Tanzania: Ngorongoro Crater

We wake up to find that it is totally clouded-in, and still drizzing. I hope we will see some game, and not skid of the cliff! As it turns out the road down is steep, but not as scary as I feared – there was always a little bit of earth between the edge of the road and the abyss, so even I with my fear of heights didn’t think we were going to fall off the edge after all. I was certainly glad when we made it down, however!

Once down on the crater floor, it’s not as cloudy as it was above, and the drizzle has stopped. We see a couple of lions in the grass, but it’s really a tease – they are so camouflaged that we can barely make them out. I hope we’ll get a better view later. We stop to view some birds. I’m impatient – I have cats to see! Roman says that morning is the best time to see cats, and I really don’t want to waste time on yet another weaver or bustard. So I get sneaky and say “let’s go” in Swahili: “twende tafadhali” [sp?], and it works! Roman starts the engine and we move on. That was even better than learning how to say ‘where is the bathroom?’

We see a cluster of vehicles ahead, and head toward them. It’s the modern equivalent of watching for vultures circling. And indeed, we see 2 lions eating at a kill, with jackals waiting at a distance. A couple more lions are nearby, and finally we notice the big male off on the right. As we focus on the scene, we realize there are more and more lions: 5,6,7,8! And then off to the left, another female guarding a second kill. Every once in a while she looks over at the rest of the pride, as if to say: “dinner’s ready!” The other lions slowly start walking that way, so we shift our position to the second kill.

As more and more lions amble over, they crowd in until there is a veritable pile of lions obscuring the kill. They are not that hungry, having already feasted at the previous kill. Two quickly go in search of an after-dinner drink – a small mud puddle right in front of the vehicle ahead of us. From our angle, all we can see is 2 tails stretching out from the side of the land rover. There are still a few lions at the kill, and suddenly the male appears from the rear – we get a great view of him. He approaches too fast for me to un-zoom my camera, so my last shot is an extreme close-up (which has been very satisfactory at scaring my friends at home :o ). Then he proceeds to wend his confident way up the line of vehicles, spraying the tires as he goes. He makes it clear who is boss.

Another lion starts to cross the road, then lies down right in the middle, effectively blocking traffic. We can’t help but think he is disdainfully amused. More and more vehicles congregate. The scene rays out from the lions in the road, surrounded by the various land rovers, with the kill slightly off to the side. Then I suddenly notice that the other lions have now circled around us --we are surrounded by lions! It’s a good thing they are not hungry. My face keeps alternating between open-mouthed awe and sheer happiness. My roommate calls that my happy cat face. She gets that way when she sees elephants.

Eventually the lions disperse and we do too. After seeing more wildebeest (a darker color than we have seen before) we also see a zebra parade, and a handful of warthogs.

We head over to a curve in the road where a few vehicles have assembled, and try to figure out what they are staring at. Their heads are pointing in the direction of a trio of warthogs, but we can’t imagine what is so fascinating. Roman is the first to spy the cheetah hidden in the tall grass. At first I can’t see it at all, but it raises its head, which helps. Once I get a fix on the position, I see the spots faintly through the grass, even when his head disappears again. But then I stare so hard I’m not even sure I’m seeing anything.

Luckily we get a better chance later, as Roman spies a cheetah seated in the grass. I couldn’t see it at first, so he told us to look for the stick. Then I saw it – it really did look like a stick, or a long neck poking up from the grass. I couldn’t figure out how that shape could be a cheetah. I wasn’t familiar with those narrow shoulders and long lean body. Finally I got a closer view through my binoculars and realized I was looking at his whole torso. It’s funny how much you have to train your eyes to see the animals.

We go to the picnic area for lunch and bathrooms, eating in the land rover because the kites are attracted to food, and can actually be dangerous. I’m getting antsy again as time passes – we don’t need to spend so long eating a dry little sandwich and cold chicken leg. We could be seeing animals and instead we are just milling about. But that’s just my NYC impatience talking – I’m very task oriented, and right now my agenda is to see game. We get going again and all is fine.

Later in the afternoon we get a real treat, with an exquisite performance by two cheetah brothers. They walk up the road, approaching us with casual unconcern. We watch with delight, and whisper our desires – “oh, I wish the back one would hurry up so I could get them both in frame (done). I wish they would cross over there so we could see their profiles (done). I wish they would turn their head so I could see their face (done). I wish they’d walk to the top of the hill so I could get a silhouette (done). Never has a subject posed more obligingly. They watched some distant gazelles, but unfortunately we had more interest in a chase than they did, so nothing happened.

After the delicious tension of the cheetahs, we turned to comic relief at the hippo pool. The hippos are crowded side by side, with a couple further away at each end. We are amused by the splashing, which happens via no visible cause. The hippos off by themselves at the end have a tendency to roll instead of splash. I take a picture of one with a foot sticking up in the air, and realize that when I get the picture back I’ll have no idea what it is.

As we approach the exit and wind through the forest area, we are all looking for an elephant for Idelle – it is her favorite animal (other than gerenuk) and it is funny that we have seen a single one in the crater (except for one far in the distance, which doesn’t really count.) Just as it is almost too late we pass one under a tree, about 20 yards from the road. His tusks are huge, as long as his trunk, and the guide figures he’s about 60 years old, and probably on his last set of teeth, with only a short lifespan left to go. We stare soberly as he says that, realizing that there is no way to delay the normal process of nature.

The full list of animals we saw included golden jackal, wildebeest, lions (including a pride of 9 at 2 different kills), greater flamingo, lesser flamingo, Thompson’s gazelles, Egyptian geese, cheetahs, kori bustard, hartebeest, rufous tailed weaver, ostrich, black rhino (in the distance), warthogs, spotted hyena, grants gazelle, silver backed jackal, cape buffalo, sacred ibis, hadada ibis, hippopotamus, grey heron, crested crane, secretary bird, elephant, olive baboons.

The trip back up to the rim is steep and bumpy, but again not as bad as I was afraid of. But the cumulative effect of these bumps has taken a toll on my back, and I’m in some pain after we get to the hotel. I stop by reception on the way in and schedule a massage. I really need to do something or I won’t be in shape to go tomorrow. So after the excellent massage I take a hot shower, and pop some aleve, and apply some bio-freeze, and then join the group for cocktails. 5 muscle relaxants in a row has to be a record, and it works. I’m ok in the morning.

Tanzania: Road to Ngorongoro

After pouring all night, the rain does not let up this morning. I’ve totally misjudged the weather on this trip. It hasn’t been as hot as I expected (although I will find that the Serengeti is hotter), and while I expected a couple of showers, I didn’t expect this pounding unceasing rain – isn’t this the dry season? We ask about the rain, and they confirm that it has not rained in 3 months, until now. I try to be happy with them.

We leave Gibbs farm and go to Karatu, the nearby town. The original plan was to see the market, but the rain washes that out, so instead we travel around doing a couple of errands for people. Faye is looking for a disposable camera (to replace the one she lost in Nairobi), and Idelle is looking for Amarulo liqueur. We are clearly in a local part of the little town now – suddenly the signs on the shops are all in Swahili rather than English, and when we find a liquor store it won’t accept dollars (and while we had gotten Kenya shillings, we didn’t get any Tanzania shillings). We drive around some more and end up at a nearby lodge, hoping to find a camera for Faye. While we are there, we are treated to yet another welcome dance, this time by the Iraqw tribe (no, not the same as Iraq!)

We get back on the road and stop briefly at the little museum at the entrance to Ngorongoro, however after killing all that time in the village, now we are in a hurry. Because of all the rain, the big trucks have been forced to wait at the entrance (so as to not block the way) but now they are being allowed to proceed.
We want to go ahead of them rather than behind, in case they get stuck, so we jump back in the land rover and set off. I can feel the tires slipping. It is scary enough here on the rim, and I’m more and more anxious about the road down into the crater tomorrow. The roads are amazingly bumpy, but I suspect it is because there are basically no locals -- the Maasai walk, and everyone else is either a tourist or working at the hotels.

When we arrive at the lodge, ‘H’ hands us our keys. I ask him if he has given me one with a good view. He assures me ‘yes, the best’. We go to our room and find that while the room is beautiful, it is clearly not ‘the best’. It’s on the lower level, and the grass and brush obstruct the view, so you can look out across the crater, but you can’t look down, while the second level has grand vistas. I’m a bit annoyed. I’ve had specific talks with him explaining that my priority is a good view, and he keeps yessing me, but ignoring my request. I totally understand that everyone cannot get the best room all the time, but it bugs me that he looks me in the face and tells me my room is the best when it is clearly not. At lunch, he asks how our room is, and I tell him I would prefer one with a better view, on the second floor. He says he will try, and after lunch appears with a new key. I can’t help confirming:
“Does this room have a better view?”.
“Yes”, he replies.
“Is it on the second floor?”.
“No”.
“Then why are you saying it is better?”
“I thought you just didn’t like your room and wanted a different one.”
So then we say we want to keep the old room, because it is not worth the hassle to move if the view will not be improved. So now he thinks I am irrational and hard to please. Sigh. I’m not sure whether I’m just paranoid, or whether there is really a pattern that single women get the worst rooms.

On the other hand, none of the rooms here are bad. The room is beautiful; with every amenity you could ask for, so I get over my snit and decide to have a good time. Everything is really working out perfectly, time after time. It’s just that this one detail about a view has rubbed me the wrong way.

I find the observation porch, and am enthralled looking through the telescope. I see zebras, wildebeest, elephants, and a rhino. Occasionally someone else stops by and I step back and invite them to take a look. They always seem surprised that I’m relinquishing my spot, but I don’t understand why anyone would refuse to take turns. As it is getting chilly, I run back to my room to get my fleece, only to find that the briefly clearing weather was just temporary, and the rain and clouds are back with a vengeance. I’m worried that even if it clears tomorrow, the road with be too muddy to traverse safely.

Most of our group seems to spend the afternoon either napping or in the gift shop. I’m glad I at least spent some time looking into the crater. If it doesn’t clear up that might be my only view of it! I realize that I was so worried about my unknown roommate before the trip, that I spent my energy praying about her rather than the weather. I have to admit I got a good deal out of it, because she has been a terrific roommate, so I can’t complain.

This evening we were supposed to have a walk by a naturalist at the hotel. As it turns out, the naturalist was not there, but a guide took us. It was chilly and damp and muddy, and I was surprised that our whole group went. Our guide was Maasai, and explained the tribal custom that had knocked out his bottom front teeth. In the past, there were so many cases of tetanus that they developed this idea to prepare for lockjaw, so a patient could be fed through a cow-hide straw. I asked him whether they would accept vaccinations if they were made available, and he said yes. I though it was heartbreaking that children’s teeth are being knocked out by their loving parents in an effort to protect them, when a safe vaccine exists.

After the walk, our feet had a huge build-up of mud (probably mixed with various dung). I scraped and rubbed my sneakers, and was amazed that the layer was still almost an inch thick! I’ve never had to work so hard to clean off my shoes, in fact, I was sort of getting foot claustrophobia! After scuffing through gravel and abrading it against cement steps, and shuffling through puddles, finally it was just messy in the treads. Now I grasp how it works when the Maasai build their houses and smear them with mud and dung. This stuff just refuses to wash away or to disintegrate. Our leader arranged for the hotel to wash all of our shoes for us overnight. I couldn’t believe when I saw my sneakers in the morning. I had intentionally brought ones that weren’t clean and new, and miraculously they ended up much cleaner than when I had started my trip.

Tanzania: Lake Manyara and Gibb's Farm

Lake Manyara! Suddenly we are in a lush jungle instead of the arid grassland. It’s hard to describe the difference in the air – less dusty, of course, but also with different subtle aromas. Subtle, that is, until we pass through a veritable dung collection. But I’m so happy to be here that even the dung smells good to me.

We stop for a picnic lunch. While it was clearly put together with great care, the meat in the sandwich was curiously bi-colored, and the yogurt containers bulged suspiciously. I’m pleased to be traveling with a group that doesn’t whine about it. We variously comment, and then move on, packing the untouched items into a couple of the lunchboxes, which our driver hands out to some locals near the edge of the park.

We are nearing the end of our Lake Manyara drive, when the driver calls out “Simba!” I was so excited I gave a little shriek (oops!) and jumped out of my seat like a jack in the box. The lions were sleeping under a tree, relatively close, yet in such dark shade you could barely see them, much less photograph them, although I tried, of course –it kind of worked to overexpose the shot. At first I saw just the one on the left, whose profiled head showed a recognizable silhouette. Then I saw the white stomach of the one on the right, and the stretching foot of the one in the center, curled around the tree trunk. Finally we realize that there are actually 2 in the middle and 2 on the right – 5 in all. An enduring memory from Lake Manyara.

The flamingos were only seen from a distance, looking like shimmering pink quartz on the shore. The hippos lumbered in and out of the water. We got a good view even from the distance. Other game included blue monkeys, olive baboons, zebras, wildebeest, vervet monkeys, warthogs, spoonbills, great cormorants, impalas, lesser flamingos, pale chanting goshawk, joves thunderbolt, grey heron. And we also enjoyed seeing some of the various trees: mahogany, fig, tamarind, and wild bush mango.

After we leave Lake Manyara, we ascend the ridge to get to the Ngorongoro region. We stop at more shops, of course, and I finally buy a pair of candlesticks and a salad knife and fork. Then on to the T shirt shop. While we are all amused by the ‘endangered feces’ shirt, we reluctantly leave it behind, realizing that we might not really wear it once we’re back home. I see a package of Maasai cloth for sale, and enjoy the irony of the washing instructions which warn not to dry it in the sun. I guess thousands of Maasai all over Africa never read the instructions, LOL ;)

We arrive at Gibbs farm in the afternoon, a veritable oasis [pictures]. The gardens are lush and colorful, and our room is spacious and comfortable, and even has a fire place, although it is not quite cool enough to use it.

I’m really looking forward to a hot shower, but can’t resist afternoon tea served on the lawn, surrounded by flowers, sitting under a jacaranda tree. The best cake and cookies we’ve had in Africa. The cookies are made with their own macadamia nuts. Yum!!!

Dinner was outstanding. They grow most of their own vegetables, and even the non-vegetable lovers among us enjoy them. Carrot and ginger salad – unusually spicy, but delicious. Arugula soup – dark and creamy, but a bit too bitter for my taste – the only non-winner of the evening. Green salad with a lovely light dressing, with just a hint of sweetness. This is the first green salad I’ve dared in Africa. The manager here specifically discussed the vegetables, and insisted that since they grow their own and manage the entire process from field to table, they can control the hygiene. I decide to believe him. We’ll see. Let me not forget the spinach – the best version of creamed spinach I’ve ever eaten – tender with just a hint of nutmeg, and creamy without being too rich or gummy. Curried vegetables for the vegetarians, and a pork dish for the carnivores. Only the ugali has no taste, but I gather it is not supposed to. Finally a marvelous lemon meringue pie for dessert --- the best I’ve had in 30 years, tangy and creamy at the same time. We all cut ourselves polite small pieces, hoping to stretch it to the 14 seated around our table, but are pleased to savor seconds when we see a second pie appear.

I’ve also treated myself to a Tangawizi twist – a drink made with ginger beer, tequila, a surprising amount of fresh ginger, lime juice, and who knows what. It is served with a salt rimmed glass and tastes like a fresh ginger margarita. Yum. It’s so good I have the same thing the next night.

After dinner my roommate reminds me that we were going to try the amarulo (remember that tree we passed?). We adjourn to the lounge with our drinks. It tastes like a combination of Harvey’s Bristol cream and frangelico – nutty, creamy, and slightly sweet. I would definitely try it again.

I give myself the treat of just lazily falling into bed without bothering to set out my clothes for the next day, since I’ve decided to skip the 6:30 birdwalk.

Today is sort of a vacation from our vacation. The day starts with the sound of buzzing bees outside our room. I’m still half asleep, and can’t figure out what the sound is at first. It’s not one or two bees, it is a convention, but they don’t bother anyone—they’re just busy sipping the nectar from the flowers. I luxuriate in a truly hot shower, and give my hair a good lathering. Then on to a delicious breakfast.

I’ve already had passion-fruit, pineapple, tree tomato juices at other camps, but this morning there is a new option: rhubarb! It was pretty good, although actually a bit too sweet. I also have my usual one-egg omelet, and a bowl of fruit and a muffin. Not only the vegetables but also the baked goods are better than usual here.

After breakfast we watch a coffee roasting demonstration, and then have a chance for a hike. ‘H’ describes it in a way that sounds excessively strenuous, so I say I want to go just half way. The lodge manager is totally accommodating, and offers to supply an extra guide so I can turn back when I want to. On hearing this option, Faye and Idelle ask if they can join, so we have a party of 4. We set off with Esau – he pronounced his name ‘Eh-SOW’, so it took a minute to get it, and then I said: ‘from the Bible?’ and he said yes.

We went slowly, to accommodate Idelle’s knee, and the adjustment to the altitude (5,700 ft). Esau attentively gave a hand at any steep parts, and pointed out footprints of dik dik, buffalo, and elephant. I politely responded to his overtures by trying out my few Swahili words, and he was delighted every time I came up with something appropriate. Whenever I tried a new word, he got so excited he gave me a high five. With that kind of encouragement, one could really improve at this language thing! We stopped frequently so Idelle could catch her breath, and he taught us to say ‘twende’ (let’s go) when we were ready to move on. We plan to try that on our next game drive if we stop for too long looking at birds.

Esau showed us a plant he called Maasai toilet paper. It has surprisingly soft leaves. Later on he took pains to identify a nettle, and tell us not to touch it. I couldn’t help but comment that it was important to not confuse it with the toilet paper plant. He really liked that. I think he doesn’t usually understand American jokes, but he definitely got that one.
We actually turn around shortly before reaching the waterfall. As it turns out, I think I could easily have made it all the way (unless the very last section is dramatically harder), but we got to a steep part and didn’t want to overtax Idelle’s knee. We were close enough to hear the waterfall. It did somehow take the gloss off of ‘H’s self-aggrandizing story about having to carry a tourist on his back for 4-1//2 hours back to the lodge (considering that a 77 year old recovering from a broken knee-cap did the return trip in just over an hour).

On the way back Esau teaches me the Jambo song. Luckily I had already downloaded it onto my ipod before the trip, so I had the sound in my head. We stride down the hill singing together, with him directing so that I’d do the proper antiphonal echo on the ‘hakuna matata’ part at the end. He takes great pains to make sure that I remember to insert ‘Gibbs Farms’ in the right place (instead of ‘Kenya yetu’).

Lunch is a buffet, but much fresher and more appetizing than we have had anywhere else. The salad has fresh avocado (from their own tree, of course), and I enjoy the pumpkin soup and the beef salad served with their own home-made chutney. I went up for seconds, but was diverted by the desserts: a perfect rhubarb crisp, a creamy rice pudding, a chocolate pudding/cake, and that’s not all, but it is all I’ll admit to trying! Definitely the best desserts we’ve had in Africa, including at the fancy Stanley Hotel in Nairobi.

After lunch, I have trouble getting details from ‘H’ about our itinerary. I’m trying to figure out how to fit in a garden tour and medicinal plant walk as well as the school trip and home visit. I finally get frustrated. When I ask him if it is possible to do the trip and also the garden walk he says “if there is time”, but that is exactly the problem, I don’t know if there is time. Finally I realize that I need a break from him regardless of the itinerary, and I decide to stay back. I gave ‘E’ the colored pencils I brought for the school, and went to the reception desk to ask about the medicinal plant tour and the garden tour, only to find that the ‘doctor’ is off today, so the medicinal plant option is out anyway. Actually, I overhear that he is actually out sick, which doesn’t bode well for the efficacy of the medicinal plants anyway.

The staff here is so accommodating. They were apologetic that it took them a whole 5 minutes to arrange someone to take me on the garden walk. I was expecting to have to make an appointment, and they basically asked a gardener to drop what he was doing to serve me. I think his name might be Lazarus, but with the pronunciation from Swahili, I’m not sure. I have a wonderful time with him. He is friendly, and is amazed that I know many of the vegetables. He started quizzing me on each one – ‘do you know what this is?’ and was truly thrilled every time he could show me something new. At one point I thought he was showing me something quite unusual when he pointed out ‘rose berries’ but he finally explained it was like a strawberry and all of a sudden I got it – raspberry!

He was excited if I could answer anything in Swahili. He stopped at one point to take a brief phone call, and profusely apologized. When I answered ‘hakuna matata’ he gripped my hand with fervor, and forgot to let it go. And his ecstasy knew no bounds when I got the verb right when he asked where I was from. Unatoka wapi? Ninatoka New York! But then I over-reached myself by trying to echo back ‘two children’ in Swahili when he told me about his family. I did ok saying I had no children, but didn’t get the agreement prefixes right when I tried to say two children. He seemed eager to explain, but I’m not sure I’ve got it – I think it turns to watoto wili. I was trying to say mtoto mbili. ( Swahili has this really complex grammar, which I was basically able to ignore, but it is much more highly inflected even than Latin. In preparing for my trip, I had bought an introductory Swahili book and tape, of which I reviewed the first chapter before I gave up and settled for the “In flight Swahili” CD, which was much more my speed, since it just teaches you a few simple things to say right away. )

And now I’m sitting on a lounge chair in the garden writing my journal, and listening to the various birds. I’m looking forward to afternoon tea. This break is great. Gibbs farm is a wonderful place, and I’ve truly enjoyed my day of respite. The gardens are lush and green, with colorful flowers and abundant birds. It feels like a different planet compared to the dusty roads.

Although I’ve appreciated NOT thinking about work, or being in touch with anyone from home, I decide to send one group email to my friends and relatives, just so they know that I’m safe and happy. I assumed the computer would be in an office, or something, but actually it is a laptop with a wireless connection, so they ask me where I want to use it, and I end up in the garden, typing while overlooking the coffee plantation, and listening to the birds. It all feels sort of unreal. Africa is a different world from being at home, but Gibbs farm is yet a different world from everything else we’ve seen, sort of like a really good dream.

Today, tea includes fresh peanut butter cookies and pound cake. It appears as if by magic. Again, we eat in the garden, serenaded by birds. We see a red bird with a long, long tail. We are interrupted by a shower, so I grab our tea tray and run up to the patio which has large sun umbrellas which will also work as rain shields. The staff is busy running around and rescuing all the seat cushions, and are almost amazed that I figured out how to carry the little tea tray all by myself. ;)

After the tea, you wouldn’t think that I would have an appetite for dinner, but you would be wrong, because dinner is again delicious. The waiters have an unusual and appealing serving style. Each waiter carries two large bowls of food, and offers you each bowl in turn, while holding the bowl in the opposite hand up at head height. It is sort of a combination of a dance and lifting weights. Again, each dish is excellent.

All night long we hear rain pounding on the roof, interspersed with the sound of animals running back and forth. It sounds like a convention overhead. Running footsteps, growls, squeals, and chatters. Later we are told that it was probably bushbabies on the roof (we had seen one near the reception desk).

Tanzania: Tarangire

We leave Amboseli and drive to the border between Kenya and Tanzania. In the immigration office I see a funny sign on the wall: “No man can serve two masters at ago”. I think it was intended to be a Bible verse that was quoted in British English and then written down phonetically.

We say goodbye to our drivers, and switch vehicles. As usual, everything works like clockwork. The new drivers and vehicles are waiting for us, and the luggage is transferred without our having to lift a finger (except for our carry-ons). Finally the road is blacktop, but that is almost worse, since we go a lot faster and thus the bumps are spine-cracking. By the time we disembark near Arusha I’m nearly crippled (which is a little embarrassing, considering that I’m almost the youngest on the trip). Meanwhile, our oldest traveler who is 89 shows off the fact that she can touch her toes. When my travel mates see what bad shape I’m in, they graciously switch places so I’m no longer in the back, which has the worst jolts. Other than that, the new vehicles are impressive. Instead of the minivans we had in Kenya, these are stretch land rovers with a pop top. The vehicles feel sturdy and reliable, and there is a decent amount of room, since it is arranged that we each have a window seat.

We spend some time in Arusha so as to delay our arrival in Tarangire until the tse tse flies die down. We are a little intimidated to hear that they can bite through cloth, and aren’t really repelled by DEET.

We finally arrive at Tarangire. The hotel lounge is open to the outside, with a beautiful vista. We’re eager to see our tents, complete with sink, shower, and toilet. Dinner is good, but not nearly as good as the Amboseli Serena. This camp is not fenced, so we get an escort from dinner back to our tent. The tents have electric light until 11pm, but are very dim even with the light on. We go to sleep early, and I sleep like a log.

Morning comes at 5:13 when I hear a cacophony of birds. I doze for a while, but get up to watch the sunrise. There doesn’t seem to be any hot water yet, so I’m not going to take a shower. In spite of the fact that I’m loving my Africa trip, a cold shower is a little too close to roughing it for me to enjoy it. ;) At 6:15 I get my gentle wake-up call – a visit from a room steward carrying a pot of hot chocolate. Heaven! I sit in front of the tent sipping hot chocolate, listening to the birds, and taking occasional pictures of the sunrise.

Breakfast is our least inspired meal so far, but the view from the lounge and front patio is marvelous, overlooking the Tarangire river, and with animals roaming within sight. During our stay here, we see both dik diks and elephants within a stone’s throw of the tent. At night we hear birds and jackals, but are a little disappointed to not hear anything larger.

The morning game drive starts at 8. We are told that the animals here are active a bit later. Who knows? We’ve heard so much buildup about the tse tse flies, but are blessed with a cloudy day, and literally only see one fly, which ‘H’ kills to show us. People were so afraid they were blasting the whole land cruiser with bug spray – not the kind you use on your body, but the kind you blast a room with and then leave the area. I’m afraid we will be poisoned so I stand up so my head sticks out the hatch and I get some fresh air.

On the drive we see some dwarf mongoose, white backed vulture, ostrich, red billed weavers, yellow necked spurfowl, red billed quelea nests, yellow collared lovebirds, dik dik, white headed buffalo weaver, hamerkop nests, spotted hyena, lilac breasted roller (a beautiful bird even to those of us who are not particularly bird watchers), impala, zebra, vervet monkies, elephants, crested francolin, warthog, magpie shrike, hadada ibis, Maasai giraffe, cape buffalo, waterbuck, white bellied bustard, ground hornbill, tawny eagles, and of course baobab trees (I know they are not game, but for a newcomer they are an indelible part of seeing Africa).

I thought breakfast was our least inspired meal, but lunch surpasses it in mediocrity. But it is edible.

The best animal viewing from the lodge is actually in the early afternoon, when the wildebeest form a parade, crossing the Tarangire river and pacing north to better grazing land. The parade stretches on and on as far as the eye can see, with only small gaps, sometimes interspersed with zebras.

The afternoon game drive is a little disappointing – we see lots of the common animals, but nothing new, and spend an inordinate amount of time in one place just looking at birds. I wouldn’t be so antsy, except I really want to see some cats. We see osprey, violet wood hoopoe, waterbuck, wildebeest, zebra, elephants, white browed coucal (or something like that!), rufous tailed weavers.

If I thought lunch was disappointing, dinner was worse. Maybe it wasn’t really that bad, but it was truly cold. I wasn’t too happy about the safety of food that had been sitting on a buffet so long it was totally cold, so I just picked at mine. I would have been happier with a hot plate of ugali and goat stew.

After dinner I ask where the ladies room is. I didn’t realize that I need to specifically say ‘toilet’ , and so they don’t understand me. I finally attempt to ask in Swahili and comprehension dawns. You see, my plan of learning 10 words works! This is my theory about learning languages when traveling. It is too intimidating to think of actually learning the language, so most people don’t bother to learn anything. But I set myself a goal to learn 10 words (and usually end up learning a bit more once I get interested). It’s amazing how much you can communicate with Hello, Goodby, Please, Thank You, Yes, No, Where is…, and maybe a few other chosen phrases.

We hang around the bar waiting for our escorts to our tents, but no one appears. We finally ask at the reception desk and they seem bewildered. Finally the woman at the desk picks up a flashlight and says “come”. We feel a bit stupid – we’re both taller than she is, and she clearly does not have a weapon, so we feel as if a little girl is bravely leading us through the dark.

I skip a shower again, since the water never seems to get hot (although some people in the other tents say theirs was warm). I’m glad I brought some damp wipes, which will have to do, for now. We leave the tent flaps open for the full experience, and hear some more animals in the night – probably jackals.

The next morning I rise early enough to watch the sunrise, sitting on the front porch of the tent drinking my hot chocolate. Some of my traveling companions never got their wake-up call, or got it at the wrong time, but mine is just right, and the hot chocolate is a treat.

Leaving Tarangire we see a yellow collared love bird, elephants, wildebeest, guineafowl, warthogs, white bellied go away bird, zebras, and an amarula tree, which gives rise to a conversation about the liqueur, which we enjoy later in the trip!

Overall impression of Tarangire:

The food was cold, the showers too,
But boy oh boy, look at the view.

Kenya: Amboseli

In the shower this morning, I realize that I need to do a bit of attitude adjustment about those millipedes, or I’m at risk of turning into a whiner. After all, they aren’t hurting anything. I decide to channel my energy into writing a rhyme a la Dr Seuss.

BLACK MILLIPEDE:
I do not want you on the floor.
I do not want you by the door.
I do not want you by my bed,
Especially not by my head!
I do not want you on the ceiling
(It gives a creepy crawling feeling)
I do not want you on the wall,
I do not want you here at all!

I was fortunate that my roommate didn’t mind rising early, so I got to sleep ‘late’ until 5:45 – no wonder I was hallucinating about millipedes in the shower! The early start was so we could go on a morning game drive. Within the first few minutes we see wildebeest, common waterbuck, zebras and warthogs. We enjoy learning the difference between the common and defassa waterbuck. I’m amazed at the variety of animals that are in view at one time: 4 lions, a herd of zebra and wildebeest, a few elephants, an ostrich in the distance, and a crowned plover.

With that scene as a backdrop, we notice off on the side a lone Thompson gazelle, oblivious to a solitary lion nearby. The lion approaches. We are silently urging the gazelle away, but he actually moves nearer to the lion. “Go away!” we want to shout, although no one speaks out loud. We are aware that we are only observers, and are not intended to be participants in this drama. Suddenly the gazelle notices the lion, and bounds away. The lion gives chase. They arc back around, and we expect a kill. The lion gains on the gazelle--the handwriting is on the wall. Some of us are excited and expectant, and others are resigned. Suddenly the gazelle goes into hyperdrive and escapes effortlessly, outdistancing the lion within seconds. It reminds me of something from Star Wars. The show is over. We don’t understand what we’ve just seen. Stephen explains that the lion was slow, and seemed to be limping a little (not that I noticed), which enabled the gazelle to outdistance it. But even if the lion was slow, I don’t understand how the gazelle put on that sudden burst of speed.

Then we watch a herd of elephants as they amble across the road. 5 adults and 3 children. It’s fun watching animals so large, because the relative ages are so apparent. A one year old is much smaller than a 5 year old. We also notice a tawny eagle, a vulture, and Maasai giraffe – at Sweetwaters we were seeing reticulated giraffe instead. I can’t tell them apart– I know the markings are different, but I just don’t ‘see’ it yet. Also warthogs, Thompson’s gazelles, guinea hens, Eland, black backed jackal, a pregnant wildebeest, and an olive baboon.

We also visit a Maasai village. We are greeted by Wilson, the chief’s son. Our group tries to greet him with Jambo, until he explains that we should say Sopa/epa in Maasai. We are surprised to see him wearing a blue and red plaid, instead of red.

Then they do a traditional welcome dance, the men on one side, the women on the other. They invite us to dance with them, and I see where pogo dancing comes from. I bet that adolescent Americans think they invented it, but the Maasai are much better at it. The men jump higher and higher to show off their strength. Then they include us in a traditional prayer. We are asked to crouch, bow our heads, and respond ‘nai’ during the prayer. I’m praying my own prayer under my breath, and wishing I knew what we were assenting to, but all is revealed shortly. “That was a traditional Maasai prayer”, Wilson explains. “We are Catholic. We asked a blessing for your journey.” I know these visits are somewhat staged, but I was still touched.

Then we see hunks of goat roasting on a tripod of branches over a fire, and a pot of blood. One in our group asks about the different colors we see them wearing – lots of blue or black rather than purely red. He explains that they are wearing the true Maasai color, and that the people we see elsewhere wearing red are probably Kikuyu who are dressing up to look like Maasai, and don’t know how to do it properly. Ironically, the Masi Mara Maasai (who wear red), feel that these Maasai have sold out to civilization, and are not authentic.

They offer us some of the roasted goat, and most of us try it, but not me. I’ve been eating the food at the lodges (except for the lettuce and fresh greens), but some of the meat looks not cooked well, and I’m not sure about the cleanliness of the guy’s hands who is cutting it, or the knife for that matter (even though we saw them rinse from some dubious containers of water). After all, at home I don’t even use the same spatula for cooked and raw hamburgers. The others try it, and seem to enjoy it. And I don’t hear about anyone getting sick afterwards, so I guess it was ok after all. Maybe next time I’ll try it. [Note to self – did you notice how casually I said ‘next time’, as if I’m already thinking of going again?]

The village has 4 families, with 252 people. So far we’ve actually been outside of the village proper. Now we enter the village and see another welcome dance. The guys pogo – the higher they jump the more appealing they are to the women. The chief’s son says he has been married 3 days. He shows us his wife. She is beautiful, but does not look as happy as he does. We find out later that this village still practices genital mutilation, so we can’t help but wonder if this is part of her unhappiness.

Wilson speaks excellent English. We ask where he learned it, and it turns out that he went to college in Tanzania. But he made it clear that his place is here, home with his tribe. Wilson explains some traditional medicines, including the one for men with many wives. As he speaks, I try photographing the tall man. For some reason I’m having trouble focusing – I’m not sure if it is just too backlit or what. The man is very patient and waits for me, posing until I get it. Finally a Maasai teen politely taps me on the elbow and suggests “lens cap”. Was I humiliated!

Then they show us how they start fire, first spinning a stick, then adding dried grass when it smokes, then twigs. I’ve seen laborious Boy Scout attempts, but this is amazing. We can’t believe how fast the whole process was. The fire is made every morning, and then shared house to house. Wilson is curious at what I am writing in my journal, and asks to see my notebook, and reads aloud: “They show us how they start fire.”

After the fire, we watch them playing mancala. Today they are gambling for goats. I notice again that it is just the men who play. The observers are very aware that we want to watch, and duck or fade away so we have a good view, but the players are quite serious. They don’t want to risk their goats! The women on the other hand are responsible for building the huts – they are framed with acacia wood and cisle, and smeared with cow dung, which ends up waterproof, and is also termite proof.

After the tour of the village, we ‘shop’ at their open air market, with their wares spread on clothes on the ground. It is uncomfortable how they do it – we get separate escorts who take us from cloth to cloth – slowly – as the merchants reach out and wave items at us, trying to catch our attention. Then they split us up and take us out back to pay. I’m so uncomfortable I pay the asking price instead of bargaining. I think it’s probably about 3 times what the actual value should have been. At first I’m pleased to simply consider it a donation to support the village, but when I find later that they are still practicing the genital mutilation I wish I had bought at the Maasai school instead, even though I didn’t like their necklaces as much.

Back at the lodge again, we see more vervet monkeys, of course. I had worried that we would be pestered by mosquitoes here, given our rude buggy welcome, but they aren’t a big deal. Yesterday, we must have arrived just at the worst time, at dusk, and they disappear during the day. We have a good lunch (in a curiously dark dining room), and then have an afternoon game drive.

The afternoon game drive is our least interesting so far. We see the top half of a hippo, looking like a beached whale, and lots of birds. That was part of the problem – once ‘E’ started observing birds, we actually sat in one spot for 45 minutes while she tried to identify each one. For some reason, the guide didn’t have binoculars that day, so each bird had to be discussed at great length. The rest of us got bored. In any event, we saw African fish eagle, blacksmith plovers, Egyptian geese, white pelicans, white necked cormorant, African jacana, sacred ibis, glossy ibis, cattle egret, spur winged plover, little egret, crowned crane, kori bustard. The Kori bustard engendered one of the running jokes of the trip. For some reason, in an African accent it sounds like bastard. Although we didn’t see a lot of animals, we got a special treat at the end of the drive, when we saw a rainbow.

Tonight they served us a 7 course bush dinner. It was fun eating outside, but with full amenities such a cloth tablecloths. After dinner we were treated to a Maasai dance. One of the Maasai came over beforehand, clapped his hand on my shoulder, and announced that he wanted to marry me, and this was a wedding or courtship dance. I replied by asking him how many cows he would give, and he said 10. I said it wasn’t enough.

We knew from our morning Maasai visit that the pogo dancing was intended to impress. This time it was actually thrilling, because they each jumped in front of me in turn, higher and higher, then ran forward lunging at me and yelling. As the youngest female in our group, I was clearly being courted. It was rather startling, but all in good fun.

As I lie in bed writing this, I can hear the frogs chirping. They sound like persistent birds.

In the morning we again have those strange black millipedes in the room, on the walls, ceiling and the floor. I chant my Dr Seuss rhyme as I get dressed. They don’t seem to be harmful, but it is weird. All in all, I'm getting fewer bug bites than in the Adirondacks.