Lauren: We jumped on the good ol’ Flying Horse, and settled in for our 3-hour ride across the bay. Impressed that we had made it through the touts unscathed, we celebrated with a Fanta and waited for the boat to leave. Shortly after pulling away from the dock, we began to rock and Beth prayed that her Dramamine would kick in. Then we really started rocking and I thought I might lose it. I walked down to get some fresh air, and returned to find a green Beth, sweating and taking deep breaths, staring feverishly at the ceiling. I grabbed 2 plastic bags, wrapped the straps of our bags around my legs and forced myself to sleep. (more…)
We returned to Dar es Salaam, once again, Zanzibar bound. Marjona tried in vain to change her flight so that she could stay a bit longer and be with Mukada for his birthday. Unfortunately, British Air wouldn’t budge, insisting that she would have to buy a new ticket entirely and lose her original flight (and money). Due to our limited number of remaining days and Mukada’s wish to remain close to Dar because his mother was ill, we decided to bag the Zanzibar idea and head to Bagamoyo, a beach town North of Dar, instead.
And this way, Mukada told us, we could go to a fancy wedding planned for Saturday night with him and his friends. (more…)
The next morning, we ran into our Aussie friends from Zanzibar, Dave and Kerri. They had just returned the night before from trekking up Mt. Kiliminjaro. They told us a crazy story about their 6-day hike up and down the mountain. Kerri’s knees started hurting her on the way down, and she started to show signs of altitude sickness. She had to be carried on the shoulders of some porters and then trucked down to a lower altitude (while Dave carried the bags the porters were carrying). Because of the altitude, her lips and eyes had swollen up. She looked like she’d been in a fight.
We had never been planning to actually trek all the way up Mt. Kiliminjaro, but that sealed the deal. We wanted to see the mountain, but seeing it from a distance would be good enough.
Pablo and Richard (from Nature African Safari) had recommended a guy named Olais. We’d have to take a minibus to Moshi, an hour away. He’d pick us up from the bus station and we could arrange a day trip to see Mt Kili with him. (more…)
We woke up to find ourselves damp, dirty — and worse, late. Under the down sleeping bags, I couldn’t hear the beeping of my watch alarm. Pablo had told us that the best time to spot cats is early in the morning, and we wanted to be in Ngorongoro crater by 7am — when it opens. But it was already 6am.
I woke up Marjona and Lauren and the three of us started scrambling to get packed and out of the tent — without bumping the sides, which were covered in condensation.
The second we entered Lake Manyara, animals were greeting us. A large contingent of baboons had taken over the visitors’ center at the entrance. Pablo had removed the roof panels of the LandRover so we could stand up in our seats and take photos over the roof, so we snapped a few photos and then moved on.
We drove for another half an hour past foliage and headed to a picnic place. Our box lunch, one of the items I had tried to negotiate down on and thus expected to be a peanut butter sandwich – if we were lucky – turned out to be an amazing meal including a sandwich, samosas, fruit juice, muffins, cookies, an apple strudel pastry and peanuts.
We also marveled over the toilets provided at the picnic ground. They were tiled and clean – cleaner than many of the hotel rooms we had stayed in. (more…)
On the bus to Arusha, our taxi driver friend Ally called us. His friend Abdul was going to pick us up from the bus station. Considering what we had heard about the bus station touts, we were glad for the help. Two minutes later, Ally texted us Abdul’s number.
Later, Abdul texted us to see when we would be getting in. ‘One more hour,’ I replied. But the hour came and went. Ally called us to see if we had arrived yet. No, not yet, I said. Abdul then texted shortly thereafter, wondering where we were. I texted Abdul to say we were running late. And he texted back that it was not a problem.
By the time it was all said and done, Lauren was considering throwing the phone out of the window. She hadn’t left he U.S. to be stuck tied to a cell phone again. (more…)
We settled back into Dar Es Salaam like an easy chair. This had become our main base of operations here in Africa, and we knew the grounds well. We checked into one of our two mainstays, the Econo Lodge, and headed to dinner with Mukada. He took us to “Chef’s Pride,” a delicious barbeque restaurant where we would later use any excuse or opportunity to drop in for some chicken skewers and mashed potatoes.
We spent a week in Dar (this time), mostly because Beth needed to be near email for at least 5 hours a day, industriously working on getting her financial aid in order for when she returns to law school in the fall (Harvard still leads the pack, for all who are following this decision). Each day, we would trek to an internet café where Beth would email her parents millions of questions about her W-2s, tax information and what mail she had received, and I would work to upload the million pictures we had taken so far in Africa. (more…)
Lauren: During our first glorious dip in the fountain of youth (the beach in Zanzibar), we were floating along in the water and noticed a gorgeous, muscle-bound man talking to our friend Kerri. “Whoa, look at HIM!” I said, “he’s like Michaelangelo’s David!” And in he walks to the water with Kerri, and then over he swims to Marjona. We all start talking, exchange names and other formalities, and then we learn that he’s a famous Tanzanian DJ (Marjona’s weakness) from Dar es Salaam. We exchange glances that say, “This was meant to be.” (more…)
The ferry ride to Zanzibar was supposed to be two and a half hours. We knew that it would likely take up to four hours. Five hours into the trip, someone told us that it was going to take six hours. Another hour later, the sun had set and we thought we could see the island, but it was around 8pm - eight hours later - that we were finally pulling up to the dock.
Before the ship had even fully docked, we saw dozens of touts (hustlers who prey on tourists), possibly upwards of fifty of them, crowding the pier, some jumping over the railing to get on the boat and get to us. There were only maybe 15 or 20 tourists on board, so we were outnumbered nearly 3-to-1. (more…)
The walk to the Zanzibar bound ferry was an interesting one indeed. As soon as we stepped on the scene, we were accosted by a crowd of touts, all wanting to show us where to go. We said “no thank you” over and over again, but we couldn’t shake them. We ended up at the “Aziza Ferry” boat counter because we couldn’t find the “Flying Horse” counter we were looking for. While paying, we had to take out our passports… (more…)
