Enough. After spending months in the Chez Lando I've finally upgraded to the Novotel. OK, Lando might still have the best bar in Kigali (I prefer my bar grotty with good service, rather than chic with bad service), but the breakfast was beginning to grind me down, as were the constant demands to move out of my room to accommodate the weekly truckload of earnest adventurers who have been overlanding in search of 'the real Africa' or whatever it is the brochure has convinced them they're going to find.
So here I am in the Novotel, my rough and ready credibility in tatters. The room is nice though, and there is a fridge, and a pool and a bar, and a bad restaurant where the beers cost more than double the price of the Chez Lando and the waiters have been lobotomised. Nextdoor is the Havana Club though, preferable for its plastic tables, great staff, and massive mugs of mutzig.
Its only for a few days, and I'm nearing the end of this trip, so I need a place just to keep my head down, spend some quiet time, and not have to ask twice for everything. Novotel is good for that, although I'm finding a strange lack of privacy about the place. Like many hotels in African cities the Novotel Kigali is one of those places where people not only stay, but also visit to do business, grab a sandwich from the bakery, use the gym or the pool, have a meeting in the bar, or even have their wedding photos done (4 separate weddings on the lawn yesterday, with 2 more backed up queing to get in).
So those moronic Republican contractors who I met in a bar the other night now say "Howdy" over breakfast. Colleagues pop in to use the gym. I have to hide from that weirdo NGO person by the cash machine. Now and again I see someone I like and am happy to exchange a few friendly words with while buying a sandwich at the bakery, but more often than not its somebody I really don't want to speak to, especially when I'm padding around in flip-flops with bad hair and an old t-shirt on, or lying by the pool sunning my gut and writing blog posts.
See. Its tough in the tropics.
The breakfast is a notch up on my old gaff though. Despite headless chicken style service, the bread and the fruit are fresh, and you can get a couple of fried eggs or a crepe freshly prepared by a woman who seems to really enjoy making them. I'm into the crepes at the moment. Small thin ones with a dab of sugar and a squeeze of lemon. A few slices of fruit on the side, maybe some goats cheese on a slice of wholemeal bread. Its beginning to sound like a healthy and fulfilling breakfast.
This time next week: Brunch at the Intercontinental Hong Kong.
Mood: Coffee
Soundtrack: Children splashing by the pool
Current grip on reality: Tenuous at best
So here I am in the Novotel, my rough and ready credibility in tatters. The room is nice though, and there is a fridge, and a pool and a bar, and a bad restaurant where the beers cost more than double the price of the Chez Lando and the waiters have been lobotomised. Nextdoor is the Havana Club though, preferable for its plastic tables, great staff, and massive mugs of mutzig.
Its only for a few days, and I'm nearing the end of this trip, so I need a place just to keep my head down, spend some quiet time, and not have to ask twice for everything. Novotel is good for that, although I'm finding a strange lack of privacy about the place. Like many hotels in African cities the Novotel Kigali is one of those places where people not only stay, but also visit to do business, grab a sandwich from the bakery, use the gym or the pool, have a meeting in the bar, or even have their wedding photos done (4 separate weddings on the lawn yesterday, with 2 more backed up queing to get in).
So those moronic Republican contractors who I met in a bar the other night now say "Howdy" over breakfast. Colleagues pop in to use the gym. I have to hide from that weirdo NGO person by the cash machine. Now and again I see someone I like and am happy to exchange a few friendly words with while buying a sandwich at the bakery, but more often than not its somebody I really don't want to speak to, especially when I'm padding around in flip-flops with bad hair and an old t-shirt on, or lying by the pool sunning my gut and writing blog posts.
See. Its tough in the tropics.
The breakfast is a notch up on my old gaff though. Despite headless chicken style service, the bread and the fruit are fresh, and you can get a couple of fried eggs or a crepe freshly prepared by a woman who seems to really enjoy making them. I'm into the crepes at the moment. Small thin ones with a dab of sugar and a squeeze of lemon. A few slices of fruit on the side, maybe some goats cheese on a slice of wholemeal bread. Its beginning to sound like a healthy and fulfilling breakfast.
This time next week: Brunch at the Intercontinental Hong Kong.
Mood: Coffee
Soundtrack: Children splashing by the pool
Current grip on reality: Tenuous at best
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