We're slowing down for this leg of the journey. Let's see where it takes us.

Full of gratitude after receiving so much from Katunguru, we’re saying goodbyes again. Our next stop, Lake Bunyonyi, takes us south, back toward Rwanda.

I look forward to this destination. The photos of the Birdnest Resort are gorgeous. And with no excursions planned, we can relax and rejuvenate.

Back on the familiar roadway, we meet the same busyness we’d seen on the way north. This time, I realize the colorful “trunks” I had admired are actually caskets. It’s sobering to see them displayed beside chairs and cribs.

We escape the bustle and wind our way upward and then back down. Before long, we’re at a wide gate.

Security confirms our reservation, and the gate opens to a fairytale. Lush vegetation and colorful flowers frame the entry; I’m pulled toward the lobby and the view of Lake Bunyonyi.

Though we’re happy to arrive, the moment is bittersweet. Godwin has a family emergency and must go home. We wish him safe travels, hoping we’ll see him again.

After check-in, I spend the day soaking up the lake’s beauty.

From the balcony, I watch birds, lizards, otters, boaters - even a houseboat. Lively music and shouts from a nearby town reach our ears. It’s soccer season.

There’s a cacophony from the trees too - a rapturous chorus of birds squawking a sunset crescendo.

I read, reflect and share photos and stories in my family’s group chat. The unplanned time feels good. I avoid filling it unnecessarily.

Lake Bunyonyi, home to 29 islands, formed when ancient volcanic eruptions blocked a river. It’s the third deepest lake in the world, and today we’re exploring its surface.

But first, breakfast.

Uganda’s meatless menu options are impressive. I have fresh fruit, beans and bread.

The crew is waiting at the boat ramp with a freshly-painted, vibrant blue boat. There’s paper on the seats to keep tacky paint off our clothes.

On the water, we discuss Lake Bunyonyi's history, residents - past and present, and how they made their mark.

Each island holds a story.

One island is the nesting ground of the regal Crowned Crane. It’s Uganda’s national bird, and its colors are reflected in the nation’s flag. Two cranes are nurturing chicks who chirp to be fed. Another island is a cageless zoo, the next an obstacle course.

The most uplifting story is about Bwama Island. In the 1920s, leprosy left many shunned by their families and communities. Without support, they lived on the streets and begged for food. This misery led Dr. Leonard Sharp to collaborate with the local government to build a leprosy treatment center on Bwama Island.

Along with the treatment center, the island had a school and living quarters to create a normal life for quarantined people. Over decades, the island housed thousands of patients. After a cure was discovered, many chose to stay.

Now the island houses the community’s primary and secondary schools. The children boat in daily.

We tour the island and meet the school’s administrator, Isaac. He talks about the school’s successes, students and their current needs. We donate to them and within days, Isaac follows up with pictures of items purchased for the students.

It feels good to share our resources in such a meaningful way. Let me know if you want to donate too.

The saddest story is of Punishment Island. It’s a tiny, destitute patch of grass with a single, bare tree rising from the center. Perched on the branches are a dozen birds guarding half as many nests.

It’s ironic or maybe symbolic because the island had been the above-ground tomb of unwed, pregnant women, abandoned by their families.

While some women were rescued by lovers or men seeking a dowry-free wife, the majority died from drowning, exposure or starvation. Girls are no longer left to die on Punishment Island, but there’s a palpable solemnness there.

After the boat ride, I go to the sauna and reflect near the water. I realize my time in Uganda is nearing its end, and I absorb the sights, sounds and the feeling in the air.

We’re in no rush this morning. When we finally leave our room, we decide to explore on foot.

Leading to the Birdsnest Resort is a long, winding, downhill road. We plan a walk to the top to explore the community and see the lake from above.

Going the opposite direction, the long, winding, downhill road becomes a long, winding uphill road. It’s quite the workout on two legs versus four wheels.

However, the surroundings are new, and we’re distracted by interesting plants, homes and animals. Including a small herd of cattle guarded by a long-horned bull.

I assume friend, my partner assumes foe. We keep a distance so we don’t have to find out. As we trail the cattle, a machete-wielding herder appears from behind and pops a cow on its hide. They speed up, darting toward the bushes and a well-worn trail. Soon, they’re out of sight.

At the top of the hill are small buildings and a gang of moto drivers. We decline their offers and keep going on foot.

We meet kids who lead us to a small shop. They guide us through to a balcony with sweeping views of the hills and valleys. After a while, we thank them and walk further until we find a quiet place to sit.

It’s our final day at the Birdsnest. I soak it in and release all the gratitude I can into the space. I’m so thankful.

Thankful for the land creating these wonderful experiences, and thankful for what's to come. I’m thankful for the unexpected and expected parts. I want to remember every bit.

The walk back down is less strenuous. A gentle sprinkle cools us off and encourages us to walk fast or risk getting drenched. I hardly ever mind rain, but I’m not prepared for a long, wet walk. Graciously, the rain holds off.

For the rest of the day, I lounge around the grounds, savoring the lake and watching birds and lizards dart about. I see the houseboat again, and other boats and people at the shores. It’s fascinating to people-watch; their energy and activity create a unique tempo.

As the sun descends, the birds start their feverish squawking, maybe their own way of expressing thanks. Tonight, I leave the balcony door open.

I cozy up in bed with my book and a cup of tea. I sip and listen and read until falling asleep.

Tomorrow, we're back in Rwanda, full circle and nearing the end of this adventure. We experience our first chef's tasting menu. I share the delicious details here.

We're slowing down for this leg of the journey. Let's see where it takes us.

Full of gratitude after receiving so much from Katunguru, we’re saying goodbyes again. Our next stop, Lake Bunyonyi, takes us south, back toward Rwanda.

I look forward to this destination. The photos of the Birdnest Resort are gorgeous. And with no excursions planned, we can relax and rejuvenate.

Back on the familiar roadway, we meet the same busyness we’d seen on the way north. This time, I realize the colorful “trunks” I had admired are actually caskets. It’s sobering to see them displayed beside chairs and cribs.

We escape the bustle and wind our way upward and then back down. Before long, we’re at a wide gate.

Security confirms our reservation, and the gate opens to a fairytale. Lush vegetation and colorful flowers frame the entry; I’m pulled toward the lobby and the view of Lake Bunyonyi.

Though we’re happy to arrive, the moment is bittersweet. Godwin has a family emergency and must go home. We wish him safe travels, hoping we’ll see him again.

After check-in, I spend the day soaking up the lake’s beauty.

From the balcony, I watch birds, lizards, otters, boaters - even a houseboat. Lively music and shouts from a nearby town reach our ears. It’s soccer season.

There’s a cacophony from the trees too - a rapturous chorus of birds squawking a sunset crescendo.

I read, reflect and share photos and stories in my family’s group chat. The unplanned time feels good. I avoid filling it unnecessarily.

Lake Bunyonyi, home to 29 islands, formed when ancient volcanic eruptions blocked a river. It’s the third deepest lake in the world, and today we’re exploring its surface.

But first, breakfast.

Uganda’s meatless menu options are impressive. I have fresh fruit, beans and bread.

The crew is waiting at the boat ramp with a freshly-painted, vibrant blue boat. There’s paper on the seats to keep tacky paint off our clothes.

On the water, we discuss Lake Bunyonyi's history, residents - past and present, and how they made their mark.

Each island holds a story.

One island is the nesting ground of the regal Crowned Crane. It’s Uganda’s national bird, and its colors are reflected in the nation’s flag. Two cranes are nurturing chicks who chirp to be fed. Another island is a cageless zoo, the next an obstacle course.

The most uplifting story is about Bwama Island. In the 1920s, leprosy left many shunned by their families and communities. Without support, they lived on the streets and begged for food. This misery led Dr. Leonard Sharp to collaborate with the local government to build a leprosy treatment center on Bwama Island.

Along with the treatment center, the island had a school and living quarters to create a normal life for quarantined people. Over decades, the island housed thousands of patients. After a cure was discovered, many chose to stay.

Now the island houses the community’s primary and secondary schools. The children boat in daily.

We tour the island and meet the school’s administrator, Isaac. He talks about the school’s successes, students and their current needs. We donate to them and within days, Isaac follows up with pictures of items purchased for the students.

It feels good to share our resources in such a meaningful way. Let me know if you want to donate too.

The saddest story is of Punishment Island. It’s a tiny, destitute patch of grass with a single, bare tree rising from the center. Perched on the branches are a dozen birds guarding half as many nests.

It’s ironic or maybe symbolic because the island had been the above-ground tomb of unwed, pregnant women, abandoned by their families.

While some women were rescued by lovers or men seeking a dowry-free wife, the majority died from drowning, exposure or starvation. Girls are no longer left to die on Punishment Island, but there’s a palpable solemnness there.

After the boat ride, I go to the sauna and reflect near the water. I realize my time in Uganda is nearing its end, and I absorb the sights, sounds and the feeling in the air.

We’re in no rush this morning. When we finally leave our room, we decide to explore on foot.

Leading to the Birdsnest Resort is a long, winding, downhill road. We plan a walk to the top to explore the community and see the lake from above.

Going the opposite direction, the long, winding, downhill road becomes a long, winding uphill road. It’s quite the workout on two legs versus four wheels.

However, the surroundings are new, and we’re distracted by interesting plants, homes and animals. Including a small herd of cattle guarded by a long-horned bull.

I assume friend, my partner assumes foe. We keep a distance so we don’t have to find out. As we trail the cattle, a machete-wielding herder appears from behind and pops a cow on its hide. They speed up, darting toward the bushes and a well-worn trail. Soon, they’re out of sight.

At the top of the hill are small buildings and a gang of moto drivers. We decline their offers and keep going on foot.

We meet kids who lead us to a small shop. They guide us through to a balcony with sweeping views of the hills and valleys. After a while, we thank them and walk further until we find a quiet place to sit.

It’s our final day at the Birdsnest. I soak it in and release all the gratitude I can into the space. I’m so thankful.

Thankful for the land creating these wonderful experiences, and thankful for what's to come. I’m thankful for the unexpected and expected parts. I want to remember every bit.

The walk back down is less strenuous. A gentle sprinkle cools us off and encourages us to walk fast or risk getting drenched. I hardly ever mind rain, but I’m not prepared for a long, wet walk. Graciously, the rain holds off.

For the rest of the day, I lounge around the grounds, savoring the lake and watching birds and lizards dart about. I see the houseboat again, and other boats and people at the shores. It’s fascinating to people-watch; their energy and activity create a unique tempo.

As the sun descends, the birds start their feverish squawking, maybe their own way of expressing thanks. Tonight, I leave the balcony door open.

I cozy up in bed with my book and a cup of tea. I sip and listen and read until falling asleep.

Tomorrow, we're back in Rwanda, full circle and nearing the end of this adventure. We experience our first chef's tasting menu. I share the delicious details here.