Patty and I got up early and started the day with a treat we’d been planning on for more than 36 hours: a run. The temperature was perfect: low 20s and cloudy. We had expected to take a little ribbing from the local population. The last time Patty was here, the accommodation was in a rather posh embassy neighbourhood. She and Genevieve were the only ones ever running, which looked like a crazy waste of energy to the local population. Here in Nyamirambo, a much more populist, mixed neighbourhood (not really that mixed, we are the only white people), we found a bunch of people out running! Tons, in fact. We ran up the unforgiving hill (Rwanda is the land of a thousand hills, after all), and realized that many of the runners, dressed in all sorts of clothing and all condition of footwear, were congregating at the local soccer stadium. They shouted “bravo” or “courage” as we persisted up the hill, red-faced and puffing (Patty much less so than me, obviously). Wonderful! Obviously there is still going to be a contingent of those who shout out Mizungu! (white person or foreigner) or make this hissing sound they do when they’re hitting on you. Still others were dressed to the nines on their way to church, singing. Overall a great way to get to know our neighbourhood.