Dar es Salaam

Dar Es Salaam is the capital of Tanzania and the country’s largest city. We stayed here at the local YWCA for 2 days before flying to Arusha. Our accommodation resembled an insane asylum complete with a fan, lock, and mosquito, but no AC or hot water. On the way to dinner, Katie fell in a giant hole in the middle of the road trying to avoid an oncoming dalla dalla (local bus that is the size of an old Volkswagen van and fits 20 plus people). Her wound attracted the attention of our very kind waiters who highly recommended she clean it with mentholated spirits (mind you, the 100% alcohol we put on our feet to harden the skin before Kili). It stung like hell, but healed nicely after attracting more than 30 mosquitoes. No malaria, yet. We both enjoyed a Kilimanjaro beer for dinner—it’s tagline was classic: “as refreshing as the people who drink it.” We tried exploring the city the next morning, but realized we had no idea where we going or how to find anything. The YWCA has a local canteen where we enjoyed Tanzanian cuisine after, of course, a Swahili lesson that enabled us to read the menu. Wali kuku=chicken and rice. Even if the entire room is empty, locals enjoy sitting at mzungu’s (white people) table to practice their English. In return, we got some great advice about how to spend our time in Dar without our trusty Lonely Planet guidebook. We befriended a taxi driver named Choro who drove us to the Village Museum, where you can watch a tribal dance and see a variety of huts from all regions in Tanzania. We paid for his entry (80 cents for locals, $4 for mzungus) because he had never been and would otherwise have waited outside for us. We were the object of about 100 curious eyes when we walked in. A large school group couldn’t stop smiling and looking at us since we were the only two mzungus there. Once we smiled back, all they wanted to do was touch us and show off their English skills. We spent the rest of the afternoon in the art corner looking at over 100 paintings and chatting with the artists, eventually settling on two for “special price”. Somehow the conversation shifted to how white people can’t dance at which point we demonstrated the Carolina shag and got a couple good laughs. We returned to the same restaurant because the service and food was good the night before. Obey, our waiter, promised the chef would cook our meal “extra professional” since we returned. He also taught us the catch phrase “Poa kichizi kama ndizi” (cool like bananas). The next day Choro’s friend, Enock, ate lunch with us, taught us more key Swahili phrases, and took us to an awesome craft market before dropping us off at the airport. The market had stalls and stalls of anything African you could think of, but we found it hard to say hapana ashante (no, thank you). In the center, you could watch the artists at work, carving elaborate ebony into masks, animals, jewelry—you name it. After spending two days here, we’re pretty confident Tanzanians are the nicest people in the world.