The other day I got caught in a rainstorm blown in by an errant and early monsoon. I ran to the nearest open building, which happened to be a restaurant, and sat drinking chai massala (spiced tea) in Dar es Salaam on a Sunday afternoon during Ramadan. The day before that I took a 13 hour bus from Mbeya to Dar, and as the bus wound through a game reserve I saw herds of giraffe, zebra, kudu, and impala meandering along the side of the road. Even a small cluster of baby elephants lazing in the shade of a Baobab tree. From the window of a bus!
Sometimes, I take a second to think about all of the people and places and sights that I have been lucky enough to come across in the last 5 weeks, and I simply can't believe it. I am blown away that I have this opportunity, that I am walking in a place which, while hopefully it won't be a once in a lifetime visit, is certainly a once in a lifetime experience. I love this place, the different people and the different countries, and the different land, and I plan to spend a good deal more time here in the not-too-distant future, but that in no way detracts from the uniqueness of what I'm doing now. No stepping in the same river -- or the same daladala -- twice, and all that. To reduce it all down to the most basic summary: Its pretty badass that I get two months to wander through Africa all on my lonesome. I try very hard not to lose that perspective, even when busses take hours to fill, or trains break down for TWENTY FIVE HOURS, or people constantly try to sell me something or hustle me, or just otherwise part me from my cash. Its all part of the deal, and part of the story. While at times I do get so frustrated and exhausted of everything that I just want to scream and cry and break things, well, that sort of part of the package. If I wanted a no-hassle, no-fun vacation I would have signed up for club med. This is real. Whatever real is.
Today is Eid, the end of Ramadan, which matters in Dar es Salaam. Dar is a mix of seemingly everybody who has ever wandered across the African continent. Maasai in traditional wraps are hired as security guards at shops and cheap tourist hotels, which in turn are located across the road from massive mosques and hindu temples. People wander the streets in any traditional outfit you can think of, and the streets smell like fried samosas, sweets from the Taj Mahal Confectionary shop, spiced tea, live chicken, rotting garbage, bananas, coconut, coriander, and wet pavement from the last rain to blast through. I am undecided on if I like the place or not. When I first got here, all I could think was that it was so BIG. I was vaguely reminded of sketchier parts of Hollywood, but with a lot more mosques. Big, and busy too. Cars zoom up and down the streets, people are everywhere, the place is littered with shops and stands and carts and people people people. After wandering from laid-back Malawian village to village, its all a little overwhelming. In fact, it all reminded me a bit of the feeling of going into Pretoria's biggest mall two days before Christmas, after having spent three months straight in Steenbok. Just...too much.
Now I've been here for a few days though, and I'm slightly better adjusted. Hopefully this afternoon I'll begin moving on to Mwanza, on the shores of lake Victoria. I was supposed to do this yesterday, but...thats where the 25 hour train delay comes in. All part of the fun, right?
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