The Great Train Robbery

I was imagining a train journey similar to the one taken by Daniel Craig as James Bond when he meets Vespa Lynd for the first time in Casino Royale, on the way to Montenegro. Or perhaps the Coco Chanel advert with Audrey Tatou in.

The reality was a little different. Sure it was a 1950s style train journey, with all the romance that conjures up. Unfortunately the train hasn’t been modernised since the British left post independence, and the single line track traversing the land from Mombasa to Nairobi felt decidedly like I had hyped it up in my head too much. It certainly LOOKED similar the train in the Coco Chanel advert.

The main problem was cockroaches in my cabin.

I killed at least six, and couldn’t get to sleep until 3am, because of fear they would come crawling out of the woodwork and all over me.  Apparently no one else had this problem, so I have to conclude that it’s either because my cabin was right near the door and the restaurant car, or the cockroaches were too wily for everyone else.

It wasn’t all bad. In fact I met some very nice people – including a really nice American – who’s in his 60s, extremely wealthy and who has been hoovering up poor Africans and giving them scholarships. I also met two other English guys, one of whom has lived in Kenya for most of his life and who’s a train buff. The other was his friend from University come to visit the homestead. Great people, and wonderful experiences – some corking stories too.

The journey, when I wasn’t waiting bolt upright in the middle of the night, is a great way to see the Kenyan countryside. We past giraffe, zebra, wildebeest, gazelle, and even an ostrich – Dan, the American, also saw a male lion complete with mane – but I was looking through the wrong window at the time. The train moves at a snail’s pace – so very relaxing, and time to see everything clearly.

Still. There were cockroaches. I’m not terribly squeamish about insects, but cockroaches I will not have.

And so ends my East African adventure. I have loved almost every minute of it. I hope I haven’t bored you to death with my tales. They have literally scratched the surface of things that I have experienced.

Ciao for now folks. Until the next great adventure.

Grumble grumble

With the utmost reluctance I had to leave Zanzibar yesterday. I had already extended my time there by two days, and happily sacrificed my time in Mombasa for it. Only the lure of the Great Train Journey from Mombasa  (a two hour stop over, rather than a whole day), through the Tsavo nati0nal park to Nairobi made me leave. That and the fact that I’m running out of money.  However, I have left my heart there, and no doubt I’ll bore you all with many comments beginning with “In Zanzibar” upon my return.

I was only there for four days, but it was so peaceful, and I met so many wonderful people, I didn’t feel like a tourist at all. What with me picking up a reasonable amount of Kiswahili, and being now as brown as mahogany, I have regularly been mistaken for a Zanzibarian, and certainly of having family there.

I can’t even begin to tell you some of the crazy and amazing things that have happened here – from hitchhiking with someone who turned out to be the owner of a beach resort and a Very Important Zanzibarian businessman (I can never tell when people are flirting with me or being very charming, but it certainly felt slightly wierd when he postponed all business for a large part of the day to make sure I was being well looked after. In my head the actual events of the day felt like a script for a movie. Possibly a seedy movie, but definitely a movie), to going snorkelling and seeing dolphins. From the waiter who discreetly slipped his phone number and name into a map he thoughtfully bought for me when I first arrived, to meeting this 17 year old boy called Ibrahim in Jambiani who waited with me for an hour for a daladala (small bus) when I was lost and about to cry from the heat. From the winding streets of Stone Town where I wandered during the day and dined at night with Fatma and Murtala (who I only ever met over Facebook as friends of friends – and who are an absolutely hilarious double act) to the pristine sands and green waters of Kendwa Rocks in the north, and the clear turquoise mangrove lagoons of Fumba in the southwest.

By far the best thing to happen on the Island however, is meeting Lina’s collection of international friends – who opened up their circle to me without prejudice or ceremony. Who I spent my first night on the Island with, and fittingly, my very last night as well.  A very special shout out to Amee (from India), Paulo (Italy), Denisa (Slovakia), Aida (France), Shane (R.Ireland) and Christina & Deler (Sweden). I hope we stay friends beyond these few days.

Now I’m in Tanga – a swift and unexpected change of plan. It’s another coastal town – sleepy and colonial. I arrived last night, and am stretching out my last few hours in this beautiful country before heading back to Kenya. Last night I met two other Tanzanians – an Indian and an African; Muslim and Christian. Partners in business, and childhood friends. Very simple and very honest.  Since there was no one else at the hotel, we ended up dining and breakfasting together. The only point at which I felt slightly uncomfortable was when Ayub, the African, got decidedly blotto and started asserting that he was alone and would stay alone until he found a European girl, because all African women are after money. No money no honey, he kept repeating. I quickly assured him that European girls are much the same, and tried very hard to change the subject.

Tanzania is a beautiful country, and the only thing more beautiful are the people. A more kind hearted, generous and giving people I have never met. There is no point having personal space issues here – and no point in being suspicious of people’s motives. I can’t wait to explore more of the country, and indeed, more of the continent.

Go away world

I’m not coming back.

Zanzibar karibu

I arrived in Zanzibar by ferry last night, to be picked up by my next couchsurfing host, Lina, who works in the Island on the UN’s HIV and AIDs programme. She’s a Japanese national, who organised a sushi party full of European NGO workers and Development fellows last night. It was spectacular.

Today I’ve just come back from an afternoon/morning of snorkelling on a pristine white beach, with the bluest waters you ever saw. If you think I’m going to leave all that stuff waiting, just in order to write a travel blog, you’re mad.

Redemption Song

There is only one way to travel in style in East Africa, and since I have travelled in all possible vehicles, I should know.

It’s on the back of a motorbike. Possibly it would be better if I was driving the motorbike myself, but other than that, it’s by far the classiest way.

In Bagomoyo yesterday – a mere two hour drive from Dar – I met Jhikoman, who’s a rasta and a raggae singer. I was introduced to him by Mfaume who took me around yesterday. He took me around to the Roman Catholic Museum, which has three rooms devoted to the history of this little coastal town.

Bagomoyo was a major trading port – with caravans of goods passing through in order to get to India or China. It used to be known as “leave your melancholy behind” by the sailors, because – as testified in a poem in the museum, it was full of swaying palm trees and dancing girls.

It then became the first stop to and from East Africa in the slave trade. Not sure exactly how it happened, but the slaves changed the name so that the meaning of Bagamoyo meant “crush your heart.”

The museum had lots dedicated to how the Roman Catholics helped to free the slaves and campaigned for its abolishment. Jhiko looked darkly at me, and said the Roman Catholics abolished one type of slavery and replaced it with another.

The town has changed little – the dhows still wait on the shore, waiting for the tide to come in. The fish market is still made from natural materials, and the remnants of the town’s port authority stands as the highest building on the beach. There has of course been modernisation, but I felt while there that I had been transported back some 150 years ago. In a strange way I saw the ghosts of slaves who walked the streets carrying ivory – upon pain of death – or were locked up in buildings until it was time for them to leave.

Jhikoman took me back to his home, where his wife and 3 month old baby were waiting. Victoria made the most amazing lunch of Ugali with oyster mushrooms – best meal I’ve had all trip. He got out his guitar, and sang Bob Marley’s Redemption Song. I love that  song. He’s quite popular in Finland, it appears, and has performed in the UK and a few other European countries. He showed me his DVD – which Usayd, is going to be a present for you. His music is good, but I’m not a fan of raggae really, and I vaguely remember you listening to some.

I eventually got back to Dar at about 5, and wandered around for a bit. I’m afraid I chickened out of making friends at the YMCA. I did look expectantly at people, and even said hello, but no one was interested in breaking out of their groups to talk to the lone traveller. I can only conclude that they are annoying gap yaah students.

It’s too soon, I know

I’ve become as brown as a nut. I know this because a Masai warrior confirmed it over a beer last night.

Technically he had the beer, and I was waiting for my Sprite. But still, throughout the trip I have been “mzungu,” but here in Dar is the first time I’ve been called “MHindi”

I’m blogging in quick succession from last night’s for a couple of reasons. Each I want to put down before the excitement that potentially awaits today.

One. The Masai warriors are brilliant. You can meet them anywhere, and they are always well respected by the non Masai. They are identifiable by their cloth, their gaping ear piercings, and they usually carry a stick.  I’ve seen them crouched in a daladala (a minibus that has room for 8 people, but usually fits in 15), and walking along in groups while on the way to Safari. But seeing one in the YMCA just finished me off.

Two. God bless the Christian brotherhood. This YMCA is amazing. The showers are cold, but that’s about the only bad thing. They have internet here, a laundry service, excellent staff, and breakfast is included. And if you’re in need of cheap eats during lunch or dinner, they have a good range of traditional meals.

This is the only place where I have seen foreigners in any numbers – and even then there are only about 4.  I hope I can make my first travel buddy here. Everyone knows that travellers are the coolest.

On the Indian Ocean

OK, so sorry for the lack of blogging updates. Since I’ve been on the run, things have been a little hectic, busy, and also since I’ve been deep in a village somewhere south of Arusha, there has been limited internet.

Here are the headlines in brief and chronological order:

Wednesday

I fled Arusha town on the MTEI Express bus to a village called Dareda. Have you ever thrown a chip to a bunch of gulls and seen them tear the thing to shreds?  I felt like that chip when I arrived at the bus stop – there were about 20 bus conductors surrounding me, shouting at me to take their bus and pawing at me to get their attention. Every “muzungu” (foreigner) gets this – male or female. Luckily I was saved by an official after doing a good impression of a damsel in distress, and made it to my next host after a five hour trip.

I met my next couchsurfing host Ave – who’s a French volunteer at the local hospital. He lives there with his girlfriend Anne-Marie and two dogs. Those of you who know my fear of dogs maybe surprised at my choice of host, but I sort of got over the fear – as long as they don’t touch me.

Thursday

Ave is a legend – he directed me towards a salt late (pictured in the post below), where there were flamingoes, and rock paintings thousands of years old. I had to walk and climb for quite a long time to find them, but thankfully a group of four girls who had been following me for an hour decided to help me. On the way back, a 60 -year-old shepherd walked me back to the bus stop, and despite having very little English managed to convey that he wanted to marry me. He wasn’t being at all serious though, and I had a good laugh with him over a Coke.

Friday

Ave lives just on the Rift Valley. I’d tell you more about it, but I lost my guidebook, as we all now know. Basically thousands if not millions of years ago, the earth ruptured, creating this massive rift hundreds of miles long. Ave lives in a forest just in front of part of the rift and I spent the morning climbing up, and getting right to the top and right in the clouds. It was basically lunge-walking for an hour. Hopefully I should be really good next BMF class.  At night, I was introduced to one of Ave’s friends, called Vivian, who said he’d take me to the Manyara national park for a Safari.

Saturday

I went on Safari! It was only a small one – but I saw elephants from literally feet away – stood staring right at eye level with a mother elephant as she led her calf down the road. I saw dozens of giraffe, zebra, wildebeest, impalas, baboons, velvet monkeys, blue monkeys – and a whole pool of hippos just metres away. It cost me a heck of a lot of money, but as Ave says “it costs what it costs” in his French accent. And it was a good compromise. However, now I’ve got wet, I’m going to go swimming.

Sunday

Today – bussed it from Arusha to Dar Es Salaam, and here I am now! It’s beautiful! Hibo introduced me via facebook to her friend who lives here, and he’s just been showing me around. It’s about 7:30pm now, and we’ve just finished eating street food on the beach, where Sundays hosts an array of families just hanging out. It’s dark, and balmy, and the sea is glittering in the moonlight. Now don’t laugh OK – but I’m staying at the YMCA. It’s in the centre, it’s cheap, and there is a mosquito net. That’s all I need.  Tomorrow I’m heading to Bagomoyo, which is I believe was something of a slave trade centre, and then to the museum and botanical gardens.  And Tuesday I’ll head to Zanzibar!

I’m fine. Just too busy to write.

View from the top

ziwa la chumvi