An African Adventure

Sometimes the trip you’ve dreamed about doesn’t turn out the way you imagined. This is the story of how I limped away from an African safari, several pounds lighter, and yet, full of awe.

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It all began at Kilimanjaro airport in the darkness of a Tanzanian winter evening. It was only six o’clock, but night had already set in. I walked down the steps from the plane to the tarmac, wondering if Mount Kilimanjaro would be visible in the daylight. Instead, it was up to my imagination to picture that looming mass just beyond the small terminal. The building and its bright, almost unnatural lights beckoned up ahead. My husband and I made our way across the darkened runway until the buzz of a busy customs area jolted my jet-lagged brain awake. It had been more than twenty-four hours since we’d left our house, having driven to Detroit, then two lengthy plane rides—one to Amsterdam and one here. I was ready for the hotel, to shower, and shake off the seven-hour time difference while we waited for my husband’s family to join us from their home in Spain.

Google Maps said it was a short twenty minutes between the airport and our hotel in Arusha, an erroneous fact that our driver, Bakari, corrected when he greeted us. “Ah, it’s closer to ninety minutes,” he explained and flashed a wide grin.

This would be my first lesson in Tanzanian travel: Don’t trust the distances on the interwebs. As we started the drive, the reason for this discrepancy became apparent quickly. Just a few minutes from the airport, the road seemed to disappear right in front of us. It was covered in several inches of sand.

“It’s the dry season now, but this is left over from the rainy season. The rains washed out the road,” Bakari offered as he slowed down and navigated through the thick sand.

It reminded me of how snow would build up on the roadways back home in Northern Michigan, except plows would eventually clear it. Here, it seemed the sand had stayed, and the drivers just made do. Eventually, the asphalt became visible again, and we returned to a normal speed before the process repeated itself several times.

Outside the passenger van’s windows, stands hawking all kinds of products and foods lined the road. Brightly lit, many also appeared to be bars, and they were full of people. It was, after all, a Saturday night, I remembered. Others had grills going, smoke wafting up from an array of sizzling meats. In another, a man sat on a stool getting his hair cut. Life was busy. I had landed in a place so different from home, and yet, at the heart of it, things were similar. People were socializing, getting groceries, and running errands—just in a very different way from what I knew back home.

“Is it your first time in Africa?” the driver asked, having clearly noticed my interest in the world outside the window.

“I was in Northern Africa a few years back,” I replied, remembering it fondly for a moment. “Morocco.”

“Ah, so it’s your first time in the real Africa.”

Setting continental geography aside, this would be my second lesson in Tanzanian travel, although it would take several more days for me to grasp Bakari’s sentiment fully. As we approached the ninety-minute mark, the landscape began to change. Lush trees appeared along the road as our vehicle slowed. The roadside stands gave way to fancy storefronts with windows full of clothing and souvenirs.

“It’s just up ahead,” our driver announced as we pulled up to a tall gate that opened for us immediately.

After twenty-six hours, we had finally arrived, at least to the first stop of the journey.

The Calm Before the Safari

I awoke the next morning in the comforts of a king-size bed in a large, temperature-controlled room. It could have been a hotel room in just about any part of the U.S. except for the pitcher of purified water sitting next to the bathroom sink. It was there to brush your teeth with, a reminder that we Westerners wouldn’t tolerate the water in Tanzania. Terrified of accidentally consuming the water and developing stomach issues, I’d had the foresight while packing to put a label on my toothbrush reminding me not to use the local water, something I thought I might inadvertently forget, my body following its muscle memory and going for the sink faucet.

I donned a pair of olive-green pants, a brown tank top, a khaki sweatshirt, and brown hiking boots. The safari wouldn’t start until the next day, but everything I’d packed was intended to be worn in the bush if needed. My typical city-gal black-colored travel wardrobe wouldn’t do out there, as it could attract tsetse flies, which were one part of Africa I had no desire to get acquainted with. So, my usual clothes had morphed into Earth tones. I wasn’t alone in this. The breakfast area downstairs was full of other travelers, all dressed similarly, either on their way to or from safaris.

In the light of day, it was possible to see and appreciate more of the hotel. After indulging in some gluten-free pastries (yes, the hotel had a sizable GF offering), I ventured outside to the grounds where I discovered that the Gran Melía Arusha sits on its own coffee farm. As I wandered among the rows, it made me appreciate the rich espresso I’d just enjoyed over breakfast, something I was sure I wouldn’t be able to find during the safari.

Up ahead, the top of Mount Meru peeked out from the clouds. I may not have seen Kilimanjaro, but this mountain was impressive. And it made for a beautiful backdrop during my day at the hotel’s infinity pool, and for a champagne toast at sunset on the rooftop.

The restful day before the action had done just what it needed to. I got over my jet lag.

All-Aboard

With my husband’s family having arrived safely in Arusha, we had grown to seven: Four adults, two teenagers, and one seven-year-old. We all assembled in the hotel lobby as porters carried our pile of bush plane-appropriate duffel bags to a large van outside the hotel. It was go-time.

As we pulled away from the hotel, its greenery and smooth pavement quickly changed to dirt streets with few trees or plants. Stray dogs waited outside shops and cafés for handouts while people rushed along. Arusha’s dusty streets were chaotic. Our driver plunged us right into it as he pulled out in front of an oncoming vehicle. We missed being hit by mere inches. Shouts from both drivers ensued. And while I don’t understand much Swahili, I got the gist. Some things are universal.

Motorbikes whizzed by as our Mercedes-Benz van continued down the left side of the main road before turning onto a side street where we slowed to a snail’s pace. Kids in matching school uniforms walked beside us. Many peered inside, curious about the inhabitants of this flashy vehicle. I sat near the front, my pale face and light blonde hair visible to those on the outside. Just as they seemed curious about me, I was equally so about them. I wondered what school was like here, what subjects they studied, and whether they had been outside of Arusha or on a journey like we were fortunate enough to be taking. My wonderment was short-lived as we turned onto another busy street before eventually arriving at the small Arusha airport.

Boarding at Arusha Airport

I expected our flight out to be on a tiny plane. I’d been warned about this ahead of time and had done my best to mentally prepare for a twelve-seater aircraft with no bathroom on board. It was to my surprise when we were pointed in the direction of an aircraft that held about fifty. I was used to taking commuter-style planes to smaller cities in the U.S., but this would be different. That became apparent as the flight attendant announced the stops. Stops, I wondered? Like a bus? And that’s exactly what we did.

Tanzania travel lesson number three: Direct flights are not necessarily a thing, even if it says so on your ticket. We would be the fifth stop.

Eek! A Mouse

We landed on a dirt airstrip at Kogatende in the middle of the Serengeti. Dust kicked up in all directions, announcing our arrival to the half-dozen or so tour guides awaiting their next set of guests. That included our friendly guide, Michael, who loaded our bags into the retrofitted Land Cruiser that would be our safari vehicle for the next few days. I assumed we’d be heading straight to our camp to get settled, but that’s when I learned that’s not how things work around here. For one thing, our camp was a two-hour drive away—and that was if you were heading there directly. And we were not.

Outside the Kogatende Airstrip

Tanzania travel lesson number four: There is always a game drive to be had, even if you’re on the way somewhere.

And so, it began. Immediately upon leaving the air strip and its few small buildings, zebras and wildebeest were suddenly everywhere. The latter is what we were here to see, the wildebeest on their Great Migration crossing the Mara River. Now, I’m typically one to squeal at the sight of a mere cow back home, and the impulse to do the same hit me here. After a few minutes, I realized that it wouldn’t be sustainable to shriek in delight at every creature, as there were so many. And of course, we’d been advised to remain quiet in the semi-open-air vehicle for our safety. The noises would have to live inside my head. And while some members of our group eventually got bored with seeing zebras everywhere, I did not. The sight of them amazed me. And I loved the way they often stand in pairs, which I learned wasn’t just a cute thing for a human like me to gaze upon, but it’s actually quite practical. It allows them to keep a 360-degree watch for predators.

Zebras Keeping Watch in the Serengeti

I was equally amazed by everything else we saw that day: giraffes, an elephant family with babies just a few feet from our vehicle, vultures, a mongoose, hippos, crocodiles, a lone lioness on a rock, a leopard in a tree, impalas, and countless birds. Our guide eagerly pulled off in various directions as he spotted signs of animals. He’d probably done these drives hundreds of times, but his excitement felt genuine, like my urge to squeal over any animal.

After a few hours of being jostled as we took it all in, we pulled into our camp, where we were greeted by about a dozen staffers. They presented us with tea and led us to the main tent, the equivalent of their hotel lobby, if you will. Here, we learned about the spot that would be our home for three nights and its rules.

Tanzania travel lesson number four: Don’t walk by yourself in the dark. Animals, including predators, were everywhere (their droppings also were). We would even need to radio for a guide to walk us from our tents to the dinner area.

The tents were a little more rustic than what I’d envisioned, but I figured it would just take a little getting used to. For example, while there was electricity, there were no power outlets. I’d have to charge my phone at the main tent area. And there was no hot water. We had to radio for hot water, which was delivered to our bucket shower. All that aside, the room, err, tent, was magical. Yes, I had to quickly zip up the door to the outside and to the bathroom to be sure tsetse flies didn’t follow me inside. But I could gaze out into the bush right from the bed. And they even had a turndown service, which introduced me to something I didn’t know I’d been missing out on—a hot water bottle placed under the blankets to warm the bed. Now, that’s something I could get used to.

After dinner and a drink at the campfire under the stars, we returned to our tent. It was around that time that I met an unexpected roommate. Fortunately, he kept to the bathroom area, where he seemed to prefer the shower. It was a mouse.

Even Gazelles Get the Zoomies

Our second game drive took us away from the camp for a full day to a different area of the park. Its tall grasses, riverbeds, and utter lack of any other vehicle traffic contrasted sharply with where we’d been the day prior. As we traversed the savannah, our driver pulled the vehicle to a stop, allowing us to take in the sight of several dozen gazelles galloping across a field. The little ones zoomed around playfully, like puppies.

After watching them, we eventually continued. We left some rocky terrain and pulled onto a road—well, really more of a path across the sand. It was then that a loud noise shook the vehicle. We pulled to a quick stop, and our guide hopped out. It was a flat tire. Replacing it would force us to break Tanzania travel lesson number five: Don’t get out of the safari vehicle at any point.

The Car Repair Zone at the Four Seasons

But it was necessary to get out, so the tire could be changed out with a questionable spare. Outside the vehicle, each of us needed to keep watch across the grass in case any lions got the wrong idea and tried to sneak up on us. Eventually, a lightly inflated spare was on the truck, but we weren’t quite ready for prime time. We needed to get to the closest camp for an impromptu tire repair. That took us to a mechanic’s area at the back of the Four Seasons camp. Now, don’t get any ideas that this put us in fancy land. No siree. We waited in the mechanics area from the comfort of the vehicle. Most members of our group used the time as an excuse to have lunch. I used it to discover small goat-like creatures playing around the property.

Lions Having an Afternoon Nap

After an hour or so, we were all fixed up and back on the road, but the group was quiet. Disappointment about wasted time quickly faded as we approached a lone tree in the high grasses. A group of lions—thirteen of them to be exact—were asleep next to the tree. All snuggled up with one another, they were enjoying an afternoon catnap. We stopped and watched them for what must have been thirty minutes. I could have watched them snoozing all day, their bellies rising and falling in the immense cuddle pile. Eventually, a female lion rose and crept slowly toward the vehicle. I half expected that she would jump on it or toward our half-open windows, but she became distracted by more interesting prey—a mongoose.

It would be difficult to outdo the lazy lions, but Tanzania would try. In addition to spotting more donkeys of the savannah (zebras) and wildebeest, we also saw Fisher’s lovebirds, ostriches, impalas, vultures eating lunch, oribis, hartebeest, and warthogs, or “Pumbas” as our driver called them. They even had tiny babies, and I could help but squeal (inside my head) at the way their tails stood up straight as they walked.

Smoky Air Outside our Tent

As the day wore on and we got closer to camp, the air took on a brownish hue and smelled strongly of smoke. Our guide explained that it was from controlled burns, a tactic used during the dry season to prevent wildfires from spreading. I appreciated the foresight and prevention of a fire, but my asthma didn’t. I attempted to weather through it with a steroid inhaler and an N95 mask, but there was just no escaping the smoke. We were, of course, sleeping in a tent. There was nowhere to go.

The smoke-filled night did lead to one of the most incredible experiences I had on the trip, though. Unable to sleep, I found myself lying in bed in the middle of the night. It was then that I heard grunting noises outside the tent. I sat up, looked out through our screens, and once my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I realized wildebeest and zebras surrounded us. There were at least forty of them. They were just out for a stroll and a snack. After about thirty minutes, one of the wildebeest walked into a cable of our tent, spooking him and sending all of the creatures back off into the night.

On the fourth day, we were due to depart, and I was more than ready to get to a less smoky area. We loaded up for the two-hour drive back to the airstrip. Unfortunately, our Land Cruiser had other ideas. A loud croak emerged just as we hit the halfway mark to Kogatende. It was another flat tire and another chance to break that travel rule. We all hopped out of the vehicle, racing to assist our guide so that we might make our flight.

Fortunately, we made it and found our way onto one of those tiny planes I’d been told we’d be on at some point. Next stop: Lake Manyara.

A Cape Buffalo Walked into a Bar

Lake Manyara National Park was the opposite of the dry, dusty Serengeti, with its thick greenery, tall trees, and, of course, the lake. Of course, with all that vegetation, it can make spotting animals trickier. That’s where our guide, Kivu, came into play, pointing out all sorts of animals, as well as identifying plants and flowers that I’d never seen before.

On our journey from the airstrip to the next camp, it was game drive on! And the animals here were so different from those in the Serengeti. Upon entering the park, we encountered a tree full of baboons. And as we pressed on, there were several other kinds of monkeys: Blue and vervet. I loved them all, but decided the vervet was my favorite because it resembled a character from a favorite old-school video game series, Monkey Island.

As the day went on, we pulled onto a two-track road that ran through thick, jungle-like trees. The aroma of wild mint wafted into our open-air safari vehicle. We were almost to our camp, one of only two inside this park. As we arrived, the sound of water cascading down was audible. The Endabasch waterfall was just ahead, where it fell into a river that ran along the camp. The camp’s picturesque surroundings were only rivaled by the luxurious room where we’d spend the rest of our safari nights. A step up from the Serengeti tents, the rooms here were individual cabins, set several feet off the ground with covered balconies and running hot water. No bucket shower here. And my favorite feature was the retractable roof, which let you gaze at the stars at night right from your bed.

Meals were served next to the river, creating an idyllic setting from which you could see monkeys on the other side during the daylight. One night, as I ventured down to the evening meal, I realized a Cape Buffalo, one of Africa’s Big Five and thus one of the most dangerous animals, was crossing the river and headed for our camp. The camp’s staff kept us all safely away from the creature, but it served as a reminder that we are guests in their space, on their land.

In addition to those animals, Lake Manyara also put us super close to several elephants, including one that passed just in front of our vehicle as we were airport-bound. Other highlights included: giraffes, egrets, a monitor lizard, impalas, a black mamba, and countless types of birds.

While my asthma improved instantly upon arrival here, unfortunately, a stomach infection set in. I was the first—but not the last—of our group to fall victim to this. Whether it was from the water or something I ate, it meant subsisting on rice for a few days and skipping what appeared to be excellent food.

A Boarding Pass Unlike Any Other

Leaving Lake Manyara wasn’t easy. This was my favorite stop. But it was time to press on to our last stop, the archipelago of Zanzibar on Tanzania’s east coast. This part of the trip was meant to be restful after the early mornings of the safari. We took off from Lake Manyara on a twelve-seater plane, armed with boarding passes unlike any I’ve ever seen around the world. But they did the trick and got us to our destination. It was on this small plane that yet another unfortunate incident would arise for me. My knee met its match against a metal plate, which would result in a tricky injury that would take months to heal.

The approach to Zanzibar took us over the marine-blue waters and rows of small houses with metal roofs. Tanzania is truly a diverse place. Once on the ground here, it was even more apparent as we made our trek—another one that far surpassed the prediction of Google Maps—to our hotel. As our driver took us along busy roads, I watched out the window, taking in the world outside as much as I could. All forms of transportation took shape along the road. A truck stacked with dozens of mattresses zipped around us, only to slow down behind a packed bus and cows in the road. Women walked on the shoulder, balancing large baskets on their heads.

Water jugs were everywhere. Men on mopeds carried them. Two boys who couldn’t have been older than six had several of them loaded onto a wooden cart being pulled by an ox. The quest for clean water seemed to dominate the afternoon activities of so many from this vantage point. After an hour and a half, we pulled up to a whitewashed stone gate that separated this world from another. Entering this one was to know calm, quiet comfort and purified water on demand—a dichotomy that stayed with me throughout our stay and since returning to the States. Our so-called first-world problems don’t seem so problematic anymore. I still think about that often.

I also think about that circle of life out in the Serengeti that I was lucky enough to see. From the plants and flowers to the small and large creatures, they’re all part of something bigger. And that puts some things in perspective at least for me.

Travel can be difficult at times. It can test one’s patience. It can even break your heart. At its best or even its worst, it makes you think. It makes you appreciate things differently. In my case, I may have had a rough go of it at times. But I was also humbled by the immense privilege of the journey, and I remain in awe of the Tanzanian bush.