To the Island!
So with a half day of work on Friday, an American holiday on Monday, and a Tanzanian holiday on Tuesday, what do you do? Some of our friends go on safari. Others to Zanzibar. One family even goes to Cairo to see the pyramids. We are not as ambitious and settle for a weekend getaway up the coast near Bagamoyo.
With the car loaded, we move into unchartered territory, even within Dar. On Bagamoyo Road (which takes you to, you guessed it, Bagamoyo), traffic is sluggish. A couple of fender benders, and you can start timing your progress with a calendar. It is nearly one o'clock, and the goal is to make it to Bagamoyo by three o'clock. Why three o'clock? Let's just say we have a boat to catch. For now, we can't catch a break out of traffic.
The further north we head in Dar, the more frequent the vendors risking injury through thick traffic to make a few shillings. There's the ice cream vendor on a bicycle riding head on into traffic to hawk some refreshments. There are the usual fire extinguisher and warning triangle vendors (both of these articles are mandatory for each car in Tanzania). At a police stop you will be ticketed if you come up short here. Some more innovative vendors are selling anything from car jacks to tire irons for the unprepared traveler heading out of Dar and into the wilderness, where merchandise like this is evidently harder to come by.
North of Dar, we pass a few tattered buses heading down Bagamoyo Road, and it reminds me of Peace Corps days when Liebi and I would take these rickety old smog machines from one town to another. We wonder out loud whether there might be a Peace Corps Volunteer on any of those buses now.
A few more minutes outside of Dar and we are in the outback, heading further away from the water. There is more greenery, hills with tall grass, and you actually catch yourself hoping there are no unwelcome critters lurking. A blue loading truck passes us and tears down the highway at 100 per, ten dudes standing in the back and remarkably unconcerned about their safety. I slam on the breaks when a schoolgirl runs into the street without looking. Too bad they never taught her about traffic in school.
The description to our resort reads like this: find a sign that reads, "Bagamoyo, 15 km". Should be a snap, right? Except we never see the sign and never slow down until we are actually in Bagamoyo. After not following the first direction (finding the sign), direction bullets 2-10 become superfluous, and it's time to ask for directions.
A man at the visitor's bureau directs me toward the Mbegani Fisheries, where we are to catch a boat. At five kilometers, there's a fork in the road. Take a right. After four more kilometers there's a t intersection where I take a left. Wow, i'm thinking. Five k's, four k's, did he forget a decimal somewhere? I push the km counter to zero in anticipation of our next trip through the sticks.
It quickly shows this is the outback, a place where you wouldn't want to see your engine to start heating up. At five km's on the dot, there's the fork in the road. All right, a fluke, I am thinking as I turn. But then TZ no longer stands for Tanzania but for Twilight Zone once the counter turns to nine and there is, indeed, my left turn. Wow. The human answer to the GPS. Right in Tanzania, at a fishery near you.
Time to wake up the kids. There is a guarded gate that opens, and inside are the Mbegani Fisheries, in essence a town of its own, the perimeter surrounded by a chain link fence. Weird. Still the Twilight Zone.
We park the car and head to the shore, our pantlegs rolled up, each of us holding two suitcases. It is almost three o'clock on the dot. The boat is already in sight, a small fiber boat as opposed to the wooden boats lined up and down the coast of the fisheries' properties. We will have to navigate the sand banks to get to the boat, kids and luggage in tow.
In the distance, an island with a long tongue of white sand jutting out. I decide that tongue is welcoming, not mocking us.
That would be our destination.
Say hello to The Lazy Lagoon.
With the car loaded, we move into unchartered territory, even within Dar. On Bagamoyo Road (which takes you to, you guessed it, Bagamoyo), traffic is sluggish. A couple of fender benders, and you can start timing your progress with a calendar. It is nearly one o'clock, and the goal is to make it to Bagamoyo by three o'clock. Why three o'clock? Let's just say we have a boat to catch. For now, we can't catch a break out of traffic.
The further north we head in Dar, the more frequent the vendors risking injury through thick traffic to make a few shillings. There's the ice cream vendor on a bicycle riding head on into traffic to hawk some refreshments. There are the usual fire extinguisher and warning triangle vendors (both of these articles are mandatory for each car in Tanzania). At a police stop you will be ticketed if you come up short here. Some more innovative vendors are selling anything from car jacks to tire irons for the unprepared traveler heading out of Dar and into the wilderness, where merchandise like this is evidently harder to come by.
North of Dar, we pass a few tattered buses heading down Bagamoyo Road, and it reminds me of Peace Corps days when Liebi and I would take these rickety old smog machines from one town to another. We wonder out loud whether there might be a Peace Corps Volunteer on any of those buses now.
A few more minutes outside of Dar and we are in the outback, heading further away from the water. There is more greenery, hills with tall grass, and you actually catch yourself hoping there are no unwelcome critters lurking. A blue loading truck passes us and tears down the highway at 100 per, ten dudes standing in the back and remarkably unconcerned about their safety. I slam on the breaks when a schoolgirl runs into the street without looking. Too bad they never taught her about traffic in school.
The description to our resort reads like this: find a sign that reads, "Bagamoyo, 15 km". Should be a snap, right? Except we never see the sign and never slow down until we are actually in Bagamoyo. After not following the first direction (finding the sign), direction bullets 2-10 become superfluous, and it's time to ask for directions.
A man at the visitor's bureau directs me toward the Mbegani Fisheries, where we are to catch a boat. At five kilometers, there's a fork in the road. Take a right. After four more kilometers there's a t intersection where I take a left. Wow, i'm thinking. Five k's, four k's, did he forget a decimal somewhere? I push the km counter to zero in anticipation of our next trip through the sticks.
It quickly shows this is the outback, a place where you wouldn't want to see your engine to start heating up. At five km's on the dot, there's the fork in the road. All right, a fluke, I am thinking as I turn. But then TZ no longer stands for Tanzania but for Twilight Zone once the counter turns to nine and there is, indeed, my left turn. Wow. The human answer to the GPS. Right in Tanzania, at a fishery near you.
Time to wake up the kids. There is a guarded gate that opens, and inside are the Mbegani Fisheries, in essence a town of its own, the perimeter surrounded by a chain link fence. Weird. Still the Twilight Zone.
We park the car and head to the shore, our pantlegs rolled up, each of us holding two suitcases. It is almost three o'clock on the dot. The boat is already in sight, a small fiber boat as opposed to the wooden boats lined up and down the coast of the fisheries' properties. We will have to navigate the sand banks to get to the boat, kids and luggage in tow.
In the distance, an island with a long tongue of white sand jutting out. I decide that tongue is welcoming, not mocking us.
That would be our destination.
Say hello to The Lazy Lagoon.
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