Picture the most pristine white sand, aquamarine-water-type beach of your wildest dreams. Now visualize snorkeling over epic coral reefs in the Indian Ocean, sipping sundowners next to a bonfire on the beach, and smelling fresh nutmeg and cinnamon on a farm in one of the spice capitals of the world. Imagine watching the sun set behind a deteriorating sultan's palace made of coral, falling asleep on the top of a traditional dhow boat, and losing yourself in the maze-like backstreets of a chaotic island port-town.
Throw in some hookah, a few hammocks, and some sobering exploration of the history of slave trade in East Africa, and you have a pretty decent summary of my short holiday in Zanzibar this past week. That place is INCREDIBLE, to say the least, and my pictures (which I cannot post, presently, as I'm held up in another, far crappier hostel) barely do it justice... though not for lack of trying; I think I took 300 photos while I was there.
Compare that to the 3 shots I've taken since I took the two hour ferry across the water to mainland Tanzania and arrived in Dar es Salaam two and a half days ago... and yikes, that doesn't say much for Dirty Dar. That's not to say I haven't enjoyed my time here, or that I'm not glad I made the trek to check it out. Dar is an interesting place in it's own right and deserves (like Zanzibar) a more lengthy blog post devoted to it alone... but I simply don't have that luxury (i.e. internet capabilities). Further, in comparison to Stone Town, Dar is a hectic pit of hot, dirty despair. Picture the worst part of the city closest to your home -- yeah, that's Dar. Only you need to factor in that it's in Africa, so things are going to be a little bit different. And by that I mean you can park your car on the sidewalk (if the sidewalk even exists), electricity appears to be optional, and you are the minority in every single way, among other things.
If I'm being honest, I'd have to say I liked Nairobi far better, as far as African cities go. The roads were wider and cleaner, and I didn't feel like carrying all my valuables with me at all times was equally as risky as leaving them locked in my hostel bedroom. Still, the more I ventured out into the city yesterday, the more comfortable I became being in it... although I'd NEVER want to live here. Give me Moshi any day of the week -- I don't care if we were at a greater risk for malaria. Bring it on.
It really wouldn't be fair to try to compare Dar to Stone Town, either. Although both harbor towns heavy into Muslim culture (I'm nearly immune to the call to prayer these days, even though it goes off every couple of hours and is largely a source of comfort to me now), Stone Town glows whereas Dar is dark and dreary. Sunsets over fishing boats and local Zanzibarians playing soccer on the grubby beach were idyllic; sunsets over the guys without shoes trying to pickpocket people the moment they climbed off the ferry in Dar, meanwhile, leaves you wanting something more.
Anyway, with that mediocre update of some pretty awesome solo adventures (as well as great memories/mini-adventures with rafikis Randi and Lucetta), it's time for me to go pack my bags and stand under the fan in my bedroom (so as to put off melting a little bit longer) before hopping a taxi to the airport at 4:30am -- Cape Town calls! As sad as I am to bid beloved Tanzania adieu, I'm ridiculously excited for settling down somewhere again (especially somewhere as awesome as Cape Town, which by all accounts is as beautiful and culture-rich as could be desired).
By this time next week, I will have started my new teaching job at a primary school, butchered at least two new African languages, and figured out how to navigate a brand new city... all, ideally, without losing my luggage. Fingers crossed. Wish me luck!
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