Blog 1.7.10

Well, what do you know, we’re in the 2^nd decade of the 21^st century. I must admit I did indeed usher in 2010 by being passed out, half-dressed on the cold tile floor where no one could find me. Due to alcohol? No, no. Due to a very hot Zanzibar evening, a set of unrelenting stomach cramps, and being exhausted from climbing Kilimanjaro and the bus ride back from Moshi. I think I went to sleep before 11pm. Why the floor? Well, there has been no electricity here on the island for over 1 month so the fans or AC don’t work and the bed was too darn hot. So naturally, I stripped down and laid on the floor in the narrow space between my bed frame and where my mosquito net touches the ground. I can’t tell you how comfortable it felt to have the coolness of the tiles on my skin compared to a set of bed sheets!!! While I didn’t appreciate whatever business was going on in my GI tract, I couldn’t help but think that it was slightly better than last year’s December 31^st where I was on the couch clutching ice packs to my cheeks because I had gotten my wisdom teeth out that day. Only time will tell how I choose to celebrate 2011. Suggestions are welcome.

Since my last post, many many things have happened!

The three Harringtons arrived in Dar safely, but without any of their luggage. We got back 5 of the 6 suitcases a few days later, with the other one still being MIA. Its last sighting was in Alabama… I have no idea how they possibly confused that with Tanzania. Everyone was disappointed, and unsure how the Swiss watch-makers could have been so un-precise with this matter. I hope they keep track of things better with their secret bank accounts!

We spent the night at the YMCA hotel in Dar, getting there after the reception desk had closed. Never fear, the night watchman stood on a stool and reached through the iron-barred windows to fetch keys to two rooms. High security? Not so much. We left the next morning to get on a bus to Moshi, which was more of an affair than I had anticipated. All the buses I planned to take had been filled up with passengers going to the Moshi/Arusha area for the holidays. I was taken to a smaller bus on a side street and told the tickets were 35,000 shillings—twice what I had paid when I went to Moshi in November when en route to the conference in Kampala. I knew I was being told the “mzungu” price for a ticket, so asked a woman who was already sitting down where she was going and how much she paid. She replied 25,000 shillings, which then earned her a very angry glare and a not-so-nice comment from the guy who was trying to over-charge me for a ticket. I ended up having to pay 30,000 Tsh per ticket, but oh well. The bus ride was supposed to be about 7 hours. It was over 11 hours long. The bus wasn’t licensed to leave the Dar area, and was stopped by the police and given a hefty fine. The vehicle was packed with people, and when we stopped to let off two people, six more hopped on board and stood in any space available. Before we went through the mandatory weigh station, the people who didn’t have seats got off the bus and stood by the curb. We picked them right back up after we had cleared the weight limit. Again, rules are negotiable.

We arrived in Moshi late at night and spent the next day in Moshi getting acquainted with the city. We met up with the McDows for dinner at “El Ranchero.” A Tex-Mex restaurant in Moshi? No. Not quite. It was an Indian restaurant… what, you couldn’t tell by the name?! Dinner was none-the-less, delicious.

The 24^th, Mom & I started climbing Kili while Dad & Anne started their first of four days of day hikes and safaris. I’ll write more about that later, though. Kili is a post all of its own.

Quick update to current times (Jan 18^th): last weekend I biked home from babysitting at 2am holding a kerosene lantern to light my way. With the electricity out, the few street lights that are here obviously aren’t functioning. While it felt like I was back with Paul Revere doing the whole “one if by land, two if by sea” thing, it was more effective than the headlight on the Vespa my Dad & I tried to rent that illuminated the road 1 foot behind us better than 1 foot in front. On this 18^th century-worthy expedition home, the grumbling whir of the neighbors’ generators competed with the whoosh of the wind rushing past my ears. The experience was quite Sleepy Hollow-esque: instead of being Ichabod Crane, the headless horseman and smashed pumpkin, it was me, a stray donkey and numerous squished mangoes that had fallen from a nearby tree. Almost the same thing, right? The worst part of the trek home was having to brace for the three sets of speed bumps: first, the bike I was riding was too tall to be controlled by one hand while the other was extending the lantern in hopes of giving me any prior warning to the road conditions; second, my skirt was too long (it kept getting tangled in the peddles); and lastly, I was way too sleepy to react quickly to all that jostling around. In any case, I made it home safely. I think next time, I’ll try to wear my nifty head lamp flashlight that my Mom got me for our Kili trek. Not quite as authentic as the lantern, but it will give me back the other hand to put on the handlebars, and will light the road slightly further out… so those speed bumps won’t sneak up on me.

Other than that, I’ve been quite busy working on the research project and doing Swahili lessons. We should start doing interviews in the next few weeks! I’m very excited.

I’ll try to write more soon. Hope all is well with everyone J Enjoy your electricity. I'm jealous.