Now that we have a taste for African buses, there is no other option of how we get to Tanzania. 10 hours? No problem.
After a couple of hours of bouncing over potholes at 80 miles per hour, Alicia is reconsidering this option. I am asleep, dreaming of a pneumatic drill. Once across the Tanzanian border, the road smoothes out and the ride gets more comfortable and quite scenic. Of particular interest was a recently overturned truck under a bridge, complete with bloodied driver (apparently a regular occurence with trucks...and buses).
The journey is only interupted by one stop on the coast in a place called Tanga. For some unknown reason the people of Tanga are very proud of their photocopying (or "Fotocoppying") capabilities and advertise their talents in literally every shop front. That remains to this day, still unexplained.
We arrive in Dar es Salam (or "Dar" as you soon begin to call it - for ease though, rather than an attempt at sounding cool) after dark and have to believe a taxi driver who insists that the ride to our hostel should cost 10,000 Tsh (Tanzanian Shillings). Once we're at the hostel it becomes apparent that 5000 Tsh would have been a more reasonable price but that means we've only been taken for an extra ₤2.50 ($4) so we're not too disheartened. The hostel, from what we can see of it, looks OK and we only have time to head out for a quick dinner and then it's bed time.
The next day is spent looking around Dar, getting some photos transferred on to CDs, visiting the US Embassy to get more pages put in Alicia's passport, and basically doing things that you'd normally do on a Saturday at home. Unbelievably, I am not allowed into the US Embassy - a policy I consider a personal afront to all free-born Englishmen - and worse still, I'm asked to wait outside the air-conditioned security office, in the 35oC (90oF) heat! Hopefully the upcoming Obama years will right a few of these wrongs!
Tomorrow is off to Zanzibar, aka Paradise...
