36 Hours in Zanzibar

3:45pm Arrive at Dar es Salaam ferry station with two giant bags and just barely enough time to make it to the terminal... Get overcharged for the ticket but, finally, board successfully.

6:30pm Disembark in Zanzibar, slightly sea sick and very tired, but, after almost 15 hours of travel THAT DAY, at least I'm there. Take a taxi to Jambo Guest House, which only has triples... drag bags to two more hotels until finally, one is available... give up and unpack. This, um, 'hotel' (very loosely speaking) is called Annexe of Abdullah; It's clean enough, but very hot (with no fans!) and the bathroom faintly reeks of urine... yum.

8:00pm Time to find dinner... the restaurant I picked from my guidebook didn't seem to exist... "settled" for an amazing Italian restaurant called "La Fencie"... mmmm... beef and vegatable lasagnia... finish off the dinner with strawberry and mint chocolate chip ice cream from an Italian cafe across the street. Thank goodness for all the expats setting up shops abroad! Hmm, maybe I should actually go to Italy next time?

10:00pm Wander around a bit, looking for my hotel... Zanzibar's streets are a mess of narrow winding alleyways and crumbling mansions, making finding anything incredibely difficult. Evenutally I stumbled across a really beautiful guesthouse with rosebushes out front, appropriately named "Garden Lodge"; Their security guard walked me 'home' (which turned out to be five minutes away), and I decided that I would switch to the Garden Lodge the next morning.

11:00pm Lay in bed watching reruns of M*A*S*H and the A-Team... fall asleep sometime after midnight to the sounds of Arabic music still playing outside...

8:00am Convince the hotel owner that I do, in fact, want to move to a different guesthouse... for $10 extra, I can have a bigger bed and a private bathroom that, thankfully, doesn't smell like anything, and particularly not like... well, you get the point. Drag bags over to the Garden Lodge and climb the winding staircase up to the roof terrace just in time for brekfast. Perfect!

10:00am Camera slung over shoulder, hair loosely covered with a thin gold-colored scarf, venture outside to begin photographing. I spent the afternoon wandering through streets and alleyways, sometimes sneaking pictures and other times getting permission... surprisingly, most people were happy (or at least willing) to pose for pictures; the key seems to be to hang out with them for a bit first, introduce yourself, show them some of your other photographs... even the religious women were willing to loosen their headscarves a bit and let me take a picture. I'm not sure how well they're going to turn out, but at least it was good practice...

6:00pm Dinner at "Mercury's", a candlelit seafood restaurant overlooking the water. It's named after Freddy Mercury, who was born in Zanzibar... took some more photographs, mostly of the ships leaving harbor and the sunset.

9:00pm Wander through the night market... i'm sure that this used to be a really authentic Zanzibari experience, but with so many tourists around it's become very commercialized, expensive, and more of a hassle than anything else. I bought some overpriced fruit and settled down on a small wooden bench; I was quickly joined by a local ice cream vendor and his baby monkey, named Cobra. This, of course, attracted a lot of attention, and I made friends with two Israelis who were traveling through; oddly, compared to India, there are almost no Israelis around... I'm starting to miss advertisements for samosas in poorly-written Hebrew! Came back home around midnight, packed up the remainder of my things, and passed out, hoping not to oversleep for tomorrow's 7am trip back to Dar es Salaam...

6:15am Wake up in a panic, because I was supposed to be in a taxi 15 minutes ago! Scramble to get ready, hop in a taxi about 10 (yes 10!) minutes later, and arrive at the dock with more than enough time (this is african time, after all... the immigration window wasn't even open yet...). Luckily, I met a Norwegian guy, Jonas, who I ended up chatting with during the boat ride; He kindly dragged my giant duffel bag on and off the ferry, and then several blocks further to a little lunch spot. Then, goodbye Tanzania! Off to the airport...

Girls by a doorway, Zanzibar

Better Than Ice Cream

Tanzania has turned out to be quite a whirlwind of, well, everything... new friends, wandering elephants, food, ferries, photography... i'm having an incredible time! Here's a quick summary of the days after the safari (I swear i'm posting photographs soon!)

Saturday, February 23rd
Returning from our four day safari, I had fully intended to book an early ticket for the Dar Express for Saturday morning, but instead decided to give Arusha one more day... maybe it was the warm Kilimanjaro beer, or possibly Olivier's promise that we would do something "really interesting" on Saturday... anyway, I stayed. Saturday morning, after a small breakfast and thick, dark Tanzanian coffee (I'm constantly amazed at the food here.... it's a far cry from my cheese toast days in Palghar!), we headed off. To say that we had a plan would be a gross overstatement... basically, after getting to the town square (indicated by an intricately carved clock tower and large elephant statue), we hopped on the first available dalla-dalla (overcrowded minivan) and vowed to take it to the last stop. After about 20 sweaty, occasionally hair-rasing minutes, we disembarked on what must have been the main street of a village just outside of Arusha. Dusting off, we unpacked our cameras and began walking... snapping photos alongside Olivier, I felt like a real photographer :). It was difficult at first... a lot of people didn't want their photograph taken or demanded money; several women followed us, yelling. But eventually we found some children who thought we were hysterical, and after half an hour with them, we settled down in a shady spot for a break. Sitting across from a fantastic background (a light brown, crumbling building with painted green windows), we waited for people to stop or walk by, being as inconspicuous as possible. A few minutes into this, an adorable little girl - she was about 10 - sat down next to me and very confidently asked my name. She turned out to speak fluent English (!!), and invited us to meet her father. Intrigued by this adorable girl with a faint British accent, we obliged...

Following her, we entered a tiny two-room apartment and were welcomed into the makeshift kitchen (several buckets and an electric stove top, partitioned from the living room by a plastic tarp). Her father, shirtless and Buddha-bellied, sat on a short stool straining colored water; He welcomed us warmly. Samuel is a schoolteacher; he's fluent in English and received a university degree in Dar Es Salaam. However, as a teacher, he makes less than $200 per month - not enough to take care of his family and send his two daughters to a decent school. So, on the side, he makes and sells ice cream (his wife has a small cart that she takes to schools and nearby markets). With this, they're able to make an additional $40-50 per month - more than a quarter of his regular income! This, sadly, reminded me of my own father... back in Ukraine, even though he was a university-trained engineer, working full time, he barely made enough to make ends meet. So, o the side, he would illegally import wallpaper from Poland and the Check Republic, and spent the weekends pasting it in apartments around Kiev. It's nothing short of a tragedy that these critical professionals - teachers, doctors, engineers - continue to get such horribly low wages, forcing them to take on side-jobs instead of focusing fully on their work. Tanzania may not be the former USSR, but watching Samuel straining water... well, corrupt government and ridiculous social policies have the same impact on any continent.

Samuel and his daughters walked us back to Masai camp, stopping along the way to let us (and often help us) take photographs... the older daughter, Maureen, was incredibly brave and asked me outright if I would teach her to use my camera! A few minutes later, this tiny little girl was clicking away - and doing a pretty good job! I guess anyone can be a photographer :). Olivier got some great shots of her taking photographs - I'll post those up as well (soon, I promise!). Samuel invited us to come to his school on Monday, and... well, how could I refuse? So that's how I ended up staying in Arusha for yet another two days... thank goodness for copious beer, thick pizzas, and loud rock music at Masai camp to keep me, um, occupied...

Monday, February 25th
Olivier and I were both feeling sick this morning... it was probably just the heat, but we agreed to take it easy. Somehow this translated into an hour walk in the scorching sun (!!) in search of a photo shop (we wanted to print out some of Maureen's photographs as a gift). Eventually we found it (but had basically walked a giant, unnecessary loop). We then caught a taxi to Samuel's school... and were shocked. This IS Africa, after all... we came expecting dilapidated buildings and dirty children... what we found instead were neat, freshly-painted classrooms, giant blackboards, and well-fed little kids running around in navy uniforms. Samuel explained that this was a fairly elite private school, primarily with Indian children (over the past 50 years, Indians have formed a small but prosperous community in Tanzania, running many of the shops and financial institutions). Samuel's daughters could go here for free, but would then be unlikely to get into secondary school (you can only go to certain secondary schools based on where you went to primary school, and this one only led to expensive options that would be unaffordable to him). So instead, he pays $90 per month for each daughter to attend an all-African school, where, unlike this one, they have to share desks, chairs, and even notebooks. We would have gone to visit them as well but I was really feeling hot and exhausted by this time, so we headed back to camp. Aside from a few photographs, I managed to take away yet another lesson from Africa - not everything is what you would expect, but then sometimes, it is. I hope, at the least, that Maureen likes the photographs... a part of me wanted to stay and help somehow, but then what can I do? I will leave, and Africa will continue on as it always has.

Tuesday, February 26th - Wednesday, February 27th
Finally, after an extra 3 days in Arusha, I caught the 6am bus (the right one this time!) for Dar es Salaam. The bus ride went smoothly (no chickens this time), and I arrived at the port with enough time to catch the 4:15 ferry for Zanzibar. Now, astute readers will note that this means I have about 36 hours in Zanzibar before I have to take the ferry back over to Dar and fly out to Johannesburg Thursday afternoon... so, in New York Times fashion, my next post will be infamously named: 36 Hours in Zanzibar. Until then, good night!


Samuel with his daughters, making ice cream; Arusha, Tanzania

Elephant In My Window

*this space is reserved for photographs from the safari*... details and lots of pictures to come soon!

A Lot to Learn

Saturday, February 16th
Having had a chance to catch up on some badly-needed sleep, I woke up at 6am, took a hot shower (which is turning out to be my only hot shower in Tanzania...) and stuffed as much as I could back in my bags in preparation to leave (on a side note: how is that even when i'm in a hotel room for ONE night, my bags are magically unpacked into piles of shoes and clothing all over the floor and furniture?? It must be the gnomes. Damned gnomes.)

The plan: Take a taxi to the central bus station, buy a ticket for the earliest Dar Express bus available (my favorite Italian emphasized that this was by far the best and most reliable bus service), nap in luxury, and arrive in Arusha at around 6pm with plenty of time to find a hotel and possibly even buy a sim card for my cell phone.

What actually happened: The incredibely helpful receptionist at the Safari inn found me a 'special' taxi driver, who would not only deliver me safely to the bus station, but would also walk with me to purchase the bus ticket so that I wasn't harassed by the various scam artists trying to fleece me. How nice. Although I kept insisting that I wanted to take the Dar Express, we, um, conveniently ended up parking outside the "offices" of Saibaba Express, which charged me 25,000 shillings (about $20) for a deluxe coach. Given the chaos outside, and the fact that my taxi driver essentially had my duffel bag hostage in his trunk, I decided, what the hell, and went along with it. Well, as it turns out, Saibaba Express has quite a reputation... for being one of the worst, most crowded, broken-down bus lines EVER. How much do people typically pay for a ticket? 10,000 shillings. How many squeeze inside the 30 passenger bus? 40, give or take a few chickens. During our THIRTEEN hour bus ride, stopping briefly at various dusty villages along the way (with just enough time to get pineapples and bananas tossed in through the windows in exchange for throwing shillings back out), I was greatful for one thing: By the grace of some benevolent higher power, I managed to not need a bathroom the entire ride. Those who did need it disembarked, disappeared, and somehow magically reappeared at a later bus stop. I'm not sure exactly what happened in between, and I really didn't want to find out.

One quick side-story: I met an interesting Tanzanian on the bus named Israel; He spoke excellent english and worked for an NGO in Dar es Salaam managing logistics. We had a great conversation about politics, religion, and even medicine - he was amazed that most people in the US who have gun shot or stab wounds don't die, and didn't believe me when I told him that we have artificial plasma for transfusions. He did tell me about his one visit to the US, during which time he learned that all US satellites are in fact owned by the 'Israelites', and therefore the Jews know everything. Our conversation got me thinking... Israel really needs to start its own version of the Peace Corps; Too many people have really distorted ideas about our culture and religion, and thier understanding of the political and social situation is often so warped that I barely recognize it. I did manage to distill a few misconceptions, but it's hard to say whether he really believed me or was just being polite. On the other hand, he offered me his uncle's son for marriage, so I'm going to take that as a sign that he liked me.

One more aside... there were two adorable little kids on the seat in front of me, traveling to Arusha with their mother; I shared my Hersey's kisses with them (I asked Israel to translate that it was chocolate, but looking at them, he thought they were too poor to even know what that is). I rummaged through my backpack for something to give the little girl (she was 6 or 7, at most), and found a beautiful beaded bracelet from Nepal. You should have seen her eyes light up when I put the bracelet on her arm (i had to slide it all the way up her forearm!)... I don't think she has ever received a gift like that, or had any jewellery at all for that matter. I'm glad I had the bracelet with me - I still remember when we were immigrating through Italy, and a man visiting our camp gave me a beautiful box with foreign coins; It meant so much to me, I still have it. Israel said that her mother would probably take it for herself once I was out of sight; that may be so, but at least I tried.

Saturday Night, 8:30 pm.
I finally arrived in Arusha, exhausted but with bags and bowels intact. I chose a place called 'Masai Camp' for my stay; my lonely planet guide reported that it was popular with overlanders (travelers exploring Africa via car/bus), and reportedly had a pool table, internet cafe, hot showers, and even a bar and disco. Excellent. Well, although the internet cafe wasn't working and the hot showers were inexplicably FREEZING cold, the rest held true; I'm paying 13,000 shillings ($10) per night to stay in a semi-private dorm (I only have one roommate, an eccentric Scot named Dan who is otherwise nice but has a rather unhealthy obsession with elephants). I met a South African guide, Colin, who's been working as a tour guide throughout the continent for the past 6 years. We spent the entire evening chatting and playing Bow (it's a local game played with cups and beads). I do have to admit that I crashed fairly early, a little past midnight... I guess i'm getting old :).

Sunday, February 17th
Not suprisingly, Arusha mostly shuts down on Sundays, so I ended up spending the day around Masai camp. It's a beautiful campsite (with a bar!) set on about 5 acres of land several kilometers outside the city, so it's incredibely peaceful. I hung out with Colin for most of the afternoon, and we were invited to have lunch with several Masai living nearby - have I mentioned yet how much I'm loving Africa? Although I consider myself fairly worldly and well-read, i'm constantly reminded of my narrow-minded, 'western' eyes; when I think of Masai, I picture thin Africans draped in clorful cloths living in huts. Breakfast? Blood, I presume. Well, these Masai were not the ones on National Geographic... although the traditional way of life still persists in many areas of Kenya and Tanzania, this was not quite the case with our new friends. These Masai had cell phones and business cards; they lived in a nice house a few minutes away from the camp, and one of them - ready for this? - is married to a British woman. He had actually been the US, twice, and had met with Kofi Anan several years ago to discuss the land grab situation (quick background: the Kenyan and Tanzanian governments have, in recent years, taken significant amounts of land away from the Masai and severely restricted their hunting and hearding practices; it's a major problem because their tradional way of life is being supressed as they're forced into small camps and left without a means to support themselves). We had tea (again with milk, ugh) and bread, and chatted about politics. They had a thousand questions for me about American government because Bush is in town; they absolutely floored me with their depth of understanding, not to mention, for the most part, their excellent English. Most of all, they wanted to know if Obama really had a chance to become president; A black man, even half-black and from the west, seemed to them the cornerstone of Africans no longer being seen as inferior or backwards by rest of the world. I left humbled. If Milton Freedman wants to write another book about globalization, he needs to meet with the Masai.

So, this brings me to Monday morning... Colin had introduced me to another guy staying at the camp, a photographer from Holland, Oliver. He was passing through Tanzania on a three month trip aroud east Africa and was also looking to go on safari this week. So this morning we went to Shidolya, a reputable tour operator, and booked a 4 day, 3 night safari to the Serengeti and Ngorongoro crater. I'm absolutely thrilled - I can't believe that tomorrow - TOMORROW! - i'm going to be camping in the Serengeti... it's been a dream of mine since watching "Out of Africa" several years ago. And, it's an added bonus that he's a photographer; he promised to give me some tips on photographing wildlife with my SLR. This, however, also means that I won't have internet again for a while... we leave early tomorrow morning and come back Friday night, by which time all connections to the outside world will be off-line... My plan then is to take the earliest bus possible (the Dar Express this time, no exceptions!) back to Dar es Salaam on Saturday, and then immediately taking a ferry over to Stone Town, Zanzibar. I will do my best to find internet that night and update the blog - hopefully with photographs! - but that may end up being postponed as, after all, this IS Africa.

So, until I write again... I love you all, and Salaam...

This is Africa!

So... wow. It's been a while since i've updated this blog... quite a bit has happened in between, but I'll admit that I just haven't had the heart to sit and write. Something about being home drains me... it's peaceful, and comfortable, and yet a bit... numbing. As soon as I get more time, I will definitiely go back and finish up my last post about India, I have quite a bit to say... but for now, on to... Africa. Internet access has so far been about as variable as the bus schedule, so I'm going to have to summarize the past few days in a single post, just to catch up... but I promise even more details ( and photographs!) later.

Wednesday, Feb 13
I boarded a plane for England, my stop-over on the way to Tanzania, and a sleepless 7 hours later found myself wandering around London. I had about 8 hours to kill in between flights, so I figured I would use that time to peruse cobblestone walkways and drink some of that famous tea (not poured by the queen herself, but, close enough). Let me begin by saying that London is hellishly expensive. A one day pass for the tube (their cleaner, softer version of the subway) was 7 pounds - that's more than $14! Insanity. I shelled it out, and about an hour later disembarked in central London's Lancaster square (it sounded appropriately regal for my first official visit with the Queen's folk :). One thing that struck me immediately - and was actually quite disconcerting - was the insane fashion scene. Everyone - I mean, every single woman - on the streets, the metros, in coffee shops... had clearly spent at least an hour that morning getting dressed. Now, I understand fashion (or, at least, the draw of it) - i mean, I live in New York! But London was in an entirely different class - possibly even different planet. Carefully matched berets, hair clips, fashionable pointy boots and nearly identical sweaters with knee-length spandex trousers graced every woman I passed by - it was exhausting. Walking around in cargo pants and a beat-up North Face jacket, I actually started to feel frumpy... doesn't anyone in London go out for groceries or coffee in jeans and a turtleneck? Clearly, I was way out of my element. After a bit more wandering (heavy backpack and two purses in tow), I finally decided on an, er, ethnic cafe that was guaranteed to be homey... ahh, thank you Starbucks. Skim Late, $5. Biscotti, $3. Remembering that there are still places where it's ok to wear sneakers? Priceless.

Upon returning to the airport (exhausted, cold, and significantly poorer) I had one more fun surprise before I got to fly off - during the security check, I was lucky enough to be selected for an "extended protocol". I sighed, and assumed this would mean savagely rummaging through my underwear and healthy groping by an unnatractive middle-aged woman; but, in addition to all of that, they wanted to take three x-rays! Before proceeding, my tormentor asked briskly if I was pregnant. Aha! I thought fast - "Oh, well, I may be. I'm not certain". I smiled hesitantly, looked nervous. She eyed me for a minute, and then let me jump the cue - they couldn't take an x-ray of a potentially pregnant woman, and they weren't going to bother doing a pregnancy test when there was plenty more unsuspecting prey standing in line. Victory!! And I wasn't even wearing a beret.

Thursday, February 14 / Friday, February 15
I'm on a plane again, a nearly 9 hour flight to Dar es Salaam, the capital of Tanzania. Its name in Arabic means "Haven of Peace", and as I left the airport, I understood why. Everyone's response to my African trip has so far been "Africa!! It's just insanity over there!" (or, you know, that same thing in Russian with an extra dose of hysteria...). Well, maybe my standards have been significantly lowered, or perhaps i'm that much more laid back these days and happy to just roll with whatever comes, but Dar es Salaam, though dusty, and yes, a little bit ugly, was absolutely calm. Compared to Mumbai's slums and Delhi's chaos, Tanzania struck me as almost eerily peaceful... I sat in the cab thinking, "this is Africa?".

My hotel, the entirely inappropriately named 'Safari Inn' (it would have been more honest to call it the 'Abandoned Bunker' or 'Large Drab Structure') was, um, uninspiring, but for $15 per night with hot water and no cockroaches, I wasn't about to argue. As soon as I had brought my bags upstairs, I walked downstairs to the lounge area and was welcomed by a small color TV blaring... Bollywood music. Thousands of miles, and the high-pitched voices drowned in sparkling Saris have tracked me down. Damn. Looking around, I noticed an attractive looking guy in an MSF t-shirt - !! - I struck up a conversation, and found out that he was an ex-MSF logistitian from Italy (yes, sexy accent and all) now running a business importing African art. He had a few hours before he was headed for the airport, so we sat down for a drink at a nearby restaurant (no exaggeration for this one - it was actually pretty nice) and he told me about his work and the city. He had spent the last 10 years working primarily in Africa (mostly in Malawi, Kenya, Tanzania, and Zambia) - first as an ecologist, then on and off for MSF, and now dealing in crafts and artwork. Our conversation eventually shifted to cultural sterotypes and relationships, and I learned this interesting fact: Fabrizzion would happily find me a husband ("you arrr so, eh... beautiful! It vill be eeeesy"), but only if I learned to cook. Damn again. I did, however, get some good advice (get out of Dar as soon as possible! there's nothing to do... nothing...). That, and directions to a local craft market where I could, at the very least, wile away the time amidst large carved masks and some fairly explicit statues. So, off I went.

Now, "local" obviously referred to actual geographic distance - I was silly enough to think that was somehow related to how long it would take me to get there. After waiting half an hour, I finally managed to jump inside a Dalla-dalla (beat-up minivan serving as a public bus for as many people as could be unreasonably jammed inside, and sometimes on top). An incredibely sweet older woman helped me figure out where I was actually going (my Italian friend would hopefully be better at matchmaking than map-drawing!). I finally got the market - a dusty patch of land amidst quiet, but incrediebly muddy and fairly dirty streets - with a dozen shops selling mass-market carvings, jewellery, and paintings. After briefly considering an intricately carved spear, I decided that might not get past JFK security and settled for a large beaded necklace instead. Coming back to the hotel, I decided to skip the dalla-dalla and splurged on a taxi. I'd had ambitious plans for the evening - a shower, dinner, blogging... but instead, finally getting back at 7pm, having slept for only 2-3 hours in the past 48, I crashed. I woke up to the sound of air horns at around 2am and figured that although my haven of peace had been interrupted, i may as well go back to catching up on sleep. This was a brilliant idea, because Saturday...

To be continued in the next post! The internet cafe is closing... :(.

Reflections