I haven't had much internet over the past few days, mostly for lack of trying. It seems contradictory to travel allllll the way out here to sit by the Indian ocean and surf the net. So what follows are pieced together ramblings of my first few days in Africa. Sorry, no pictures. You're gonna have to read my incessant blabbering.
Day 1: Arrival in Dar Es Salaam.
I arrived in Dar a hot sweaty mess with a backpack that was clearly overpacked (why do I always do this!?!). My first moment in Tanzania began like all international stories do. I forgot to do something in the states so getting into the country required some hoops, bargaining, and someone taking my passport and sticking a dirty needle in me. Just kidding, sort of ;) Apparently I had to get my yellow fever vaccination in the states before entering Tanzania... every guide book and travel website out there says so. I missed the memo. So, upon arrival a lady in a white coat took my passport and lead me out of the visa line and into a small dark room. She took out a candy tin full of (sterile) needles and some vials, she drew some fluid up and handed me the needle. Through conversation she discovered I was a nurse. I stalled, waiting for an alcohol swab or something... well that never came so she figured she'd move the process along. Poke, done. Welcome to tanzania.
Unfortunately besides my airport doctor's office visit there is little to say about Dar, I slept through most of my stay here. Jet lag and pure exhaustion got the better of me. Except for my taxi ride from the airport. It was then that it hit me like a ton of bricks... I am in Africa. This is a whole new world.
I must say, there is a certain amount of vulnerability in traveling solo. You don't have that buddy to talk to when you're in a taxi or eating a meal. You don't have that second person to confer with when you are navigating the crooked unnamed streets of an exotic place... or that someone who can do the math while you exchange currency so you don't have to multitask conversions while you are counting twenties. BUT, in lieu of all those instances where having a travel buddy could come in hand I feel that I have gained so much more. I have had the most interesting conversations with locals and I have been able to make friends with them. I avoid being in my own little world while on the other side of the world.
Day 2: Zanzibar.
Throughout the night I woke periodically to the hustle and bustle of Dar Es Salaam. Around 3AM there finally came a certain kind of calm that took over the city. It woke slowly here and there with calls to prayer some honking and a few people shouting across the alleyway. I certainly felt as though I was staying at a local hotel as there were no tourists in sight, or at all for that matter. They must have all been at the Hilton. Breakfast was in a purposely kept dark room with seemingly somber men and women waking up to the day. I strapped my super conspicuous backpack to myself and headed out into the city to find the ferry building. Thankfully I had an idea as to where it was so it was fairly easy to find. The hardest part was trying to cross the street.
The ferry between Dar and Zanzibar was indeed an interesting and exciting experience. There was a healthy mix of local black Tanzanians, women in burkas, Muslim families, and adorable children smiling and crawling over their parents. I befriended two gentlemen on the ferry, one a Muslim who taught me how to say "salaam aleikum" and gave me a bottle of mango juice and the other a Tanzanian with big dreams and a churning mind. I learned about the corrupt Tanzanian government and how Tanzania has so many resoures to offer the world. He asked me questions ranging from why is America so powerful to why HIV is so widespread in Africa to how he can raise money so he can fund his farm and open a school for children who have lost their parents to HIV. What an interesting man... And what an amazing dream! I had fleeting thoughts of collaborating with him to return one day with a team to provide care for the children of his orphanage... A medical mission so to speak. Well, he could have been a creep just trying to get money but I had none to give and I want to trust in human kind. I gave him my email address and told him to write me a proposal and we could go from there... Making friends in high places, his farm is at the foot of Mt. Kilimanjaro.
I arrive in Stone Town, Zanzibar and haggle my way to Kendwa... a village on the northern tip of the island. One of the most memorable sights of the ride between Stone Town and Kendwa was seeing three small children dancing around on their porch with their mother/older sister (?) along right beside them. Their smiles and laughter were irrisistable.
After four plane rides, a handful of taxis, a ferry, some haggling, and wandering around I was at last sitting my ass on a tropical beach eating octopus and drinking coconut water. Between chatting with locals and reading my book in the sun I take a dip in the turquoise waters of the Indian Ocean. All the stress of travel and jet lag ended in a magnificent calm.
Day 3: Now that is what a sunburn feels like... Yowza!
Turns out one afternoon of sitting by the beach was enough relaxing to warrant me seeking out some sort of activity for my second day at Kendwa. I ventured out for a day of fighting seasickness, hanging out with some tourists and locals, and snorkeling off the coast of Mnemba Island.
The day previous, I met Moses, a born and raised Kendwa local with a healthy amount of rico suave charm. We chatted on the beach and he sold me on a snorkeling tour. Well, all he had to say was "fresh caught lunch included" and I was already on the boat.
It occurred to me that there would be other tourists on the boat and admittedly so it was something I looked forward to. Meeting people from other countries is an added perk to traveling. Though, so far my most satisfying interactions with people have been with locals. They are genuinely curious and genuinely appreciative of my efforts to speak Swahili with them. However, the solidarity of being a tourist in such an exotic place seemed appealing. I was both right and very wrong.
Traveling alone has offered me the opportunity to do a lot of observing. The general theme of the breach resorts in Zanzibar are "honeymoon paradise for couples that would rather look at their phones" and "entitled white people that can't be bothered to smile." I won't get off my high horse quite yet because... Well that shit bugs me. And unfortunately it is just testament to how inherent racism can be. I'm not saying these people are bad. There is just an element of sensitivity and graciousness that is just lost. At dinner an American girl explained that she wanted her fish seared for exactly 60 seconds on each side to a waiter who clearly spoke very little English. Rather than dropping it she persisted. Finally after a gaggle of staff members came together at their table they figure something out... But c'mon, bitch shoulda sucked it up. Later, I hear her talk about how she pretended to not speak English and how hilarious it was to trick a local. She was a little too proud of herself. And then on the other side of me a table full of South Africans were snapping their damn fingers shouting "garçon" completely oblivious of their assholery. A group of Israeli girls would not smile or even humor a sweet crew member on the snorkel tour, one of them was straight up rude... Thankfully I don't think the gentleman realized. So, needless to say i did not get to know these folks. I'll get off my high horse now.
I have met a small handful of those who don't fall into the categories of unhappy, unsmiling, depressing tourists and for that I am grateful. I met some study abroad kids from Atlanta, GA and a sweet gentleman from Scotland. All were gracious and seemed genuinely excited to be here... Enjoying the island, culture and people. It was a breath of fresh air and made me less irritated with tourists. Ok, now I'm officially off my high horse.
My big snorkeling tour was quite fun but I must say the highlight of my day was at sunset. I laid along the beach and watched a soccer game unfold between the locals. There was so much laughter and energy juxtaposed against the slowness of a fiery sunset, the silhouette of bobbing fishing boats and Massai men sauntering, robes flapping in the wind.
