I waste little time checking out the neighborhood after a
good night’s rest.
The beach, Coco Beach, is ridiculously close, less than a
five minute walk, and I stroll up and down Toure Drive, the long main road
hugging one side of Oyster Bay. The sand is right there across the street, the
water is glittering in the sun, surfers are riding the waves, and some early
sun worshipers gather to shoot the breeze. At night, this place—and all others
along Toure Drive, for that matter—is to be strictly avoided, as there are
muggers laying in the lurk, waiting for easy targets.
Although it is early in the morning, it must be around
ninety degrees, and I still find it hard to believe that, only 24 hours
earlier, I was freezing bone and blood in Amsterdam. From an Inuit costume to
shirt and shorts, all within the time span of less than a day. The air is
humid, although the breeze sweeping in from the ocean is agreeable and helps
somewhat. I head over to a supermarket to buy various items. The cheese purchase
in Amsterdam looks like a stroke of genius, as the various imported in Dar are not only pricey, but of questionable quality. Note to self: buy whatever can be bought and shipped
through Amazon and limit expenses to meat and produce, otherwise money will go
fast here. Heading out, there is this little lady passing me who is balancing a
five gallon (full) water jug on her head. She looks quite comfortable doing
this while she is walking.
Foreign cars, mostly Japanese, cruise up and down Toure
Drive, and it’s safe to say that some of the streets are not in the best of
conditions. Here, a 4x4 might be the way to go once it’s time to purchase a
vehicle. I watch a pickup truck pass me with no less than a dozen dudes crammed in the bed. On the beach, these little guys climb up the palm trees as nimbly as
spiders, their destination the dates or coconuts in the crowns.
For lunch, I have a rice bowl with chicken, coconut oil, and
basil. Predictably, it tastes delicious and seems very healthy. I can get used
to this, I’m thinking.
On my way back home I spot numerous bjajs, also known as
tuk tuks back in Nepal, three wheeled rickshaw taxis that appear to be the cheapest form
of public transportation other than the bus. The metropolis of Dar es Salaam
has something like six million people, so walking won’t cut it here unless it’s
to nearby places located in Oyster Bay.
In the evening, we meet with our sponsors at the primary
social club, which is the Yacht Club in Oyster Bay. Stretched out over several
acres, the place includes beaches, boats, a playground, and a fine looking bar
overlooking the ocean. It’s a fantastic place to relax and have a beer, and the
kids seem to enjoy it immensely, as do we. Activities here include diving and
sailing, although I am also keeping my eyes open for cricket, a game I grew to
love in Nepal and Bolivia. For now, Liebi and I are content to knock back
Kilimanjaro beers and marvel at the waves charging the beach below us.
Later at night, we are treated to our first rain. Whereas
your average rain around the world is the result of a dripping faucet, here the
tap has been turned up full force. It
reminds me of the monsoon season that we experienced back in Nepal. The cat,
too, has made a new ‘friend’, a puny little lizard in the garden that she
tosses around as if it were a little hackysack. That’s one more little local
animal removed from the food chain. The cat has announced her arrival. Animals
of Oyster Bay beware.
After the rain, we are treated to a swarm of termites, the
non wood eating type, congregating around the streetlamps. They launch
themselves by the hundreds into the light before dive bombing to the floor
below, a welcome evening treat for the garden’s lizards, who load up on
proteins.
We’re off to a promising start here. So far, so good. In due
time we will also be introduced to some more common pitfalls awaiting expats
living in hot and humid Africa. For now, they will have to wait.
