On our way again..

Tanzania, the first country at whose borders we showed up completely without a visa, was by far the easiest, least painful crossing. We didn't even have to unload our bags from the bus, but just rode across the 5km no man's land (literally) separating the two countries while I pestered David with the maturity of a five-year-old, asking "WHAT COUNTRY ARE WE IN NOW? WHAT COUNTRY?"

It was delightful fun for at least one of us.

People: Tanzanians are pretty friendly, and the young men are no exception. They say "JAMBO!" to you out of nowhere, from across the street maybe, and then it's rude if you don't say "JAMBO!" back, and then they say "MAMBO???", crossing the street, and then you have to respond "PO-E" back, and by then they're at your side and you're already in conversation and they have a basis to pursue it, since you obviously have so much in common - you can both say jambo.

Most of the time, though, people are pretty awesomely laid-back. (It helps if they think you're seriously involved someone named Friedrich.)

Favorite conversation: I met a couple rastafarians while wandering around Arusha. I have not always seen eye-to-eye with such types considering I think little of marijuana and less of their [kind-of-a-dictator] messiah, but I actually hit it off with these particular dudes such that they invited me to come smoke pot with them. I confessed I would have to abstain, giving asthma as an excuse. Oh, that! the inviting dude joked, and, busting out his inhalor, confessed he was asthmatic as well. He then endeavored to convince me that smoking actually healed his asthma, and that I should really try it.

... Rrrrrrright.

Food:
It’s hard for me to distinguish Tanzanian food from Kenyan food; the Swahili coast definitely has its own cuisine, but I didn’t notice a significant change between Mombasa and Tanga. The only distinction I noticed among different coastal cuisines is that of Zanzibar Island, which makes its own fantastic and unique curries.
We also heartily enjoyed the fruit market, something we found in Kenya as well but which I forgot to rave about – pineapple, passionfruit, apples, oranges, bananas, plantains, mangos, plums, figs, all displayed in rows upon rows for our choosing in markets or along the roadside, and all deliciously ripe. Don’t even get me started on the juices…
Worst thing eaten: David and I took a little lazily to patronizing the South African burger chain of Steers, and upon the fervent urging of another foreigner both tried out the chocolate cake. Heck, we even ordered two full pieces, figuring neither one of us was going to want to share the indulgence.
It's probably safe to say, don't ever trust the British for food recommendations. We're talking about the people who brought us blood pudding here.
Best eaten: Wandering hungrily around the quiet Muslim district of Tanzania’s capital after a late Saturday night arrival, we found almost everything closed. It occurred to David that we had arrived during celebrations for the prophet’s birthday, and we began to feel a bit of desperation in our hunger as we walked down street after dark street. Following our noses, we finally found a tiny family-run hole-in-the-wall populated exclusively by family members who all welcomed us with great cordiality, and served me the best Indian dish of my life. It was just what they were all eating as well, some kind of yellow soup with potatoes, samosa pieces, something crispy, something bread-ish, and vegetables. No way I could ever reproduce it.
Greedily inquiring the name of this fantastic dish, ready to mentally note that ish for use in Southeast Asian restaurants for the rest of my life, I was told it was just “mixed”. Many Tanzanians have since confirmed this, and “mixed” is apparently just a quotidian Dar es Salaam meal that everyone knows and eats, and no one has ever bothered to export elsewhere. DRAT.

Strangest Sight Seen: Walking along, I happened to notice that the man next to me was wearing cut-out plastic gasoline containers for shoes. Scanning upwards, the outfit only got better. Wearing a series of tin-cans around his neck, he also carried in one hand a long pole tied with a dozen more. Each cut-out tin can inexplicably contained an old light-bulb.

I'm not sure if the spectacle was made more or less comprehensible by the large sign he carried on his pole, which read: MINISTRY OF ELIMINATING DARKNESS.

New Hygienic Lows:
Ants got into our little food bag in Dar es Salaam, necessitating the immediate disposal of half a loaf of bread, and a bag of animal crackers that dated from Ethiopia. No great loss there, but I admit I examined my beloved bag of muesli with a bit of nervousness. Upon finding ‘only’ two ants crawling around inside, I seriously considered eating it anyway, ants and all.

“Seriously considered” as in, “almost did”. And, er, “might have”… of a bit of it.

I believe that it is to my benefit that I did end up tossing it. (I admit, the decision coincided with the discovery of further ant activity.)


Best Run-in with Authority: We didn't say anything about being in a hurry to get back from the Masasani Peninsula to the city center in Dar, but our taxidriver nonethelses couldn't be bothered with stopping at red lights. As our car sailed through one red light at a good clip, a traffic policeman foolishly strode out into the center of the street to intercept us. The taxidriver, nonplussed, simply swerved around him and stepped on it.
Shocked, I twisted around in my seat in time to see the policeman glare after our car a moment before deciding we weren’t worth it, and walking back to his curb.

New Words Learned: Yet little progress on the Kiswahili.. but one phrase I definitely know by heart. Every time I hiccup, I explain to the resulting starers "kwi-kwi", and every single time they laugh and say back, "poli-poli" or "poli-sana". I think this means "take it easy", but for all I know they're really saying, "What a freak.."

Quote:
I met a few British kids at the Dar YMCA who were in Tanzania for two months of environmental volunteer work, and we passed part of an evening comparing our experiences. Hearing their complaints about the mosquito action, I eagerly launched into a detailed explanation of my personal jihad and my perfected battle tactics. The girl, a hilarious Malaysian Scotswoman named Brenda, was totally into it and on the point of busting out a pencil to write it down, but the English guy just looked at me with a blank look and told me, “I think you’ve been in Africa too long.”

Worst experience: Struggling with my increasingly longish hair (it's almost to my shoulders now!!) in the wretched humidity of the Swahili Coast, but entreated by certain people not to cut it, I finally found a solution - go local! In what should have been a fun half-hour braiding session and what was instead three hours of pure torture as three separate women yanked on each strand of my hair to get it to stick to the others, I was made aware of the differences between my hair and Zanzibari hair. Several times the braids covering one part of my sore scalp would be yanked out and then re-done. It was pretty bad, but I told myself it was worth it to have my hair out of my face.

Fast-forward to two weeks later, and the entire back half of the once-lovely hairdo has already fallen out. It of course doesn't help that I lost about 30% of my hair in the braiding process - the sensation that they were yanking it out was not, as I had assumed, only a sensation - and in places my braids were not so much attached to my scalp as "resting" on it. Such a strange feeling to touch the back of my head and every time I pulled my hand away, there was a fistful of hair in it.

Well, I may have gone to extreme lengths to avoid cutting my hair, but I nonetheless have a lot less than I used to. Irony not lost. But hey, people have been telling me to thin my hair for years! And my curly mop can take it.

Best experience: David and I set aside Zanzibar Island as a break, and it was absolutely delicious. Travelling up to the beach village of Nungwe, we spent two days lolling on white-sand beaches or wading in waves of the lightest blue

We sipped delicious passionfruit juice while relaxing in the shade. I ascended to new architectural complexity in my sandcastles. I made friends with a local cat who in turn made a bed out of my hat. And, best of all, David woke me up at three in the morning so I could go outside and see a sight I have wanted to see my entire life: the Southern Cross, high in the sky.



It was amazing.