Exiting Oz – Day 2 (Dar Es Salam)

We awoke early on our first full day on Africa and had breakfast at the monastery.  Nothing too foreign; French toast (ish.  and no syrup  horrors!), bread, a weird but delicious though mysteriously crunchy sausage, and some coffee.  Here, where they grow some of the best coffees in teh world, everyone seems to drink only instant coffee!  The only brand I think is available is called "Africafe”.  Despite my misgivings, it’s actually pretty tasty, though it’s not as good as mine, of course.  =]
After comparing our breakfast with American food at length, we piled into the Green Hornet.  Apparently, there is a tradition among BEADS visitors of naming the vehicle that we get around in for the week.  Ours was a green Japanese bus-ish kind of thing.  It was practically falling apart, but by Tanzanian standards, it was actually in very good repair.  Our host chose it because it was the most reliable thing he could find.  So with at least a little fear in our hearts, onto the green hornet we went.
We had planned a day at the beach near the city -yeah, i guess we'll call it a city.  to me it looks more like a town from Fallout 3, but let's go with city-, but at the last minute we changed our plans (changing plans at the last minute is a way of life here), and went to a place up the coast a ways called Bagamoya.  It’s a “resort” (another term they throw around pretty loosely here) with some ruins, and old fort, and a beach hotel.

First stop on the "resort tour" was the ruins of a 13th century Arabic mosque.  It was a really interesting place.  The mosque was at a site where Arabs came to retrieve slaves.  They captured whom they could and hanged anyone who dissented.  I had no idea that Arabs traded slaves, and being there was emotional.  The ruins of the mosque hold some mystique for the local Muslims, and there were a few local folks visiting at the same time as us.   Some even climbed right in what was left of the ruins to pray.  Evidently, they’re not very concerned about protecting the remaining ruins from damage by tourists.
The remaining ruin structures were made entirely from coral.  I don't know how one builds with coral, but evidently it lasts.  Nearby there is a 500 year old tree that also holds religious value.  It’s the 2nd oldest in the country (according to our questionable guide), and it was enormous.  The tradition is to make a mark in the bark, pray or wish, then walk all the way around it and then kiss it.  I didn’t ask, but I’m betting you’re not supposed to use tongue.

Afterwards we headed down a dusty trail to a patch of mangrove trees.  These grow along the coast and act as sort of a natural filter, keeping debris from washing into the village from the ocean at high tide in bad weather.  There, we found an old woman digging in the sludge along the base of the mangroves.  She was digging for snails, and had a pail full of them.  Nearby on a fire, she had a pot full of them boiling.  For a few shillings, she offered to let us have a few.  Two of the boys acquiesced and ate them, saying they were pretty good.  Blech.  You should have seen the nasty, nasty mud they were digging them up in!  The smell was horrendous.
As we headed back past the mosque we also came upon a well that was also used for religious purposes.  ceremonial hand washing and prayer.  Our guide appeared to be smitten with these beliefs, and strongly encouraged us to wash our hands.  Yeah.  Good luck pal.  I wouldn't have touched that water if i had been wearing a hazmat suit.

Just a short drive from the Muslim ruins was a 16th century German fort.  In far better condition than the Arabic ruins were, the fort was really interesting, and visually spectacular.  While it was run down now, it was easy to see that it was impenetrable at one time.  We toured our way through, noting the areas where the ceiling was beginning to cave in, and rooms that were marked as too dangerous to enter.

Back aboard the green hornet we were headed for the beach resort when we happened upon a sign for what was essentially a crocodile exhibit.  Odd.  but, Tanzania appeared to be all about just going with whatever fell in your lap, so we figured what the heck.  who doesn't love crocodiles?  We popped in for a look.  It was just what you’d expect.  A series of cement tanks housing crocs of increasing size and age, the largest being about 58 years old, and around 9 feet long.  Interesting, but nothing we hadn’t seen at zoos, so we stayed only a short time and then moved on.
We were pretty excited about going to the beach resort.  The road through the beach town was bumpy and made of dirt (as are most roads in Tanzania), and there were frequent sink holes in the road making any speed over about 5-10 mph impossible.  So we went slowly and admired the scenery.  Lush trees grasses and flowers against a backdrop of the Indian Ocean on one side.  Before long we arrived at the resort and settled into a very modern banquet hall for lunch.  I say that it seemed modern, and in most ways it was, though it lacked modern toilets and the waitstaff was completely confused and obviously not well trained.  After about an hour and a half, they did bring us some food.  About half of it was what we ordered, but by then we didn’t care what they brought.  I had fish of some kind, along with rice and strange little "chips" (french fries).  And a liter of mango juice.  A liter!  I also had a coke, which they make with real cane sugar here.  My favorite!

The meal took FOR EV-VER to come out.  we really confused them, and we wasted a solid two hours of beach time sitting inside waiting for our food.  We did learn from that lesson though, and for the remainder of the trip, we just ordered the same thing for everyone to same time.  After the meal we walked down to the beach and relaxed for the remainder of the afternoon.  The boys swam, while Mike, Brian and I stayed back under the thatched canopy and enjoyed another coke and a book.  Unfortunately my camera battery died at lunch, so I couldn’t take any pictures there, though I did borrow a little point & shoot camera from our guide, brother Cassian.  A sweet soft-spoken and gentle guy who took care of all our needs during our trip.
The tide was out when we got there, and the boys immediately went as far out into the ocean as they could and still be able to stand.  One actually got a gash on his foot from stepping on a jagged shell while horsing around in the water.  He was fine, but I would have been a little freaked out.  who knows what weird bacteria lurks in that water??
Towards the end of the day, Brian and I took a walk down the beach and saw some more great ruins, fishing boats, and a fish market, that i would never have recognized as such.  just a bunch of people with piles of dead fish on the beach.  As we walked along, a nearby Muslim primary school was bringing the kids onto the beach.  The cuteness factor was off the charts.  They kept waving and calling out to us “Mzungu! Mzungu!”, meaning “white guy”.  Adults use this term as well, as its not derogatory.  It is just that whites are rare here.  All the same, the adults tend to say it quietly to each other, while the kids use it directly with us.  As anyone with kids knows, they say what they think regardless of propriety.

Missing my own kids, I was genuinely happy to see them, and said hello and waved.  This appeared to give them great pleasure, but they were very disciplined and so stayed in their formation with their teachers.
As we walked along, I tried to snap a few more photos using Cassian’s point & shoot camera, but in this area of Tanzania, the locals have learned that visitors, especially white ones, want to take photos of everything.  In an effort to capitalize on that, an unspoken rule exists in Dar that you must ask for permission and offer to pay anyone you’d like to photograph.  So as I walked along, I tried to be careful not to snap photos of people.  Still, as soon as you get out the camera, I think everyone sees an opportunity to make some easy cash.  As a result I didn’t get many photos on that spectacular beach walk.

Afterwards we climbed aboard the hornet and headed back to the monastery.  Predictably, we got stuck in horrendous traffic for three hours before getting back.  Bad enough that we ended up having to take an alternate route back through the heart of Dar.  But we made it, and they held dinner for us until we got there.  We had a delicious, traditional meal of ugali and went to bed.