The sky is Enormous in Tanzania. The clouds are puffy and pompous, greedily claiming every inch of blue real estate like they own the place.
Still on the continent of Africa but worlds apart from Morocco, this is the stuff of khaki-clad, pith-helmeted, knee-socked Englishmen and women drinking their tea out of stainless steel mugs outside their tent while giraffes graze in the acacia trees beyond. Ok, not really but it´s what all the films and glossy brochures portray.
Still reeling from another incredibly brutal journey, 45 hours in total, we are lucky to be alive and be witness to the most beautiful skies we´ve ever seen. Instead of flying within Africa, we went from Marrakech to Casablanca by train, then flew to Dubai then back into Africa to Dar Es Salaam, then on a small plane to Kilimanjaro, near the town of Arusha, where we would start our first safari. There was an ecclectic mix of people on our flight to Dubai: African Muslims in both traditional and western wear, dutifully praying wherever they can on car-mat sized prayer rugs they carry with them, Indians from India, retired Japanese ladies, Africans in traditional colorful fabrics, Saudis in their starched white robes and red head scarves held to their heads with leather hoses, and caucasians in their giveaway I´m-going-on-Safari khakis. Everyone seemed to be observing some other kind of airline etiquette than we are used to: either everyone knew everyone else or they just like to party. Within minutes after the seat belt light went off, the aisles became crowded with friends and aquaintances saying hello, visiting for hours, constant chatter throughout the entire flight. A small group of three helped themselves to whole bottle of wine and just sat and laughed around an imaginery fireplace. When we arrived in Dubai, it was 2 in the morning. We were surprised to see the airport still abuzz with activity. All the shops and restaurants were open, it was packed with people, some waiting for their 3am flights to depart, some asleep on the floor, rows and rows of people, a refugee camp of displaced travelers. After trying our hardest, with no luck, to bribe our way into a business class lounge, we ended up in a paying lounge and spent the next 8 hours trying to catch a few winks propped between two chairs pulled together and eating the "free food."
We finally arrived into Kilimajaro International Airport at around 7 in the evening, expecting to see someone with a sign with our names on it waiting for us. Isn´t that what the safari company had said in their itinerary? It was a tiny airport and by the time we got our luggage, the waiting area was almost empty except for a few cab drivers eyeing us like vultures. Within minutes, the entire airport would shut down and we would be stranded, not knowing where we were supposed to be.
We figure out that we are supposed to take the free shuttle into town; there it is outside, completely full, with the driver on the roof of the shuttle securing the last few bags under a tarp. Val borrows someone´s cell phone for US$3 to call Iris, the proprietor of the safari company to confirm that we are taking the shuttle into town. Despite the vulture cab drivers who were telling us that the bus was already full and that it would be better to take a cab, the wonderful angel of a woman who worked for the airline let us know that the shuttle indeed had room left and that we should go with them. So we lifted our packs onto the roof and under the tarp they went. We sat on jump seats (the very last and worst seats in the shuttle that fold down into the aisle so as to use up all available space in the vehicle) in the shuttle expecting only a short ride but it was another hour (a very long time when you don´t know in advance how long your journey is to begin with) before we reached the airline office in Arusha town, where our driver would be waiting for us. When we arrived, it was very dark and no driver. This is where we started to panic just a little. None of the cab drivers knew where our accomodations were and typically, cab drivers don´t use meters, you have to bargain for your ride, an impossibility when we had no idea where we were or where we were going. We are quite thankful for the few random acts of kindness from strangers -- one of the guys operating the shuttle offered to call Iris again and then ran to the back of the building where he found the driver waiting there. How pleased we were to see him! A truly genial man, he introduced himself as James and promptly delivered us to our accomodations which turned out to only be 5 mintues away.
At the Arusha Bungalows, we were warmly received by Jordan. He and Iris, both Tanzanian born but of Indian descent, own Tanzania Serengeti Adventure, the safari company we booked with. Our bungalow is in the same compound as their house which they share with their three young boys and some staff. Exhausted but relieved to have finally arrived somewhere and especially excited to start our safari in the morning.
To see photos from our safari, go to
