Today I took the hostel's complimentary shuttle into downtown Kampala to see a little more of the surrounding area. The trouble with a good backpacker hostel is that it is entirely too possible to want to stay put. Everything is arranged for your convenience and comfort. The staff is usually kind and attuned to a traveler's needs. It can be a real effort to leave the oasis of comfort and calm.
The shuttle dropped me off in a mall, which is much like every other mall on the planet. This one did however contain a coffee shop where I could watch the Marabou storks draw them from my table while enjoying an actual cup of coffee. After the refreshment, I was off to prowl the streets.
Kampala is not as modern or as large as Nairobi, but it is a bustling capital where about 1.5 million people go about their lives. I found that I could move around freely through any neighborhood without let or hindrance. Urban Ugandans seemed very similar to urban Kenyans in that they maintained an air of polite disinterest in me. It's not that they were in any way unwelcoming or unkind. Polite nods and smiles were invariably returned. It was just that the average citizen was too preoccupied with their own affairs to pay much attention to the cumbersome white guy. Like Nairobi, Delhi, and every other City I wandered through as a stranger, if anyone was really overtly friendly it was usually a sign that they wanted to sell me something, ask for money, or introduce me to their exceedingly friendly "sister". The only exception to this were the security guards who lurked in doorways with automatic weapons. They would have been intimidating if they weren't the quickest to wave and burst into cheerful grins. I never felt a moment of trepidation or that I was ever unsafe. I meandered through the capital district and several vibrant markets. Occasionally a motorcycle would pull up next to me. The driver would grin and say "Yes Boss?" and pull away slightly mystified as I would always respond with the seven strangest words they had apparently ever heard from a white pedestrian:
"No thank you. I want to walk"
The shuttle dropped me off in a mall, which is much like every other mall on the planet. This one did however contain a coffee shop where I could watch the Marabou storks draw them from my table while enjoying an actual cup of coffee. After the refreshment, I was off to prowl the streets.
Kampala is not as modern or as large as Nairobi, but it is a bustling capital where about 1.5 million people go about their lives. I found that I could move around freely through any neighborhood without let or hindrance. Urban Ugandans seemed very similar to urban Kenyans in that they maintained an air of polite disinterest in me. It's not that they were in any way unwelcoming or unkind. Polite nods and smiles were invariably returned. It was just that the average citizen was too preoccupied with their own affairs to pay much attention to the cumbersome white guy. Like Nairobi, Delhi, and every other City I wandered through as a stranger, if anyone was really overtly friendly it was usually a sign that they wanted to sell me something, ask for money, or introduce me to their exceedingly friendly "sister". The only exception to this were the security guards who lurked in doorways with automatic weapons. They would have been intimidating if they weren't the quickest to wave and burst into cheerful grins. I never felt a moment of trepidation or that I was ever unsafe. I meandered through the capital district and several vibrant markets. Occasionally a motorcycle would pull up next to me. The driver would grin and say "Yes Boss?" and pull away slightly mystified as I would always respond with the seven strangest words they had apparently ever heard from a white pedestrian:
"No thank you. I want to walk"
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