A long day's drive

Thirteen hours took us from Arusha to Dar Es Salaam on the coast. We left at 5am, drove for a little over an hour then stopped for breakfast. Through a break in the clouds we saw the great grey shape of Kilimanjaro against a patch of dusky pink sky.

Driving on, enjoying the journey with its views and smiling children waving as we passed, I realised that all I have been doing is looking at this country, not taking part in it. From this truck and that safari vehicle, I sit with other Westerners, looking out. In campsites we eat weetabix and barbecued dinners or pizzas alongside other 'overlanders'. So far there has been no interaction with local people, no local food. I have seen wonderful things, but it is so different from the independent travel I've enjoyed for so long in Asia.

Our campsite in Dar Es Salaam was right on the beach. After a hot sticky day on the truck it was bliss to leap into the sea.

The beers were flowing at the campsite bar, and it was in a relaxed and mellow state that I wandered back to my tent. While I fumbled through my bags just inside the tent, looking for a torch, I was surprised that the tent smelled pretty rank. A growly noise made me think that a dog might have got inside. While I was pondering the subject of dogs and zips, I found the torch. Shining into the tent, I discovered a man passed out on the groundsheet. I couldn't wake him. I called to McKenzie, who'd just headed off to the toilets, but it was Phil who appeared first. He couldn't wake this guy either. A couple of camp 'security' people joined us and eventually roused and removed him. I was a little unimpressed, but my worry was reduced by learning that this man wasn't just a random wino but a casual worker on the campsite who had been told he could use a tent. Unfortunately he'd been told to sleep in the one near a coconut tree, which pretty much covered every tent in the campsite. The poor chap was terribly embarrassed and apologetic.

McKenzie and I had got the giggles to the point where we decided we should go and chill on the beach with a wee dram. After a while we were joined by a guy with a dubious taste in posing-pouch swimwear, which he believed was best worn with the back somewhere below halfway down his buttocks. He engaged us in not unpleasant conversation, but all in all it didn't do much for reducing our giggles. Especially with one foot up on McKenzie's lounger, giving her a better view than she wanted.
A surreal evening.