Uphill and downhill and then right back to the beginning. At least that is what traveling to Bujumbura feels like.
If the people who named countries according to the number of hills still have a few names left in their store, they should pick one for this country.
The nauseating effect of the bus turning those sharp corners, the breath-taking scenery that comes into view almost at every bend, the heart-racing feeling provoked by the idea that you are so many meters above a steep cliff, all combine to make it a confusing journey.
When I finally made into the city, the few illusions I had about the place flew out the window. I had been told Bujumbura is a shabby city, trying to prop itself up. Perhaps the rebuilding part is true, judging by the number of roads I saw under construction.
But the shabby part is not…
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