Tanzania Mania! – 6 July 2009

Days 57-69:
Nairobi / Nairobi National Park (Kenya)
Arusha / Mt Meru / Mt Kilimanjaro / Rift Valley / Serengeti National Park / Ngorongoro Crater / Usambara Mountains / Dar Es Salaam (Mainland Tanzania)
Indian Ocean / Stone Town / Nungwi Beach (Zanzibar, Tanzania)
Morogoro / Mikumi National Park / Iringa (Tanzania)

Kev in Africa #6 – Nairobi to Iringa
Kev in Africa #7 – Serengeti NP and Ngorongoro Crater
Simba in Africa photos

“I’ve got the old man’s car;
I’ve got a jazz guitar;
I’ve got a tab at Zanzibar.”

OK, that’s not 100% accurate. I don’t have the old man’s car, I don’t have a jazz guitar and I don’t even have a tab at Zanzibar. But I did buy a coke at a bar in Zanzibar, so technically I could have had a tab there. Anyway…

There are three reasons why any normal person would want to visit Tanzania.
i. To come face to face with the abundance of rare and unique wildlife
ii. To observe some of earth’s most astounding geographical features
iii. To relax on the sandy beaches of the Indian Ocean

During my 2 week relapse into Tanzania I’ve managed to tick off all three of those boxes, reaffirming it as my favourite country on the planet; there is little doubt why this nation has such a firm reputation for being one of the world’s most beautiful.

It didn’t take long for me to be reminded why I loved the land of Tanzania so much the first time around. Just minutes into the journey I was staring at the 4.5km high Mt Meru to the south and the base of some little hill known as Kilimanjaro (or something like that) to the east. Unfortunately I never got a clear view of Kili due to clouds covering the entirety of the mountain – which surely must be the definition of frustration – however I didn’t let this minor disappointment get in the way. Bigger and better things were still to come…

The Serengeti National Park – internationally renowned as the best game viewing arena on earth – is an amazing spectacle that, from a geographical perspective, doesn’t fit in with the rest of the country. Being a member of the Great Rift Valley club, Tanzania is often associated with huge mountain ranges. Serengeti, on the other hand, literally translates to ‘endless plains’ and it is easy to see why. Upon entering the world heritage listed national park, you get the feeling that the imaginary line you are passing is a defined border between overwhelming works of God and fields of complete flatness. As one might expect this can get a little boring at times, however all this changes once you spot your first animal. Because animals don’t hang around by themselves. They are part of families. Really, really, really big families…

It’s pretty easy to see why the flatness of the Serengeti is considered a positive characteristic. It is truly a magical sight to be able to look in every direction and see miles and miles filled to their brim by wild zebra, wildebeest and antelope. Of course the distant wildlife look no bigger than an ant, but fortunately my vision is strong enough to distinguish between a wildebeest and a giant ant.

Within just two hours of entering the national park our luck was already showing. On our way to our overnight campsite our guide spotted something lurking in a tree. As we got closer we began to understand why he had become so excited; he was looking at a leopard. For those who don’t know the leopard is one of the rarest animals to see, despite being a member of ‘the Big 5′. Coming within five metres of such an animal is a special experience, especially when the sun is setting and the other safari vehicles are waiting behind yours, all eagerly trying to gain the prime position. My trigger fingers were going crazy on my camera, which wasn’t exactly a good thing…

…Tension built up before 10am on the next morning when already two of my three camera batteries had depleted. If it wasn’t for the pitstop we made at the visitors centre a few hours later I would have probably suffered the horrible fate of being in the Serengeti and not being able to use a camera. Such a nightmare situation would be comparable with going to school without not only a pen, but pants as well. Thankfully all was well and my pants and camera were intact, because I had some wildebeest to shoot.

If there’s one thing to see in the Serengeti it’s the world famous migration of the wildebeest. Before I entered the national park my aim was to see more animals of a single species than I had seen of cattle. And believe me, I’ve seen a lot of cow. The migration made my quest a success; I was given the opportunity of viewing three separate groups of noisy wildebeest as they made their way from Tanzania into Kenya. As our safari vehicle split right through the middle of the pack, all my expectations were met. These ‘wild beasts’ – which resemble thin, bearded buffalo – exhibited a remarkably structured formation as they ran across the plains of the Serengeti. Then again such organisation was completely reasonable, considering that there was probably more than 10,000 of these animals in the one place. There may have even been 100,000 but to be perfectly honest I wasn’t really counting.

My cynical side came out at one point when our safari search turned into a quest for the rare rock hyrax. The hyrax, to be generous, looks like a rat and is famous simply because of its distant relationship to the elephant. Thankfully the others eventually joined in with my cynicism, and as we sang along to our favourite Lion King tunes our mission to find respectable wildlife continued.

Some people lose patience in safaris; if they don’t see a lion they get frustrated and refuse to enjoy themselves. Personally I’m a bit more appreciative; it didn’t matter how many million zebra or giraffe I saw I was continually impressed. This really shouldn’t have been the case, as days earlier – in Nairobi – I came so close to a giraffe that I kissed it. On the mouth. Sloppy, yes, but so worth it for the photo alone.

The intrigue continued that night when we camped on the lip of the Ngorongoro Crater at about 0 degrees celcius. To make matters more extreme buffalo and zebra were camped alongside us, sniffing past our tents in the middle of the night. When we awoke the next morning the temperature seemed even colder. A light drizzle compounded with a thick fog, making it impossible for one to see further than a few metres. To be perfectly honest, though, I could not care less. Today we were heading into the crater and I wasn’t going to miss it for a couple of rain drops.

As freezing as it was the Ngorongoro Crater didn’t disappoint. Once a mountain the size of Kilimanjaro (before caving in a few million years ago), the crater is an imposing 160km². And you can see it all. It’s like the Serengeti in a nutsell. A very large nutshell, mind you. It wouldn’t matter whether you were the worst photographer in the world, taking a bad photo here would be a virtually impossible task.

With mountains surrounding the perimeter and the inside as flat as an African Coca-Cola it couldn’t be a more difficult place for game to hide. Nevertheless rhinos are evidently masters at hide and seek. Hence, this remaining member of the big 5 eluded me (however I did come across a baby rhino in a Nairobi elephant sanctuary, but I don’t think that counts). Oh well, looks like I’ll have to wait until Kruger…

While an early cheetah sighting got everybody buzzing a remarkably empty couple of hours followed, causing my smile to turn upside down. Anticipating a pride of lions to attack a rogue buffalo we waited for an hour for a kill to take place. At one point the lion walked directly in front of the buffalo, giving us all the sense that something big was about to happen. Despite being a metre away from each other, though, neither animal even acknowledged its opposing species. Cool; I went to Ngorongoro Crater and all I got was this stupid sunburn.

On our way out of the national park I was still not convinced of the crater’s brilliance, but as it turned out my expensive safari experience was worth every shilling. After three days of impatience I couldn’t believe my eyes when I spotted a large male lion sitting beside the road. Although the simba didn’t sing or dance as the movies suggested I was still highly entertained. It’s not every day that you get within a metre of the king of the jungle. But here I was. And I was loving it.

With wildlife out of the way we headed on towards Dar Es Salaam, the city where I first got the chance to experience African culture, two months earlier. At Mikadi Beach - a few minutes from the city – I was able to relax in a hammock beside the calm Indian Ocean. I can’t say that this was a particularly noteworthy experience, but I just thought it’d be nice to slip in that extra piece of information. Purely for your pleasure.

Before beginning my research on Africa I knew two things about Zanzibar:
a) It was the birthplace of one Freddy Mercury
b) Billy Joel wrote a song about the island
Those two pieces of trivia alone were enough to make me interested about the exotic archipelago. Surely Billy wouldn’t lie to me?

To my great excitement Billy’s fascination with the island was justified; Zanzibar was everything I expected it to be and more. In fact, if it wasn’t for the rain – which fell on three of the five days in which we were there – it probably would have felt like a tropical paradise.

In all seriousness, though, Zanzibar was nothing short of spectacular. Stone Town – a maze of narrow Arabian-influenced alleyways and the home of fresh seafood – quickly became my dream home, while the northern beaches – with their white sand and aqua blue waters – painted a perfect, pulsating picture. (Note: ‘colorful’ would have been a much more appropriate word than ‘pulsating’ but honestly, who can resist alliteration?)

The only downside to the island was the alarmingly high presence of street vendors. Unlike on the mainland, where the salesman hassle you for five minutes and then give up, these guys were persistent and desperate and refused to give up until you gave in. By day they pleaded me to buy their mediocre mass-produced gifts and by night they stalked me in the fish market, asking if I could spare a few shillings so that they can buy dinner. It’s a sorry sight and it’s a real shame that this is the way I’ll remember Zanzibar.

OK… that’s not completely true. When I think of Zanzibar I’ll probably remember the night I spent in a reggae nightclub. Being a victim of the twoleftus-feetus syndrome I cannot dance to save my life. Fortunately for me reggae dancing requires no skill or effort; all you do is bob around with your feet in a stationary position and feel the groove. But the most hilarious moment of the night was not on the dancefloor, but in the men’s toilets. As I went to take a wiz I was surprised to see a Masai warrior relieving himself in the neighboring cubicle. Initially he – like many other blind locals – assumed I was Japanese (I mean, seriously, do I look Japanese?) before I corrected him and revealed I was from the land down under, where women flow and men plunder. Immediately a smile came to his face: “Ohh, Kanagaroo!” he cried whilst slapping me on the backside. I couldn’t help but ponder the randomness of this chain of events; that’s certainly a story to tell the grandkids…

Upon our return to Dar, we were naturally on a little bit of a high. Hence it was fitting that we did something crazy. Charlie – celebrating his last night with us – was the mastermind behind our night’s shenanigans, when he suggested that we hire tuk-tuks (weird looking motorbikes used to carry two or more passengers) and drag race them on the streets.

Considering that a day earlier a few tourists got mugged in the area and that last time I drove a motorbike I crashed it into a brick wall, this was far from the wisest thing I had ever decided to take part in. But nonetheless I was up for a challenge and as it turned out, my instinct was right and my brain was just trying to scare me. This adventure could have very easily resulted in total disaster but fortunately we all came back in one piece. And all we paid was 5,000 shillings. ($5AUD)

T.I.A.

Topping off my lovely Tanzanian cake with a bowl of ripe cherries was an out-of-this-world experience. Literally. Parked in the middle of nowhere our small Tucan group looked in astonishment at the brilliant night sky. With not a single municipal light getting in the way the full milky-way was revealed in all its glory. It was like a trip to the Planetarium, except that I didn’t feel like going to sleep. There was no way I wanted to say goodnight to Tanzania.

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At present I write from Johannesburg, a few thousand miles from Tanzania, which goes to show how rare it is to find a reliable and cheap internet. The recent leg of my journey has been quite an unusual one, considering that my original travel plans were to finish off in Zanzibar. Nonetheless I have had an amazing time; in the last couple of weeks I have ridden a horse through one of the world’s most dangerous lakes, achieved my African dream of swimming in a waterfall and done possibly the stupidest and craziest thing in my entire life. But more on that after the break…