The dance of the Bondi Cigars

I have to admit that I wasn’t sad to leave Lusaka behind. As cities go there wasn’t much to commend it and our hostel was dodgy. For reasons unknown the rail line from Dar Es Salaam doesn’t quite reach Lusaka, stopping a couple of hundred km short at the even dodgier town of Kapri. We got ourselves up there easily enough and managed to upgrade our train seats to first class – although the cabins were single sex only unless your purchased all 4 seats. No amount of cajoling, offered bribery or sorrowful looks could convince the conductor to allow Nicole and I to share a cabin. As it turned out it wasn’t a big issue anyway as we spent most our time in the dining car or the “lounge” car and only really returned to the cabin to sleep. Fortunately it was all comfortable enough, as our 40 hour trip ended up taking 68 hours. We were already running several hours late when the train slowly ground to a halt around sunset in the middle of the Selous Game Reserve (one of the largest in Africa). Given it was a game reserve, and apparently one that supports a lion population according to the train staff, getting off to stretch the legs was discouraged. Fortunately, while the bar did run out of drinking water, they still had plenty of cheap beer.
Sharing the train was a middle aged English lady undertaking volunteer medical research. She introduced herself to the staff by berating them over not having any hot water so she could make a cup of tea, and declared loudly and repeated to anyone who was listening that she was going to “be writing about this train, and I’m not going to write good things”. She then complained that the shower had low water pressure (what third world train even has a shower?!) and cast longing looks in our direction for someone to complain to whilst we diligently stared out the window, at the table, at the roof and anywhere but at her. Fortunately for us some other tourists appeared and were promptly cornered and we were off the hook for the night. Our reprieve wasn’t to last however and the following day were finally out of places to hide and were trapped. As I understand it the English intend to introduce whinging as an Olympic sport in London 2012 and she was in training and stands a good chance at the prime position of team captain. Have tortured us all day she then proceeded to drink herself into a coma finally collapsing on a table in the dining car (wallet and phone on display) and was eventually helped to her cabin by the staff. Aside from that we actually had a pretty good time of it. I was throwing around the 20c tips like the Zimbabwean trillionair that I now am (having obtained a Zim $50 trillion note in Livingstone) and we were looked after like royalty.
A day later and we were in Zanzibar, and guess who was on the ferry – our English mate. A polite hello and we managed to leave her in customs complaining that someone tried to rob her yesterday and explaining why she was still in Tanzania on a transit visa.
We spent a night in Stone Town – the historic Zanzibar harbor area and then headed to Matemwe beach to do some diving. Nicole had a very badly timed cold and couldn’t dive unfortunately, but did manage to snorkel. The diving was ok and definitely worth getting wet, but I wouldn’t go to Zanzibar just to dive. In the end I did 4 dives, although they took me back to the same spots both days which was a bit disappointing. We had good accommodation right on the beach with a 20 minute walk each morning along the beach to the dive centre. This was made more interesting as the local villagers use the beach as a toilet each night so in the morning you have to make very sure of where you are putting your feet as you dance between the various bondi cigars lined up along the high tide line. Of an evening you can enjoy a pleasant walk along the fine white sand whilst chatting to the locals as they relieve themselves of the pressures of the day. Despite the water looking lovely, we opted not to go for a swim lest we become the next unsuspecting victims of a blind mullet attack. Before tourism really takes off in that part of the world, I think they may need to invest in some septic systems for the local village. Other than that it was an idyllic setting, sitting in the bar watching the outrigger canoes sail back in from fishing and the locals haggle over fish prices in the market next door.
We are now back in Dar Es Salaam again, heading north tomorrow to the town of Moshi at the foot of Mt Kilimanjaro where we will drink a beer and marvel at why anyone would think it was a good idea to climb up it. After all, that is why we invented helicopters.