Just call me Paris

Bonjour mes amis...

Vous etes bien? Je me port bien...tres bien.
Right now...in this place, at this time.....I feel at peace with myself.
Rwanda is a healing balm to my itchy soul (yes I do have one) and I pray I don't develop a resistance too soon.
I feel like I am in the right place, at the right time, for the first time.

I won't tell you about the flight here....to say it was bumpy is the understatement of the year. Lets just say at some point I was pulling rice from my hair. Turbulence, right after we had been served dinner.
The dinner stayed where it was...the rest of us dropped, really far...really quickly. It was one of those little jet things with only 64 passengers. And we couldn't fly over the storm, we had to fly through it. Hmmmm...yuck

I spent yesterday house-hunting. It always amazes me how landlords can let the most beautiful of properties go to seed. I don't know whether they just reach a stage where they tire of nagging tenants to keep the property in good nick, or whether they don't care.
It is not dirty or grubby – far from it, Kigali is one of the cleanest cities I have ever seen, but it definitely shows the wear and tear of multiple tenants. Just a little maintenance done in good time, would have these properties looking beautiful - all the time.
And so dear friends...the whining has a point: I have found it! God willing my new home for as long as it is my home. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, lounge, dining room, tiny kitchen (YES! YES! YES!) no stove (heehee the previous tenants busted it..bless their little hearts) just the customary microwave..(what else do I do in there but make coffee? And cook pasta?)
Laundry room, double beds in the bedrooms, beautiful garden. So my darlings...and you know who you are....you won't have an excuse! No need to be pitching tents...( the ground slopes alarmingly anyway and you'll end up rolling through the front door, but not before braining yourself on the steps outside) and …..and......I am hopefully getting a doggie!
I wanted a gorilla but these things aren't done apparently...besides he wouldn't fit in my handbag..dang! Just call me the Paris Hilton of Kigali, pouch pooch and all...everything in the handbag, but the kitchen sink.
(But just maybe a pot or two...or just pot...ha ha ha...kidding kidding kidding if any Rwandan is reading this...eeeek! KIDDING, REALLY!!!! And Paris I never actually said YOU put YOUR pot in your handbag – I know, I know, it wasn't yours – yeesh!!)
All this is beautifully maintained by my future security person and gardener...Alfons, who doesn't speak a word of English or French.....and I don't speak Kinyarwanda.. How much fun are we going to have?
Probably come home and find a pot plant on the roof...because that is what I told him to do.....eish!


NOTE TO SELF: Got to get over this obsession with the word POT
I will be moving in on the weekend. Now I just have to get my business up and running....
Wish me luck...
Yours in the kitchen sink, clanging dem pots and pans...ha ha

Madame Kalisa (or your highness will do)
Bisous
XX