From Moshi, 2 April 2013
We were four days on the island of Zanzibar, two days at a bungalow hotel on Jambiani Beach and two days in Stone Town, the old port developed by the sultanate of Oman during the 18th century.
Our bungalow at Jambiani was large, with a big bedroom and bath indoors and an open front porch facing the beach. This is the sort of idyllic place where one imagines only people like Brangelina can vacation—seclusion and tranquility on fine white sand, cerulean skies and aquamarine waters, pink clouds, soft breezes, and birdsong. Our reality was somewhat less perfect, but whose reality is not? We had enough of the elements in place (even the pink clouds!) for a relaxing and memorable stay, and a bullock on the beach one evening was a highlight.
In Stone Town we stayed in a rambling, eccentric hotel created in the former residence of the powerful harbormaster of Zanzibar. The days were hot, the sun heavy and the air barely stirring, but breakfast time on the rooftop terrace was fresh and cool, boats moving in the little harbor—big passenger ferries and low-lying skiffs crowded with fishermen, dhows with sails and without, an old steel-hulled tub rusting in place. I shopped and shopped, talking with some wonderful Zanzibari merchants and artisans keeping shop in centuries-old buildings—a former Portuguese embassy with gorgeous tiled floors, a family wood-working studio with living quarters above.
Yesterday morning we left Stone Town for Moshi, near the foot of Kilimanjaro, where we’ve found a lovely haven outside Moshi town—whitewashed bungalows, a pavilion restaurant, a swimming pool, and this morning our first glimpse of the great peak. Getting here was a totally African experience, which I’ll sketch briefly to illustrate the dictum that travel on this continent must be undertaken with patience and a sense of humor.
We booked our in-country travel (Dar to Zanzibar, Zanzibar to Moshi, Moshi to Dar) in Dar es Salaam through Coastal Aviation, a small local airline with a good reputation for reliability and safety. And although the teachers’ college where Jim hopes to volunteer annually is east of Moshi, which is northeast of Arusha, we booked flights to Arusha airport because we didn’t know Coastal flew to the Moshi air strip (to call it an airport would be misleading). We inquired at the Coastal office in Stone Town about changing our reservations but were told we’d have to try at the airport, so yesterday morning we asked at check-in whether we could fly to Moshi instead of Arusha. The man at the counter was doubtful; in fact he could not even find our names on the flight manifest for Arusha. “Five minutes,” he told us, “Stand there and I will call someone.” We stood aside and allowed other passengers to check in, wondering whether we’d be going anywhere at all. Finally another man appeared with a fistful of papers; he handed off to the check-in guy, who motioned us forward, checked us in and wished us “safari njema,” or “safe journey.” Nothing more was said about Moshi.
Our flight to Arusha made a stop at Tanga, where our pilot called out for “the two passengers who wanted to go to Moshi.” We disembarked with our hand luggage, our suitcase rolled out of the little cargo hold, and we were told that the plane to Moshi would be along soon. We were on the ground just long enough to share a cold Stoney (Tanzanian ginger soda) and check out the restrooms; our plane arrived, we boarded quickly and one hour later set down at Moshi. Everything worked out. We paid no change fees, made no new reservations, and had no idea how our request was communicated and honored, but there we were, spared a long, hot bus ride from Arusha to Moshi. A young woman offered coffee while she negotiated a reasonable taxi fare from the air strip to our hotel. And that is the complete Tanzanian experience—often loosely organized but always extended with good will and kindness.
Jim’s contact from the teachers’ college arrived just after we checked in to the Salinero Hotel and whisked him away in a serious four-wheel-drive vehicle, high off the ground on wide, heavy tires. I stayed behind to unpack, had a tasty chicken masala for lunch, and explored the grounds of the hotel. Later we had a good dinner and slept well, happy to be settled in one place for four nights—the longest we’ve stayed anywhere on this trip!
