Day 242 / 7

Date: 10 December 2022
Sleeping location: G&G Guesthouse, Kayove, Rwanda
Distance (km today/total/total Part 2): 51 / 15213 / 376
Estimated climb (m today/total/total Part 2): 1300 / 124700 / 6700
Portions: 5
Day in three words: Wet, wetter, wettest

After a relatively late night* we rose leisurelyly and had a tasty breakfast on Guillaume’s veranda. He decided to join me for the first section of the day’s cycling and we picked a 30km route that went along the lakeshore on tarmac before climbing (a lot) on dirt tracks up to the main road that I would then follow south and he would take back to Gisenyi. The whole thing was very beautiful and atmospheric, but the dirt roads were steep and bumpy so going was fairly slow. We went through a lot of little villages containing a lot of curious kids and Guillaume taught me some local language to communicate with them; “chupa” is a drinks bottle**, “poopi” is a teddy ie Yoshi, and “oye” is no, which is confusing because it sounds like “oh yeah”. He also explained that a lot of what I thought was kids saying “give money” was actually “good morning”, which is also confusing because apparently they just say that all day long. 

It had been threatening rain and near the top the heavens opened and we elected to hide under a tree. This worked initially, but then the heavens opened a great deal wider and soon we were getting soaked and watching the track turn to a series of streams. Eventually we got so wet that there was no point in attempting to shelter under the tree, so we carried on to a small village where we joined a load of locals sheltering under a tin roof until the rain stopped. We said our goodbyes back at the tarmac and I went about half a kilometre before it started raining again, so I stopped at a petrol station, got some snacks and drinks and consumed them whilst enjoying a toddler wearing a t-shirt that said “this is all muscle”.

The rain didn’t stop, and didn’t look like stopping, so I decided to carry on anyway. I’d only done 30km but it was already about 3pm after the late start, the tough roads and all the rain delays, so I earmarked a village 20km down the road so I could at least feel like I’d achieved some mileage before stopping. It didn’t stop raining the whole way and I was unable to enjoy the lovely road because I was so damn wet. I arrived sodden, cold, miserable and in need of a hot shower but finding, then getting into, the hotel took ages, and after checking in and showering I had to spend some time in bed with a tea before I rebooted. The guesthouse was also kind of weird, and after letting me in the owner disappeared and basically left me in charge of the place. 

She had recommended somewhere to eat and watch the England v France game, but it was down a maze of dirt streets in the dark and I ended up going to the wrong venue and having to be escorted to the correct one by an old man with a torch. At the first venue I had tried to order food, but there was no menu so I just said yes to a few words that she said and was told that it would be brought to me at the other place, which turned out to be some kind of village hall. Just before kick off the food arrived and it transpired that I had accidentally ordered all of the food in the village, and possibly in the local district. I was given an absurd amount of chips, rice, greens, beans and some kind of mystery meat stew, each of them enough for a full meal. Thankfully I had the appetite of a touring cyclist who didn't have a proper lunch and I almost managed it, ending up defeated only by 1/ 3 of the rice. 

The venue was very strange, there were about 15 other people there but nobody else was eating (maybe because I had all the food) and most people were drinking multiple big beers and making lots of exuberant noises. They seemed more invested in the game than I did and had apparently split into a supporters group for each team, mercilessly mocking the other group when something went their team’s way. I was almost entirely ignored which felt very odd given that I was an actual fan of one of the teams. One of the drunk older guys kept shouting “Frrrrrrrrrrrrancais” whenever anything interesting happened, so at least he was happy when France won. C’est la vie.

*The football didn't finish until almost midnight, the sun rises before 6 and Africa does not do curtains
**For reasons that I am yet to understand, Rwandan children are obsessed with plastic bottles