Katie and I woke up after a light sleep at 8 am faced with the daunting task of preparing our room for the new arrivals. Always prioritizing, I popped down to fresh one last time and picked up some bread and smoothies to go with our last remaining food item in the house – a half dozen eggs. By the time we had finished eating, packing, and re-packing we didn’t have enough time (or motivation) to take down the last of our trash. Sorry Czech couple.
As we left the apartment I made fun of Katie because of the oversized Canadian flag on her backpack. As we waited for the LUAS an Irish man noticed the flag and struck up a conversation with us. Then on the LUAS another group of Canadians struck up a conversation with us. Turns out the woman was from PEI and was the regional organizer of CUSO. She offered contacts in Arusha and perhaps future jobs. Maybe this Canadian flag wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
We arrived at the airport at about 11:45 about two hours before our 1:50pm flight. Or so we thought. Turns out one person, who will remain anonymous, looked at the arrival time for our flight and not the departure and our plane was actually taking off at 12:00. Well done Katie. 150 quid later we were on the next flight to Heathrow. In the departures lounge there was a plethora of Canadians waiting to board our flight. We tried to strike up a conversation but were spurned. Joke is on them because I have no interest in befriending anyone who prays before an airplane meal. Asking the lord for no traveler’s diarrhea one can assume.
The flight was quick (for a nine hour flight) and uneventful. Katie watched the Lost World – Jurassic Park and was scared by the T-Rex. We landed in Dar es Salaam international airport at roughly 7:00 and had no hassle obtaining our visas. Immediately after stepping out of the arrivals area you are in a semi-covered room lined with taxi touts. We were tired and allowed ourselves to be gauged the high-prices presented. Hakuna Matata. Traffic was bad on the way in so our driver decided to veer off the road, through a ditch and onto a dirt pathway that ran parallel with the highway. We also had our first introduction to Dala-Dalas the minibuses used for transportation around town fit for 15 people but used by 150 at a time. Limbs jutted from windows and we even saw one person enter a full Dala-Dala through the rear window. Katie wishes they had such efficient transport in Summerside. It was a memorable ride in and was a good introduction to Africa. Ladies with bushels of bananas on their heads and men with chickens on the backs of their bikes lined the roads. We caught many a stare from the people we passed, a theme that was to continue for the rest of the day.
Dar itself is East Africa’s largest city housing about 4 million people. There are 3 main quarters in the city – European, Asian, and African. The European area was originally built by the Germans and later taken over by the British after the WW1. The Brits brought in loads of Indians to build the city into the commercial and industrial center it is today. We passed many an Indian restaurants, teashops (tobaccoists), and large muslim groups on the way through this area. We have yet to visit the Kariakoo – or African – quarter. This was built for Dar’s African population by the British with very few amenities for the people. Apparently it is still devoid of most common amenities even today.
We checked into our hotel at the YWCA and caught up on some much needed sleep. After a little nap we went down to the Y’s canteen for our first African meal. I stumbled through placing the order based on a menu in a language I couldn’t read of food I didn’t know what was. We both had Chicken Chapati’s which was flat cornmeal bread, some chicken, and a bowl of some soupy, vegetable sauce. It was very good and filling. Best of all was the price – both our meals together came to 5 dollars. With food in our belly we were ready to hit the mean streets of Dar.
At first the city was extremely overwhelming. The 30 degree heat and the congested streets were intimidating at first. We maintained a tight comfort zone around our hotel of about 100 metres on either side whilst fending off touts. Everywhere we walked you could hear someone shout “Hey Mzungo !” – Swahili slang for a white-person (the actual definition means person who wears pants to keep their farts in – seriously). We saw a few other tourists in our hotel in the morning, but out on the streets we didn’t encounter another white-person. Katie bore the brunt of the ridicule from locals with people constantly pointing and laughing at her feet. Perhaps the smell? Having our self-esteems battered and bruised we made our way home as it was getting dark.
We ate (essentially the same meal as earlier except replace the corn-bread with rice) and made plans for the next tomorrow. Book ticket to Moshi, expand comfort zone another couple hundred metres to include museum and botanical gardens.
