Hannah Swithinbank

Is Back Home

Sitting in front of the tennis watching Federer and ignoring Robson (who isn’t doing herself any harm with her performance, even if she does go down to Hantuchova). I have seventy thousand photos to process still, but that’ll happen (slowly), and seventy thousand words to edit. I have a print out of the thesis-so-far and am wielding the pink muji pen over it to try and sort out the two problem chapters to the soothing sounds of tennis balls being hit too and fro (and this is why I won’t be watching much women’s tennis – the grunting, it is NOT soothing).

Tanzania ended in a Battle Royale with Kenedy (albeit with less blood) which we finally won. Fortunately, Zanzibar is such that it’s appeal can survive even his awfulness in the memory. Dar not so much – but then there is so little to do, and it’s horribly humid, so it’s not so appealing. We spent our last day on the Msasani Peninsula relaxing at Sea Cliff Village. I got very excited because there was a Spur, which I know from holidays in South Africa, and so we ate amazing steak, and waffles and ice cream, whcih meant there was no room for plane food at all, fortunately.

‘Tis graduation this week, so I’m trying to pack in the work between catching up with the boys who have come back from New Zealand, the US and Cambridge for it. It’s quite like old times, bizarrely, except now Gwyn and I are hard at work in the office (at Jamie and Jeremy’s old desks), and we can make them tea monkey for us. So it’s all go, and I just decided to add to my busy by booking some Edinburgh tickets for the summer. I’m off to see Moon on Tuesday, and Adventureland on Friday at the Film Festival. Now I have tickets for Neil Gaiman and for Gerald Scarfe for the Book Festival, and the Early Edition on the Fringe – that’s my August treat to myself, as I’ll be desperately wrapping up the thesis.

Not quite at the beach yet. But nearly

Am on Zanzibar. I hereby refuse to recommend Safari Planners as a safari organiser, ‘cos they are not organised, and the director flat out lied to us last night when he said he had our names down for the ferry today, and would bring our tickets in the morning. This morning, we drove down to the ferry, and then he took our names and nationalities, and went and bought our tickets. Still we got on the ferry, and got here, and his guy on Zanzibar is far better organised and personable than he is. We may have been screwed out of a bit of cash, but we are in Zanzibar and we have a nice hotel in Stone Town (with a TV and Setanta Sports no less, so we caught up on the Lions injury list whilst cleaning up after the ferry). Tomorrow we are spice touring, and on Friday off to Jambiani on the east coast for a couple of days on the beach. Today we have been for ice cream and cake on the waterfront, and browsing the shops to get some ideas of prices for haggling, and work out what we want to buy when we come back to Stone Town on Monday. Epic numbers of shawls, and Barack Obama kangas are on the list.

So, we were last heard from about to head out on safari. Clearly we were not eaten by lions or leopards. Our one leopard peed on the front wheel of our car though, so we now belongs to it. TONS of Lions. We are totally blase about them now, but not about Cheetahs, which are still awesomeness. And we saw lots of them – about five up close. SQUEEEEE. Got eaten alive by various bugses, but totally worth it, and were camping on the Ngorogoro Crater rim when news about Roger Federer’s French Open victory came through (amazing signal in the Serengeti and Ngorogoro), so we did a little dance of glee along the edge, and then hopped back into our sleeping bags, for it was COLD. Acutally had to wear two long sleeved layers. Wild.

This evening we are off to be hopelessly colonial and have drinks on the roof at the Africa House hotel, and then to the night market for fresh cooked fish. And then to get lost on the way back to the hotel. Erm.

Still Here…

Internets in Arusha are Rubbishes.

Had an amazing weekend in Kilimatinde, of which more later when good internets. But my old kindergarten is still going strong (and they have uniforms now, very exciting), and some of my old KG kids are in the secondary school now (way to make me feel old), and it was wonderful and brilliant, and kind of sad, in the way that going back to old places can be, because nearly all of the people I knew there have left to go and do new things, and I don’t know when I’ll get back again, but there’ll be even less of them then… But it was beautiful and ace, and so worth the 8 hour bus from Dar to get there, and the 13 hour bus to Arusha to get here. And tomorrow I am off on safari-times. Lake Manyara, Serengeti and Ngorogoro Crater. I have 16 gigs of memory cards. I think that is enough.

and how many wheels would you like to travel on?

Yes, really. Today we have done 4, 6, 2 and 3 (in that order). We went to Bagamoyo on 4 and 6 (you have to change at Mwenge, on the outskirts of Dar), got a taxi to the Catholic Mission, which is where all them explorers set off from (Burton, Speke, Stanley) and where Livingstone’s body was kept before being shipped home. Then we took 2 wheels, as I introduced Eleanor to the world of piki-pikis (motorbike taxis) down to the harbour. She was very glad most of the road was tarred. It should probably be “harbour” in inverted commas, as it is mostly a beach with some dhows pulled up, and a very old mostly unused customs house, as well as a small fish market, on the site of what used to be the slave market. Clearly we like their current produce better. Tastier, more ethical, etc. It’s all very atmospheric, with the fish smoke wafting around. This is the old part of town, and there’s lots of renovation being done, esp. on the Old Post Office, which still has its gorgeous zanzibari doors, and green PO Boxes in the walls. We saw the house where the Emin Pasha got drunk and fell off a second story balcony, ‘cos clearly being out of Sudan and about to go back to Europe went to his head, and hid from the rain in a overly large thatched bar with three bored locals in it. (Despite being wicked important historically, Bagamoyo today is a teensy little place, with not a lot happening, but a very nice feel to it).
Then we took 3 wheels, in the form of a motorised rickshaw, down to the Kaole ruins, C13-15th Arabic ruins by the coast (now behind mangrove swamp), which were very very cool.

Tomorrow we’re off to Dodoma and then Kilimatinde to show Eleanor my old haunts, and see how everyone has grown to be Much Taller Than Me in the last 9 years (I was working in the kindergarten, so they were all tiny people now). The vicar who lived across the road from me is now Bishop of the Rift Valley, so he has gone up in the world. I fully expect next Sunday to feature a three hour church service and backless benches. Woot.

Impetuosity?

Check out the bedraggled state of this book. It’s my Tanzania guide from my gap year, when I spent 3 months working in a teeny little village on the edge of the escarpment of the Rift Valley in central Tanzania. Doesn’t it just look loved to death?

Well, it’s time to get another, new guide book to Tanzania, and love it to death as well. I’m toying between the Lonely Planet (which is more recent) and the Bradt (which is by the guy who wrote my Rwanda guide, aka the best guide book I have ever owned). Yep. I booked flights to Dar es Salaam today. It was both a little impetuous and a little not. I was going to be going to Cape Town with Mel to see if we could catch some rugby, but that didn’t work out (*slayeth internal organs of fail*) so I was wondering what to do in June. And before you ask, no, I really couldn’t not travel. That’d make it over six months between my upcoming ski jaunt and, well, September/October and wherever I end up in the next academic year. Not On, World.

Tanzania’s been tempting me back for a while, just to go, nearly a decade later, and see what I make of it now. And there was other stuff in Tanzania I wanted to do. I only did Kilimatinde, where I lived; Dodoma, probably the least exciting capital city on the planet; Arusha, but not the Serengeti, I was too poor; Dar and Zanzibar. I know, ‘only’. That is, I suppose, the Famous and Exciting Stuff, but there’s also Ujiji on Lake Tanganyika, Selous Game Reserve, the largest in the country, Mafia Island, Pemba, and other exciting off the main circuit places. But then I thought I could probably use the cash next year, and I should maybe stay European and pay less on the flights, go for less time. But really, what’s the fun of life without a little mad gadabouting? I haven’t been in Africa in nearly six years, which is too many, and it’ll be cheap to live. I don’t think I’m going to regret being a bit poorer next year for one ace trip. I’m going to try and go back to Kilimatinde, which will be very weird, I’m sure, but I want to do it, and get something sorted for Selous. Otherwise, I’m going to go out with no plans and lots of wishes. And hopefully I’m going to be taking Eleanor with me.