Time out: Tanzania!

Okay. Time to do my blog entries about my whirlwind trip to Tanzania and Zanzibar this past weekend. I have wanted to visit Tanzania for years. I didn't make it there the last two times I was in South Africa. It's closer to Uganda, and I had a friend in Arusha last summer who had invited me to visit from Kampala. It's not all that far as the crow flies, but it's opposite Lake Victoria from Kampala, so the bus trip would have taken 18 hours via Nairobi. I thought about going a number of times, but 18 hour bus trips on both ends of a weekend trip just seemed.... excessive. So I didn't go last summer.

Well, a girl I interned with when I first moved to New York City in 2009 posted on Facebook that she had just arrived in Dar es Salaam (the biggest city in Tanzania) and would be there for 6 months. I hadn't seen her in 3 years, but I thought -- what the hell. I asked if I could visit, and she said okay. There's something about being an ex-pat in Africa that brings people together. I would never invite myself to visit someone I had only known for a few months and hadn't seen in years if she had moved somewhere I wanted to visit in the United States, but... well, it's different here. You take the opportunities you get. And I always liked her when we worked together, so I figured it would be fun.

The flight was about 3.5 hours, and I ended up in the row in front of a very wild, misbehaving South African child whose mother refused to do anything more than ineffectually shout at him to sit down. Well done, lady.

As soon as I landed at the airport, it was a completely different world from South Africa. There is a particular chaos that I haven't seen anywhere but certain African cities that I can't really describe... and South African cities don't have it. Kampala does though, and I had a very weird sense of nostalgia for last summer.

A case in point was the process for procuring visas to enter Tanzania. There were empty windows under a big yellow sign that said "VISAS" with an arrow pointing to the left. Everyone initially went to the area on the left, but no one seemed to be moving forward. Instead, people's names were periodically called out, but that was it. Someone finally figured out that we were in the area to collect visas. We looked around, and there was one Tanzanian border agent standing back by the empty windows (in front of them), personally accepting the visa application forms and cash payments. Okay. So a few of us went over there, where it wasn't a line so much as a group of people all clamoring to get at this guy next. A number of people had to catch connecting flights to Zanzibar and were yelling that they needed to go next, etc. The border agent was unimpressed. I realized just before I got to him that everyone else had printed out their itineraries showing that they had an onward flight out of Tanzania, and I... did not have that. So when I got up to the guy, I just gave him my forms, my passport and $100 in cash (it costs twice as much for US passports than for any other passport -- no idea why??), and he asks me where my itinerary is. I told him I don't have it, because it's an e-ticket and I didn't realize I needed to print out my itinerary. He handed me back the $100, but keeps everything else (including my passport!!!), puts them on the shelf behind him, and tells me to stand off to the side. Then he proceeds to ignore me for about 5 minutes.

So I'm standing there, thinking that they're going to make me get on a plane back to South Africa. A female border agent comes over and asks me what the problem is, and I explain to her that I didn't print out my itinerary, but if I can get access to my email, I can show that I'm leaving in three days. She explains to the guy in Swahili, who argues back that he doesn't care, and she suggests that someone get me a laptop so I can prove I have the itinerary. After some more arguing in Swahili, she writes something on one of my forms, takes my $100, shoves everything back at the guy, and tells me everything is fine. I have no idea what happened, but I thank her and go to wait to get my passport back.

It was hot. While I was waiting, I took off my boots and socks and swapped them out for the flip-flops I brought with me. Once I get my passport back with my visa in it, they take my fingerprints and let me through without any more problems. Christine had arranged for an off-license taxi driver she knows and uses to pick me up, and he was waiting for me with a sign with my name on it. I had to exchange money, which was.... again, very different. Not an official change bureau, but just a couple guys in a booth with a calculator and a terrible exchange rate. But I did finally manage to get out of the airport. The taxi driver, King, didn't speak great English -- a recurring theme in Tanzania, as it turns out. It's the first big African city I've been where people really prefer you to at least try to speak their language, and many of them simply don't speak English very well. So I picked up some basic Swahili phrases over the weekend.

Anyway, King took me to Christine's office. The drive in was surreal. It was just so much like Kampala. Not built up, traffic was insane, and there were boda bodas everywhere. They also have small buses called dala dalas, which are really different from minibus taxis or matatus. They serve the same function, but they're bigger and more like actual buses, with an aisle down the middle and everything. I couldn't get a good picture of one, so here's one from Google:

They also have tuk tuks! They're called bajajis. I was so confused when I saw them at first, but they're a great way to get around, and not nearly as touristy as in Thailand or Cambodia.

Anyway. We got to Christine's office, then went to change money (at a more reasonable exchange rate) and to her apartment. She's in Dar doing a 6 month practicum for her Masters degree in public health, and she's staying with her boss for now. The building complex and the apartment were really nice. I immediately changed into shorts (shorts! For the first time since May!) and basked in the fact that the doors were open and there was a lovely cross-breeze. Dar is right on the coats of Tanzania, and from the balcony of her apartment, I could see the Indian Ocean.

Friday afternoon wasn't terribly exciting. We went to Shoppers, the big grocery store (very similar to Nakumatt in Kampala), so that we could buy snacks for our trip to Zanzibar the next day. Since it's Ramadan and Zanzibar is about 90% Muslim, we weren't sure we would be able to find food in Stone Town, so we wanted to be prepared with our own supplies. Christine also needed to buy some things to bring to a bar-b-q we were going to on Sunday when we got back from Zanzibar. We also watched some Olympics -- my first live coverage except for one swimming event that I happened to catch while I was at a mall in Joburg. We went out to dinner at a Chinese restaurant called Tangren that she had been wanting to try (it was all right but not my favorite, although she seemed to really enjoy it), and that was pretty much it.

View from inside a bajaji. 

City street

Saturday morning, we got up early and went to the port to get the ferry to Zanzibar. We wanted specifically to take the 9:30am Kilimanjaro ferry, which we had been told was the best. King dropped us off by the Coastal Ferry booking office (the company that runs the Kilimanjaro ferry), but when we got out of the car, a bunch of guys ran up to us and started telling us that the 9:30 Kilimanjaro ferry was sold out, and the next one wasn't until 12:30pm, but if we hurried we could still get on the 9am ferry. We told them that we only wanted to take the Kilimanjaro, and they were like, yeah yeah, this is the Kilimanjaro. Honestly, we knew something wasn't right, but they kept telling us we had to run, and hurry, or we would miss it. So we ran. Sigh. If we had taken time to check whether the 9:30 Kilimanjaro ferry was really sold out, we probably would have missed both, honestly -- but we ended up getting completely ripped off and on a stupid small ferry that was not good. I paid 90,000 Tanzania shillings ($60) and Christine, who has a residents' visa so pays the residents' rate, paid 45,000 TZS. On the way back, on the actual Kilimanjaro (a much nicer ferry), we both paid significantly less for the same ticket. So, that sucked.

Dar es Salaam port

The ferry we were supposed to be on.

Anyway, we got on the ferry, and it left. The "first class" section of the ferry, where you get to sit down, wasn't air conditioned, or the A/C was broken, or something -- which made it miserable, especially when the ferry started kicking back and forth. I had taken my anti-motion sickness medicine (thank God), but Christine didn't. There was a group of 30 South Korean students on the ferry too, and one of them looked like she was feeling really sick, so I went over and offered her some of the anti-nausea medicine, which she gratefully took. The stuffiness of the cabin wasn't helping though, so we all moved outside eventually. Christine and I ended up chatting with a few of the Korean students for the rest of the ferry ride, which passed the time nicely. They had been volunteering in Dar for two weeks, teaching Tanzanian kids about IT and computers. They were actually sneaking over to Zanzibar, because the program was funded by the South Korean government, so they weren't supposed to do any "fun" or "touristy" things.

Leaving Dar

Dar in the background

En route to Zanzibar

Christine, HanBin, me and ... I never did catch his name

We got to Stone Town at around 11am. Although Zanzibar is technically part of Tanzania, it's quasi-autonomous, and it has its own immigration procedures. Again, Christine's residents' permit in Tanzania meant she could breeze right through Zanzibari immigration, but I had to fill out an entry form and get a stamp and everything. They actually wanted to see proof of yellow fever vaccination, but I hadn't brought my WHO vaccine card because I wasn't expecting that. When I told them I had been in South Africa before arriving in TZ/Zanzibar, they just let me through. I don't know if it's because South Africa requires proof of vaccination before they let you enter (technically), or because there's low risk of yellow fever in South Africa, or what, but I didn't complain.

First view of Stone Town, Zanzibar

Welcome to Zanzibar! "Karibu" means "welcome" in Swahili.

After we cleared immigration, our plan was to head north to Kendwa Beach. It's supposed to be one of the best beach areas in Zanzibar, but it's about a 2 hour drive from Stone Town, and transportation can be quite a hassle. Christine had gotten the name of a guy in Zanzibar from a friend of a friend of a... we never quite figured out the connection, actually. But she called this guy, Abdi, who was supposed to arrange for us to get up to Kendwa. We had some trouble finding him, but eventually he and his brother Omar tracked us down. We were going to link up with a taxi driver they knew, but we weren't sure we had a room in Kendwa. Almost everywhere we had tried was sold out, and Christine had managed to "reserve" a room, but when she called to make sure it was still available.... it wasn't. It would have cost about $60 to get up to Kendwa, and we didn't want to risk having nowhere to sleep, so we decided to just stay in Stone Town.

Abdi and Omar leaped into action. Abdi is a licensed tour guide in Zanzibar, but his English isn't great. Omar used to work at a few hotels on the island, but I guess is technically unemployed now. He seems to be part of Abdi's "team," and thank goodness, because his English was really great. Without Omar, I don't know how we could have communicated at all. Anyway, they took us to a hotel in Stone Town called Safari Lodge and negotiated a price for us for one night. Still a bit steeper than I'm used to paying when I travel, but most accommodation in Stone Town is (I had looked beforehand), and it ended up being really great.

Square in Stone Town

Safari Lodge, on a typical Stone Town street

Christine and I still wanted to go to the beach, so Omar and Abdi took us to the Mtoni Marine hotel, just a bit outside of Stone Town. We walked for a bit, but it was hot so we ended up jumping on a dala dala to get the rest of the way there. When we got to the beach, the tide was way out. I guess it's not something that happens in Jamaica (where Christine is from), because she was very skeptical. I was also a bit disappointed with how far away the water was, but the guys assured us the tide would come in by 3pm. They left us with an arrangement to come get us a few hours later, and I promptly.... well, fell asleep. We rented these beach beds and put them under a little sheltered beach hut, and it was just so nice and quiet, that I passed out. Which was a mistake, because the sun moved (of course), and I woke up with my legs absolutely baking. I of course had a nice sunburn on just one leg by the evening. Sigh.

Christine woke me up a little after 3pm to tell me that the tide had, in fact, come in while we weren't paying attention. I went and waded in a bit, and then decided that yes, this called for some swimming. We moved our stuff closer to the beach so we could keep an eye on it, and then we jumped in. We stayed in the water for about an hour, and it was heavenly.

Before the tide came in

Fisherman on the right

My view for most of the afternoon

Sandy feet after swimming

Me and Christine

It may not have been the great beaches of Zanzibar, but I still had a pretty fabulous time. And it didn't cost $60 and take 2 hours to get there!

Omar and Abdi came back to get us at around 5pm, and we rode back into Stone Town. They dropped us off at Safari Lodge to shower, and they went to break fast for Ramadan when the sun set. Apparently what they do (and what Christine's boss does, who also is Muslim) is eat a small breakfast right around 6:30, and then they eat dinner a bit later. So instead of eating one big meal, they fit in two meals after sunset.

Getting dressed was actually fairly difficult. Christine and I had both packed to be at the beach up north, where you can kind of wear whatever you want. But Stone Town is an overwhelmingly Muslim city, and it was Ramadan, so we needed to dress somewhat conservatively. We hadn't really brought conservative clothes.... I had brought shorts and tank tops, mostly. I ended up just wearing the same two skirts over and over again all weekend, with basically the same shirt.

Anyway, we went to to Forodhani Gardens for dinner. It's not a garden at all -- it's a food market, basically, with tables full of seafood lit with kerosene lamps. It was really busy, but Omar took us to his favorite table to get food. I obviously didn't eat any of the seafood, but there were plenty of vegetarian options as well.

I think that was spiced squid. I did not eat any.

We sat around in the Gardens eating for a while with Abdi and Omar (who pretty much didn't leave our sides the entire time we were in Zanzibar), and then we stopped by Mercury's Bar. Freddie Mercury, the lead singer of Queen, was born in Stone Town. He was British, but he grew up in Zanzibar and India, and he birth name was Farrokh Bulsara. So of course there was a bar in his honor. It wasn't very... Queen-themed, though. And it was a little awkward, because again, Abdi and Omar were with us, but not drinking. Omar at least said that he usually drinks, but not during Ramadan. So it was sort of like -- why are we at a bar, then? But we didn't really stay long, and now I can say I went. That's probably why it exists in the first place anyway.

Phew! That was the end of our first day in Zanzibar. I'll put Sunday (in Zanzibar and back in Dar) in a separate entry.