landing.

As the plane prepared for landing in Dar, I looked out the window. For some reason, mostly on the merit that it was in possession of an airport, I was expecting to see something slightly resembling a regular city.  But I didn't. Just chaotically packed shacks with rusting metal roofs twisting along  dirt roads. I thought--This is it--and I got a little nervous.

We landed--and I filled out the landing form just like everybody else and I stood in the middle of a jostling crowd just like everybody else. We were all trying to get our Tanzanian visas, and there was no real rhyme or reason to the line. I asked the only other white girl there what we were supposed to do. She told me we would just have to wait.

So we waited. After a while, a uniformed worker came out and started shouting for passports and money. He said that it would expedite the process. I watched him take a couple other people's passports and cash. And when he got to me, I gave him my passport, 100USD, and crossed my fingers that everything would go smoothly.

I got my picture snapped, fingerprints taken, passport re-obtained, and I walked out of the airport to see an African holding up a sign saying EMILY DKAM. 

The African was actually a taxi driver, who didn't speak any English. But he took me to an Indian, who did indeed speak English. The Indian was Arafat, and as Arafat could speak both English and Swahili, he was a lifesaver every time we came to Dar. 

Arafat asked me if I wanted dinner. I didn't. So we went straight to Safari Inn. The traffic was horrible--and I clenched my jaw more than once thinking we were going to get in an accident. There were tall, rundown buildings, street stands selling cassava chips, people sitting on the street curbs. There was a lot of honking and a lot of poverty. It felt chaotic and it felt a little dangerous. I usually don't have a problem going out on my own, but Dar was one city that I would never go out around on my own to explore. 

Arafat dropped me off at where I would be staying. I was spending my first night in Africa alone, but I was so tired that I didn't care. I went straight to my room and collapsed on my bed.

My room was a lot nicer than I was expecting it to be.

view out of my window.

The next morning, I got up at 6:00, showered, and ate a breakfast consisting of toast, a plantain, and some juice. Jeff had sent me an email earlier telling me the fruit juice was the best fruit juice ever. And yeah, it was pretty good.

Arafat and I had agreed to meet each other at 7:00 the next morning, where he would drop me off at his place where I could wait until he picked up Sam. I waited in the lobby. He arrived a little before 9:00.

That was the first and last time I expected things to run on schedule in Africa. 

That is lesson #1 to learn if you want to have a good time in Africa.