Borders.

In this age of jet travel and Schengen zones, even the most adventurous travelers rarely cross fortified land borders.

Over the years, Becca and I have crossed a handful of borders that actually required passport presentations. We crossed from Mexico into the US across the "fortified" border on New Year's Eve and were waived through without a second glance. We crossed from Guatemala into Belize, were accused of overstaying our visa (we'd been there nine days, our visa was good for ninety), asked to pay a "fine" of about $8, stood around looking stupid for a half hour, and eventually were sent on our way with a "receipt" for our fine despite never having paid anyone anything. And we once crossed from Tunisia to Palermo on a boat, stood in line for four hours with several hundred Tunisians waiting for the Italian guard to stamp our passport, only to have him waive us through when he saw we were Americans.

So it was with high hopes for a good tale to tell that we approached the Uganda-Rwanda border this morning. We had been staying at Lake Bunyonyi, with no transport back to town, so we got up at the crack of dawn. Within minutes, we were each on the back of motorcycles headed for the frontier, and 45 minutes later we were standing in the Uganda-out line. "You'll have to repay to reenter," the guy said helpfully. OK. Stamped out, we walked into no-man's land. Three hundred meters later we reached Rwandan immmigration. "Welcome to Rwanda," the guy said. OK. Stamp. We were in.

Huh?

We've got a few more borders to cross on this trip, but at this point we have NOT added to our border-crossing story list.

Also, we will post more in days to come about Rwanda, but suffice it to say that the place is VERY remarkable.