I need to invite more British folks for dinner...

Today I pet a dinosaur. Really.

The British are commonly viewed as a cordial lot...turns out they have always been that way. Even before the modern day etiquette of bringing a bottle of wine or a potted plant as a hostess gift when attending a dinner party, the Brits were showing up around the world bearing gifts. Sure, one could argue that they do have a historical tendency of pillaging as a way of ‘shopping’ but this before the convenience of Amazon.

Anyway, the point of this brief (and not very historically accurate) lesson is provide an explanation as to why now on Changuu, a tiny island off the coast of Zanzibar, which itself is an island off the coast of Tanzania, is home to a large collection of Aldabra Giant Tortoises. Originally native to the Seychelles, the Tortoises were gifted from one British Governor to another in 1919. Initially designated as an island to house prisoners, Changuu Island evolved into a quarantine station for yellow fever in the late 1800’s. Now it is home to a few old buildings, a tennis court, some peacocks and these massive prehistoric beasts. And it was an unplanned stop on our day of spontaneity.

The first sign you see when you enter the ‘rehabilitation enclosure’ reads “warning, do not sit on the tortoises”. What an absolutely silly thing to say! Who would sit on a little tortoise?! And then you see them, and honestly...the first thing you want to do is

clamper up on them and go for a ride. Giant is an understatement.

Our ‘guide’, and I use that term in the loosest sense of the word, informed us that the ages of these reptiles were painted on the backs of their shells. I still have no idea if that’s true because he honestly didn’t seem to be the most knowledgeable guy, and given the ages painted on the back...127, 151, 189...well you can see why I was skeptical. I know tortoises live long...but really...that seems a little extreme. And then I learnt about Adwaita.

The world lost a legend in 2006, when Adwaita, an Aldabra Tortoise died at the age of 255 in a zoo in Calcutta India. A gift, again from one Brit to another, Adwaita arrived in India in the 18th century, relocating to the zoo in 1875. Carbon dating on the shell was actually completed to confirm the age of the giant tortoise after death. And while the methods applied on Changuu Island are far less sophisticated then carbon dating, namely spray painting the shell; it is at least believable that these creatures are very, very old.

But unlike people, crankiness does not seem to come with age. The tortoises, ranging from the extremely young age of 35 up to a reported 189 would seek me out when they discovered that I give excellent pets. As playful as a puppy, just a lot creakier, these huge reptiles would come up and nudge my hand in search of a caress – and I would happily oblige.

I have been fortunate in life to have enjoyed some amazing animal encounters from polar bears in Canada to tigers in Thailand. I have watched yaks give birth in Mongolia and played with sea lions in the Galapagos. Today, my time with the Aldabra Giant Tortoise will join this remarkable list...probably very close to the top...

** As I was researching a bit to write this, I discovered that it is possible to actually purchase a bred-in-captivity Aldabra tortoise as a pet. Special thanks should be given to Vijay who stopped me from purchasing a tortoise today...you can order them online.  I guess my only other option is to invite some British over for dinner.

I'm an architect of fun

Starr - “Want to go to Zanzibar tomorrow?”

Me – “Sure”

That was the sum total of our planning. We texted the driver for an early AM pick up and went to bed for what amounted to short nap before the start of a long but awesome day.

I am mostly writing this as a reminder that while awesome things can happen with meticulous planning, sometimes spontaneity has its place. I am a bit of an organizer...I have gone so far as to make manuals for my vacation mates that highlight our itinerary and activities. I am far better now, that was years ago, although some crazy travel hippies will still refer to me as uber-organized...I prefer to think of myself as an ‘architect of fun’.

But not this time...we were like contestants from the Amazing Race begging for tickets at the airport for a last minute flight to the island nation of Zanzibar. Granted tickets, we dashed through the airport taking more time to clear security then the entire duration of the flight...and we disembarked in a different world. This doesn’t seem like a novel concept – usually when I leave Seattle, I get off in another world...Asia, South America, Los Angeles...but those flights are generally not 20 min. But here in Tanzania, it is possible to change your entire surroundings in a matter of minutes.

And while it was a short trip overall, just enough time to get in a little snorkelling, nature, drinks, dinner and an amazing sunset it will always remain a constant reminder that fun can happen...even without a manual.

In cahoots with the elephants and giraffe...

I was in no hurry to leave and it seems the Serengeti wants me to stay...

Another amazing morning of being awoken by our personal butler with tea and cookies to enjoy during the sunrise before a scrumptious breakfast...its bittersweet though...soon we are departing the Serengeti. Bound back to Dar; back to extreme heat, an unreal number of flies and a distinctive lack of amazing wildlife (except for a mongoose and a monitor lizard that have chosen to make our yard home). Oh yeah...and no butler.

I let out a deep sigh as I climbed into the land rover; I could hear Starr doing the same. The only solace we had was a brief game drive enroute to the airstrip. A few interesting birds provided bulk to my future impressive birding collection but did little to lift my spirits...but the large herd of giraffes put the grin on my face. Nineteen of these massive creatures who seemed as mystified by us as we were of them, grazed on nearby acacia trees and gracefully surrounded us.

The promise of different game made it tolerable to bid farewell, but the twiga (giraffe) had a different idea. Upon the starting of our engine, these immense animals formed a sort of yellow and brown spotted barricade across the road...it was impenetrable by our truck. Not wanting to scare the giraffe and not being allowed to off-road, Mohammed was forced to turn the vehicle around and find another route.

I waved good bye to the giraffe as we sped off...thanking them for their valiant efforts. Mohammed has been an awesome guide – even when we are running late (vehicles out past 6:30 pm are subject to fines) but come across an unusual site...we stop. It’s refreshing to see him get as excited as us at the glimpse of wildlife. Our brief visit has been peppered with several elephants and giraffes but as we happened upon some more...we stopped. A nuclear family of three giraffes was enjoying breakfast while a lone bull elephant was grazing on some grasses.

The ‘ellie’ appeared a bit irritable after a tree he was attempting to fall remained upright. As he approached our truck his frustration grew, probably as he realized that Starr and I were travelling with our luggage. He watched us for a while, the sadness clearly evident in his eyes, before turning and starting to amble down the road. It was only after my initial bout of gloom at his departure that I realized his brilliant plan.

A 12,000lb animal, who is already having a lousy day, is not something that you want to irritate. As our flight departure time grew closer Mohamed became worried about us missing the flight (for the record, he was the only person in that truck worried about such things)...and he started to move closer and closer to the back of this pachyderm, who showed no indication that he was prepared to move off the road anytime soon.

I get irritated when I am tailgated in traffic...I am embarrassed to admit that I will resort to unnecessary breaking, hand gestures or passive aggressive driving. Apparently I have more patience than an elephant. Our repeated attempts to pass were met with blocking manoeuvres, dirty looks and the start of a mock charge. I was never scared though...I knew deep down he was just trying to keep me in the Serengeti.

Well, despite the good intentions of both the elephant and giraffe communities, we have returned to Dar. This morning when I awoke there was no tea or cookies to enjoy with the sunrise. It was 38 degrees celcius at 8 am and flies buzzed around my head as I stood in the kitchen eating a granola bar. And while it’s not quite the same thing...at least I got my wildlife...the mongoose came out to welcome me home.

"Excuse me....have you seen 1.5 million wildebeest?"

Aside from the obvious awesomeness, one of the main reasons for me to return to the Serengeti is to fulfill a bucket list dream of seeing 1.5 million wildebeests marching together in what was reported to be “one of the greatest spectacles one could ever see”. The great migration occurs every year as millions of wildebeest, zebras and antelopes wander from the Tanzanian plains of the Serengeti to the fields of the Masai Mara in Kenya. This sounded too good to be true...

Our accommodations were chosen based on the description of being a mobile tented safari camp that relocates based on the annual migration. I would think that this selection, coupled with the fact that we are looking for approximately 2 million animals – will lead to complete ease with finding the great migration. That was the thought at the start of our ultimately 11-hour game drive.

Wildebeest are reportedly not the Mensa cardholders of the animal world. One guide explains “They are the most stupid animals of them all. They have a memory of about one minute. I have seen them escape from a lion hiding behind a bush and then, one minute later, walk back past the same bush and get attacked again”. I tell you this to partially explain why we were having difficulty in finding the herd of a million+ animals.

We left camp early, headed southeast with plans to intercept the migrating line, who should be heading northwest – towards the Masai Mara. And so we drove...meandering down well driven paths and through some muddy trails – very thankful for our Land Rover and questioning why one would ever need such a vehicle in North America to fetch groceries – scanning the horizon for 1 million heads. And we drove...we were treated to many other amazing sights along the way...hippos, elephants, ostrich, cheetah, jackels etc but no sign of the migration.

Whenever we passed another safari vehicle, we would stop and Mohammed would lean out and have a conversation with another guide that went something like this...”excuse me have you seen 1.5 million wildebeest?”. To which the reply would imagine be something along the lines of, “seriously, you are missing 1.5 million wildebeest? Hahahaha – I’m only joking man – I know how hard it is to find a wandering herd of

the stupidest animals on the planet in a 30,000 km2 area. Tourists are idiots...let’s chat a little longer so they think we are tracking game and sharing tribal secrets. Hey did you catch Game of Thrones last night?” That might not be an exact translation – I am still learning Swahili.

Mohammed tried at one point to appease us; we had been searching for a few hours when we stumbled upon some wildebeest out wandering (probably lost). “Here is part of the great migration”! There were about 20 wildebeest. With great enthusiasm and flourish he started filling our minds with migration facts - I didn’t hear it...I was counting. After my count I simply turned to Mohammed and, with equal enthusiasm, replied “ummm...this is great, we are looking forward to finding the other 1,499,973.” (I don’t think 27 animals will allow me to cross the item off the bucket list!)

Turns out millions of animals can sneak up on you. One minute we are watching a few ostriches ...next we are surrounded by millions of hoofed animals. Once we were immersed in the great migration it became apparent why finding them had been so tricky – they we migrating the wrong direction. Stupidest animals indeed.

Planes should have horns!

As I peered through the cockpit window, it became apparent that this was going to be an interesting landing...if we landed at all.

I left Dar early this morning and started a hopscotch flight across Tanzania – from the metropolis of the largest city over the coastal islands of the Indian Ocean, past Africa’s tallest mountain peak and eventually arriving at my destination...my dream destination really – the plains of the Serengeti.

My last minute decision was really spurred on by one of my roommates, Starr* – who had been to the Masai Mara and really, really wanted to see the other half. So despite the short time frame and absurd cost, we booked a last minute, luxury fly-in safari.

Until this point our flights had been quite smooth and the decent weather gave us a chance to see aerial East Africa – the lakes, mountains, craters and planes. We saw the tin roof homes that surround the airports in tiny towns and the Boma encampments established by the nomadic Masai tribes. And our early descent gave us a chance to see elephants roaming, buffalo grazing and the start of the “great migration”.

All was going smoothly until I noticed that the very distinctive gravel airstrip was covered in some very distinctive large grey objects. Elephants. Not a few...many, many huge African pachyderms – any of which that would bring our plane to a rather uncomfortable halt.

I have flown hundreds of times – in a variety of aircraft but not until that moment did I ever wonder if planes were equipped with horns. Turns out...they are not. As I wondered if an elephant versus plane would make international news...the behemoth beasts scattered off the landing strip and we touched down safely.

I stepped off the plane and into a field full of elephants, ostrich and a few giraffes...and outside of my actual home land...this feels like home...I cannot seem to wipe the smile from my face.

It’s going to be a good few days.

**She is, as my sister describes, a friend of circumstance. Someone far too cool to hang out with me in normal life – the daughter of a professional athlete...could have been pro herself but she decided to become a doctor instead. The people I pay to go and watch play, she dates. Vijay and I joke that knowing her is a close as we’ll ever get to Beyonce...something she hasn’t denied. But I realized after spending some time with her...she’s actually not that cool – she doesn’t even know any Bon Jovi songs.

Perspective

One of my oldest** friends was running the Boston Marathon this year. Before the deadly attacks I had suspected that she was a participant, she usually is, but didn’t know for certain until a few days after the chaos. She is home safe and sound now having crossed the finish line just 25 min before the bombs were detonated; I know she is extremely thankful. It was a bizarre turn of events that prohibited her family from attending the race to cheer her on, and to the bizarre, I am very thankful. I know of 260+ family and friends that were not as lucky that day.

The morning after the attack I was chatting with an OMFS Resident in the EMD. We were making small talk about the horror and senseless nature of the attack, as I suspect most of you were, when he suddenly became quiet.

He then went on to explain...“I don’t understand why the government says ‘we are looking into this to determine if it was terrorism’. Somebody detonated a bomb – that is terrorism”. He continued, now with more fury and frustration in his voice, “and when entire villages are slaughtered for no reason, no discrimination, that is genocide. You don’t need to investigate. Investigating means many, many more people will die. Why does the government always come on the news and say, ‘we need to investigate?’”

I had no answer for him. I shared in his frustrations...except it was different for me. I was raised in Canada. My family are all well and living in Canada...we are probably like most of you reading this. We are lucky – and except for tragedies like Boston we lead a fairly secure existence.

The man I was talking to is named Simon. His entire family was slaughtered in the 1994 genocide in Rwanda. When he finishes his residency here in Tanzania, he will return to be the only OMFS surgeon in the country, and the only member of a family. Simon apologized for his outburst and said that for the most part, he is okay. Not angry or bitter at the past, just frustrated when he sees “ignorance repeating itself”.

He is an example of resilience, forgiveness and determination personified and a good perspective check for me. 

**for the record...when I say oldest I mean in the length of time we have known each other, not age. And she ran Boston in 3:24.

...and the photo from the top is the Genocide Memorial Wall at the Museum in Kigali.  I had a chance to visit there in 2010 - quite a moving place. 

Kaan, Vijay Kaan

Let me handle this.

For that brief moment in time it felt like I was travelling with James Bond.

After an exhausting day of sun and snorkelling we were all freshly showered and headed out for a delicious dinner of BarBQ. Alfredo was a last minute addition to the taxi and ended up in my lap in the backseat with Marlow and Sarah. Vijay was upfront directing the driver to this glorious food oasis.

(I know this sounds very unsafe, and really it is...but this is Africa...it’s just different. Soren, a quirky Australian I met in Peru summed it up – you do things when you travel that you would NEVER do back home...driving without seatbelts across rivers, standing in the back of pick-up trucks as the head up steep mountains etc. Rest assured coworkers – next time we head out for Thai at lunch I won’t make us squeeze 8 people in one car).

Anyway...enough of my defensive tangent...this is my way of explaining that I didn’t see what was happening until it was too late. We believe our taxi was waved over by the police for having out of date registration – the fact that it was overloaded with Muzingas was a HUGE bonus to the corrupt law enforcement.

After getting a patronizing lecture from the English speaking officer we were asked to produce identification. I travel with copies of my passport for just such a reason. In fact, I have 3 full colour, photo quality copies for just such a reason. They are all tucked safely in a special folder back at the house. In fact, Vijay was the only one who was able to produce identification. Visions of my Guatemalan detainment by now were coming flooding back.

Realizing that we were making no forward progress towards dinner, Vijay took the initiative, turned to the cramped lot of us in the back and said “let me handle this”, in a staggeringly Bondesque way before getting out of the taxi and taking the officer aside.

Not wanting to miss what was going on, plus I could no longer feel my lower half with Alfredo still precariously perched there; we too all stumbled out of the stifling hot car. I wasn’t close enough to hear the actual conversation at the time, but Vijay’s recounting seemed to match his actions and I saw him negotiating with the officer, reach into his pocket and then with a handshake transfer the needed funds to get us all safely on our way. JUST LIKE IN THE MOVIES!

This wasn’t my first time with corrupt law enforcement...I’m still not sure who made the Guatemalan police go away and I remember our driver in Peru handling it once...and I paid several “tourist police” officers in Egypt but this felt far more Hollywood then any of those.

The officer, now with the equivalent of $6 safely in hand, calmly turned the other way as all five of us piled back into the taxi with the expired registration and sped off...

"an investment that will pay for itself"...only if I become a mermaid...

Recent phone conversation...

Cait: “How’s Africa? What have you been up to?”

Me: “Not too much, I had a day off from the hospital today so we went to a coffee shop for a while today and then grabbed some gelato before heading back to the house to surf the internet.”

Cait: “Really seeing the real Africa aren’t you?”

Me: “Um, uh...”

Cait: “Tell me you didn’t fly half way around the world to do the same things you do every day in Seattle.”

Cait is my younger sister whose observational sarcasm is annoying but generally, tragically, accurate (almost...for the record, I don’t eat Gelato everyday in Seattle). While it wasn’t the only factor, the thought I having to tell my younger sister that so far this week I had just managed to explore the inside of an English bookstore and a Thai restaurant...not sure my ego could handle that retort. So thanks to the organization of Vijay, my roommate, I have just returned from an under-the-water safari!

(Safari is what I am choosing to call it because it sounds more ‘African’ than snorkelling)

Vijay gathered a group of ex-pats (from Nicaragua, Canada, Sweden, Germany and the United States) and we headed off to one of the coastal islands to rest on the abandoned white sand beaches with the sparkling blue Indian Ocean lapping the shore.

We actually started to plan this excursion a few days before the weekend and I started to panic because – once again, I did not bring snorkel gear. I do have my wetsuit (yes the same wetsuit I lugged around Africa for 6 weeks a few years ago) but no mask or snorkel. Unsure if I could rent it on the island and absolutely not wanting to take the risk, I headed down to Slipway (it’s the Rodeo Drive of Dar Es Salaam) to purchase the necessary equipment for my water safari.

I know there is a Wal-Martesque place somewhere in Dar, but I a) do not know where it is located and b) do not possess the Swahili language skills to accurately describe such a place to a taxi driver. I actually think that as soon as they see a muzinga get in their cab, they just drive us to Slipway. This is my justification for spending 170,000 shillings on a mask and snorkel – I am not doing the conversion for you...trust me, the phrase ‘too much’ is enough info. But the salesman assured me...it’s “an investment that will pay for itself” – I explained that I live in Seattle and he countered with “there’s water there too”. I didn’t have the willpower to explain that I was not likely to snorkel in Puget Sound. Besides, I rationed, it would be better to invest now than getting out to this turquoise ocean paradise and not being able to see what’s in there...

I really should have known better...as soon as we pulled up to the island; vendors were there upon us to rent snorkel equipment – for 5,000 shillings.

Determined to get my monies worth that day, I was in the water far longer than anyone else...to the point where I actually could feel my body’s electrolytes shifting to try and maintain a new equilibrium with the water world it viewed as its new home.

Shrivelled and extremely thirsty, but victorious at exploring the underwater world, I calculated that I will need to snorkel 33 more times to make my gear “pay for itself”. Considering I have spent more on this equipment than I have spent on most of my clothes, don’t be surprised if I meet you for dinner with it on when I’m home.

Asante for reading!

It seemed like home...for a few minutes

Dar Es Salaam is not a cosmopolitan city the way Paris, Milan, Tokyo, Sydney, Moscow or Bangkok would be considered. It doesn’t conjure up images of a mysterious far off land the way “Cairo” or “Shanghai” does in the minds of Westerners. Instead it generally elicits the response...where the hell is that? I personally use two litmus tests when determining the sophistication of a foreign city:

1) Have any fashion designers ever splashed the name “Dar Es Salaam” across a tote bag or watch?

2) Has it ever been the back drop for a Bond/Mission Impossible/Bourne type of action adventure?

So now you don’t have to feel bad for having no clue where this city of between 3-4 million is located.

While the majority of folks that live here today were born and raised in the East African Nation of Tanzania, there are some ex-pats present and the bit of capitalism that is here has responded with services clearly designed for Muzingas (white folks). So far I have yet to enjoy most of these services but I do hope to in the coming days...particularly the book store and cafes I have read about. But I did make it to the grocery store today...and it was like walking down memory lane from previous travels.

I think the buyer for the store surveyed every pale face they found in town and enquired as to their favourite foods to purchase – he then scoured the world for these products and placed them in the store. This is the only explanation I can find this grocery store that has a proliferation of unusual sauces for marinade, imported chocolate and copious volumes of foreign alcohol but only 3 loaves of bread.

I amused myself by wandering the aisles after I was done shopping, but waiting for my housemates to finish up, and took photos of goods from far off lands (it was an attempt to stop shopping - it didn’t work...I still walked away with far more then I needed...honestly this place had the same effect as a Target does to me in the US).

The store clearly meets the intended market, the aisles are full of pale faces and judging by the languages and accents I overheard – a global audience. (There must be a thriving Australian community somewhere for I can’t imagine anyone else buying vegemite) I was even able to find some Aero chocolate bars, Smarties and Canadian Maple Syrup products.

So for a few minutes today there was a little glimpse of home, grocery shopping for familiar products, it felt very normal – until you walk into the parking lot and a Masai Herdsmen helps you load your groceries.

There should be a giraffe out my window...

I have arrived in my temporary new home on the grounds of the Muhimbili Hospital in Dar Es Salaam Tanzania. It was a surprisingly pleasant 24 hr journey across 3 continents. The home is nice – equipped with air conditioning, wi-fi and several pet lizards. Currently I am the only resident but there are 5 beds so I suspect that this will change at some point. There are idiosyncrasies that I will need to get used to, like when you turn on the sink taps, the shower will start. Today I killed a roach/beetle in order to have a shower – it took me 30 min to muster the courage. 

 
With no food in the house or minutes left on the mobile food that they provided, I decided to venture into the streets. It’s the start of the rainy season here in East Africa – I knew this coming over but figured with my recent years of living in Seattle, I should be fine. This is not Seattle rain – this is torrential downpour rain that strikes the ground so hard is splashes back a few inches in the air. The ground seems to instantly flood as the skies open up and warm bath water pours down.

It really took everything I had left not to break down in tears as I stood in ankle deep street water with my cheap Target umbrella all but useless trying to communicate in Swahili (the only words I actually know are hello, thank you, banana and lizard) to buy time for this ‘pay as you go’ phone. It took attempts at 5 different locations, including one in a butcher shop that also sold mobile minutes (I really wish I had taken a photo in there – a man in a nice suit was asleep on a plastic lawn chair while bits of dead meat were strewn about the floor) before someone was able to assist at all. Resolving to just be ripped off, I gave 20,000 shillings and my phone to a woman, and was honestly just grateful when a dial tone appeared. It was short lived joy as the phone just enabled me to be rejected by the suggested English speaking drivers who were unavailable.

Soaked and hungry I gave up and took a local taxi to a nearby supermarket – not the supermarket that I wanted that had a ton of selection, but rather a small shop that sold giant bags of rice for villages and a disturbing amount of ice cream bars. I was able to pick up some recognizable provisions although the volume of instant (read: what Amy Leah knows how to cook) products was staggeringly low. With not a Lean Cuisine in site, I was forced to select a protein source between the breast of a bird or the liver of an animal. Drenched already, I waded home through the streets with my purchases past a few coffin vendors who had respectfully decorated the caskets for sale for Easter.

There was a brief pause in the rains long enough to wander around my house but an encounter with a mongoose (they eat cobras) startled me enough that I have retreated behind my deadbolts and bars for the evening. So in for the night, I am going to try and FaceTime my mom back home so she can talk me through cooking what I am choosing to believe is chicken.

The rains do bring a vibrant lushness to the area and the view out my window is of lush foliage and fruit filled trees – I would think ideal for a giraffe. And while, logically I know that there won’t be a giraffe here in the middle of a city of 3.5 million people, I continue to check...just in case.

Usiku mwema (good night)

Apologies for the poor "African Wildlife" photos - I promise better in the future...the one is a mongoose jumping (I think) and the other is a a large centipede that I found in my living room.