When I booked this safari I was aware of several things. I knew that the daunting price tag included the administration and permit fees for viewing both chimpanzee and mountain gorilla. I knew that it was a six day all inclusive deal that covered everything but souvenirs, tips and any bar tab I might accumulate. I reviewed the daily itineraries and lodging and made certain it all met with my approval. I knew that it would be worth it. What I somehow was not aware of was that I would be assigned my own private driver. I assumed we would be collecting more tourists and transferring to a larger group vehicle. My driver quickly informed me that himself and the lime green 4x4 would be at my sole disposal for the next six days.
Byron, my assigned guide and driver was a large round faced man who gave the impression that he was smiling even when he wasn't. A soft spoken patient man, Byron exuded an aura of quiet, amused competence. The relationship could have easily smacked uncomfortably of master and servant if it weren't for the fact that Byron justifiably viewed himself not so much as my subordinate as my minder. He calmly sheparded me through the itineraries of the voyage, making certain that I had enough water, tucked my cuffs into my socks to avoid safari ants, and generally viewed my eccentricities with an indulgent good humor. Byron would prove to be a sharp eyed and keen observer of nature, pointing out several birds I would have otherwise missed. His ability to identify wildlife at a glance far exceeded my own. There were very few moments where my diagnosis won out over his. Like any good naturalist, he freely conceded when he was wrong without the slightest animosity, the correct answer being more important than who got it. Byron was companionable without being chatty and spoke thoughtfully when he had something to say. I could not have found a better driver and guide for myself if I hand selected one.
The other thing that I discovered was that while the marvels of the Ugandan wilderness remained unparalleled, conditions in the safari camps had taken a definite upgrade. In my previous camps I was assigned a no-frills bed in a tent, which was set beneath a roof and attached to a bathroom that the camp managers insisted in spite of all available evidence, had hot water. The dinner would be provided by the camp cook who tactfully avoided all inquiries about the contents of the food. I was perfectly happy with this arrangement and expected the same.
Instead, I was unfailingly greeted upon arrival with a warm towel to wash away the dirt of travel, and a glass of juice to enjoy as the director explained the electricity, internet, and how to operate the hot water. The dinner menu was recited for my approval, and I was escorted to my cabin which along with the amenities already discussed, had actually solid walls and a view. The hot water would invariably work, just as described.
One of the odder aspects of this sudden upgrade for me was the apparently unintentional class war between myself and the staff of the camp as to who could make the other party more uncomfortable. For my part, being shamelessly of peasant stock an very much a egalitarian American, I am not accustomed to being looked after, cosseted and humored. In my mind this level of attentive service brings the dark specter of colonialism in it's wake. For the staff, who take great pride in providing exceptional service, they remain politely incredulous that Sir intends to carry his own bag or walk the campground unattended.
As flattering and on some level pleasant as it was to live with this level of decadence, I am much more comfortable now that I am back in a hostel where I have stayed previously. The room may not be as spacious and the food more basic, but the staff here seems genuinely glad to see me back without the implacable veneer of manners.
This style is much more fitting to my personality and budget.
Byron, my assigned guide and driver was a large round faced man who gave the impression that he was smiling even when he wasn't. A soft spoken patient man, Byron exuded an aura of quiet, amused competence. The relationship could have easily smacked uncomfortably of master and servant if it weren't for the fact that Byron justifiably viewed himself not so much as my subordinate as my minder. He calmly sheparded me through the itineraries of the voyage, making certain that I had enough water, tucked my cuffs into my socks to avoid safari ants, and generally viewed my eccentricities with an indulgent good humor. Byron would prove to be a sharp eyed and keen observer of nature, pointing out several birds I would have otherwise missed. His ability to identify wildlife at a glance far exceeded my own. There were very few moments where my diagnosis won out over his. Like any good naturalist, he freely conceded when he was wrong without the slightest animosity, the correct answer being more important than who got it. Byron was companionable without being chatty and spoke thoughtfully when he had something to say. I could not have found a better driver and guide for myself if I hand selected one.
The other thing that I discovered was that while the marvels of the Ugandan wilderness remained unparalleled, conditions in the safari camps had taken a definite upgrade. In my previous camps I was assigned a no-frills bed in a tent, which was set beneath a roof and attached to a bathroom that the camp managers insisted in spite of all available evidence, had hot water. The dinner would be provided by the camp cook who tactfully avoided all inquiries about the contents of the food. I was perfectly happy with this arrangement and expected the same.
Instead, I was unfailingly greeted upon arrival with a warm towel to wash away the dirt of travel, and a glass of juice to enjoy as the director explained the electricity, internet, and how to operate the hot water. The dinner menu was recited for my approval, and I was escorted to my cabin which along with the amenities already discussed, had actually solid walls and a view. The hot water would invariably work, just as described.
One of the odder aspects of this sudden upgrade for me was the apparently unintentional class war between myself and the staff of the camp as to who could make the other party more uncomfortable. For my part, being shamelessly of peasant stock an very much a egalitarian American, I am not accustomed to being looked after, cosseted and humored. In my mind this level of attentive service brings the dark specter of colonialism in it's wake. For the staff, who take great pride in providing exceptional service, they remain politely incredulous that Sir intends to carry his own bag or walk the campground unattended.
As flattering and on some level pleasant as it was to live with this level of decadence, I am much more comfortable now that I am back in a hostel where I have stayed previously. The room may not be as spacious and the food more basic, but the staff here seems genuinely glad to see me back without the implacable veneer of manners.
This style is much more fitting to my personality and budget.
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