March 7, 2014, Mikindani – Kilwa Masoko
First we took the wet laundry and then we drove and drove and drove. For lunch we had a picnic, it was very hot. And then we drove and drove and drove to Kilwa Masoko. We found a bungalow and also found out that we didn’t have enough money to go to Kilwa Kisivani, an island with a ruin city on it. Their bank didn’t take our credit cards and the next bank is very far away in Dar-es-Salaam (300km). So we had supper and went to bed. The soup was very good.
March 8, 2014, Kilwa Masoko – Dar-es-Salaam
(Police interrogation after speeding in one of the uncountable villages that seam the road to Dar.)
For a cheap USD 15 and some jokes at the village prison, we may proceed. I admit, I was speeding – Dar, the endpoint of our journey, has a strong gravitational pull and there is not much to see on our way there.
Just South of Dar, the tourism industry has us again and we spend the night in a resort – noisy sound system and all. Generally, we are surprised at how expensive everything in Tanzania is. We were not the first to miss out on Kilwa, and as we proceed, every tourist attraction is incredibly expensive – with no better (if any) service provided than in the countries we have visited previously. National parks at USD 500 per night (camping & entry fee) are off limits for us.
March 9, 2014, Dar-es-Salaam – Bagamoyo
In the morning we ate breakfast and then hedad onto the road. We drove for a bit and then took a fairy (editor’s note: hello Waldorf! J) over a little bay in the center of Daressalamm. There we looked for a place to stay when we would stay in Daressalamm. Then we went to Bagamoio and looked for a lodg. We went camping for the last time in Travellers Lodg. There we went to the beach and when I went into the water I cut my foot. At night it was very very hot.
March 10, 2014, Bagamoyo
After breakfast we decided to go to an old slave market and see the Kaole ruins. The prices were very high, but we managed to talk our way out of one by sponsoring. After the slave market, which wasn’t great, we bought some weird things at a bakery. The ruins kost a lot more, and they were really just ruins. We had lunch at a logde with a nice beach, so we could swimm there afterwards. After a drink at our logde, my mom tried to make Lebkuchen, but it didn’t work. We had supper at our lodge. The night was also hot, but not as hot as the last one.
March 11, 2014, Bagamoyo – Dar-es-Salaam
Then goodbyes have begun. We get an early start because we don’t have to pack the tent – it’s one gardener’s lucky day in Bagamoyo. On our way to Dar, we stop at Wet’n’Wild and have a water amusement park all to ourselves. In true African fashion, only half the slides are working – but we climb that tower at least 20 times and now feel that we could break any speed record there.
Arriving in Dar, we unpack the car for the first time in three months – Michael nearly suffering a heart attack from just looking at the accumulation of souvenirs…and yes, lot’s of fabrics as well!
March 12, 2014, Dar-es-Salaam
After giving away more things – some of it well worn, some never used and therfore deemed utterly useless – the remainder of our things starts to look packable. Two piles are emerging: „going to Zanzibar with us“ (not much), and „in storage with our kind landlady“.
The we head to town (in a taxi) with new courage to satisfy Kathrin and Nina’s fabric fetish. Now we know how much space there is, and we load up in the street dedicated to the fabric trade. Then we buy tickets for Zanzibar. Lunch is in the chaotic fish market, where we buy an assortment of fresh fish and seafood, have it gutted and grilled at different stations before we eat it on the spot. Wading through fish guts and ankle deep scales, with octopus ink squirting and a thick smell wafting over everything is not for the faint hearted, but we all enjoy the tasty food. We also see what must be the forecourt to hell, the open-air commercial fish-fry station, where piles of fish and seafood are fried over open fires, naked upper bodies of the men dripping from fishy oil. From there, trays of fried seafood radiate out accross town, on the heads of fish-sellers for bite-sized consumption. We have had quite enough hectic and head home for pool and some work. Dinner is in an Italian ex-pat restaurant, and late at night our next goodbye: the car is picked up after 12’217 km, 140 km a day on average. It’s sad to see our protective capsule of the last three months go….not a single serious mechanical problem!