idea and we ran down and grabbed a six pack of beers and ran back up to Tess's to watch Manchester United defeat Aston Villa to secure the title. I then took the subway back to Ben's, though Ben and Camilla were already asleep.

Ben had Tuesday off of work so he accompanied me downtown so I could get train/ferry tickets to Bornholm to see his parents, my Uncle Pete and Aunt Maibritt. Then, the two of us were finally able to find a Danish soccer jersey for me on the walking street. After that, we went to the Carlsberg brewery which had changed a lot in the six years since I was there last. It looked like they had renovated the old brewery to make it more like a museum and then in the tap room, the selection wasn't nearly as good as last time and they weren't giving away nearly as much free beer. Oh well, we still had a fun time and I was really tempted in the gift shop afterwards. (Side note: genius plan, put the gift shop after the tasting room, so all the tipsy people want to drop all their money!) We walked back to Ben's through some nice parks and next to the Copenhagen zoo. We had dinner with Camilla that night and then Ben and I went back out for one last night on the town. 

We stopped by one bar that had incredibly cheap beer, but nobody inside. So we sat out at one of the sidewalk tables, played some dice games, and had a beer. Then we went to one of my favorite bars in the whole world, The Moose. It's not far from the walking street but the beers are still pretty cheap and the atmosphere there is awesome. Graffiti and currency from around the world peppered the walls, hipsters and anarchists peacefully coexisted and, best of all, they had some soccer on TV. Places like this, and Christiania and the Rub-a-dub venue are why I love Copenhagen. On the surface, it's a beautiful, historic, cosmopolitan European capital, which has great museums, expensive food, and amazing views. Once you dig a little bit, though, you find an underbelly unlike any I've seen elsewhere. Anarchists squatting in abandoned army barracks and proclaiming a "free city," with a self-sustaining government independent of the laws of both Denmark and the EU is just a slice of what Christiania is like. And a bar like the Moose existing so close to the tourism center always threw me for a loop. I started a conversation with a guy next to me about soccer and it turned into a long conversation about sports, Europe, traveling, tons of things. He also had a couple friends who showed up and professed to be big Minnesota Vikings fans, which I found hilarious. Anyway, Ben and I didn't linger for too long once our beers were done, and we hit a 7-11 and then hopped on the metro home.

Iceland, land of expensive beer and sporadic weather

I should start this post off by apologizing for never finishing my blog for my last trip, over a year ago. Well, the short of it is that in France and England, Paul and I saw some good friends, ate good food, and watched a lot of soccer in pubs. But now it's on to more recent travels of mine.

Some of you may know that I'm returning to school in the fall. I know that my studies over the next three years are going to be very time consuming and won't leave me much room to travel and get out in the world. So, with that in mind I decided to take this opportunity to travel for a couple months, see some friends I very likely won't have a chance to visit and get out in the world again. And my trip started in Iceland.

I took the overnight flight from SeaTac to Iceland on April 16th. I arrived bright and early (around 7am) at the airport and quickly grabbed my bags, a cup of coffee, and hopped on a bus into the city. Here are some of my first impressions of Iceland:

Incredibly flat where we landed. Yellow and brown grass grew everywhere and the dirt underneath was all a volcanic black. The way into town led us off of the fjord we'd landed on and onto the mainland where huge snowy mountains slowly materialized and came almost directly out to the sea. The weather was chilly but not unbearably. It was incredibly clear and sunny when we landed which was nice. It made the briskness feel refreshing. I immediately was happy I bought some heavy duty boots the day before I left Seattle. I chuckled a bit when we passed a Taco Bell on the outskirts of town. Who knew they had those in Iceland?

So, about a week before I was set to fly out from Seattle, I realized I still didn't have a place to stay. All the hostels I looked up online seemed very expensive so I decided to throw a Hail Mary and look for something on couch surfing. Sure enough, somebody responded to me the day after I posted on the Reykjavik couch surfing board offering me a place to stay. I easily found their apartment and I'm pretty sure I woke Solvi, my couch surfing host. We chatted for a while, he made some coffee and then also some porridge. I tried a spoonful of cod liver oil, something very rich in vitamin D that apparently many Icelanders have during the long cold months of winter. It was a bit bitter and a bit fishy but not as bad as he'd prepared me for. Solvi is an interesting guy, a grad student at the university who's studying to become a park ranger so he can work at some of Iceland's huge national parks. He's spent a lot of time traveling and also some time in Senegal so we were able to talk a bit about Africa together.

After we'd had some breakfast, he took me on a little walking tour of the city and showed me around. We stopped at the local library which also doubles as a photography museum. There was an interesting exhibit of Reykjavik past/present that showed a lot of the street corners and such from twenty years ago and again today. After that, we stopped and got one of the famous Reykjavik hotdogs which was actually really good. We then stopped by a local cafe, and while I can't remember the specific name, I do know that it's quite famous across Europe. Solvi bought me a fantastic macchiato. Then, we stopped by a local fish store and then the grocery store so he could pick up some supplies. I noticed something a bit odd as we kept running into people he knew and he didn't introduce me. After the second such incident, he kind of apologized and said that it's not in Icelandic culture to introduce people to perfect strangers or really to ask somebody about themselves until you've known them for a while. Kind of odd but I wasn't really offended so it worked out.

Back at his place, I took a nap for a few hours while he then went out to an evening class he had. When I woke up, one of his roommates, Oskar, was getting ready to go out and watch the Manchester United v. West Ham game, so I tossed on my shoes and jacket and stepped out into a snow storm that had rolled in while I was napping and walked to a bar called Glaumbar. Beers there were about 6 bucks a pint, and easily ended up being the cheapest beers I had in the country. After the match was over I casually asked if we wanted to have another pint before we headed back and one turned into several and we barhopped over the city. I also tried some Brennevin, the Icelandic equivalent of aquavit, and nicknamed "the Black Death." It's made from caraway seeds so it tasted a little bit like bread. I actually liked it quite a bit. Later, Solvi met up with us for our last pint and we wandered back to their place where I fell asleep almost immediately, even though the jet lag wasn't hitting too hard yet.

I woke up the next morning and again had some coffee and porridge with Solvi. He had some classes that day and I decided it might be the good day to go to the Blue Lagoon, a man made hot springs of sorts outside of town. the drive out there was amazing, a martian landscape almost. Lava fields with yellow and brown grass on them, some mossy rocks on the roadside. Snowy mountains to our left, sea to our right. The Blue Lagoon was certainly nice but also expensive. I relaxed in the milky blue waters for a while and rubbed some of the silica mud on my face which made my skin feel fantastic and fresh. I snagged the bus back to town and then napped for a little while at their apartment. I made myself a couple cheese sandwiches when I woke up and then accompanied Solvi to an Irish pub where he was meeting up with some of his classmates and their friends. There, I talked with an American woman who'd been living in Iceland for 8 years and absolutely loved it. She was moving in a few days' time to Norway with her German boyfriend because apparently it's easier for him to work in Norway than Iceland. I had one 10 dollar beer at the Irish pub and then decided to walk back to Solvi's, while he stayed out for a little longer.

The next day, my last in Iceland, I again had coffee and porridge with Solvi and then he suggested we go for a swim at one of the local pools. Iceland has a big swimming culture so we went and swam laps for about twenty minutes and then relaxed outdoors in the hot tubs for about another thirty. After that, I bought Solvi and I some pretty rocking bleu cheese burgers at a place near the pool and then he had to run off to a meeting so I went back to the coffee shop he'd showed me my first day and I read for a couple hours while it poured rain outside. Eventually, I decided to try walking around the city a bit more but as it was raining so heavily, I just bounced back to the apartment only to find out that nobody was home. So I waited outside their door for about twenty minutes and then Oskar showed up and let me in. I took a nap, ate some cheese sandwiches, and read a lot that night. Solvi and I had been thinking about grabbing some beers as it was a Friday night and he wanted to show me how different Reykjavik is on a weekend night but he ended up napping until like 9 so when he got back up, he just made some pasta and we had dinner and chatted a bit more.