Getting Outta Dar.

Arafat dropped me off at his house after he picked me up from Safari Inn. He went to pick up Sam from the airport, and dropped her off at his house too. 

It was incredibly nice to have someone to speak English to who was just as hot and sweaty as I was. Sam and I waited together some more--while Arafat's grandmother, an elderly Indian lady, fussed around and made sure that we always had water and fruit punch to drink. 

And then finally, Arafat went to pick up Sean.

Sam, Arafat's grandmother, myself, Sean, and Arafat.
All at his house.

Once we were all reunited, we spent some time going around Dar with Arafat. He took us out to eat at Steers--a hamburger place. Lesson #2 learned in Africa: Never order a hamburger if you can help it. Chicken is almost always a pretty safe bet, although Tanzanian chickens tend to be extraordinarily skinny.

The traffic in Dar is absolutely ridiculous. It takes forever to get anywhere and traffic jams are very much a constant nuisance. Bicycles and motor scooters weave in and out of traffic nonstop. The last person to hit their brakes wins--and thus actually gets somewhere. So sometimes you just grit your teeth as the taxicab driver floors it. 

Our train was supposed to begin boarding at two. But thanks to all of the traffic, we finally arrived at the station as the clock inched closer to three. We were already late for boarding, and all we saw as we walked into the train station was lots of Africans sitting, just waiting. No train. We began to feel slightly panicked.

We went down to the ticket office and asked where we needed to go to board. 

"The train will not be arriving until 9:00."

And that was that. The worker behind the glass had no interest in talking to us any further. 

We found an empty spot against the wall and put our bags down. And we sat. Sean and Sam tried to sleep for a while. I watched the bags. That, and slowly lose feeling in the entire lower half of my body. 

There was a group of kids playing around right in front of us. They were the cutest--chasing each other, wrestling, doing cartwheels, flopping around on the floor, flashing shy smiles. 

Rumors started floating around that the train would not be coming at all because of a worker strike in Zambia. By then, it was dark outside. If the train didn't come, we decided we would spend the night in the train station and decide what to do the next morning. Workers then switched off all the lights so that people could sleep if they wanted to. It was almost pitch dark in the station. We made sure our headlamps were easily accessible.

Around 8:00, we discovered that there was actually a first-class lounge that we could wait in if we so desired. Real chairs. We were thrilled. 

We met a girl named Ashley--she was a peace corp volunteer, stationed in Zambia. She agreed to be the fourth person in our cabin. It was a relief to get that wild card taken care of. 

As the minute hand edged closer and closer to 9:00, everybody began to get a little edgier. Why hadn't the train arrived yet? Then we heard the horn, and everybody breathed easier. 

The train finally pulled away from the station at 11:00pm, eight hours after it was originally scheduled.