Dear Diary - ABC In 1-2-3 - Galong-Galong Oh Do Come Along
Journaling, travelling, and recording my steps are in my blood. Writing my thoughts down is a whisper only I can hear, and in listening, I retrace my journeys. My scribblings are not always to remember, but to forget or rather, to put to bed. My Diary sets the record straight. “How can I begin anything new with all of yesterday in me?” Leonard Cohen
Like the spokes on a bicycle, Arusha has numerous entries. The view is never dull.
---oOo---
Monday 17th.
Dear Diary,
Unexpectedly, it’s back to Arusha we go to have our bikes fixed. Accidents happen. ABC Arusha Bike Company is our destination, and we’ve been assured the manager will allow us to wild camp on the large property. On their website, I read the following:
“Enhancing Lives Through Bicycles.”
ABC Bicycle Company Limited is the largest retail and wholesale distributor of refurbished bicycles at an affordable rate in Tanzania. It is established in Olasiti, on the outskirts of Arusha Town, with a branch in Moshi, Kilimanjaro Region. ABC imports bicycles from Switzerland in partnership with Velafrica. ABC Bicycle Company partners with ABC Impact in Arusha, Tanzania, to help students cover long distances to and from school and other programmes, and to raise awareness of the bicycle value chain and its positive impact on people’s lives.
Impressive. Once again, our knowledge and impressions of foreign countries and certain NGOs proved incorrect.
We stopped in a sea of bicycles, and the staff welcomed us with big smiles. We have permission to camp, and to seal the deal (not that we asked), the night watchman will keep a close eye on us, we’re promised.
The delightful receptionist books a bajaji to whisk us off to a mall for supper. In Tanzania, you can’t go wrong with curry. The cooks and chefs have the spicing just right. Cheeky, hot and a tickle to the taste buds, we taste India in every bite. Star Anise, Cinnamon, an interesting Garam Masala and chillies galore. It’s not sweet and mild like our turmeric-infused Malay curry.
The minute we land in Arusha, two things happen: 1. The temperature drops by at least eight degrees, and 2. Safari vehicles are like ants in our pants—a nuisance. The bikes have been released and will be serviced first thing tomorrow.
---oOo---
Tuesday 18th
Dear Diary,
The bikes have been valeted, serviced and repaired, and are 100% good to go. Arusha has three million bicycles, and Arusha Bicycle Company’s bikes cut their teeth on the Swiss Alps, but Tanzania puts them through their paces. Rusty, trusty, they’re geared to endure conditions well beyond their capabilities.
As good as new, our trusty steeds are strapped and harnessed back onto the Honey Badger. All the staff affectionately embraced us, spoilt us, treated us and welcomed us. Here, the upliftment, success and empowerment of staff through training and new skills are as important as selling bicycles, one of the Trustees told Butch.
We queued for lunch from the staff kitchen, a feast. The chef and sous chef were generous with their portions. Did we look underfed? They just smiled. The watermelon, our first of the season, was a treat.
A Shona proverb: “Kandiro Kanoenda Kunobya Kamwe."
Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Literally, “The plate of food goes where another comes from.” We are constantly reminded of this truth.
Teary farewells from us. Kindness pulls at the heartstrings. Group photos that included us. Just like that, we’re family. Another reminder: “What you’ve found, eat with relatives because strangers are forgetful”.
The professional photographer employed by ABC does a sterling job and keeps their social media presence across all platforms up to date, engaging, and fun.
At 15h00, it’s time to hit the road, Jack.
I’ll never forget ABC Bike Company: efficiency, pride, hard work, ambition, spontaneity, generosity, and kindness. Teamwork is dreamwork.
---oOo---
Up, up and away, we climb the mountains to Peacematunda Campsite and Backpackers. Engaging full-on 4x4, we grind steadily through subtropical forests and hairpin bends. We slither and slide like a lazy puff adder, negotiating potholed roads, never imagining such conditions possible a mere 1.5km from Arusha’s CBD. We’ve still not learned.
Finally, we find the signposts hidden within an ancient bamboo grove. If truth be told, dear Diary, I didn’t expect we’d make it across the rickety bridge. Butch was gung-ho while I clutched my thumbs and prayed. Onlookers called me Doubting Thomas. Filmed for posterity and for an insurance claim.
During the late afternoon, the donkey is stoked with fresh wood. Hot showers are sublime on a cold night. A soft mist envelops us. We pull up the duvet and fall asleep, listening to Bushbabies and the trickling brook below.
---oOo---
Wednesday 19th
Dear Diary,
A housewife’s work is never done; she must do housekeeping, laundry, and make smoothies using frozen, ripened subtropical fruit.
We met a German matriculant and her chaperone aunt, who are volunteers at the Peacematunda Orphanage for their summer holidays. Admirable. We doubt anyone we know would voluntarily sacrifice a summer holiday!
The campsite needs a little TLC. The showers are good when the donkey’s fired up. I was relieved of my laundry. One of the housekeepers offered to get stuck into it. It’s such a rare treat.
We’re still enshrouded in mist. Does it ever lift? Only occasionally does a thin shaft of sunlight penetrate. The laundry’s not dry, the ancient lady proclaims. Akuna Matata. "Arrangements can be made, Akuna Matata," the manager says when we find him.
---oOo---
Thursday 20th
Dear Diary,
While enjoying our morning coffee, the highlight was watching a platoon of army ants march across our road. They were relentless in their mission and cleared a 2 cm-wide path. We captured the march on video. Liam (or his parents) will be fascinated.
We woke to a flooded bathroom. Panic stations. Wood rot worries. Back to Arusha to pamper the Honey Badger. She will not be ignored or outdone for attention.
One phone call to Kieran, and we had a lead. Wasim at Wasim Trans Garage took one professional look and assured Butch it was a minor maintenance job. It turned out that the bathroom's inlet water pipe had detached and could be repaired in a jiffy.
Anacreon delivered two new khaki shorts and an enema kit (instead of an EAR irrigation kit) for my beloved. Butch’s constipated ears would have no eudaimonia. Anacreon offered to fetch the laundry. We made a dinner date.
While the men talk dirty engines, dirt roads and memorable stop-overs, I snoop around, finding the warehouses far more interesting. 4x4 vehicles can be stored here while the owners "go home" to recuperate.
I really can’t wait to get out of the city.
---oOo---
Friday 21st
Dear Diary,
One pair of Butch’s new shorts, unworn, has three Jik burns on the backside. The bottle tipped over, dripping undiluted bleach onto B’s favourite khaki shorts—Murphy’s Law. No hakuna matata this morning.
We're heading west to Lake Manyara and staying at Migombani Camp for two nights.
The countryside offers colourful surprises, with rolling hills, arid patches and swathes of cultivated land. Sometimes, even sunflowers turn their heads towards us.
Migombani Camp is uniquely situated and built high on an escarpment plateau. It offers endless views of Lake Manyara and the Great Rift Valley and serves as the gateway to many national parks. With picturesque Lake Manyara in the foreground, the campsite is among the closest accommodations to the entrance of Lake Manyara National Park.
With some persuasion (we offer the “pensioners-don’t-drive-at-night” card), we secured the last campsite on the terrace overlooking rolling lawns, the giant Baobab and the infinity swimming pool, before the view drops and rolls across the valley and Lake Manyara.
Safari vehicles soon arrived, filled with very pale tourists, backpacks and tents. Charcoal fires light up as chefs start preparing evening meals for their guests. All around, a cacophony of foreign languages fills the air. In a tent a mere 5 metres away, rapid-fire French erupts. Nerves are frayed.
The two Haredim (Orthodox Israelis) pitched their tents a few yards from the Honey Badger’s nose and immediately began preparing their Shabbat meal. Dressed in their robes, with neat Payots and a yarmulke, they fulfilled their religious duties and prayers.
As the sun set, candles lit up the dinner tables like stars. When the gong sounded, guests floated down the terraces to enjoy a safari-style dinner under balmy skies. Butch did our Friday night steak braai to perfection. We slept like little logs.
---oOo---
Saturday 22nd
Dear Diary,
It was a leisurely morning for us while our neighbours hurriedly packed tents and luggage. They served coffee and rusks before they set off, presumably on a safari to the Ngorogoza crater. I could hear the sing-song chant of the Hebrew Saturday (Sabbath) morning prayers.
Glorifying God in this place on this perfect morning must be glorious. “Adonai, I love being in Your house, the place where Your glory dwells. I will bow, bend my knees, and kneel in praise before the God Who made me. And I will pray to You, Adonai, at this time of favour; God, in the greatness of Your love, answer me with the truth of Your salvation.”
I think fondly of my Jewish friends, scattered worldwide, who, united, will say this very same prayer today.
We slipped into our walking shorts and trainers, donned our hats, set our walking sticks, and walked to the gate of Lake Manyara National Park. Lions do climb trees here.
The ubiquitous informal fresh produce stalls, colourful and touristy, make my day. A snooper's delight, you will find the needle in a haystack. Finding something adds value to the economy.
I am catching up on Sunday’s blog—"Serenity inspires every word when we’re submerged in the abundance of nature." Anon.
The pool beckons, but a newly engaged couple are having a photoshoot. A heavy gemstone weighs down her ring finger. Later, a new herd of tourists arrives, breaking our peaceful spell like a swirling cloud of Red-billed Quelea.
Tents go up. Chefs unpack saucepans and crates of food, following the same procedure as last night, Miss Sophie.
---oOo---
Sunday 23rd
Dear Diary,
The sun has just hit our solar panels as we shut our windows, roll down the blinds and reverse out of our campsite, manoeuvring carefully between the tents.
We’re heading to the top of the pass, where we’ll stop to enjoy the view. Breathtaking. A vast landscape of water and giant skeletal trees. We feel like voyeurs, our binoculars scanning lodges and villages sprinkled below us. Smoke from early-morning cooking fires coils lazily into the sky in thin, blue, silky tendrils.
The Barista serves Tanzanian coffee at the Tanzanite Experience in Manyara Kibaoni. My coffee addiction kicked in.
We peruse magnificent cut stones in the Atelier. (Too rich for my blood and too fancy. Let the Chinese couple planning their dream engagement be thrilled.) The bride-to-be insists on an investment in an heirloom. (Ching-ching goes the credit card as the assistant ties a red satin ribbon around a small ring box.) The curio shop is a visitor's treasure trove of interesting novelties. I steal with my eyes and my trusty camera.
While we waited for our coffees, I browsed the art. The talented artist, Kingu, busy at work, took a few minutes to join me and point out his favourite pieces.
I told Kingu how much I appreciated art and showed him Bar Knight’s (my son’s) work on Instagram. “Ahh,” he said, “Jean-Michel Basquiat is alive!” He graciously agreed. “He is very talented. I see he does collage!” the soft-spoken man said, fascinated. Kingu knows his oats.
Butch was chomping at the bit, albeit outwardly calm; I am too curious and have a motor mouth. “Curb your enthusiasm, Maricha,” a voice warns. But I can’t, dear Diary. The open Wi-Fi saved the day. We always have silly fun when it's offered.
---oOo---
We made it in good time, enjoying the landscape- so different from what we've experienced- to have supper in the dining room at Foresight Eco Lodge and Safari.
This was the first time we, lowly overlanders, had an ensemble sing a welcome song when we stopped. The views, with quaint A-frame wooden cottages, suspended walkways and gardens, promised an excellent visit. The scent of pine oil filled the air.
We joined other guests at the fire pit for sundowners and then for supper.
All tables were reserved. The trained chef, George Washington, was a card. A buffet-style main course and dessert followed soup—a perfect end to the weekend. Leaves are added to the fire; the smoke and oils in the leaves act as an insect repellent. We were infused with the fragrant, smoky perfume. Not stooi's (stew) at all!
We struck up a conversation with a German guy on his motorbike. Of course he's in finance; how else does one travel so extensively at 28? I’m always fascinated by adventurers.
The Lodge's architecture is distinctive and interesting, with artistic touches in the woodwork, window details, and roof trusses.
The gardens are a work in progress, and all the staff are involved in planting and maintaining the borders. Banana trees make an interesting feature, lining the walkways. My Mum would've loved this garden; I recognise many plants from her rambling gardens.
Anita, a German lady, met Ernest, Rapha's dad and her driver, on safari. After spending time with him and hearing his story, Anita was inspired. She had the foresight to invest in the local community and land, committing to support by building a lodge. Ernest now manages the lodge with a partner and is mentored by Anita, who remains actively involved and frequently visits Foresight Eco Lodge. This is another example of a vision becoming a successful reality.
---oOo---
Monday 24th
Dear Diary,
There’s no peace for the wicked. Up at 4h00 this morning. We wriggle into our safari gear, including boots, hats and puffer jackets, well before sunrise. A thick meringue mist drips fat drops onto the idling Land Cruiser, where Rapha (Raphael), our guide, waits to whisk us off to Ngorongoro National Park to see the crater.
Wish list ticked. The fees are exorbitant, but we succumb, with the others’ permission. We dip into our savings and vow to eat in. Right.
Mysterious drive through the dense rainforest, ascending the crater’s rim; yellow foglights cast a jaundiced glow, illuminating a few metres of gravel road. Giant acacias, rubber trees, and other indigenous trees, choked by spineless tendrils, draped and twirled heavily around branches and trunks—ghostlike silhouettes, silent, limbs outstretched, like dancing ogres frozen in the spooky grey light.
Raffa points out a pair of Buffalo and a Giraffe in the glow.
The open-top Land Rover or Toyota Land Cruiser is synonymous with safaris in East Africa and could be regarded as a subspecies of wildlife; we photograph them as we would an elephant.
---oOo---
FYI:
"Ngorongoro Conservation Area is a protected UNESCO World Heritage Site in the Ngorongoro district. 180km from Arusha, the Ngorongoro Crater is a large volcanic caldera.
A caldera is a large, cauldron-like hollow that forms shortly after a volcano empties its magma chamber during an eruption. When large volumes of magma erupt over a short period, the rock above the magma chamber loses structural support. The ground surface then collapses into the emptied or partially emptied magma chamber, leaving a significant depression at the surface (from one to dozens of kilometres across).
Ngorongoro derives from the onomatopoeic sound of cowbells ringing, galong-galong (ngoro-ngoro in Swahili), traditionally worn by Maasai cattle. Ngorongoro is the traditional homeland of the Maasai tribes.
Land use is regulated to prevent adverse effects on wildlife and to protect grazing. For example, cultivation is prohibited except at subsistence levels. Recently, the Maasai were relocated to higher ground and no longer live in the caldera.
---oOo---
Like a heavy stage curtain drawn, the mist lifted. The sun, a moving spotlight, beams highlighting trees and grazing zebras as we snake into the crater, revealing the velvety, brittle, golden grasses that carpet the landscape in the dry season.
It also reveals tourism's impact in Tanzania. Tourists are encouraged to use safari companies and guides to visit the park. Although fees are exorbitant (for us), private vehicles are charged extra, and the Honey Badger even more. Besides, I don’t think safari operators would have received us kindly, and we might not have enjoyed the sightings we were treated to. The road along the crater rim is public and is used by small vehicles and huge trucks alike en route to the western districts and the Serengeti.
Like ants on a march, dozens of safari vehicles scurried across the park as we reached the crater/caldera floor and stopped for our first sighting.
Drivers are in radio contact, and as soon as there’s something newsworthy to report (e.g. a lion sighting), the word is out, and like iron shavings drawn to a magnet, the race is on.
Most vehicles stick to the same route once leading vehicles report specific sightings. Drivers have an unwritten agreement to spend a set amount of time enjoying the sighting before moving on. This way, all vehicles can enjoy good visibility. It’s very much like a conveyor belt moving forward. In a private vehicle, you wouldn’t get to experience this.
---oOo---
Although we weren't used to this safari style, we were in awe of our surroundings. The cherry on top was the teeming herds of wildebeest, gazelle, and buffalo, along with lion sightings.
Butch recalled the story of his Uncle Tommy, who, on his way to Ethiopia to liberate the country from Fascist Italy during WW2, stopped at the lip of the crater and saw the plains teeming with hundreds of thousands of gazelles, elephants, and cats. The sight left such a lasting impression that Butch was determined to see the phenomenon himself.
Before the apple disaster, Eve felt in awe, as I did, surveying Eden for the first time. (Adam was easy; one bite and he was a-gonner.)
---oOo---
For lunch, we joined the other game viewers parked along the lake’s eastern edge and got out of our vehicle. We enjoyed a scrumptious full picnic basket prepared by George Washington (his full name, always) and packed by Rapha.
After lunch, we slowly made our way east, taking a leisurely drive home. The climb out of the caldera gave us the chance to see the plains animals from above. We spotted the elephant we hadn't seen all day.
We make a detour at the watering holes, dams and lakes to photograph the hippo pods and birds drawn to the refreshing waters before the herds arrive at dusk. My knowledge of East African birds is scant, but we're trying and have ticked off a good selection. Rapha is a keen birder with a spotter's eye. Butch might know the genus, helping to fill the gaps.
Only now do I understand what I experienced: the vastness of the plains and the preservation and conservation of wildlife for posterity and future generations. In my mind’s eye, it is impossible to imagine an 8,292-square-kilometre parcel of land. But in an open safari vehicle, able to stand and turn 360˚, I can see a golden caldera, protected by looming crater walls as high as the blue sky, cradling huge herds of wildlife, protected by and dependent on the natural circle of life. Amazing.
My jaw dropped when Rapha reminded me that various hominid species have inhabited the area for 3 million years, according to fossil evidence from Olduvai Gorge.
Rapha’s heartfelt confession about his disappointing experiences with previous clients highlighted a sad truth about arrogance. Guides like Rapha are passionate about their knowledge and see it as a vocation; they're eager to teach, tell and show about wildlife and nature. They take pride in sharing their knowledge, anecdotes and bush lore, and enjoy interacting with clients who ask reasonable questions and even share their knowledge.
When grumpy, obnoxious clients treat guides with disdain and undermine their authority and expertise, guides are deeply hurt, offended, and shocked, yet, while on duty, must weather the blows without missing a beat. On safari, the customer is always right, he reminded us. The insult affects their self-confidence. Butch and I were touched that he trusted us with his pain and humiliation. The tongue is more dangerous than a gun.
I hear the dinner gong sound.
Reminder to self: do not forget to mention the new species and subspecies we were introduced to, e.g. new gazelles and zebras with striped stockings. I hope my photographs will illustrate the landscape’s scale while highlighting the tiniest seed and hatchling. The Ngorogoro is about the big picture, then turning it on its head and zooming in. I must remember everything.
Facing my fears. I watched, my trusty Canon for protection, as a Black-headed Heron captured and swallowed a green snake (African bush snake - I didn't ask it its name). I can't say it was fascinating. I did it, D.D.!
---oOo---
Tuesday 25th to Fri 29th
Dear Diary,
We’ve moved on to Flamingo Lodge and Campsite in Karatu. The cold, misty weather doesn't bode well for solar charging, which depends on sunlight.
Our new campsite, just a few hundred metres off the main road, suits us.
A bustling village specialising in car washes. The dusty red-clay street to our campsite is lined with small businesses, restaurants and a parade of happy children. I especially love the pretty cloth hanging over the front door of one house. We dropped off our laundry for professional laundering.
The campsite needs TLC, but it’s conveniently located, so we can walk into the village to shop.
Butch and I love Rapha. He’s highly intelligent, funny, and a raconteur who embodies all the qualities we admire in our children and grandchildren. His visits disrupt our routines and inspire us to explore. (We still are, all these years later! Updated 8/11/26)
His recommendation to try a local restaurant gets the thumbs up. The cooks specialise in a traditional pork rib dish. Delicious. The fried bananas served as an accompaniment are a novel idea. We loved the flavours.
We wended our way home, zigzagging through narrow streets and the fresh-produce market, and stopped at a European Bistro for coffee, to Rapha's disappointment. The coffee was excellent, but he thinks we could’ve done better elsewhere. (We guiltily returned for coffee the next day after our cycle, and again for a curry. Delicious.)
---oOo---
Butch announced that the newly serviced bikes must be tested. The hilly, elevated terrain did not bode well for me. My legs were weak, and I struggled with aches and pains. It could be dehydration again. When I came to the umpteenth hill, I picked up my ball and announced I was going home. Downhill all the way. I loved it.
---oOo---
Rehydration day.
An Overlander stopped with a busload of American University students and a few adults. They’ve taken over. Fortunately, they’ve had early starts and long days. I heard the guide announce departure at 8h00. Silence descended upon us at 22h00. It was quite civil, and we met up with Kiringo, a guide from Kenya working for Intrepid Travel.
---oOo---
Thursday 27th
Dear Diary,
On our way into the village, we spotted a tiny furry critter in the nick of time. Butch thought it was a sneaky mole and almost put his size 10 foot on top of it. Caution prevailed, and on closer inspection we realised it was a tiny hedgehog.
"The African pygmy hedgehog, or four-toed hedgehog, known as nungunungu in Swahili, is found across much of Eastern, Western, and Central Africa. They weigh between one and two lbs and are seven to nine inches long."
"Nocturnal, resting in rock crevices, under tangles of brushwood or dry leaf litter during the day," Rapha told us, and Wiki confirmed.
Rapha said that these cuties are often kept as lucky charms and pets. As a schoolboy, he kept one in his shirt pocket. Unfortunately, they’re also traded illegally.
Butch gently moved him into the scrub for safety.
---oOo---
Thursday 28th
Dear Diary,
Another landmark day. This morning, Butch did it! He went to a local butcher and purchased a 2kg rump steak. The butcher was insistent on selecting the Top Rump as requested. Butch relented and bowed to his superior knowledge as he wielded his machete and butchered our supper. It wasn't the top rump, but a beautiful, well-hung, clean, fresh cut of meat. The butcher's knife (machete) skills are impressive. Butch unwrapped the newspaper to reveal our dinner. Supper would be a treat, served with garlic butter. Rare.
---oOo---
Fatima
While hunting for the restaurant’s proprietress on the corner, Butch met Fatima, a home cook two houses up, who agreed to prepare a traditional meal for supper.
He packed a few serving dishes into a basket and, at 17h00, went off to collect our supper, a halal chicken curry and Roti.
At 12h00 the next day, there was a knock on our door—Fatima with a tray laden with bowls and covered dishes. Shocked, we told her we hadn’t ordered lunch.
“No!” she says, gesticulating wildly as she steps inside. “I am here to serve you!” We’re dumbfounded. “Sit,” she says, adjusting her Hijab, and asks for our cutlery and plates. What can we do but obey?
We are served a delicious Tanzanian beef stew with vegetables and sticky rice. We insist that she and her firstborn son join us for lunch.
Fatima prepares a hot, spicy maise “tea” for her family every morning. Butch loves ground maize in any form (maise is a staple in Africa - mahindi ya kusagwa). We’re invited to her house for a tasting that evening.
Just before sunset, we set off for Fatima’s, where we met her daughter and a baby, her Mum, Ruth, her best friend, and a tribe of shy littlies. Under the magnifying glass, we sipped our cups of spicy maise tea. Butch loved it and immediately ordered a flask of tea to be collected by him the following day at 10h00.
We cycled a few more times, and I managed much better and even enjoyed the rides, plus our visit to Foresight Eco Lodge to say hi and have coffee and biscuits.
Another busy day goes by in a flash. Beside me, I hear a gentle purr of contentment—time to switch off the light.
---oOo---
Saturday 30th – Tuesday 1st
Dear Diary,
I must keep this short and sweet. We’ve taken the plunge and will dip into the children’s inheritance (the SKIN principle) to tick off another bucket-list item. The Serengeti. An arm and a leg. After careful thought, we’ve accepted Ernest’s quotation for the five-day, fully catered, guided trip to the Serengeti and Lake Natron.
Butch finds a campsite where we’ll be permitted to leave the truck while we go on Safari. Kudu Campsite and Lodge is a popular destination for Overlanders and foreign guests who fly in, stay a night, and then go on Safari on organised package tours.
---oOo---
Fatima delivers our spicy tea and shows me how to tie a Hijab with the scarf I gift her. She removes a lovely black beaded necklace, instructs me to turn around, and fastens it around my neck. The kindness of strangers has overwhelmed us time and again.
Butch insists she accepts his gift. She does so reluctantly.
On his motorbike, our German acquaintance Wolfgang packs his saddlebags and prepares to leave after buying a painting at Kingo’s art gallery.
We set off for Kudu Lodge and the campsite in the morning. We haven’t had a hamburger for months, so we tuck in hungrily at Kubu’s restaurant. Their tables are laid and ready to receive tonight’s guests.
A red Rotel truck pulls in. Their guests sleep in 600mm x 600mm cubicles, each 2m long. My claustrophobia doesn’t allow me to even think about this. Many of the guests we pick up are from the Netherlands.
The campsite soon fills with two-person tents from other Overlanders making trans-Africa trips. The youngsters head off to the pool, where they wallow in the shallows or lounge on deck chairs, catching up on their phones and iPads. The responsible adults do the laundry. Guides set up the campsite, and chefs prepare the evening meal. It is interesting to observe the dynamics at play. A few return from the pool, having underestimated the African sun and their low-grade block-out Ambre Solaire sunscreen.
Intrigued to see what takeaway pizza is like in Tanzania, we placed our order at the restaurant. I am happy to report that the delivery arrived while the pizza was piping hot, and we were pleasantly surprised by the crispy base and tasty topping.
We have binged on too much fast food (in our defence, these are not fast food but wholesome Gourmet indulgences. The freshest organic ingredients are used, and the generous patties are homemade!).
We are preparing for our Safari to Serengeti. The days are busy with activities. Rapha has been around to give us final packing instructions and promised to meet us at 6h00 sharp.
Anacreon and Carolyn deliver our fresh laundry, spend the night with us, and then we set off in the morning.
Our last supper is local. Anacreon orders a bajaji to take us to an upmarket restaurant for a traditional dinner, with Konyagi shooters for the boys.
Our hearts are full after catching up with our dear friends. I’ve set the alarm for an ungodly hour. I can see Butch’s eyebrows lifting sceptically. Excitement bubbles inside me. I won’t sleep a wink.
Until the plains of the Serengeti, dear Diary, I sign off before the alarm shrilly sounds.
---oOo---
https://foresight-lodge.com/?noredirect=en-US
Wasim Transport +255 764 024772
(Specialising in the conversion of Safari vehicles and offers storage of vehicles.)
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