And just like that I'm gone. Last night was sad. Really sad. I said good-bye to Aime and cried, then went by to say good-bye to my friend Mama Helene. She gave me a picture of herself and her four sons and said she wanted me to have it to remember her by. So I cried some more, pretty much all the way home on my last motorbike taxi ride. But, wow, what a view.C and E and Mr. Florida and Junior and a bunch of other people came out for fondue at Doga last night, and then it was time to say good-bye to all of them. More sadness.
This morning I got up, finished packing, said good-bye to everyone at Karibu, and learned that it's much easier to cross the border into Rwanda if you have a Congolese Tutsi as your driver - no one searched my bags at all, which NEVER happens. (The politics of ethnicity are alive and well at the Gisenyi-Goma border crossing.) I gave my UT hat to one of the Rwandan immigration guys (he'd asked for "something from Texas") and over the border we went. Right away I remembered how different things are in Rwanda, because the minute I got in the car, the driver reminded me to put on my seatbelt. No one wears seatbelts in Congo, but here it's the law.
It's so strange how different these places are. Gisenyi has a Nice Hotel, one that has air conditioning (which is totally unnecessary here) and takes credit cards. I spent the afternoon on the beach, trying to do something about my Chaco tan (hopeless). Lake Kivu looks different from here. For one thing, there's a beach. With sand. But overall, it's not as spectacular - you can't see the volcanoes and the mountains don't look as dramatic from this angle. It's nice. But it's definitely the beginning of the long journey home. Tomorrow morning Human Rights Nick and I will drive to Kigali. Monday night I fly to Entebbe, where I'll be through Friday before starting the really long part of the trip. Better enjoy the beach while I can.