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April 21, 2002 - Into The Hills... (Tanzania)
We took the fast boat back to Dar Es Salaam - a luxury after my unexpected overnight boat ride to Pemba Island 6 weeks earlier. The seats on this boat were padded and there was the standard 'B' Grade subtitled karate movie playing on the little televisions mounted on the walls.
Back in Dar after only 2 hours, we had a chance to look around and see the nicer part of town, and plenty of chance too to get hassled by people trying desparately to figure out just what it was we wanted to buy from them. All we really wanted was a good night sleep and the first bus out of town in the morning! Our small guesthouse, where 'women of immoral turpitude' are expressly disallowed, was unable to provide that sleep; we suffered mosquito bites through the night as well as Lariam-induced sleeplessness (Lariam is our much required anti-malarial of choice). The bus out of town... well... where to start??? We taxied a good 10km out of town to the main bus station at 7am. Admitting a state of ticketlessness, we were immediately (before even entering the bus terminal) bombarded with men waving ticket booklets in our faces, trying insistently to put us on their own version of Mad Max's worst nightmare of a bus. The pickings were slim, and upon the scariest looking monster of a green bus we climbed, to claim the last two seats. Seats, that is, that were designed for mortals thinner than Twiggy with legs the length of a midget's. We sat cramped, with neighbours elbows in our ribs, for 8 long hours. The frigid (please sense the sarcasm here) temperatures of the Tanzanian rainy season caused everyone around us to shiver and close the windows while we sweat lakes into the prickly upholstered seats. It could have been worse. The three track Jennifer Lopez cassette that played over and over could have been drowned out by the squawk of the chicken under the seat three rows in front... But no matter! We arrived in the beautiful little town of Lushoto, nestled into the lush green hills of the Usambara Mountains, part of Tanzania's Eastern Arc range in the Northeast. This town was small, with colonial remnants in the way of churches, and not another white face to be seen. Colourful flowers growing in the wild were abundant as were bright yellow 'flame' trees, spiky arocarias and rich red dirt roads. We dined in the blacklit Green Valley Restaurant on food that arrived through the front door from somewhere down the road. Our purpose in Lushoto was to hike in the Usambaras as preparation for our quest for the peak of Kilimanjaro. Our guide, who we met at the tourist information office, was tickled pink to learn that he was recommended in our Lonely Planet guidebook (and even happier when we convinced him that he was not, in fact, 3 feet tall but more like 5 foot 5!) He took us through hikes in the hills pointing out endless rows of safari ants, colourful and irridescent beetles and the most entertaining bug-eyed, curly-tailed chameleons who ambulated with a style somewhat similar to Michael Jackson's moonwalk. We also saw eucalyptus, sugarcane, pineapple, cassava, sisal, gooseberry and blackberry growing trailside. Our first day hike took us to a viewpoint looking out over the flat flat Maasai Steppe and towards distant dormant volcanic mountains and hills. Second day was to a dense swath of primary rainforest. We capped off our stay in Lushoto with a scary mystery meal - I tried to order 'ugali', the local staple of corn maize porridge, and got a strange bluish-green stew with an unidentifiable meat in it. Oliver, the closet carnivore that he is, attempted to down 'wali na nyama' (rice with meat), because that's all we could manage to communicate to the waiter. The after effects of that scary meal lasted only a few days. :o) Another scary bus ride to Arusha followed, this time on a multi-coloured, though equally scary looking bus that idled super slowly with a bone-shaking shudder every 3 seconds or so. We wound around slick muddy mountain roads and stopped at every blade of grass. Arriving travel-weary in Arusha, we were bombarded by a sea of touts larger and thicker than any I had ever encountered before. Don't ask how, but we ended up in a noisy, run-down guest house that apparently is accustomed to renting rooms by the hour (to those women of immoral turpitude our Dar guesthouse disallowed), and we were lulled to an abbreviated and restless sleep by the sound of Balki and Cousin Larry of early 80's sitcom fame. We left first thing in the morning for a much quieter hotel in the better end of town. Our first days in Arusha were spent investigating various tour companies all vying desperately for our business in this, the low, rainy season. They tracked our movements through town, pestering us persistently, and it seemed everyone remotely involved in the tourism industry in Arusha knew our exact coordinates at any given minute of the day. We steered away from the company whose motto was "We go thru every measure to give you wild pleasure" and eventually settled on Moon Adventures to guide us up Kilimanjaro and take us on safari - the only company for which we had a recommendation, the only company who we approached without being approached by them first, and the company with the most professional and experienced sounding spiel and coincidentally - the best price! A no brainer. After making our arrangements, we were able to walk freely through town without being followed - everyone somehow seemed to garner from the Arusha grapevine that we had made our booking and were no longer free agents. Our final preparations for the Kili climb entailed eating excellent chicken and samosas from Kahn's (auto spares shop by day, tandoori barbeque by night), and having a relaxing sleep-in on Sunday morning. An afternoon visit to a Maasai village market out of town was great too. The Maasai are said to be the last authentic tribe remaining in Tanzania. Similar in a way to the Amish and Mennonite, they have shunned progress and technology to live with tradition - they are nomads who move with their grazing cattle, wrapped with checked cloth in various shades of red, blue and purple, and wearing sandals fashioned from the rubber of old tires. They often wear elaborate beaded jewellery, especially in large holes in the cartilage and lobes of their ears, and have their hair in various patterns of shave and tight braids. Males are nine times out of ten carrying a club-like stick, for cattle herding or as a weapon. The most overwhelming sight is the young, adolescent boys in black robes, with full, patterned white face paint and sometimes black feathers in their hair. These boys dress this way after going through the rite of passage of circumcision, and we understand they remain dressed this way until the pain subsides and the healing process is finished. Ouch? Anyhow, our visit was fascinating, and only once was a live chicken offered for our purchase. A quick and fascinating visit to the batik making factory (batiks are textile artwork made with dyes and wax), then one last sleep in a comfy bed. Kili, here we come! > See photos from the whole Africa trip. > See photos from Tanzania. > See other Africa journal entries. Back to top |
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