This ain't Kansas anymore.......

[ken4ord]

Some days I wake up and I think what a strange and wonderful place to live. This morning was one of them.

 

Lately I have been getting into a routine of getting up at 5:00 in the morning to get on my road bike a couple times a week. 5:00 is about when the birds get up and start chirping like mad, but they were quiet this morning. I hit the snooze a couple of times then finally dragged my ass out of bed, it was still dark out. I got dressed in my super hero outfit; I guess it is the best way to describe cycling clothes, filled my water bottles and grabbed my phone. I eventually made it onto the bike at 5:30. I cruised up the hill to look for my tentative riding partner she was not there so I fly solo.

 

As I make my way up and through town I passed very few people in my neighborhood. The ones I did pass, stop in their tracks, drop their jaw, stare and turn into the ultimate gapers. I think it is so funny, for crying out loud, I am still in my neighborhood where all the other Muzungos live; it is not like I am that much of an oddity. Well maybe I am since I am on bike that looks quite different from their single speed Chinese bikes that they ride and I must look quite funny to them in my Underoos and helmeted head.

 

After several kilometer climb I descend. At this time in the morning the sun is starting to wake up. To me this is the scariest part of rides in the morning, because I come blazing down the hill with not that good of light passing the few motorbike taxi and a few cars. The few people that are walking or the drivers just have no idea that a bike can move fast. My biggest fear is that they will cut in front of me and I won’t be able to stop in time. As blazed down the hill I used the Rwandan ‘psst’ to let them know I am coming or occasional loud ‘HEY!’ when it was a little more critical. It took just a few minutes for the scary part to be over.

 

At the bottom of the hill is the main market in town. It was already on it’s way to becoming bustling chaos of shoppers, vendors, taxis, goats, chickens, clothes, produce, mattress’s, cement and anything else a person may need. Already there were people everywhere, the was a constant stream of people on the side of the road that were heading to the market, with all their market wares carried mainly on the top of their heads, on make shift wheel barrows, or the single speed bikes.

 

As I passed by I must have heard ‘muzungo’ at least a hundred times. On top of that I also heard some people cheer, whistle, ‘psst’ me, others just gave a simple thumbs up, and then some disco boys (as Misti calls them) tried to mock jumping out in front of me in an attempt to scare me, it didn’t works though. A paranoid scenario ran through my head when I passed through this section that the guys with logs on their head will turn to watch me go by and inadvertently take me out.

 

All together it took me about 20 minutes and then I was out of town. At that point I was in what I know as the ‘village’. There really isn’t a place to go in Rwanda where there isn’t people, fields, and houses, which leads me to calling Rwanda a big village. It was foggy this morning in the valley so I opted to do a big climb instead of following the valley. The Rhukengeri road starts climbing immediately; I usually do the 350m elevation gain in my lowest gear and just grind out the km’s. It is a nice climb cause there isn’t many people, by that I mean I might pass people here or there, but there are 30 to 90 second gaps where I might be by myself and able to just take in the scenery.

 

This morning was beautiful with a thick fog in the valley. The smell of wood burning for morning tea wafted through my nose. I felt my legs, tired and lazy, but they kept turning the cranks around. A little ways up the climb I broke through the fog and saw clear skies above, and a river of puffy white below. It was spectacular, in 45 minutes I was at the top of the climb, with views off the ridge south and views north. People out on the hillsides were already working away; plumes of smoke could be seen coming from homes, the sun was awake and already warming the air. I contemplated doing the next climb up to Shyrongi, I knew I would be late if I did it, so I turned around and blasted back into the valley towards town.

 

On my way down I cruised past trucks, motorcycles, people walking, and other cyclist commuting. It is a threatening downhill, I am not really known for using my brakes much, but this climb is just not straight and it weaves in and out along the hillside, with endless turns. The ride down was a continual checking speed, railing the turn, acceleration out and repeat. As I flew down, I just thought what a crazy place to be riding my road bike. I couldn’t get over the fact that I am living in Rwanda and none-the-less riding my bike in a third world country.

[pup_on_the_mountain]

Great read!! Thanks for sharing.

[Distel32]

word, living abroad is hard to beat.

[DirtyHarry]

Nice. You should submit that to a cycling mag.

[Dechristo]

[MisterMo]

A paranoid scenario ran through my head when I passed through this section that the guys with logs on their head will turn to watch me go by and inadvertently take me out.

 

 

Great read. Makes me want to read Hemingway.........buy plane tickets....

 

Thanks