It is now almost seven weeks since we have been home and any excuses for still acclimatising are fast disappearing into the mists. The fleeces haven't been on for a month, goat on a stick is a distant memory and we are even getting used to that gentile art of queuing again.
Somebody said to me the other day that queuing in this country was never known before the war. This was a piece of social history that I hadn't come across before. Rationing, it seems, was what brought everybody into line. Rwanda doesn't have rationing and the usual rule is first come, first served. In Rwanda, and Africa in general, social etiquette isn't something likely to make an appearance any time soon. Particularly at bus stops, standing back often makes the difference between getting your bus and walking.
We will just about have had the rough edges knocked off of us be the time we have to return to the heat and the dust. Perhaps we should use the 22 during rush hour to get some practice in before going back. On the other hand, it's nice not having to make the effort.