Friday, April 27, 2007
Arusha -- Round Trip Please! part 1
The trip started slowly with Abby, Nik, Emma Stella and I waiting in the front yard with the driver as Abby entertained us by singing and dancing with the umbrella. She does a terrific singing in the rain song and dance bit, and had us in stitches. When I took a turn though Emma Stella and the driver almost lost it with laughter. As the plane had arrived a bit early Jeanine and Tore were rounding up Jeanine’s stuff and hauling it up to our place. We had room in the truck to take Emma Stella home, and when we were all ready we climbed into the back of the Land Cruiser and bumped along the short road to the airstrip.
We were not too optimistic about finding room for all of our things in the plane, as Flying Medical Service has pretty small planes. But our pilot, Frank had done this sort of thing before and quickly found room for all of the baggage and us. With the emergency supplies stowed beneath the plane with the tent and lion repellent and our seatbelts fastened Frank hollered, “Clear!” out the window and fired the engine.
The mud clung to the wings and struts as we taxied up the sopping runway. I looked out the window and saw that Frank was testing the brakes as the wheel was at a full stop and we were skidding through the muck. He had obviously done this before and was laughing, I assume at the state of the ground, as we quickly got to the top and turned to make our takeoff.
With the brakes on and the flaps out, the engine revved up and we began bounding quickly down the slight hill of a runway. Mud flew up past the windows and at about the halfway point we were airborne. We kept close to the ground until we got close to the end of the runway and with the engine changing its pitch we pulled away from the mud, scrub bush as the crowd looked on. We took a long banking turn over the hospital grounds before setting our course toward Arusha.
The pilot is a good friend of Tore and Jeanine and with Jeanine sitting in the co-pilot seat she took the controls once we had leveled off. The ground was not so far away and the homes and farms were clearly visible. I snapped a ton of pictures in the first 15 minutes as we approached the Great Rift Valley and Lake Manyara. The ride was rather twitchy, not so much from turbulence but from course corrections that were a little less than smooth. I was fine with the ride but Nik does not quite have the inner ear for small plane flight and was turning a bit green as the ground fell away and Lake Manyara came into view to the west.
The lush woodland gave way to a fertile floodplain with cultivated fields growing crops that I could not identify. I found the farm layouts to be very interesting and sporadic. There would be a small round cordoned off area with cultivated fields going out in random directions with seemingly neither rhyme nor reason for their size or shape. Some fields had recently been flooded out with the telltale ruts and trenches running through them.
The flooding was not confined the fields; as we approached a small lake to the east of Lake Manyara Tore explained how much bigger it was on this day than the last time he had driven by. The lake was the colour of coffee with cream and shimmered brightly where the sun broke through the clouds. It looked nice but I would not have wanted to water ski on it. The slalom course could have run through the acacia trees that were standing in the deep water far from the shore. I found myself wondering if there were any homes scattered amongst the marine-acacias and hoping there were not. I had heard that in the valley below Haydom there had been 10 deaths due to flooding and I wondered if in this area the people were more prepared as it was, after all a floodplain. Shortly the area of abundant water gave way to dry grassland and the clouds closed in.
The bumpy ride became a little less comfortable as we entered some “weather”. The rain was falling to the west and the clouds were dense all around us. It continued to be very beautiful and we soon flew through the center of a rainbow. It was more of a rain doughnut as it arced over us and connected under us as well; it had all of our heads pressed to the windows for a full view.
As we got within 30 minutes of Kilimanjaro International Airport (KIA) the landscape changed again and we were flying over low mountains and wooded grassland. There were still farms galore but the scattered hills and mountains grew as Mount Meru came slowly into view. It was clear that this had been an active volcanic area and I saw a crater that Tore and I decided had been a volcanic vent that had collapsed into itself. I found it fascinating – as I do most things here – to see the interesting landscape and the changing foliage as we approached KIA.
As the runway came into view so did the tallest mountain in Africa. Kilimanjaro was showing itself through some puffy white clouds with a background of dark sky and was massive and brilliant with snow contrasting with its rocky surface. I was in awe of its size and its beauty and I must have snapped 20 pictures before we were on solid ground (see right for an example). After we swooped in for a landing and came to a full and complete stop at the end of a short line of similarly small aircraft, I took a few more pictures of Kilimanjaro and the rest of our new surroundings.
The airport was not so busy, with a small Precision Air turbo prop landing just ahead of us and an Air Ethiopia jet taking off as we cleared the runway. I snapped a couple of shots of the planes and then noticed an interesting site; a group of men, presumably airport workers, playing volley ball just to the side of the runway. Try as I might I was unable to get the surging jet in the frame with the volleyball action. Hamna Shida (no problem)
We organized our small amount of luggage and followed Tore and Jeanine to the terminal and exited to the curb. We said our goodbyes and wished our friends a nice holiday in Zanzibar and turned to face the fray of taxi drivers. Nicole, who has better bargaining skills in Swahili tried to get us a fair price for a ride into Arusha. The drivers were having none of it and stood by the price of $50 US, which was posted on a sign beside them. The sign looked anything but official to us, but it was the gospel to them but we stood firm. As we talked further we were finally able to turn the 50 to 50,000 Tz Shillings, as I called it the residents rate. This bought us a ride in an older Toyota corrola type car that had not seen a vacuum since it was very young.
I became filthy during my attempt to make the ride safe for Abby. We are big on the use of seatbelts and especially for Abby. So, my task was to dig beneath the seat and locate the safety device hidden there. This was not an easy task and the driver insisted on driving away prior to my reaching success. Nik was trying to make him stop but all we know that is close to stop is slowly so she, and I too, kept saying, “slow, child (in Swahili) Seat…Belt (in English).” The driver was seemingly thoroughly confused by our speech and smiled and repeated, “yes, yes,” as he continued onto the roadway.
I dug and dug for the belts but as I found one end the other was either gone or the locking mechanism didn’t work. I finally secured her behind the driver’s seat with two ends that fit together and a retraction device that did not. So Abby was synched back into seat with the seatbelt slack tied at her side. I on the passenger side was unsecured and envisioning a quick flight through the front window with an abrupt stop on the back of the truck in front of us.
This morbid vision soon left me, as did the view out the front window when dusk set in. The darker it got outside the lower our visibility became. The windshield of the taxi was so badly scratched – from the abrasion of the wipers and I assume from cleaning – that once darkness set in, we could not see where we were going. As if it weren’t bad enough, the traffic was getting heavier in both directions and the more lights there were the worse our vision became. If lights from behind hit the window at the wrong angle we could see nothing but the glare off oncoming lights. The only time we had any visibility at all was when there was no traffic around us and the taxi driver had his high beams on. Let me tell you this was rare. It was in these rare moments that I would will him to “drop a cog and give ‘er anvil” (get the lead out and make up some time). However, instead of utilizing a lower gear ratio to increase his velocity, he would put it in 5th gear – no matter how slow we were going – and chug along with the speedometer not registering anything above 35Kmh. I was literally losing my mind in the backseat thinking, ‘I have my international license, I wonder if he’d let me take over?’ Of course I didn’t bother to ask, what with the language barrier and all I could end up riding on the roof and going in the wrong direction.
In my bid to remain sane I started to try to figure out how he was staying on the road. I found that there must have been a light sensor in the grill or somewhere on the front of the car that was tied directly to the throttle, because every time a vehicle approached our acceleration would cease and we would coast past them. After they had past the throttle would magically re-engage and we would pick up a little momentum again. The steering also seemed somewhat automated, though its parameters were less precise than the throttle’s. There were many instances when the oncoming vehicle would have to honk at us and the driver would reef the steering wheel to the left (they drive on the left here) and then to the right again to stay out of the ditch. I didn’t realize how awful this visibility problem was until we were approaching a small bridge with a large truck coming at us from the other side. The truck honked for us to move over but the driver, I assume knew we were almost at the bridge and, did not adjust our course. At the same time a vehicle behind us pulled out to see if he could pass – his high beams were on – giving us a momentary view of our position, which was smack in the middle of the road with the centerline running directly under the center of our car. Needless to say with this new information the automated steering system took over and moved us out of the way of the approaching truck and back into our lane.
This trip would normally take an hour but was the longest hour and a half of my life and the only reason I am not in therapy now is that Abby was with us. She was a delight to ride with, noticing the shape of the clouds at dusk, ooing over the size of Mount Meru and putting on a show with her stuffed Easter Rabbit. It was a hoot to listen to her make up new songs about the bunny and choreograph bunny dances to go along with them. While my mind trying to think the worst, Abby was bringing me back to the real world and grounding me in her fun. It was great! And, then we finally arrived at our hotel.
The Impala Hotel, these words made our friends in Haydom swoon at its decadence and coo at its luxury. I would have done both as well if we were to stay in the lobby. The room was nice, modest and clean but not luxurious and the only decadence I found was that it had a bidet (unused by us). It was late and after a pretty good meal in the restaurant downstairs we went quickly to bed.
Sleep did not come easy at the Impala and I for one lay awake for some time. This was mainly due to the noise coming from the hallway which was load and continuous throughout the night. Hearing the hallway noise was due to the way the bathroom vent was set up; it is a 3 foot by 2 foot screened opening that vents directly into the hallway. The hallway itself has a solid floor that does little to absorb the sound made by high-heeled shoes that clomp up and down the hall all night. But, eventually sleep came, only to be disrupted by the sound of a key jiggling in the lock, and the door opening. My mind was telling me someone had just broken into our room. Was it true? It couldn’t be. But then I saw the culprit walking toward me and for a brief moment I struggled with fight or flight. ‘Where is my Swiss Army knife?’ ‘How heavy is the lamp?’ were a couple of the thoughts racing through my brain, but then it hit me…it was Nik returning from the bathroom. I breathed an audible sigh of relief and promptly passed out again into a deep sleep until the other guests on our floor decided to do a Riverdance routine in the hall at 3AM.
More on Arusha to come.
We got up in the morning thinking a lot about where we should stay for the duration of our trip to Arusha. We had spoken to some folks in Haydom about a place called the Outpost Lodge; it was smaller and cheaper, and had a pool and TV’s in every room. So I looked them up in the 3-year old phonebook in our room and gave them a ring. Or at least I tried too. The number was out of service. I tried all possible combinations to dial them: without the city code, with the city code, with no zero at the beginning of the city code. I was stumped. We determined that the number was no longer in use and that the phone book was out of date. We decided that sending text messages back to Haydom to inquire about the number was the best idea. I sent a couple of them and we went down for breakfast.
The restaurant in the Impala was strictly for breakfast and had a buffet and provided off the grill orders as well. We loaded up on mini Crousants and bread with jam and sat down to await my eggs and sausage. With Abby’s newfound affinity for sausages she was having a difficult time being patient but the order came out quickly. We shared some wiener-type sausages with a large bottle of water to wash down our Malarone. During breakfast Dr. Olsen replied to my text message and we set off to the room to find out if we could get into the Outpost.
Dialing was once again a challenge but with the three numbers we had been provided I thought it would be a snap. I made several attempts at dialing the first number, using the above combinations, then moved to the second with still no luck. Finally I gave up and decided to ask the front desk how to call from a cell phone to a landline within Arusha. So down the elevator again and I made my enquiry; I was told that the number was for Nairobi. I scoffed at this as the city code was definitely for Arusha (27) so I had the receptionist ask someone else how it was done. I had neglected to add a zero to the City code at the beginning of the number and when I did this the Outpost’s phone rang and we were able to get a room after they had confirmed that there was a swimming pool. So we hauled our luggage down stairs, checked out, and found a taxi (with functioning seatbelts that is, the third one that approached).
The Outpost was not far from the Impala but off on a side road past the heavily secured Barclay’s Bank. It was a nice street with large homes, large trees and large potholes. But we bounded down to the Outpost and were greeted by a friendly Masii warrior with a large knife strapped to his belt. The lodge was made up of a series of single, double and triple roomed bungalows with lush foliage of Canadian house plants growing wide, palm trees, Bird of Paradise trees and Banana trees. It was beautiful and the people were just the same, open, friendly and smiling broadly.
We found our room and using our Skeleton key on attached to a small board entered. The room itself was rather large with three single beds resting under their mosquito nets. The bathroom was modest with a shower, old toilet and double tapped sink. It was rustic but we could tell from the drive down that it would be quiet at night. We did a quick recon of the pool and restaurant and were pleased with what we found. The restaurant was an open-air affair with couch seating and deck chairs throughout. The pool was small but clean and had a small waterfall flowing into the deep end. We returned to the taxi to head to town.
Godlesten our new rafiki cab driver was well versed on the various places we need to go and as quickly as possible took us to the Bookmark book store that Nicole and Shannon had gone to last year. I was excited to see it as Nik had described a large shop that along with its books had served large dessert items along with Coffee, which I could have used at that moment. We drove through some heavy traffic on our short jaunt into town, and as it was still early in the morning I was surprised at the number of cars that were going in either direction. Godlesten commented that Arusha needed more roads and we talked about the city and the volume of cars. But our conversation was abbreviated by an apparent language barrier. I was happy to see that the Bookmark store was off the main street and was bright and clean on the outside. Inside was similar but I was surprised at the size, rather than the large store that Nik had talked about, it was rather small and cramped. Nik too was surprised by its size and commented on how it had been much different a year ago. There were still many books – though none of them very recent – and no food at all. I was a bit discouraged but we routed around and found a few books for Abby, so it was a positive visit.
Godlesten was waiting patiently outside and was very helpful as we loaded into the car and continued on our way. The more we drove with him the less of a language barrier there was and our conversation continued to flow, mainly about the shops we wanted to visit and how long we would stay. When he realized that we planned to use his services for the remainder of our stay he perked right up and we had made a new friend.
The main road through town, Sekoine, was busy as any main street we had driven down. The diesel fumes were intoxicating and thick. The variety and age of the cars was as diverse as the wares of the street vendors lining the crumbling sidewalks. The cyclists were, as Godlesten and I agreed, crazy, as they wove through the speeding traffic with seemingly little regard for their own safety. I was amazed to see pedestrians stepping out between the cars and trucks in a bid to cross the road. It was a case where the largest thing (car, truck, motorcycle, bicycle, pedestrian) had the right of way and everyone seemed to know this intuitively. I was amazed that we did not see an accident at every corner. The evolution of this traffic system must have seen its fair share of survival of the fittest. Those who did not learn… did not survive. I looked at all of the bookstores for a guide to Tanzanian traffic survival but could not find it. I suppose from the lack of accidents that they were sold out and everyone studied at night.
The number of cars on the street was only outdone by the number of vendors and shoppers on the sidewalks and side streets. After Bookmark we were off to Rushda’s, a grocery store just off the main road. The store was not very large, it would compare to a 7-11 in Canada, but was jam packed with supplies, much of which we were after. We took our time and fully stocked our shopping cart in the narrow aisles. We picked up flour, veggie oil by the gallon, sugar, salt, tea, crackers, cookies, coffee, juice, jam, peanut butter among other things that are unavailable in Haydom (or are of low quality and sparse quantity). With an over flowing cart we hit the one and only checkout. Here a very friendly guy unloaded every item and read out the price to the guy behind the counter. Then each item was packed – very well – into a box. We left with three boxes of goods ranging in weight from holy crap it takes two to lift this to let’s play some catch with this one. I was a little worried about the holding power of the heavy box as it had originally held a quantity of Wheatabix, which, as you know is not a heavy product. We slammed it all into the trunk of the car and headed down to the Shoprite to check things our there.
The road to Shoprite was long but when we caught our first site of it we could tell it would be worth it. It was the size of a Costco (HUGE) with a small strip mall attached that catered to Wazungu (us). We made our way along the strip mall. We found a terrific little coffee house that had its own roaster and the smell was divine. They had a variety of beans for sale and as I sniffed each barrel I became a little closer to heaven. I purchased a bag of ground coffee and had the best espresso I had consumed in quite some time. After that I do not remember what else we saw because I was lost in my coffee. Well not really. We continued around the strip mall past a video store, hair salon – or saloon as they call them here – there were a few safari companies and on the other side were restaurants. We stopped in for gelato and relaxed in the shade at an outdoor table before venturing to further fill the taxi’s trunk.
The Shoprite was as I said, massive and looked much like a western grocery store but there were definite differences. We picked up a trio of folding deck chairs for afternoon relaxation and if the price were in Canadian Dollars we would have been broke already at 22,000 Tz Shillings each however it was a bargain. The fruit and veggies were somewhat similar to Canada but the differences were there and though they did not jump up and bite us we were aware. They had some brands in spades and only a few items from others. It was clear that they get only what they can when they can. Some items were unavailable altogether, like crackers, they had one type of one brand and when we got them home the bag inside the box was already opened...Opps, though I don't know how we would check for that.
There is much more to tell about Arusha but this is already getting long so I will
break off now and hope you will read the next installment when I have time to write it.
We were not too optimistic about finding room for all of our things in the plane, as Flying Medical Service has pretty small planes. But our pilot, Frank had done this sort of thing before and quickly found room for all of the baggage and us. With the emergency supplies stowed beneath the plane with the tent and lion repellent and our seatbelts fastened Frank hollered, “Clear!” out the window and fired the engine.The mud clung to the wings and struts as we taxied up the sopping runway. I looked out the window and saw that Frank was testing the brakes as the wheel was at a full stop and we were skidding through the muck. He had obviously done this before and was laughing, I assume at the state of the ground, as we quickly got to the top and turned to make our takeoff.
With the brakes on and the flaps out, the engine revved up and we began bounding quickly down the slight hill of a runway. Mud flew up past the windows and at about the halfway point we were airborne. We kept close to the ground until we got close to the end of the runway and with the engine changing its pitch we pulled away from the mud, scrub bush as the crowd looked on. We took a long banking turn over the hospital grounds before setting our course toward Arusha.
The pilot is a good friend of Tore and Jeanine and with Jeanine sitting in the co-pilot seat she took the controls once we had leveled off. The ground was not so far away and the homes and farms were clearly visible. I snapped a ton of pictures in the first 15 minutes as we approached the Great Rift Valley and Lake Manyara. The ride was rather twitchy, not so much from turbulence but from course corrections that were a little less than smooth. I was fine with the ride but Nik does not quite have the inner ear for small plane flight and was turning a bit green as the ground fell away and Lake Manyara came into view to the west.
The lush woodland gave way to a fertile floodplain with cultivated fields growing crops that I could not identify. I found the farm layouts to be very interesting and sporadic. There would be a small round cordoned off area with cultivated fields going out in random directions with seemingly neither rhyme nor reason for their size or shape. Some fields had recently been flooded out with the telltale ruts and trenches running through them.The flooding was not confined the fields; as we approached a small lake to the east of Lake Manyara Tore explained how much bigger it was on this day than the last time he had driven by. The lake was the colour of coffee with cream and shimmered brightly where the sun broke through the clouds. It looked nice but I would not have wanted to water ski on it. The slalom course could have run through the acacia trees that were standing in the deep water far from the shore. I found myself wondering if there were any homes scattered amongst the marine-acacias and hoping there were not. I had heard that in the valley below Haydom there had been 10 deaths due to flooding and I wondered if in this area the people were more prepared as it was, after all a floodplain. Shortly the area of abundant water gave way to dry grassland and the clouds closed in.
The bumpy ride became a little less comfortable as we entered some “weather”. The rain was falling to the west and the clouds were dense all around us. It continued to be very beautiful and we soon flew through the center of a rainbow. It was more of a rain doughnut as it arced over us and connected under us as well; it had all of our heads pressed to the windows for a full view.
As we got within 30 minutes of Kilimanjaro International Airport (KIA) the landscape changed again and we were flying over low mountains and wooded grassland. There were still farms galore but the scattered hills and mountains grew as Mount Meru came slowly into view. It was clear that this had been an active volcanic area and I saw a crater that Tore and I decided had been a volcanic vent that had collapsed into itself. I found it fascinating – as I do most things here – to see the interesting landscape and the changing foliage as we approached KIA.As the runway came into view so did the tallest mountain in Africa. Kilimanjaro was showing itself through some puffy white clouds with a background of dark sky and was massive and brilliant with snow contrasting with its rocky surface. I was in awe of its size and its beauty and I must have snapped 20 pictures before we were on solid ground (see right for an example). After we swooped in for a landing and came to a full and complete stop at the end of a short line of similarly small aircraft, I took a few more pictures of Kilimanjaro and the rest of our new surroundings.
The airport was not so busy, with a small Precision Air turbo prop landing just ahead of us and an Air Ethiopia jet taking off as we cleared the runway. I snapped a couple of shots of the planes and then noticed an interesting site; a group of men, presumably airport workers, playing volley ball just to the side of the runway. Try as I might I was unable to get the surging jet in the frame with the volleyball action. Hamna Shida (no problem)
We organized our small amount of luggage and followed Tore and Jeanine to the terminal and exited to the curb. We said our goodbyes and wished our friends a nice holiday in Zanzibar and turned to face the fray of taxi drivers. Nicole, who has better bargaining skills in Swahili tried to get us a fair price for a ride into Arusha. The drivers were having none of it and stood by the price of $50 US, which was posted on a sign beside them. The sign looked anything but official to us, but it was the gospel to them but we stood firm. As we talked further we were finally able to turn the 50 to 50,000 Tz Shillings, as I called it the residents rate. This bought us a ride in an older Toyota corrola type car that had not seen a vacuum since it was very young.
I became filthy during my attempt to make the ride safe for Abby. We are big on the use of seatbelts and especially for Abby. So, my task was to dig beneath the seat and locate the safety device hidden there. This was not an easy task and the driver insisted on driving away prior to my reaching success. Nik was trying to make him stop but all we know that is close to stop is slowly so she, and I too, kept saying, “slow, child (in Swahili) Seat…Belt (in English).” The driver was seemingly thoroughly confused by our speech and smiled and repeated, “yes, yes,” as he continued onto the roadway.
I dug and dug for the belts but as I found one end the other was either gone or the locking mechanism didn’t work. I finally secured her behind the driver’s seat with two ends that fit together and a retraction device that did not. So Abby was synched back into seat with the seatbelt slack tied at her side. I on the passenger side was unsecured and envisioning a quick flight through the front window with an abrupt stop on the back of the truck in front of us.
This morbid vision soon left me, as did the view out the front window when dusk set in. The darker it got outside the lower our visibility became. The windshield of the taxi was so badly scratched – from the abrasion of the wipers and I assume from cleaning – that once darkness set in, we could not see where we were going. As if it weren’t bad enough, the traffic was getting heavier in both directions and the more lights there were the worse our vision became. If lights from behind hit the window at the wrong angle we could see nothing but the glare off oncoming lights. The only time we had any visibility at all was when there was no traffic around us and the taxi driver had his high beams on. Let me tell you this was rare. It was in these rare moments that I would will him to “drop a cog and give ‘er anvil” (get the lead out and make up some time). However, instead of utilizing a lower gear ratio to increase his velocity, he would put it in 5th gear – no matter how slow we were going – and chug along with the speedometer not registering anything above 35Kmh. I was literally losing my mind in the backseat thinking, ‘I have my international license, I wonder if he’d let me take over?’ Of course I didn’t bother to ask, what with the language barrier and all I could end up riding on the roof and going in the wrong direction.
In my bid to remain sane I started to try to figure out how he was staying on the road. I found that there must have been a light sensor in the grill or somewhere on the front of the car that was tied directly to the throttle, because every time a vehicle approached our acceleration would cease and we would coast past them. After they had past the throttle would magically re-engage and we would pick up a little momentum again. The steering also seemed somewhat automated, though its parameters were less precise than the throttle’s. There were many instances when the oncoming vehicle would have to honk at us and the driver would reef the steering wheel to the left (they drive on the left here) and then to the right again to stay out of the ditch. I didn’t realize how awful this visibility problem was until we were approaching a small bridge with a large truck coming at us from the other side. The truck honked for us to move over but the driver, I assume knew we were almost at the bridge and, did not adjust our course. At the same time a vehicle behind us pulled out to see if he could pass – his high beams were on – giving us a momentary view of our position, which was smack in the middle of the road with the centerline running directly under the center of our car. Needless to say with this new information the automated steering system took over and moved us out of the way of the approaching truck and back into our lane.
This trip would normally take an hour but was the longest hour and a half of my life and the only reason I am not in therapy now is that Abby was with us. She was a delight to ride with, noticing the shape of the clouds at dusk, ooing over the size of Mount Meru and putting on a show with her stuffed Easter Rabbit. It was a hoot to listen to her make up new songs about the bunny and choreograph bunny dances to go along with them. While my mind trying to think the worst, Abby was bringing me back to the real world and grounding me in her fun. It was great! And, then we finally arrived at our hotel.
The Impala Hotel, these words made our friends in Haydom swoon at its decadence and coo at its luxury. I would have done both as well if we were to stay in the lobby. The room was nice, modest and clean but not luxurious and the only decadence I found was that it had a bidet (unused by us). It was late and after a pretty good meal in the restaurant downstairs we went quickly to bed.
Sleep did not come easy at the Impala and I for one lay awake for some time. This was mainly due to the noise coming from the hallway which was load and continuous throughout the night. Hearing the hallway noise was due to the way the bathroom vent was set up; it is a 3 foot by 2 foot screened opening that vents directly into the hallway. The hallway itself has a solid floor that does little to absorb the sound made by high-heeled shoes that clomp up and down the hall all night. But, eventually sleep came, only to be disrupted by the sound of a key jiggling in the lock, and the door opening. My mind was telling me someone had just broken into our room. Was it true? It couldn’t be. But then I saw the culprit walking toward me and for a brief moment I struggled with fight or flight. ‘Where is my Swiss Army knife?’ ‘How heavy is the lamp?’ were a couple of the thoughts racing through my brain, but then it hit me…it was Nik returning from the bathroom. I breathed an audible sigh of relief and promptly passed out again into a deep sleep until the other guests on our floor decided to do a Riverdance routine in the hall at 3AM.
More on Arusha to come.
We got up in the morning thinking a lot about where we should stay for the duration of our trip to Arusha. We had spoken to some folks in Haydom about a place called the Outpost Lodge; it was smaller and cheaper, and had a pool and TV’s in every room. So I looked them up in the 3-year old phonebook in our room and gave them a ring. Or at least I tried too. The number was out of service. I tried all possible combinations to dial them: without the city code, with the city code, with no zero at the beginning of the city code. I was stumped. We determined that the number was no longer in use and that the phone book was out of date. We decided that sending text messages back to Haydom to inquire about the number was the best idea. I sent a couple of them and we went down for breakfast.
The restaurant in the Impala was strictly for breakfast and had a buffet and provided off the grill orders as well. We loaded up on mini Crousants and bread with jam and sat down to await my eggs and sausage. With Abby’s newfound affinity for sausages she was having a difficult time being patient but the order came out quickly. We shared some wiener-type sausages with a large bottle of water to wash down our Malarone. During breakfast Dr. Olsen replied to my text message and we set off to the room to find out if we could get into the Outpost.
Dialing was once again a challenge but with the three numbers we had been provided I thought it would be a snap. I made several attempts at dialing the first number, using the above combinations, then moved to the second with still no luck. Finally I gave up and decided to ask the front desk how to call from a cell phone to a landline within Arusha. So down the elevator again and I made my enquiry; I was told that the number was for Nairobi. I scoffed at this as the city code was definitely for Arusha (27) so I had the receptionist ask someone else how it was done. I had neglected to add a zero to the City code at the beginning of the number and when I did this the Outpost’s phone rang and we were able to get a room after they had confirmed that there was a swimming pool. So we hauled our luggage down stairs, checked out, and found a taxi (with functioning seatbelts that is, the third one that approached).
The Outpost was not far from the Impala but off on a side road past the heavily secured Barclay’s Bank. It was a nice street with large homes, large trees and large potholes. But we bounded down to the Outpost and were greeted by a friendly Masii warrior with a large knife strapped to his belt. The lodge was made up of a series of single, double and triple roomed bungalows with lush foliage of Canadian house plants growing wide, palm trees, Bird of Paradise trees and Banana trees. It was beautiful and the people were just the same, open, friendly and smiling broadly.
We found our room and using our Skeleton key on attached to a small board entered. The room itself was rather large with three single beds resting under their mosquito nets. The bathroom was modest with a shower, old toilet and double tapped sink. It was rustic but we could tell from the drive down that it would be quiet at night. We did a quick recon of the pool and restaurant and were pleased with what we found. The restaurant was an open-air affair with couch seating and deck chairs throughout. The pool was small but clean and had a small waterfall flowing into the deep end. We returned to the taxi to head to town.
Godlesten our new rafiki cab driver was well versed on the various places we need to go and as quickly as possible took us to the Bookmark book store that Nicole and Shannon had gone to last year. I was excited to see it as Nik had described a large shop that along with its books had served large dessert items along with Coffee, which I could have used at that moment. We drove through some heavy traffic on our short jaunt into town, and as it was still early in the morning I was surprised at the number of cars that were going in either direction. Godlesten commented that Arusha needed more roads and we talked about the city and the volume of cars. But our conversation was abbreviated by an apparent language barrier. I was happy to see that the Bookmark store was off the main street and was bright and clean on the outside. Inside was similar but I was surprised at the size, rather than the large store that Nik had talked about, it was rather small and cramped. Nik too was surprised by its size and commented on how it had been much different a year ago. There were still many books – though none of them very recent – and no food at all. I was a bit discouraged but we routed around and found a few books for Abby, so it was a positive visit.
Godlesten was waiting patiently outside and was very helpful as we loaded into the car and continued on our way. The more we drove with him the less of a language barrier there was and our conversation continued to flow, mainly about the shops we wanted to visit and how long we would stay. When he realized that we planned to use his services for the remainder of our stay he perked right up and we had made a new friend.
The main road through town, Sekoine, was busy as any main street we had driven down. The diesel fumes were intoxicating and thick. The variety and age of the cars was as diverse as the wares of the street vendors lining the crumbling sidewalks. The cyclists were, as Godlesten and I agreed, crazy, as they wove through the speeding traffic with seemingly little regard for their own safety. I was amazed to see pedestrians stepping out between the cars and trucks in a bid to cross the road. It was a case where the largest thing (car, truck, motorcycle, bicycle, pedestrian) had the right of way and everyone seemed to know this intuitively. I was amazed that we did not see an accident at every corner. The evolution of this traffic system must have seen its fair share of survival of the fittest. Those who did not learn… did not survive. I looked at all of the bookstores for a guide to Tanzanian traffic survival but could not find it. I suppose from the lack of accidents that they were sold out and everyone studied at night.
The number of cars on the street was only outdone by the number of vendors and shoppers on the sidewalks and side streets. After Bookmark we were off to Rushda’s, a grocery store just off the main road. The store was not very large, it would compare to a 7-11 in Canada, but was jam packed with supplies, much of which we were after. We took our time and fully stocked our shopping cart in the narrow aisles. We picked up flour, veggie oil by the gallon, sugar, salt, tea, crackers, cookies, coffee, juice, jam, peanut butter among other things that are unavailable in Haydom (or are of low quality and sparse quantity). With an over flowing cart we hit the one and only checkout. Here a very friendly guy unloaded every item and read out the price to the guy behind the counter. Then each item was packed – very well – into a box. We left with three boxes of goods ranging in weight from holy crap it takes two to lift this to let’s play some catch with this one. I was a little worried about the holding power of the heavy box as it had originally held a quantity of Wheatabix, which, as you know is not a heavy product. We slammed it all into the trunk of the car and headed down to the Shoprite to check things our there.
The road to Shoprite was long but when we caught our first site of it we could tell it would be worth it. It was the size of a Costco (HUGE) with a small strip mall attached that catered to Wazungu (us). We made our way along the strip mall. We found a terrific little coffee house that had its own roaster and the smell was divine. They had a variety of beans for sale and as I sniffed each barrel I became a little closer to heaven. I purchased a bag of ground coffee and had the best espresso I had consumed in quite some time. After that I do not remember what else we saw because I was lost in my coffee. Well not really. We continued around the strip mall past a video store, hair salon – or saloon as they call them here – there were a few safari companies and on the other side were restaurants. We stopped in for gelato and relaxed in the shade at an outdoor table before venturing to further fill the taxi’s trunk.
The Shoprite was as I said, massive and looked much like a western grocery store but there were definite differences. We picked up a trio of folding deck chairs for afternoon relaxation and if the price were in Canadian Dollars we would have been broke already at 22,000 Tz Shillings each however it was a bargain. The fruit and veggies were somewhat similar to Canada but the differences were there and though they did not jump up and bite us we were aware. They had some brands in spades and only a few items from others. It was clear that they get only what they can when they can. Some items were unavailable altogether, like crackers, they had one type of one brand and when we got them home the bag inside the box was already opened...Opps, though I don't know how we would check for that.
There is much more to tell about Arusha but this is already getting long so I will
break off now and hope you will read the next installment when I have time to write it.
