The journey continues as we travel to Uganda and prepare for the ultimate adventure - gorilla trekking.

Leaving Hotel Rwanda is bittersweet, but we’ll return for the final days of the trip.

Joining us on this adventure is a tourguide named Godwin. He lives in Kampala and has the most welcoming and easy smile. We’re excited for his companionship and expertise.

Our next stop is the Four Gorillas Lodge on the outskirts of the Bwindi Impenetrable Forest. Tomorrow is my birthday and gorilla trek day, but first we have several hours of driving and a border crossing.

The bustling city center of Kigali soon gives way to countryside filled with crops of beans, corn, bananas and tea. The hills are full of people too, their colorful clothing pronounced as they work among the crops and move between homes, shops and community spaces.

Acting as a continual source of knowledge, Godwin points out crops and answers our many questions. It’s early morning, and I ask about work schedules. We learn that while the farmers own land rights and crops, they work morning to evening to harvest enough for a living.

As we pass rows of bent backs in patterned garb, I can’t help but wonder if we'll ever create a society where life doesn’t revolve around earning enough to live.

Every few miles, communities emerge from the landscape, like hillside oases. Until suddenly, the border crossing appears.

Unlike my border crossing between Kenya and Tanzania a decade earlier, this crossing feels easy and fast. And thanks to birthday luck, we arrive moments before a crowded bus.

When I said it was my first visit, the border agent asked, “What took you so long?" As we journey through the terraced hillsides, I ask myself the same question.

Effortlessly, Godwin switches to driving on the other side of the road. He gleefully notes that the speedlimit has increased to 100 mph. The speed isn’t the only shift.

Uganda is bustling and jovial, even risque. In comparison, Rwanda feels reserved, with maybe a hint of somberness.

Drivers adeptly maneuver motos with two and three passengers plus their goods. There’s no requirement for helmets here. Cattle roam, often unattended, flanked by walkers, bikers and riders of all kinds.

We pass countless children - the world’s future - in school uniforms as colorful and bright as the energy and sounds the children exude.

Twisting, turning, up and around. Godwin is in his element. Expertly traversing the hubbub and spiraling roads, we climb further into the hills.

Homes dot the roadside, interspersed among vegetation. Many yards have matooke (a starchy banana) trees. I think of my garden with excitement. Spring planting is on my to-do list and a “seed” is planted to grow fruit trees.

Our climb steepens. Godwin points out landmarks and stops so we can capture pictures.

The locals are curious, peering into the van or approaching to say hello. Some kids wave us down to show off a pair of chameleons.

As we approach the Four Gorillas Lodge, the path narrows and muddies. Godwin drives on unphased until the foliage separates, exposing a parking area. Lush plants shroud the building.

The staff greet us with smiles and introductions and take our luggage. We walk a steep, foliage-flanked path that opens to the lodge. There, we check in and eat a pre-ordered lunch.

After, our room attendant shows us our room and explains how to use the appliances and facilities. When he leaves, I head to the balcony with my binoculars. From there, I see birds and butterflies and many new plants. I birdwatch for a while, then switch to reading.

We reunite with Godwin for dinner. I wish I remembered all the meals, but the first day’s appetizer stands out. It’s layers of sauteed eggplant, tomato and mozzarella, completed with a flavorful drizzle. That dish is the reason I now grow eggplant.

Stuffed after three courses and ready to retire, we brave the darkness to our room and prepare for sleep.

As we climb into bed, we find a warm water bag heating our sheets. It’s a perfect touch that I look forward to each night after.

It’s gorilla trekking day.

We wake up to rain and expect a watery excursion. Thankfully, as the sun rises, shifting the sky from the most magnificent lavender to a fiery orange, the rain tapers off.

We meet Godwin for breakfast, receive bagged lunches, and head to the briefing site. There, locals welcome us with a history lesson about the forest, gorillas and community. Among other tidbits, we learn that the pricey trekking permits fund forest management and gorilla care. The locals sing and dance, wishing us a good journey.

Then, we split into groups to get instructions and walking sticks. Finally, our gutsy gang of trekkers, porters, trackers and guide heads toward the trailhead.

I’d researched extensively and had spent months training for endurance. Reviews encouraged hiring a porter to carry bags and help navigate, so I insist we hire one.

We learn that porting provides important income for the community and economy. Work is rotated among the porters, with each having a few turns per month, depending on tourism.

We couldn't have imagined how instrumental the porter would be.

At first, we don’t need much from the porter. Walking sticks help with balance and although the path is slick, it’s flat. With the porter carrying our bag, it feels like a walk in the park.

That feeling doesn’t last long. No review could’ve prepared me.

The path narrows and steepens, leaving a drop into thick undergrowth inches away. We pull ourselves forward with vines and roots. In certain places, the path disappears and we find footing among roots or muddy indentations of those walking ahead.

Often, we must cut through shrubs and vines. More than once, the porter helps us balance on thin paths, steadies us when we slip and push/pulls us up tricky terrain.

I feel like Indiana Jones or Laura Croft.

For three hours we track gorillas up and down the mountain, crossing waterways and zigging through dense brush. The forest fights to uphold its impenetrability.

But finally, we reach a gorilla family.

At first, I only see bits of their massive bodies - some lounging in the brush, others hanging from trees. Their activity opposite of the arduous excursion we endured.

Us trekkers huddle, vying for the perfect glimpse. The trackers inch closer and hack the branches blocking our view. They wave us closer. I hesitate. We seem pretty darn close, but the guide encourages us and soon we’re within feet of these amazing cousins.

The gorillas grunt. The trackers grunt back. The guide says we hit the jackpot because two silverbacks and their families are here together. It’s a rare occurrence.

The adult gorillas chomp branches, seemingly unbothered by onlookers. The babies play nearby. One teen approaches unexpectedly, getting within arm's length. I’m ready to run for my life, but the guide insists that he’s curious and wants to play. I freeze. The gorilla sits a few feet behind us, munches a branch, then disappears into the brush.

Minutes later, he bursts from hiding, running into a fellow trekker and knocking her on her bottom. He then casually rejoins the gorillas.

The lady says she's lucky to be knocked over by a gorilla. I admit, it’s a unique flex.

We observe and snap photos for an hour. Before we go, the mischievous teen returns to knock his friend on her butt again.

We start hiking out, a different way than before. This path is shorter, but more intense. The last leg is an extreme upward hike, nearly rock climbing. Looking at the path, I doubt it can be done. But the porter urges us on.

Using small notches as leverage and roots to pull upward, we emerge from the forest and into someone’s backyard. We rest under trees on the property’s edge to wait for the other trekkers. Famished, we dig into our hard-earned bagged lunches.

From our spot, we appreciate views of the mountain and valley. People go about their work; children run along the mountainside, peering at us with interest. While we've endured the struggle of a lifetime, the world continues as usual.

After lunch, we walk an hour along the flatter, well-worn path, ending at the Four Gorillas Lodge. We thank and tip our guide, trackers and porter. We exchange the walking sticks for trekking certificates. The certificates are unexpected and thoughtful.

With the excursion complete and our hearts full, we enter the lodge to a smiling staff who ask about our day. They give us warm, damp face cloths and juice to cool off. Our shoes and socks are taken for cleaning. We place our dinner orders before heading to our room to freshen up and rest.

At dinner, I’m surprised with a birthday celebration and cake. The staff sing and dance. Someone wears a gorilla mask. It makes an extraordinary day unbelievable. I’m so thankful for them.

The trek is over, but the journey continues. Next is the safari. Read Part Three to see what animals we encounter on the savanna.

The journey continues as we travel to Uganda and prepare for the ultimate adventure - gorilla trekking.

Leaving Hotel Rwanda is bittersweet, but we’ll return for the final days of the trip.

Joining us on this adventure is a tourguide named Godwin. He lives in Kampala and has the most welcoming and easy smile. We’re excited for his companionship and expertise.

Our next stop is the Four Gorillas Lodge on the outskirts of the Bwindi Impenetrable Forest. Tomorrow is my birthday and gorilla trek day, but first we have several hours of driving and a border crossing.

The bustling city center of Kigali soon gives way to countryside filled with crops of beans, corn, bananas and tea. The hills are full of people too, their colorful clothing pronounced as they work among the crops and move between homes, shops and community spaces.

Acting as a continual source of knowledge, Godwin points out crops and answers our many questions. It’s early morning, and I ask about work schedules. We learn that while the farmers own land rights and crops, they work morning to evening to harvest enough for a living.

As we pass rows of bent backs in patterned garb, I can’t help but wonder if we'll ever create a society where life doesn’t revolve around earning enough to live.

Every few miles, communities emerge from the landscape, like hillside oases. Until suddenly, the border crossing appears.

Unlike my border crossing between Kenya and Tanzania a decade earlier, this crossing feels easy and fast. And thanks to birthday luck, we arrive moments before a crowded bus.

When I said it was my first visit, the border agent asked, “What took you so long?" As we journey through the terraced hillsides, I ask myself the same question.

Effortlessly, Godwin switches to driving on the other side of the road. He gleefully notes that the speedlimit has increased to 100 mph. The speed isn’t the only shift.

Uganda is bustling and jovial, even risque. In comparison, Rwanda feels reserved, with maybe a hint of somberness.

Drivers adeptly maneuver motos with two and three passengers plus their goods. There’s no requirement for helmets here. Cattle roam, often unattended, flanked by walkers, bikers and riders of all kinds.

We pass countless children - the world’s future - in school uniforms as colorful and bright as the energy and sounds the children exude.

Twisting, turning, up and around. Godwin is in his element. Expertly traversing the hubbub and spiraling roads, we climb further into the hills.

Homes dot the roadside, interspersed among vegetation. Many yards have matooke (a starchy banana) trees. I think of my garden with excitement. Spring planting is on my to-do list and a “seed” is planted to grow fruit trees.

Our climb steepens. Godwin points out landmarks and stops so we can capture pictures.

The locals are curious, peering into the van or approaching to say hello. Some kids wave us down to show off a pair of chameleons.

As we approach the Four Gorillas Lodge, the path narrows and muddies. Godwin drives on unphased until the foliage separates, exposing a parking area. Lush plants shroud the building.

The staff greet us with smiles and introductions and take our luggage. We walk a steep, foliage-flanked path that opens to the lodge. There, we check in and eat a pre-ordered lunch.

After, our room attendant shows us our room and explains how to use the appliances and facilities. When he leaves, I head to the balcony with my binoculars. From there, I see birds and butterflies and many new plants. I birdwatch for a while, then switch to reading.

We reunite with Godwin for dinner. I wish I remembered all the meals, but the first day’s appetizer stands out. It’s layers of sauteed eggplant, tomato and mozzarella, completed with a flavorful drizzle. That dish is the reason I now grow eggplant.

Stuffed after three courses and ready to retire, we brave the darkness to our room and prepare for sleep.

As we climb into bed, we find a warm water bag heating our sheets. It’s a perfect touch that I look forward to each night after.

It’s gorilla trekking day.

We wake up to rain and expect a watery excursion. Thankfully, as the sun rises, shifting the sky from the most magnificent lavender to a fiery orange, the rain tapers off.

We meet Godwin for breakfast, receive bagged lunches, and head to the briefing site. There, locals welcome us with a history lesson about the forest, gorillas and community. Among other tidbits, we learn that the pricey trekking permits fund forest management and gorilla care. The locals sing and dance, wishing us a good journey.

Then, we split into groups to get instructions and walking sticks. Finally, our gutsy gang of trekkers, porters, trackers and guide heads toward the trailhead.

I’d researched extensively and had spent months training for endurance. Reviews encouraged hiring a porter to carry bags and help navigate, so I insist we hire one.

We learn that porting provides important income for the community and economy. Work is rotated among the porters, with each having a few turns per month, depending on tourism.

We couldn't have imagined how instrumental the porter would be.

At first, we don’t need much from the porter. Walking sticks help with balance and although the path is slick, it’s flat. With the porter carrying our bag, it feels like a walk in the park.

That feeling doesn’t last long. No review could’ve prepared me.

The path narrows and steepens, leaving a drop into thick undergrowth inches away. We pull ourselves forward with vines and roots. In certain places, the path disappears and we find footing among roots or muddy indentations of those walking ahead.

Often, we must cut through shrubs and vines. More than once, the porter helps us balance on thin paths, steadies us when we slip and push/pulls us up tricky terrain.

I feel like Indiana Jones or Laura Croft.

For three hours we track gorillas up and down the mountain, crossing waterways and zigging through dense brush. The forest fights to uphold its impenetrability.

But finally, we reach a gorilla family.

At first, I only see bits of their massive bodies - some lounging in the brush, others hanging from trees. Their activity opposite of the arduous excursion we endured.

Us trekkers huddle, vying for the perfect glimpse. The trackers inch closer and hack the branches blocking our view. They wave us closer. I hesitate. We seem pretty darn close, but the guide encourages us and soon we’re within feet of these amazing cousins.

The gorillas grunt. The trackers grunt back. The guide says we hit the jackpot because two silverbacks and their families are here together. It’s a rare occurrence.

The adult gorillas chomp branches, seemingly unbothered by onlookers. The babies play nearby. One teen approaches unexpectedly, getting within arm's length. I’m ready to run for my life, but the guide insists that he’s curious and wants to play. I freeze. The gorilla sits a few feet behind us, munches a branch, then disappears into the brush.

Minutes later, he bursts from hiding, running into a fellow trekker and knocking her on her bottom. He then casually rejoins the gorillas.

The lady says she's lucky to be knocked over by a gorilla. I admit, it’s a unique flex.

We observe and snap photos for an hour. Before we go, the mischievous teen returns to knock his friend on her butt again.

We start hiking out, a different way than before. This path is shorter, but more intense. The last leg is an extreme upward hike, nearly rock climbing. Looking at the path, I doubt it can be done. But the porter urges us on.

Using small notches as leverage and roots to pull upward, we emerge from the forest and into someone’s backyard. We rest under trees on the property’s edge to wait for the other trekkers. Famished, we dig into our hard-earned bagged lunches.

From our spot, we appreciate views of the mountain and valley. People go about their work; children run along the mountainside, peering at us with interest. While we've endured the struggle of a lifetime, the world continues as usual.

After lunch, we walk an hour along the flatter, well-worn path, ending at the Four Gorillas Lodge. We thank and tip our guide, trackers and porter. We exchange the walking sticks for trekking certificates. The certificates are unexpected and thoughtful.

With the excursion complete and our hearts full, we enter the lodge to a smiling staff who ask about our day. They give us warm, damp face cloths and juice to cool off. Our shoes and socks are taken for cleaning. We place our dinner orders before heading to our room to freshen up and rest.

At dinner, I’m surprised with a birthday celebration and cake. The staff sing and dance. Someone wears a gorilla mask. It makes an extraordinary day unbelievable. I’m so thankful for them.

The trek is over, but the journey continues. Next is the safari. Read Part Three to see what animals we encounter on the savanna.