Although the extra day was great, it was still nice to move on. The plan for today was to just ride the 180 kilometres to Kehere, the only place close to the border that has a guesthouse.
There was no rush to check out and I had an audience when packing up Simba in front of “Hotel Rwanda”. A few of the staff, including the duty manager, offered handshakes but they really just wanted a photo sitting on the bike.
I rode out of the city past the new National Convention Centre and headed east into the countryside. The road was initially as good as I had experienced here and the traffic was light.
The scenery was beautiful as the road rose up and down and it seems that everyone in this country is either busy working or is on their way places with a purpose.
No doubt they do take an occasional break.
The last 50 or 60 kilometres was a bit trickier as there was a steady run of roadworks until I got to Kehere.
However it was quite manageable because the traffic was light, but it did remind me to focus on my last experience of riding in Tanzania, which is next up.
It was also noticeable that the closer I got to the border the lesser the quality of housing, so I guess that nationally there are still lot’s of problems yet to be resolved.
Sat nav is not 100% accurate and I managed to get lost for a bit when trying to find exactly where the centre of Kehere was, never mind the guesthouse. I asked about and was, as is typical, given answers varying between 300 metres and 50 kilometres.
Then I stumbled across the weirdest sight. Bear in mind that it seems like I am the only mzungu wherever I travel. So there on the side of a pretty dirty stretch of road trotted four pristinely dressed white women, one carrying a parasol. I u-turned back to them and I got a distinct feeling that they were none to pleased to meet me. The older woman completely looked down her long American nose at me. However one of the younger ones helped me with directions and I was on my way. It had been like a scene from an African version of The Handmaid’s Tale.
When I had booked ahead I was told that there was only a basic €8 room available, which I accepted. However I now managed to persuade the grumpy woman who greeted me that I was deserving of one of their special €16 executive rooms.
I don’t want to know what the inferior room looked like.
Showering was basic in my “executive” bathroom and I counted eight bedbugs on the sheets and it wasn’t even dark yet….
ZIGZAGGING AFRICA BY MOTORBIKE 