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Welcome to my travel log! You will find here a lot more than in the travel reports, stripped from political correctness. Enjoy! 
Dec 08, 2005 07:00 PM Buenos Aires - tango, steaks, fashion and lovely
A Polish rock band Maanam named the Argentinean capital city of Santa Maria de Buenos Aires as Divine Buenos (pol. Boskie Buenos). So as soon as I arrived, I was looking for the gorgeousness and divineness but I did not find it on the streets or in the atmosphere. The only potential element of Buenos' that could make it divine was tango, of course.
Just beyond the rather ugly pedestrianised shopping Florida Street is a tango district. Majority of the venues cater for tourists and put on over-the-top tango shows that display completely unrealistic tango routine and technique. I was told that no-one tangos like the shows suggest and there were few places where the local Argentineans go boogie.
I went to La Boca, Buenos' colourful but rather poor district. It used to be home to many factories but most of them are now derelict. Nevertheless, La Boca finds itself on itineraries of virtually every tourist. This is because it features brightly painted houses made of wood or corrugated iron. The colours really hit the eyes deeply in the retina. A few places are ‘decorated’ with mannequins posing for celebrities such as Eva Peron (Evita), which I did not like at all.
There are a few shops and bars which had been set up specifically for tourists and are rather boring.
I stayed at the Hilton in the Puerto Madero, which is a redeveloped part of the cargo harbour and now converted into a yacht port with many extremely trendy bars and restaurants. They are relatively pricey but look great and it is now expected in certain circles of youth to be seen around the area.
By Puerto Madero, there are also a few modern high-rise buildings which make unexpectedly an attractive skyline at sunset - if seen from a certain angle, as the buildings are far apart from one another.
I went looking for the 'Don't Cry For Me Argentina' Evita Perón balcony but frankly, I forgot where I should be looking. I stumbled across Plaza Mayo with a few historical buildings and the Casa Rosado, the former governors’ office. Later, I was told that the balcony of Casa Rosado was the one I was looking for.
I only stayed in Buenos Aires for a day, because I did not think the city had much to offer. So, the next morning, I was back on the airport.
Through all the travel of my life I have never experienced a more stupid airport check-in procedure than with Aerolineas Argentinas at the Buenos Aires EZE International Airport. For domestic flights departing from this airport, one has to check in at terminal B and proceed to terminal A for boarding! I refused to wonder what the reasons could be.
As the airplane flew over Argentina I realised how vast and empty the country was. Weather allowed for superb visibility and the lack of clouds meant that it showed how monotonous and flat the landscape was. For over two hours there was absolutely nothing to admire outside the scratched windows. There were no specific features of the ground, no towns, no rivers, no lakes, and everything was dull-brown and grey. The humming of the two jet engines at the back of the aircraft made the ride rather hypnotic. I had serious difficulty to keep my eyes open.
As the third hour of the flight approach, the entire range of the snow capped Andes appeared on the horizon like a mirage. I thought they might be clouds as I did not think it would be possible to see several hundreds or even a thousands of kilometres of mountains! That sight was incredible. The plane came closer and closer revealing that these were in fact the Andes.
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Dec 05, 2005 07:00 PM Kipepeo Beach (Tanzania)
South of Dar es Salaam, there was a string of lovely, sandy beaches and I chose one of them as my last stop of this African holiday, the Kipepeo Beach.
I asked the taxi driver to take me straight to beach from the airport. Obviously, I had to do some bargaining and complaining that they wanted to overcharge me significantly. There were a few taxi drivers, who surrounded me at the airport, and one of them threw a quote of 70 US dollars! I simply laughed angrily and told them that they were bad people! I told them that I thought African people were nice but they were ruining my entire impression of the Africans.
They claimed it was an official price. So, I asked them to prove it. One of them went to get the ‘official list’ and when he was back it looked like the trip was actually USD 30!!
I therefore decided to play a little more with them. I switched to the most vicious sarcasm and almost rhetorically asked them if all Muslim people were so dishonest like them, or should I think this way. It was dangerous, I know, but they did feel embarrassed and apologised to me.
I would have not behaved like that, had I not been given an indication, in one of my books, that the trip to the beaches should cost me about 10 US dollars. How could I swallow a seven times higher quote?
The guy who actually drove me seemed a decent guy, despite al that mess. He wanted to take me back from the beach to the airport on my departure day. I told him that he was much too expensive and that the hotel was offering transfers for about ten bucks. He could not believe that and said that this price must have been before the petrol prices went up. I could actually believe that, or at least accept that. He said that the price should now be 20 US dollars and he would take me for that price, should I agree.
So, I went to the hotel and asked them how much they wanted for the transfer. They said from 15 to 20 bucks. I decided to give the job to the taxi driver and pay the ‘unofficial’ airport price.
The hotel was fine. It had about a dozen of beach huts directly on the white sand, and I took one of them. The disadvantage of taking the hut was the offsite shower, which was quite a long hike away.
The restaurant at Kipepeo Beach & Camping served only frozen seafood although the place was actually on the beach. I was vicious enough to express my deep disappointment with that.
The beach was a total chillout zone. For the most of the time, I was the only person on the two-mile-long perfect shore. Every now and then there was a local coming to take a boat out to the sea, have a quick swim (fully clothed by the way) or to pick up some water in large, yellow plastic containers, which used to carry petroleum in the past.
In some places, not directly on the beach but almost there, villagers would take a nap. or have a seat and stare at the ocean. At least on two occasions, I was offered fresh lobster and fresh fish to buy. I told the fishermen that I did not have a kitchen to cook them, and had to pass. Now, I so regret that, because I could have bought the lobster and the fish and ask my hotel to cook them for me. I do not think they would have a problem with that.
I was walking along the beach and a boy called me and asked me if I wanted a free coconut from the palm tree. I am usually very careful when some one in Africa offers a white stranger something for free. They usually want something afterwards anyway. Not this boy! He climbed a coconut tree and gave me one green coconut to drink.
He was quite poorly dressed, so I came back later to him and told him that I could give him some of my t-shirts. He spoke very little English, so I had ask the bartender at my hotel to translate for him.
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Dec 04, 2005 07:00 PM Dar es Salaam (Tanzania)
I do not have much to say about one of Tanzania’s capital cities (the other one is arguably Dodoma). I drove straight through it and I did not stop at all for any sight seeing.
I spotted few interesting, perhaps historical, buildings at the ocean front and a few ultra modern top-end hotels, and that was it. Even when I went on the ferry to cross from the northern side of the city to the southern beaches, I did not actually leave the taxi.
Oh yeah, and when I was landing at Dar es Salaam, twice, when I looked out of the plane’s window I thought it was rather large and very typical African capital city with relatively civilised and developed core centre surrounded by poorer townships of very basic and simple shacks.
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Dec 04, 2005 07:00 PM Kilimanjaro (Tanzania)
When I come back from a rather hypnotic ride from Ngorongoro to Arusha, I missed a boat with the Mount Kilimanjaro view.
In the evening, the clouds went higher in the atmosphere and effectively let this magnificent volcano show its unmistakable shape. I was so angry with myself because I knew that the air was cooling down making the thick cloud moving away from the mountains' peaks. I knew that because I was watching Mount Meru, right in the outskirts of Arusha, coming out off the clouds. Yet, it did not click under my skull that perhaps Kilimanjaro might have become visible as well! How stupid!
Instead, I decided to be a Jabba and stayed at one of the hotel’s (average) restaurants and have a nice, slow dinner. After dinner, as I was walking upstairs to my room, I discovered a stairway to the roof. I climbed them and I stood on the roof - there it was: Kilimanjaro.
It was perfectly visible, however it must have been over an hour after sunset and it was getting so dark, that I could not really admire it properly or take a decent picture of it! I was so angry with myself that night. The roof was practically a perfect observation platform!
In the morning, on the way to the airport, I had much more luck, though. Mount Kilimanjaro found itself between the high stratosphere clouds and the low morning mist. The sight was quite surreal. I could not wait when I finally got to the airport, so I could step out of the car and take a longer break and look at this terrific volcano.
When I did, I was happy. I quickly checked in and I asked the airport security staff to let me off the airport terminal so I could take a few pictures. They still thought the mountain was obscured. I was so afraid it could suddenly be true but I insisted and they let me go. However, because they said that, I was not sure I was actually looking at Mount Kilimanjaro. I was calculating in my head how hight it should look on the horizon, and I did think it should have been higher!
I took some pictures but returned to the airport somewhat confused. I went to the bookstore in the duty-free zone and looked up photography albums. There were a few of them there and some of them did have some excellent photographs of Mount Kilimanjaro. I looked at the shape of the volcano and thought that the mountain just outside the airport, although appearing small, was in fact Kilimanjaro.
I was lucky. I came to Arusha to see Kilimanjaro, and I did see it. Not very clearly, but I did!
Then, as the airplane took off, I became annoyed again as it appeared that I sat at the wrong side of the aircraft. Before I checked in I figured out, which way the airplane was going to take off and asked for a seat at the left hand side by the window, I mean the ‘A” seat. Then, of course, I confirmed with the check-in lady if I was correct assuming that such seat would provide for a good viewing of the volcano.
However, soon after we took off, and the mountain was on my left hand side, the pilot suddenly turned north and I lost the perfect view. I obviously had absolutely no idea what was happening until the captain spoke. He kindly advised all passengers that he was taking a slight detour so we could admire the very fascinating and gorgeous volcanoes of Kilimanjaro. Yes, there are more than just one.
One should understand that this actually never happens that a pilot of a commercial airline takes passengers of Boeing 737-200 jet for a tour around the highest mountain of Africa! In fact, my fellow passenger admitted to me that he had been travelling by plane from Kilimanjaro to Dar es Salaam and other destinations for ten years, and never ever had a pilot taken a detour for passengers to admire a view of the Kilimanjaro's crater! And never so close!
Although the plane was still climbing, the captain switched off the ‘fasten seat belt‘ sign and welcomed all passengers to move around the cabin freely and have a proper look at the Kilimanjaro’s crater. The view was superb and I took a few amazing shots. Like the one in this story. The volcano appeared so incredibly close. I could almost see the tourists wandering around the crater. That was the time of the morning when they would normally reach the top, after a six days of trekking.
I was in heaven again. First, it happened to me with Mount Kenya and now with Mount Kilimanjaro! I wonder why oh why I have no luck like that with picking National Lottery numbers!?
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Dec 03, 2005 07:00 PM Ngorongoro (Tanzania)
Heaven for wildlife watchers, the Ngorongoro Crater was revealing its beauty to me step by step.
As I approached Ngorongoro, weather was brilliant, it was not too hot and the sun was shining through a thin overcast cloud. However, when I entered the park, and went higher in the mountains, the clouds got thicker and darker. One of them was passing across the road I was travelling on, right into the crater. It looked like a ghost from a low budget horror film. It moved slowly but consistently, like it was computer-generated by a wizard of special effects.
From the top of the caldera, the crater's ridge, Ngorongoro looked completely empty, like any other crater of an extinct volcano. I stood there, at the view point, disbelieving how huge the crater was. I stretched and stretched all my imagination to figure out the power this fire mountain had, some 200 million years ago.
I read about Ngorongoro a lot, heard stories from friends who had been there and saw many TV programmes. And I stood at the top of the crater searching for the masses of animals. In vain! I could not see anything. I thought that maybe I chose a wrong season and that animals migrated to other places or that it was the short rainy season and they were all hiding in the bushes. Or, that I had to simply wait until I descended to the bottom of the crater.
As I began approaching the actual crater, I might have missed two great, postcard-style, and perhaps rather cheesy, photo opportunities.
First was a group of Maasai girls of various ages dressed in traditional yet everyday costumes standing at the front of a great valley and a view of two mountains behind them, at the end of the valley. The girls positioned themselves quite perfectly towards the morning sunlight at a magnificent viewpoint. Two tiny Maasai villages stood in the valley with their life going through a regular routine.
Second was a group of Maasai boys of similar ages dressed in their everyday yet traditional outfits trading parts of their costumes and inviting tourists to photograph them, right at the gates of the crater's descent. The boys were standing with their backs to Ngorongoro and back to the sun. It would be hard to photograph them, but it could have been a classic, title-page-impact picture.
I have no idea why I decided not to take those photos. I had nothing to lose but a few thousands of shillings.
The beginning of the crater was very quiet with no animals around. Just a lonely buffalo lingered in the bush literally two meters from the track. However, it only took ten minutes and an elephant all covered in black mud appeared in a distance. It was coming in my direction so I asked my driver to stop and wait for this fantastically graceful animal to come closer.
It came very close. I shot thirty photographs of it and when it started flapping its giant ears and charging at my lens, my driver decided to move the car forward a little. The creature then stopped and calmly crossed the path. I excitingly took a few more shots as the elephant positioned itself in a better photographical light. I heard about elephants flapping their ears, and the rule that if that happens, one should disappear from the elephants sights as soon as possible. I had absolutely no doubt that my driver knew about that rule, too and he clearly demonstrated he did.
Two minutes from that spot I was already aiming my camera at a large male lion resting by a half-eaten antelope. The breakfast dish exposed its ribs and uneaten head was complete with eyes still showing terror and mouth expressing, hmm... surprise, I suppose.
From there, Ngorongoro showed its true nature. I could not estimate the number of all the zebras, wildebeests, impalas and springboks.
I had some luck with the hippos as well as some of them were yawning. I went to Ngorongoro specifically to take a picture of a yawning hippopotamus. I had to wait a while, but it paid off. I got it!
Later, I was also fortunate to see a cheetah and black rhino although both of them from unphotographable distance. Well, it was not possible to photograph them with my small lens. Had I brought a 1000 millimetre lens, like all normal people who want to take pictures of wild animals, the distance would not have been such an issue.
I went wildlife viewing totally unprepared. I even did not have binoculars! It was hopeless. There were so many wonderful animals to see everywhere in Africa. And exotic ones, too! It must have looked extremely amateurish that I had to rely on someone else’s abilities to spot a rhinoceros or a cheetah, or a rare eagle, for that matter. And count on their kindness to reveal to me what that was. It also must have been so lame of me to pull out my zoom lens to see what I was looking at. Sometimes, I even had to take a picture of the animal and digitally zoom it on the small LCD display at the back of the camera to verify at what I was looking.
Well, I should have not done this, because of the appalling quality of the pictures, but I will put two examples, so you could seem to what I am referring. They are on the previous page. Since I decided to do that, I ought to explain what these bad pictures portrait. The first one is of a rhinoceros, and the second one is of a cheetah.
I did zoom a little more on the rhinoceros, otherwise it would have been too hard to see what it was.
I know that I said that I had taken some great pictures of rhinos and cheetahs in the past, but I guess if would have been nice to have some more. The Ngorongoro photos might have been a little better. You never know.
Well, I took plenty of pictures of zebras, blue wildebeests, hyenas, and elephants - all from very short distance and I should not complain.
I have to confess that unfortunately, Ngorongoro was an example of a game drive I was trying to avoid so much. Although it could have been much worse, the crater was packed with animals (good!) and various models of off-road vehicles carrying tourists and their cameras (not good!). And a large bus filled up with local students (acceptable, I guess).
I was terrified and worried that I was going to be a witness and a de facto an accomplice to the torture of the animals. Torture via exhaust fumes and besieging. Fortunately, there were never more than three cars parked at each animal, and I felt it was all right. No-one was frantically radioing anyone blasting about the sites of the more difficult to be spotted creatures, such as the lion, cheetah or the rhino.
I found out later that not everyone in the crater at the same time as me, had actually seen the lion. The drivers did report the sighting one to another but only face to face, while passing by, but no-one was creating a rush to a specific site to surround any of the animals with twenty vehicles.
Just before my scheduled stop at the swamp (or a lake, I am not sure exactly), a total coincidence happened. I met Jessie and Carrie - the same young women, who sweated and got completely soaked with me in Zaire on the trek to see the mountain gorillas two weeks before! The same, whose signatures I happily invented when filling out their Uganda exit immigration forms.
When our unforgettable gorillas adventure was over, I proceeded to the Lake Bunyonyi in Uganda, Rwanda, Kenya and Zanzibar. Jessie and Carrie travelled to Rwanda and then to Tanzania. It was amazing how our paths crossed again.
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Dec 02, 2005 07:00 PM Arusha (Tanzania)
The taxi ride from the KJO airport to Arusha almost doubled in price since 2002 when quoted in US dollars. It was un/funny to see how much advantage could be taken of the tourists, and the excuse of the increase in the price of petrol! I said to the driver that their price increase was a rip off, because the cumulated US inflation since 2002 was not one hundred percent! They were very quick to reply that the price of petrol went up. I checked and it was not a hundred percent either!
Well, at the time of my arrival taxi was the only mode of transport to Arusha, so I guess the taxi drivers created a cartel and simply took a piss. I heard about a bus service running from the road off the airport to Arusha and Moshi, but it was not running when I needed it.
In the morning, two days later, I saw two of them. People were jumping onto moving buses - first dropping the luggage to the side compartments (the bus boot was on its side) and then throwing themselves through the door onto the bus itself. I have to say that I was not seeing myself doing it and although I was a little cross about the pricing situation, I was quite happy in my taxi.
The taxi driver made a sales pitch saying that he was working for a tour agent, who was organising trips in the area and asked whether I was interested in visiting the office to see what they could offer me. He would then take me to a hotel of my choice. The poor guy did not know that I had not made my hotel choice at that time yet. I had absolutely no idea where I was going to stay. I was running low on cash, so I thought I should stay in a more upmarket hotel and pay with a credit card. That was before I found out about the very efficient ATM service of Barclays Bank in Arusha.
Well, since I did not know what I was going to do in the area, I thought that it might be a good idea to visit the travel agent as part of the process of shopping around. My timing was not perfect because it was Saturday afternoon, and many places were closed.
At the agent’s office, I found many terrible safari brochures, a few interesting trekking fliers, including Kilimanjaro, an over flattering feedback book and three other travellers, whom I immediately asked how they had found this travel agent. They told me that they had shopped around, and that they had just come back from the Kilimanjaro trek and were booking another trip.
Hmm..., I took a moment, like Master Yoda, and thought that I could actually be in a right place.
I discussed with the agent my desires and told them very strategically that Tanzania was the last of the countries I was visiting in Africa on my trip. I emphasised that I was therefore running low on cash so I was only interested in inexpensive quotes.
As I extended my stay in Zanzibar for a day, I automatically cut one day off the Tanzanian part of the adventure. This meant that I could only realistically do Ngorongoro for a day. Mount Kilimanjaro was obscured and for trekking up the mountain one would need four to five days, and Serengeti was too far to do in one day.
Well, my previous tactics worked. I managed to reduce the first quote by almost forty percent. Cutting down the terrible touristic non-essentials such as lunch, I was eventually paying only half the originally quoted price.
I therefore asked my taxi to take me to a more plush hotel, the Impala.
Arusha itself was quite civilised but not striking with any significant sights, apart from perhaps Mount Meru, the so called Black Mountain.
A significant characteristic of Arusha is a large number of decent and top-end hotels. The United Nations International Tribunal on Rwandan Genocide is based in Arusha, whose significance and profile contributes to the development of the hospitality industry.
When I arrived in Arusha, a wedding party was going on right outside my hotel. It was interesting to see and hear for a while and but later at night, it was becoming a little tiring. Arusha’s entire population appeared to have come to that meadow outside the hotel. The passing vehicles did not care that the wedding guest were listening and dancing to the music and used their horn ferociously.
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Dec 01, 2005 07:00 PM Nungwi (Zanzibar)
Paul, aka CosB, said he could show me around Stone Town and even take me to the northern Zanzibar were he had friends. I thought it was a good strategy to have a local with me as I would avoid all the hassle with beach boys and traders. And I did want to explore the northern beaches.
The trip north took longer than expected and the last stretch of the road was very poor. I could not imagine how long it would have taken, had I not taken a taxi but a regular minibus.
The fifty kilometres distances from Stone Town to Nungwi was interrupted by eight to ten police checkpoints, which only delayed the journey. And, before I forget to mention, the taxi driver had to obtain a permit in Stone Stone to travel to the north of the island. I thought it was a little ridiculous.
The northern village of Nungwi had been been completely transformed into a collection of cheerful lodges, bars, restaurants, and oceanfront hotels, which fortunately still blended nicely with the surroundings. It felt like a very civilised resort place for relaxation, sun bathing and water sports.
The beaches around Nungwi were great. Some of them were very long stretches of flat sand beach, some were small perfectly white powder-sandy bays formed and surrounded by the coral. A small paradise!The colour of the water was amazing. One can only see water like that in TV commercials!
I imagined that many tourists kept coming directly from the airport over there, escaping the bustle and hassle of the tiny Stone Town. I lost my count when I attempted to establish how many hotels, hostels and lodges were in the area and many more were still being constructed. Paul’s friend was building one.
Yet, around the corner, there it was - Nungwi village. Fully authentic and unaffected by the alien beach-culture of the waterfront. The huts and households kept their African look and feel and people were going about their business in a very African way.
I spent most of the time at the beachfront bar Cholo's, because it was Paul’s favourite place. He loved being around Europeans. After hooking up with his friends, we lingered there until 8 p.m. watching a perfect sunset and drinking passion-fruit juice and soda. The bartender played lounge and bar music, which made a great composition with the sound of the waves breaking on the beach.
I could have stayed there all night. I also do like waterfront bars. However, the taxi was still waiting to take us back to Stone Town, so we had to go back. I have to say that the driver drove back like wind, and we were back in the capital in no time.
Later, Paul took me to the most popular disco in town, the Garage Club, but first we stopped at Sweet Easy to collect two of Paul's friends one of whom, Cash, greeted me like I was his best friend. I have never been hugged like that by any of my friends! He was so friendly that if I had not been to Africa before and found out about the different intimacy levels, I could have been concerned that Cash might be just a little too friendly.
He never left my side and held my hand for most of the time. I felt honoured as I only shook his hand once earlier that day, and I knew that it was all about respect. His arms and hands were about twice the size of mine so I felt somewhat safe and I also knew that he had an Italian girlfriend, and was totally plastered.
We had to stop him buying beer as he was declining in the ability to remain in a vertical position. When we went downstairs to the core of the club, where it was dark and cosy, he eventually fell asleep, so deep that it was impossible to wake him. Paul had to carry him out of the disco so he could get some fresh air. I was impressed how quickly fresh air could revive people. It took Cash only a few minutes to be conscious again. The poor lad was so embarrassed.
The disco was actually quite fine and up to standard. It took time before the scene gained temperature, but there were very comfortable couches with little tables around the dance floor, so there was plenty of space to sit and wait as the situation developed. And of course, the bar was stocked up well with beer and coke.
Zanzibar was then growing a reputation of a tourist hassle island. The term beach boys had been used frequently in my conversation with a few travellers who had gone to Zanzibar before me. Even my new friends from Lamu had told me that I would be hassled on Zanzibar.
Well, this never happened. I was not hassled on any of the Zanzibar beaches or anywhere in Stone Town. Yes, most of the time I was with Paul, which would prevent any trouble maker from approaching me, but even when I was on my own wandering about the island, no-one troubled me about anything. Call it my luck, but I believe the Zanzibari hassling business was massively exaggerated.
I truly loved the island. I did not go everywhere, though. There were pretty beaches on the Indian Ocean coast in the eastern part of the island, that I did not see or the infamous spice factory. Not that I care about the spice factory much, or at all, for that matter, but it did give Zanzibar the name of the spice island.
There were also a few more rural areas, which I did not visit, but passed through. They looked very promising and it would be great to see what they are like from up close.
The overall atmosphere of the island is great and mixed with the mystical history, they create a unique magnetism. I will consider going back to Zanzibar in the future.
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Nov 30, 2005 07:00 PM Prison Island (Zanzibar)
The only reason to go to Prison Island is to see the sanctuary of giant tortoises, which can be approached, touched and fed. However, if someone is not into those animals, then there is little reason to go there.
However, on the way to Prison Island there was a flat, uninhabited desert island, which I think could have actually been a tidal island. There were no trees or plants on it. It was a beach in its entirety. It was a perfect place for swimming and sunbathing. The surreal aspect of the island was that its shores were full of colourful starfish. I have not seen so many alive starfish in one place before.
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Nov 29, 2005 07:00 PM Stone Town (Zanzibar)
The country's main historical attraction, the Stone Town of Zanzibar, hit me with grand colonial white-washed buildings, already on the road from the airport.
All the main roads were lined up with extremely attractive houses. Some of them were as grand as palaces, like the one near the old fort or the one housing the Palace Museum at the western waterfront. Having arrived from the ugly Mombasa I enjoyed looking at them very much.
Then, my taxi started cruising among less picturesque narrow lanes filled with rubbish and rather ugly people looking like rough crooks and I immediately started to wonder if I had made the right choice of a hotel. The picture was not improving for about ten minutes and whenever I saw a less crooky street and a decent looking hotel, I was very close of instructing the driver to put me down right there where I happened to be at that moment.
Well, the situation improved and ultimately I was quite happy with my hotel room. I subsequently found that the unattractive area was the rear space of harbour warehouses and stores, and it was not so bad after all.
The guy at the reception made a sales pitch to me on behalf of the next door travel agency organising various tours around the Zanzibar Archipelago and the Stone Town. I showed rather remarkably stone face to this presentation. Although I was prepared to take a guide to show me the Stone Town, my first objective was to collect my air ticket to Kilimanjaro at the office of Precision Air.
So, I said I would consider a young and cheerful local guide for the afternoon if the receptionist introduced me to one, but only after I had properly checked in and taken my shower.
When I was back, the receptionist was gone and I lost my patience after waiting twenty minutes and learning that he had gone for late lunch!
With a notable ease I managed to find the Precision Air office but only to find out that my direct flight to Kilimanjaro had been cancelled and that my non-direct ticket could not be issued anyway because the computer was down. I became seriously annoyed and said that I was reluctant to leave their office without my ticket to the Kilimanjaro International Airport on the 2 December. So, the sales assistant, who very rudely chewed gum, called someone at the Precision Air head office in Dar es Salaam to confirm on their computer systems if my booking really existed.
I did not need that on my first day in Zanzibar. I just wanted to sit down in a bar for a cold drink rather than waste time with unprofessional personnel of Precision Air. About one hour later, and after I had to change dollars to shillings as the airline would not accept Mastercard, I had my hand-written ticket to Kilimanjaro via flipping Dar es Salaam.
Fortunately, the sun was still quite high in the sky and I could proceed to a waterfront bar and have my drink.
I sat down at the Mercury's Bar & Restaurant (actual tribute restaurant to Freddie Mercury of Queen) right on the beach and downed 1.5 litres of water, a litre of coke and one glass of bitter lemon.
While I was doing that, I watched like two dozens of fishermen struggled to put three large boats into the ocean, and like about fifteen boys played football games on the beach.
The beach scene was animated with about fifty people, all male, going about their business. Fishermen and boatsmen were preparing their boats for the evening and night ocean trips, youth kept playing football, young and small boys swam and bathed in the ocean, some guys leaned on boats and chatted and a few just lied down and did absolutely nothing.
The sun kept going down tossing fading rays at painstakingly carved wooden balconies of the listed buildings. The sky cleared completely and the air started cooling down. At about 6 p.m. the temperature dropped to the comfortable 25C. At that point I ordered my food. My friendly waiter, who offered me food an hour before the restaurant's official dinner time, suggested a seafood platter, which was quite small but very good and full of garlic. I washed it down with another tonic water and decided that it was perhaps time to go to the hotel and figure out what to do on the island.
When I returned to my room (complete with a fan, air conditioning unit and mosquito nets) I had a glance at my guidebook to see what I could do the next day. Unfortunately I found that there was a Thai restaurant, Sweet Easy, right in Stone Town, and I immediately praised the fact that the seafood platter at Mercury’s Bar & Restaurant was so small that I could treat it as a starter and have my Thai curry, to which I am addicted, as my main course the same evening.
I was on my way to the Sweet Easy Restaurant within 45 seconds.
I ordered the usual, and my favourite, green curry, and... I was slightly disappointed. The texture of the sauce was not right and the dish was not spicy enough. I did ask for it to be spicier than normal, but the cook still did not know how to do it to my liking. I guess he or she has never been to Thailand.
The next morning, I was supposed to go on a walking tour with a young guy, who was working as a room service in my hotel. He however did not show up, so I went on wandering about the town myself.
Stone Town was not large at all, but had a labyrinth of narrow streets like a classic Arabic medina, and navigation there made it feel like a huge metropolis. I loved it though. I was on an island, so I thought I could not venture too far. I really loved it. The town looked extremely Arabic to me.
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Nov 28, 2005 07:00 PM Mombasa (Kenya)
I knew I should have not been doing this, yet I landed in Mombasa without having made a reservation in a hotel. I was expecting difficulties but when I arrived at the reception and they told me the hotel was full, I was strangely disappointed. Maybe this was because the night fell a few hours before, and I was not in the mood of wandering in the town looking for a room to stay. The receptionist recommended a few alternative hotels in the vicinity but stressed that I should not even attempt to walk there, for my own safety.
Fortunately, the taxi driver who brought me from the airport waited a little while by the hotel and took me to a different one. It was less picturesque or atmospheric than the first one but of a slightly higher standard and very comfortable. The taxi driver did not charge me extra for this additional ride and therefore I told him that he could take me to the airport on the day I was leaving Mombasa.
Minutes after I checked in and dropped my bag in the room, I was on the top floor restaurant ordering red snapper for dinner. It was delicious!
Second largest city of Kenya with its hectic and highly unpredictable traffic made rather terrible impression on me, i.e. on someone who has just landed from cars-free island of Lamu.
The old town, however, and the Fort Jesus were picturesque. I strolled down to the fort just after 7 o’clock in the morning and the fort was still closed. And since it was closed, local boys used the opportunity to play football at the fort's oceanfront yard. I watched them play for a little while and it looked like a picture from an historical film about African way of street life.
On the fort's walls I found a placket carved to the memory of the Poles who fought for Mombasa in the World War II. That was highly unexpected because I could not remember that I ever heard about any significant Polish involvement in any operation in Kenya. I did hear about their operation in Tobruk, Libya, but not as far as Kenya. A guy passing by told me that there was a strong Polish community in Mombasa, which came as a surprise to me as well!
There were a few interesting old buildings in the old town, which mixed the Swahili and various Indian and Arabic architectural styles. I was not sure where to go so I just cautiously looked into a few narrow streets. Had my hotel's concierge not told me to be careful with my camera, I would have felt more comfortable letting myself loose in Mombasa and explore it more thoroughly. Instead, I felt like I was trespassing a Texan property playing with the risk of being shot.
Yet, a local 'guide' promptly found me near the historic dhow harbour, and eventually I saw a little more that I would have on my own and without a map.
He did not necessarily take me to any significant sights or places, but I felt more comfortable and he showed me a short-cut to my hotel, which was located near Mombasa’s most famous sight - the giant tusks.
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