The more they tried to make it just like home…

Yesterday when I was out, I was reminded of a scene in Apocalypse now in which Willard reflects on soldiers partying to escape the mundane of ordinary life.  He thought “the more they tried to make it just like home, the more they made everybody miss it“.  Bars in Uganda are divided into trendy establishments that attract mostly expatriates and a handful of Ugandans, local joints that attract a healthy mix, and local, local, local joints that you don’t know of unless you know somebody who knows somebody who knows.  My evening started out in a trendy expat joint that mirrored any club in New York or London.  The more the bars try to feel  like a place at home, the more it becomes apparent that it’s not.  I ended up in something akin to a speakeasy.  The drinks were super cheap, the music was local, and the party was frequently interrupted by black outs.  It didn’t however kill the vibe.  Unfortunately, as the evening wore on, my motivation to document ebbed away.  This morning I discovered that I have no pictures of the second or third part of my evening.

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