Welcome to Africa
Trip Start
Jan 14, 2012
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Trip End
Feb 12, 2012
Moshi, Tanzania
Monday, January 16, 2012
The plane landed in Nairobi, Kenya at 7am which I didn't think would leave me enough time to catch my 8am flight that was to depart for Tanzania but it seemed that the airport and airline staff had everything under control. Besides, my arrival gate and departure gate was all of 50m apart, and since I didn't have to go through customs, I found myself at the departure gate fairly quickly. I was now less worried about me missing the connection and more concerned about my luggage making it.
The first thing that hit me was the wave of heat that I was struck by upon leaving the plane and strutting down the tarmac under the early morning sun. Worse still I found that I was already burning in my hiking boots as they were too bulky to pack but not exactly the type of footwear one would wear in hotter climates.
After a bit of confusion at the boarding gate, as even though I had my boarding pass I was apparently missing the "correct" boarding pass, they allowed me to enter through the gate without me having to bribe anyone. Before long I was back on the same tarmac but this time the passengers were all unsupervised so it appeared as though I could easily walk onto any of the many planes, about to depart to a smattering of exotic locations, that had their doors open however I quickly concluded that it was best to find my rightful plane. And soon I did find my little Precision Air propeller plane that was to complete my long trajectory to Tanzania.
Since it was a short flight the plane never gained too much altitude so I keenly observed, or as much as my tired eyes permitted, the landscape that was still foreign to me.
Not long before landing the pilot made an announcement that we would soon be able to see Kilimanjaro coming up from the left side of the plane. The unfortunate thing about this was that I was sitting on the right side of the plane. But I figured I would just strain my neck if necessary to grab the distant view of the tallest mountain in Africa.
People on that side of the plane were certainly seeing something spectacular if I were only to judge from their body language and verbal queues. But whatever it was that they were seeing I hoped that it would come into view from my vantage point. And then that is when I started to see it.
I only saw the crater edge of this dormant volcano at first, from my disadvantaged seat, when I suddenly realized just how close we were flying to this famed mountain. We were right beside it and flying at an altitude of what appeared to be just above its 5895m summit. I could not believe it and I was speechless other than quietly cursing myself for not having tried to secure a left window seat.
The full mountain came into view, or at least as much as I could see, and to further enthrall the passengers the pilot banked the plane slightly so as to provide an even more blessed view to the insatiable crowd. It was such a clear day and we were so close it was almost as if we could have reached out and touched it.
The Tanzanian woman in the seat beside me had taken this particular flight several times in the past and even she stated that this was the best view of Kilimanjaro that she had seen from the plane. The airline stewardess appeared equally impressed as she quickly pulled out her tablet and snapped a photo through a passenger's window as we flew by.
As the mountain view continued towards the back of the plane I couldn't help but imagine visualizing myself at the top of the summit, in less than a week, perhaps waving my hand at the wide-eyed passengers of a similar plane.
The spectacular view eventually completely faded away as we continued our descent into Kilimanjaro International airport. The plane landed shortly before 9am.
Even before passing through immigration control an official was asking to see verification of yellow fever vaccination. Those who could not show adequate proof of vaccination would be vaccinated on the spot. I felt my comfort level dropping with the thought of receiving a needle in a Tanzanian airport as my welcome to this country.
This requirement caught me completely off guard since I had only expected to be showing such proof upon arriving in another country from a flight that originated in Tanzania. Even then it had not been a strong requirement that I receive the yellow fever vaccination. However, the detail that I had overlooked was that my flight that had arrived from Tanzania had originated from Kenya (another country where contracting yellow fever was possible). Even though I was transiting through Kenya and in total was there for less than an hour it did not matter to Tanzanian border patrol.
As I watched a few surprised and unfortunate people be ushered into an area to receive this needle I feverishly searched for my vaccination certificate among my travel documents and nervously displayed it to the official who nodded nonchalantly and allowed me to pass.
The next thing I witnessed was a fury of people madly filling out forms that had been loosely placed on randomly setup counter space. I fought my way through the unfriendly and unforgiving crowd just to retrieve a prized blank form and began to fill it out (without the benefit of counter space since every inch had been taken) when I realized that it was a visa application.
Canadians, and it would appear citizens of many other countries, require a visa to enter Tanzania. Since I live in Ottawa it would have been a terrible display of laziness if I hadn't visited the Tanzanian embassy to receive the visa beforehand. Therefore I quickly dropped the form and proudly strode to the almost empty immigration line as almost everyone else scrambled to enter the quickly filling visa application queue.
The border official seemed pleased with my passport and application but asked me to place my fingers on my right hand onto the fingerprint scanner. Afterward I had to have my right thumb scanned and then I needed to repeat the process for my left hand. However, not all of the scans were adequate so I had to continue and repeat the process until everything was acceptable. They certainly don't make it that easy to enter the country but at long last I was in!
After picking up my only piece of luggage, my well-traveled black backpack that I was half-surprised didn't get lost during the short connection in Nairobi, I went past the doors into the arrival hall and observed the collection of people waiting there. Many of them held out signs before them, with names hand-written on them, as they looked expectantly at every tourist coming through the doors.
It didn't take me long to see my name on one of the signs and I acknowledged the holder with eye contact and a smile. He greeted me warmly as we shook hands and introduced himself as Issa. I accepted his offer to carry my backpack out to the waiting car and soon we were out the front doors of the small airport and into the parking lot. This is when I saw my friend Duncan.
Duncan was the one who actually initiated a trip to Tanzania and in fact had done much of the crucial research involved with it. He had asked around to see if anyone was interested in accompanying him on this adventure. He had me at "hello".
Back in Ottawa I had suddenly found myself madly organizing myself and buying items for this trip since his arrival date into Tanzania was quickly approaching and I was suddenly on board for the voyage. Now here we were.
His flight arrived as scheduled about two hours prior to my arrival but Issa had been there to greet him and graciously allowed him to sleep in the car before my flight came in. And it appeared that he had just awoken from his short nap. It was good to see him again.
Soon we found ourselves in a car with Issa and a driver heading towards the city of Moshi as we caught up with each other in the backseat. Even though Duncan lives in Australia it hadn't been too long since I had seen him last. In fact he had been in Ottawa visiting throughout the Christmas holidays. Subsequently, in early January, Duncan and his family traveled through Europe for a few days before he caught his flight to Tanzania.
Irrespective of the fact that we had only seen each other less than two weeks before we still had much to talk about with regards to our separate paths that had finally converged, on this morning, at Kilimanjaro airport. As we talked Issa tried to interject, sometimes successfully, as he welcomed us to the country and explained details of the landscape and people that we were seeing as we sped along. I knew it was unlikely that I would remember any of the facts that he was trying to parlay to us but all the same he had this warmth about him that seemed quite genuine.
I did have some chance to soak in my surroundings during the occasional moment of silence between conversations and noticed that the land looked quite arid but still with some vegetation in the form of bushes or a tropical looking tree.
One thing I hadn't realized about Tanzania was that it is a left-hand driving society. Although I certainly had no intention of driving so much as a bicycle I realized that I would have to get accustomed to being careful when walking among the maze of streets and to be especially cognizant when crossing the street because the cars would be coming from a different direction than what was wired into my brain.
In about 45 minutes we were in Moshi and realized that I was feeling shell-shocked for a variety of reasons. Firstly it was likely about 30 degrees Celsius but felt 10 degrees warmer than that since I had come from a climate where the average temperature was well below zero this time of year. Secondly, I was thoroughly exhausted from the almost 2 days of traveling it took for me to get to Tanzania. Finally I was in Africa, a continent that I had never been to before, and with that I knew that I would have to familiarize myself with new people, customs, language etc and many other things that I hadn't even thought of yet. And moreover it was hard for me to grasp that I was actually here.
Kilimanjaro, Issa had mentioned, can be visible from Moshi but we had still yet to see it as the haze was just a bit too strong. However perhaps it was better, at least for now, that we couldn't see it as I did not want to give myself the opportunity to feel anxious. Besides, we would see it soon enough.
As part of our planning just before leaving Canada we did some research into hotels that we could stay at for at least our first night in Moshi. One option that we considered was the Golden Shower hotel. But we had already gotten enough humour mileage out of that hotel name, which we hoped was not aptly named, that we no longer felt the need to even stay there. It was just as well since the tour company with which we booked our climb with had set up our first night at the Leopard Hotel.
We registered with the hotel staff before being shown to our room by the lone security guard who also carried our bags. After dropping our bags he proceeded to show us the various amenities of our room including the bathroom, the air conditioning, the telephone, the window that really didn't present much of a view, and then he proceeded to turn on the TV and flipped through the channels until he found one that he felt we wanted to watch. He then restarted his routine and began to show us all the amenities of the room all over again.
I found this exceedingly strange and I could tell Duncan was equally puzzled. Moreover, we couldn't communicate with the guard since his command of the English language was as non-existent as our command of Swahili. But then it occurred to me what I had overlooked. It was actually quite obvious however in my exhausted state I wasn't necessarily thinking coherently. He wanted his well-earned tip.
Actually it was debatable as to whether his tip was well-earned since we could have figured out the amenities of the room ourselves and furthermore we could have easily carried our bags ourselves up the two flights of stairs. Actually he didn't necessarily ask to take our bags he just took them before we had a chance to protest. Regardless, the one thing that was clear was that he was not leaving without some money in his hand. Therefore we handed him a tip that he appeared to find acceptable and he quickly left the room. My first lesson in customs: in the tourist industry here everyone is looking for a tip.
The hotel room was nice but I couldn't help feeling a bit restless. I could have showered but that seemed like a futile thing to do since judging from what I had seen so far I would be covered in dust the moment I walked outside. Therefore that pleasure was better reserved for night. I certainly didn't want to sleep even though I could have easily done so. However, I was strictly following a plan that my elder brother had taught me with regards to conquering jet-lag quickly: stay up for as long as possible until it is actually a reasonable time to sleep in the new time zone. That was at least the crucial piece of the plan and that was not a part I wanted to mess with that. So this pleasure would also be reserved for night. So we decided to venture out into the city and explore.
Issa had informed us that he would like to take us on a walking tour of the city at 2pm. In fact he seemed to further imply that it was better to stay in the hotel and rest until that time. But that was still several hours away and I could feel this new city awakening and stimulating senses that I had forgotten about since the last time I had gone traveling therefore being stuck in the hotel room was not a viable option.
Soon we were walking on a main street and taking in as much of our surroundings as possible by our tired brains. I was a little overwhelmed by the culture shock but I was fully enjoying the sensation all the same. The road was dusty, vehicles of all sorts competed for space on the road, bicycles and pedestrians somehow seamlessly integrated themselves among the relentlessly noisy vehicles, meanwhile vendors at the roadside tried their best to sell all sorts of products to any one who was interested and even to some who were not interested. It all somehow worked in perfect harmony and just looked wonderfully choreographed to my eyes.
We looked for a clock-tower that seemed to be too elusive for us to find so we prematurely turned back towards our hotel figuring that it was better not to wander around too aimlessly. Besides, it was a bit of an awkward feeling being stared at as if we were not even human. However, we weren't actually bothered by anyone until the moment when I changed money at which time a local, who had obviously watched us enter the money exchange, came up behind us and tried to strike up a conversation by professing his unwavering friendship to us. After ignoring his repeated superficial queries he eventually gave up and disappeared into the background from which he had just as suddenly appeared.
It is easy to spot foreigners in the crowd. So perhaps it is unfair to be harsh on locals for staring. As I soon discovered I was doing the same thing. One set of obvious tourists that we encountered were a pair of men who were older but not elderly. I greeted them and asked them where the clock-tower might, be relying on the hopes that they had been in Moshi longer than the few hours we had been there. Sure enough they seemed quite knowledgeable about the city and pointed us in the right direction.
We had been walking on the correct road towards the clock-tower however we had not quite ventured far enough. But this time, more determined and armed with accurate information, we found it. Although it perhaps wasn't the monument we envisioned as it was a simple tower of 20 feet with "Coca-cola" emblazoned on its face. Further still, it was located in the middle of a traffic circle. Nonetheless we were satisfied that we at least reached our goal and we turned back down the from from which we had come.
The elder gentlemen, whom had helped us find the clock-tower, had recommended a coffee place to us and had promised us that it was an oasis away from the busy street. We found it easily enough and their words were true. Although it was not far off the main road it seemed eerily quiet even in the open air garden patio. And that was exactly where we found these two gentlemen once again and upon seeing us they warmly asked us to join them.
Their names were Pat and Patrick and they were both from Ireland. They also did most of the talking which is something that I remembered fondly from most of the Irish people I have met. They had actually been coming to Moshi almost every year since 2000 and although they had done the occasional hike or and still do the occasional safari their prime reason for their ongoing visits is for charity work. But even calling it "charity work" might be belittling what they do as one of their most recent accomplishments was raising funds for and overseeing the construction of both a maternity and a pediatric ward of a hospital.
While conversing with the talkative Irish we were rarely able to get a word in however we were able to mention that we were planning to go on a safari trip after we had returned back from our Kilimanjaro climb. Upon hearing this the two Irish glanced at each other knowingly.
"I think we have someone you should meet. You won't be disappointed." - Patrick stated. This seemed a bit random but not necessarily too unusual.
Soon he had made contact with the person he had in mind and not long after that he arrived at this outdoor cafe of serenity and introduced himself.
"Hi, my name is Adidas....." - he began to present himself.
Was this guy kidding? Did I even hear that right?
"....and my uncle's name is Puma." - he finished.
I think I liked this guy from the start even if I wasn't convinced that that was his real name. After introducing ourselves he gave us a run down of the 4-day camping safari complete with a rough itinerary.
"So....how much?" - I didn't necessarily want to be the one to bring up this question but at some point it is vital.
"Only $1400 in US dollars......each" - he stated calmly.
I nearly choked on my drink when he mentioned "each".
"So this is a camping safari like with tents right?" - I just wanted to get the details right since I couldn't believe that the camping option would cost that much.
"Yes that's right. The best tents available."
This discussion was essentially over. We thanked him for coming by and we left the cafe as we had to return in time at 2pm to our hotel.
Issa was exactly punctual and we were soon on our way for a tour of the city shortly after 2pm. He expertly navigated us through the maze of streets that we were still largely unfamiliar with. At the same time he squashed the meager hopes of any enterprising local who would try to approach us with offers for many products and services.
Firstly he took us into the backstreets of the labyrinth of local market stalls which I wouldn't have even known existed. One could probably find just about everything among the squalid stalls and tables if they new where to look. Raw meat, fish, tropical fruit and vegetables of which many I didn't even recognize were all present. But beyond that every knick-knack or odd-and-end was easily available and likely quite cheap if you spoke the local language.
Walking around through the local markets I completely lost my sense of direction and couldn't even discern how one would exit from the chaos. However Issa knew these paths like the back of his hand and led us out of the crowded markets and towards the side of town where the railroad was present.
At one point this area must have been bustling with railroad activity as there were several tracks, in parallel, especially as we approached the station itself. Trouble was that it was now all defunct since there was not enough money to support it.
He followed by taking us through a tour of the bus station, hospital (I hoped that would never come in useful), a proper money changer (must have been proper since there was a guard with an artillery rifle present and alert) and an upscale department store that appeared to cater to anyone except for the average local (judging by the fact that one found only foreigners or rich Tanzanians within its walls).
"Mzungu!" - was the cry of one small child as we passed him by causing Issa to chuckle.
"He called you a white person." - Issa said turning to Duncan.
"Am I a mzungu too?" - I asked Issa to which he didn't explicitly reply but instead laughed leaving me to wonder if that meant "yes" or "no".
It was almost a 2-hour walking tour and was invaluable as it provided us with some familiarity of the streets of this city that were still unfamiliar to us. We thanked him for this over a drink back at the hotel before he briefed us on our upcoming climb of Kilimanjaro. He ended with specifying that he would arrive at the hotel at 10:30am to pick us up. From what little I knew of him so far I was confident that he would once again be exactly punctual.
We did find it necessary to venture out once again from the hotel into the Moshi streets that were teeming with people. However we once again lacked the benefit of protection from Issa. Therefore we were approached on more than one occasion by locals approaching us promising us deals on safaris, Kilimanjaro climbs, or inviting us into a nearby souvenir store where they would no doubt receive a commission. I wonder what we looked at to some of these people because I was beginning to feel like a walking dollar sign. But then again even the poorest traveler is likely richer than the majority of Tanzanians.
Generally I like being friendly with people but this was bringing my guard up and this was only my first day. Sadly I had begun to walk faster with an uninviting look on my face in a vain attempt to stop the frequent harassment from occurring.
After dinner, which was included in the price that we paid for our climb, we repacked our bags in preparation of our upcoming trek to Kilimanjaro. We even packed a bag of items, that we deemed unnecessary for the climb, that we could leave at the hotel. We organized all this while watching Hindi movies in the background as this seemed to be the only thing on TV that had the power to distract us.
I went to sleep by 10pm. I was exhausted by the long days of traveling in addition to the busy activities of this day itself. And I knew I would need all the sleep I could get to prepare myself for the climb. Sleep came instantly.
