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Kinshasa is admittedly a difficult if not pointless town for the normal tourist. Besides all the messiness of it and the fact that getting around is incredibly difficult if you can't ride on the back on the UN shuttles, there isn't really much to see. This is a new city (founded in 1876, which makes it newer than even San Francisco) and the small bits of history that were there from colonial times, were completely obliterated when the Congolese achieved independence due to what they represented. Other towns in this situation often get a good club scene going or have beaches or something else for the visitor to enjoy. Unfortunately this is not the case in Kinshasa and even having access to the Congo River is impossible because they've walled it off along the town due to it being an international boundary, because you know, so many people want to sneak in to Congo illegally due to its "freshness"...       As always though, it you poke around enough, you will usually find something redeeming about any place. In the case of Kinshasa, it's Patisserie Nouvelle. This is a bakery in the middle of Gombe, the center of town. It also happens to be just a hop and a skip from the HQ for MONUC, which explains a good deal of the success, being that a good degree of the clientèle are expats looking for what I would warrant to say is the hands down the best croissants outside of France. The Congolese aren't to be left out on this and also go to Nouvelle to eat, despite the fact it is extremely expensive for them.       This may seem like a silly thing to get excited about until you think about all the non-French croissants that you may have had in your life. I know that in the US, croissants suck. They're always too dry and not flaky enough. It's like places are too scared or too cheap to use enough butter in them. In Spain, a country that has a border with and a royal family from France, fares about as well in the croissant department. Again, I don't get it and I just gave up eating croissants except when in France, which is something that doesn't happen as much as I'd like.       But here at Nouvelle, the croissants are bombastically good. They're just like the best ones I've had in France. But even beyond the croissants, the breads, sweets, and other baked goods at Nouvelle are also top notch. It's an astounding find in place like DR Congo and the atmosphere inside is a lot like some small French cafe that you'd find Paris. We pretty much lived on this place for breakfast while we stayed in Kinshasa.       For those interested in finding it, there used to be a website that was part of the site for Caf Conc, which is a very upscale restaurant nearby that the same people own, who happen to be Belgians, not French. Alas, the website has long been dead, so about the only way I can point folks to these dreamy baked goods is via a Google map. If one finds oneself in Kinshasa, make sure to drop in.

If you're driving to work in San Francisco and you're stuck on one of the many highways around the area, you might often yell, "This traffic is insane!" I would counter with the fact that no, it's quite normal, orderly, and even predictable. I will take the traffic of the US or anywhere in Europe, any day, over what I saw in Kinshasa.       The problem of course revolves around the fact that somehow, despite all the poverty, there are what seem to be millions of cars in the city that are hell-bent on moving around the 10 million inhabitants on a daily basis. The great majority of these cars are not in good shape, so they pollute like it's going out of style. They also break down quite often and are either repaired in the middle of the road or abandoned, which is done in the middle of the road as well.       It's a mess that starts around eight in the morning, gets steadily worse until gridlock sets in, in the middle of the day, and then things smooth out a bit near the end of the day, when it gets dark around six. A lot of these cars are missing headlights, so it's difficult for them to drive after dark. If it rains, the roads are abandoned because probably 90% of the cars simply can't drive when there is a downpour.       But it's how people drive that make the traffic what it is. If you ever get mad at some random jerk who cuts you off on I-880, you shouldn't drive in Kinshasa. That is how people always drive. They just kind of slam their way through all the cars to get where they're going. It's a bit like American individualism on crack. There are surprisingly few accidents though, which I attribute more to the fact you can't drive faster than 60kph anywhere, so it lessens the impacts. I did see one though and it was nasty with both cars folded up in what looked like a direct head-on collision.       There are many mundele who drive though and as amazingly as it is, I drove in all of this as well. It was quite an experience, but because everyone is doing it, it makes driving somewhat easy. I mean this only in the sense that you can kind of handle it if you start driving like the Congolese. Trying to be proper and allowing people to merge or obeying the right of way at four way stops will get you nowhere. No one has gone to driving school, although there is one in the city. Most folks either hop in a car and start driving or pay the $50 to pick up a driver's license. That's all there is to it. You pay the money and you can legally drive. No test. No other rules. I almost bought one as a souvenir, but didn't have the time, nor the inclination to go down and deal with it. It's a cool license though, because where in the US you need a different license to drive different classes of vehicles, the Congolese have streamlined the process and have this license allowing you to drive anything from a motorcycle, to a big rig truck, to a steamroller.       Overall, I'd have to say that I wish to never drive in Kinshasa again. One experience was definitely enough and it can be summed up by the fact that when we were stuck in some detour that was causing a massive juggernaut, I was passed by a guy going 30kph (20mph in metric-so-scary-land), on my left, in reverse. If that doesn't blow your mind, then you should consider a future career as a taxi driver in the center of Kinshasa. They can always use a few more.

While in Kinshasa, I was tipped off to this article which covers the fact that a great many men are convinced that their "junk" has either disappeared or has heavily shrank in size after being cursed by local witchdoctors. I know it sounds like a bad joke, but people are being accused of the "sorcery" and being mob lynched because of it. If there is one think that you don't want to mess with in Kinshasa, then that is an angry mob. They can get out of control very fast.       While it's something that will undoubtedly pass in due course, friends have seen guys showing their stuff to other friends along the street, hysterical that they've been the victim of a shrinking. They're quite worried to touch anyone who has been a victim of the curse and potentially everyone is a possible shrinker, with the exception of the white folk (mundele) who are of course already known to be cursed with diminutive equipment and thusly are immune to the witchdoctor curses, or so the logic seems to go.       The article credits the rise of a religious cult in Bas Congo, which is to the west of Kinshasa as part of the reason for this scare. I don't know how true it is, but this cult was the main reason that we just stayed in Kinshasa, because apparently it was very unsafe for mundele to head out to those parts currently. Of course, this assumption is based on a UN report, which is one of many that extol the dangers of Congo outside of UN compounds, which makes me wonder how they compile these reports in the first place.       Anyways, if you're a guy these days, watch your junk. A curse may be headed your way sometime soon.

As you bump and bounce out of N'Djili Airport, you start to head in Kinshasa proper. It's a long trip of about an hour or so in moderate traffic, of which there is always at least moderate traffic in Kinshasa. The journey is not like that from American and European airports where you start in the middle of nowhere and slowly pick up more and signs of civilization until you are in the center of a bustling city.       Kinshasa is much different. You both start and end in the middle of nowhere. The end point has a great many more buildings, but it still feels dislocated and at odds with itself being a city of 10 million people and the largest French speaking city in the world. It feels like it is still trying to contend with the fact it started life as Leopoldville, a trading outpost on the river that is actually younger than West Coast American towns like San Francisco. It's a bend in the river that now is home to so many.       There are no bright lights of Kinshasa. While the city sits along the Congo River and there is a massive hydroelectric damn further upstream, electricty is very much an ammenity that most are forced to live without. While the center of town (like the Gombe District) has much better power connections, it is mostly expats and the wealthy living there. The endless sprawl of Kinshasans live quite literally in the dark.       The road from the airport passes all the bars and clubs that are packed with people no matter what the night is. They sit outside it in the stifling humidity, their evenings illuminated by candles and the passing lights of cars on the road. As I looked forward out the front window of the shuttle we were in, I could see the dark, smoky veil of cooking fires and pollution descending on the roadway. Silouhettes of people crossing the road were lit up by the streams of traffic, looking like these human shadow puppets strolling through the night.       We reached the center eventually and the building that we would call home for the next couple of weeks. The power was on here, as well as the water. A brief shower rinsed off one layer of the sticking, unwavering humidity before we plunged in to a deep sleep.

Upon arrival in Kinshasa, DR Congo, the first site for visitors in N'Djili Airport, which is definitely not the most pleasant of sites. It's rundown. It's smelly. It's crowded and it is overall a complete zoo.       Previous to visiting Congo, I read up a great deal on the country and this airport was one of my biggest fears. The endless delays in getting through it, the possbility of losing a great deal from your luggage when going through "customs", and then trying to get away from the airport and in to the center of Kinshas were all daunting problems not allowing me to sleep on the seven hour leg of the flight from Paris to Kinshasa.       Once we got there, my fears weren't fully lived up to. They have apparently cleaned up the airport a great deal in recent years and the need to have a "control" to usher you through the airport has lessened. It still sucks though and there are what I consider to be the five levels of purgatory before you are actually released upong Kinshasa.       1. Passport Inspection This is pretty minor and is just checking to see if you have a visa. The line is lengthy and stretches out on to the tarmac as naturally there are no true landing gates for the planes.       2. Passport Control A much longer process. You stand in lines with everyone else as you weed your way through a couple of booths checking each person's allowance to be in the country. This was apparently much faster in the past, but has been slowed down in the last month as the Congolese staff are learning to use some new computers that the EU got them. Once they get used to it, it will most likely speed up. One thing to note here is that no matter how seemingly stupid of a request the police might ask of you, go along with it. They have nothing else to do other than controlling that line and if you feel like giving them shit, they will give it right back. Just be patient and listen to them and respect them.       3. Health Control A minor step to make sure you have your yellow fever vaccination and your immunization card, which if your traveling here, you should most definitely have had.       4. Luggage... Sweet jesus almighty. This is the worst part. You stand along the luggage conveyor for something like two hours or more waiting for your baggage to come out. This may seem like a boring wait, except that there is no air conditioning in the space and there are all these random guys who want to "help" you grab your bags for a tip. It's sweaty and completely not fun, but is part of this journey. The biggest issue here is if you bag was lost, like one of ours was in the tight transfer in Paris. You don't find out that the bag is gone until the very end of all of this and then once you know, you have to register it as lost and then wait until the next flight, of which there are only three a week. Of course you have to get in a circular line (also known as a mobbing) to get in there to register your lost luggage.       5. Clearance and Onward Once you have your luggage, ignore every single person outside the airport. They will forcefully try to grab your bags to again "help" you carry them for a tip. Just cling on to them and keep going for either your ride, the taxis, or if you're lucky enough, the UN shuttle to the center. It should be noted that the taxis will be $50+ to get in to the center. Why? Because it's an hour ride on some of the worst roads ever conceived.       But that's it. Just a few simple steps. Just a few minor hours and you'll soon be in Kinshasa, home to 10 million people and a whole lot more craziness that I'll get in to again when I can get at the internet, which is scarce commodity in these parts.