I just did the wildest and most exciting thing I’ve done since coming to Rwanda: ride a mototaxi. That is, I rode one the back of a decades-old motorcycle that was driven by a local madman, while wearing a helmet that has probably been worn by fifty other people today.
I had decided that I didn’t want to walk back from the restaurant in the dark. The walk to the restaurant wasn’t far, but it also wasn’t particularly well-populated. I’m still not quite comfortable walking around the city (I stand out quite a bit), and I haven’t been out after dark due to my jet-lagged sleep pattern, but I wanted to try the local restaurant. So I walked there, had myself a pizza (good thin crust but weird cheese, overall a good choice), and took a mototaxi home.
And I survived.