In Bukavu -

Driving towards the city along the river, you could almost mistake Bukavu for Lake Garda, or Como. Only small children herding cows and goats, and old ladies carries crushed rocks to be sold, hung across their backs and heads with fabric reminds that this place is not Europe in Congo.

Once you get into the city that illusions shatters completely, you are right back in the hustle and bustle of a sprawling Kinshasaesque city, albeit with a much better view. The road to the city, is also a bit of an anomaly -being relatively smooth, neat and pot hole free, however once you make it into town the roads becomes truly awful, just to make it around town you need a proper 4x4 with a descent clearance. The poor land cruiser - built for just such occasions was being brutally worn by these roads, so that with each bump the back door got a little looser at it tried to break free, squeaking as you go along.

The hotel that we were staying in, was a beautiful hotel called the orchid. Right on the lake with beautiful views, it's a pretty cool spot. I went down to the water to take some pictures when a helicopter came buzzing out of the forest, across the water and landed on a tiny piece of land jutting out from the garden of the hotel. I ask the gardener who it was -Le Patron.

Sadly most of the afternoon was spent working, went to a training centre, where all the policemen and token few women who were learning to drive, wanted their picture taken with the police vehicles, usually you can't take photos of police/military out here so it was a nice opportunity to get some shots, but in the end I had to just put my camera away, when they all started asking for money to congratulate them for finishing training and they wanted me to print my photos then and there- yes, of course I carry a printer everywhere. Then had dinner at 'The Gorilla Bar' at the Coco Lodge Hotel, where I had a pizza cooked on a wood fire, delicious!

My colleague H, had a friend, who had a friend, who lived in Bukavu and such is the expat way, out here that we ended up at their party. He came to the hotel so that we could follow him to his place, where he informed us that this was actually a theme party, the theme of which was national stereotypes. H was wearing pink trousers, so did the East London emo look pretty well, I wish I'd have known as I would have followed our Duchesses lead and put on a shed load more eyeliner- it was not to be though.

The house was right down by the lake, which in the moonlight was just gorgeous. But even more so when I saw that the moon actually had a giant halo of light extending in a circle around it, kind of like a moon dog I suppose- it was pretty magical.

The costumes at the party were hilarious from pharaoh to Frenchies in stripy tops and baguettes to German socks with sandals and Pippy Long stocking - they make a brilliant effort. Usually being quite the fancy dress fan I wish I had been warned. Some welsh guy had even managed to get a blow up sheep in Congo - God bless the bugger!

The next morning in spite of it being a Saturday it was a work morning. Went to the office for some meetings and then out to a police training site just on the outskirts of town, as you enter the compound it wasn't the police that intrigued me, it was that all you could hear around the hillside that the site is based on were children playing. The Congolese are still really into big families (I've been told I should have at least 8 to counteract of the stupid people having loads of babies), so the only noises you can hear are games and babble on hundreds or almost thousands of small children.

We ended up walking up the hill outside of the compound, to visit another part of the site and the usual rush of local kids come to find out what they call in Bukavu - Muzungo- as in the East they speak Swahili not Lingala. However, as we were walking up the hills I spotted a little group carrying jerry cans as big as their torso up the hill. The little girl couldn't quite believe it, when I grabbed the can for her and had a chat as I took the water up the hill for her - the other kids also looked just as shocked.

The kids in the Congo generally love to have their photo taken and they are beautiful kids, but it makes you sad that all these spritely smiley little things should be going to school, but they're carrying their weight in water up the hill. A task no doubt they do countless times a day.

I took alot of pictures of them all, and at one point a little boy pushed a little girl to get into the picture leaving her in tears on the floor with no one to pick her up, so I went over to her picked her up and got her back on her feet, it's amazing what a smile and some kind words will do in spite of the language barriers.

After the mornings work, H and I went back to the hotel where you can hire Kayaks and spent almost 2 hours exploring the lake's shore. There are some seriously amazing houses being built on the shoreline, punctuated by a monstery and bits of forest. Just being out on the water has such a wonderful effect on me, it's seems like I've got a bit of my dads salty blood and love of all things water (although sadly no ridable waves on the lake pops -SUP would be amazing to do there!)

That night we had dinner at the hotel with a bunch of people we had met the night before, and an old french of H's who too was working in Bukavu, it was a really fun interational crowd and the people's stories out here never continue to amaze me. So well stocked and run is the hotel, you get an amuse bouche when having dinner and they even served magret de canard, with the moonlight sparkling on the lake.