NOTE: I realize in the previous version that I didn't explain who Michelle, Jaco and Sydney were. After writing the first part on-line, I finished writing the post in a word processing document and forgot to copy over the explanation into the earlier version. It's corrected now.
On Friday, April 6th, I left early in the morning by bus for Dar-es-Salaam. It was supposed to take about nine or ten hours, but instead took nearly twelve. Along the way, I was once again harassed by an immigration official who boarded the bus and asked to see our passports. I felt like she was rude and gave me a hard time for no good reason, but what do I know. By the time we arrived it was after dark so when I got off the bus at the crowded bus station, I just followed the first cab driver who came up to me and got a ride to the hostel. It was a bit of a drive and after a few wrong turns and stops to ask passersby for directions, we finally found the small dirt road where the hostel was located.
We arrived just after 8:00pm and I discovered that the private room that I had reserved was actually a tent outside in the yard. I was actually okay with that because the tent had a fairly comfortable full-size air mattress with sheets, was cheaper than a dorm bed and also gave me some privacy. The only major problem (or so I thought) was that by 7:30/8:00am in the morning, it was so sweltering hot inside the nylon confines of the tent that I had to escape inside to the (relatively) cooler comfort of the main house. After breakfast, I called a couple that I had worked with at my last job when I cast them on the show. Michelle and Jaco are a South African couple who moved from outside New York City to Dar-es-Salaam with their young son, Sydney. We made plans to meet up in the afternoon after I took care of some things.
My first priority on Saturday morning was to book a train ticket from Dar-es-Salaam to Kapari Mposhi in Zambia so I could catch a bus from there to visit Victoria Falls in Livingstone. The manager at the hostel were I was staying was heading to the orphanage that is affiliated with the guesthouse so she dropped me off on the main road to pick up a cab from there. I flagged down a rickshaw taxi since it was less expense than an auto cab and told him I wanted to go to the train station. I learned afterwards that I should have specified the TAZARA station, though I think he still may not have known where to go even if I said that. He stopped multiple times to ask for directions and eventually just dropped me off by the main port area where you catch the ferry to the island of Zanzibar. Immediately a tout approached me to try to drag me into a place to buy a ferry ticket. I told him I didn't want a ferry ticket, but rather a train ticket. He said he could help me with that too and against my better judgment I followed him. I really should have tried to go to the actual train station, but had no idea where it was and didn't think the rickshaw driver did either. So I got out and went with the tout to the tour office.
When I got inside the office, the agent made some phone calls and at first said that the train was all booked up. Then he said he could still manage to get me a ticket and convinced me to also get a ride to the station with his driver. I really should have tried to find out how much the train ticket cost ahead of time because since I had no idea, I could only go on his word. I knew there would be a little bit of commission, but I had no idea until later exactly how much. In any case, his scare tactic of saying the train was fully booked worked and I agreed to pay what he was asking without even really trying to bargain. It did make me a bit nervous that he only gave me a receipt and said the driver would have the ticket when he picked me up, but there was nothing I could really do about it after the fact.
After leaving the booking office, I walked around the downtown area a bit to try to find a place to buy another memory card for my camera since the last allegedly 4GB one I had bought was already full. Unfortunately, since it was the Saturday of Easter weekend, many shops were closed. I also wanted to buy a new Tanzanian SIM card for my phone, but was running into the same problem with that fruitless search. I found one electronics store that sold memory cards, but when I tried to test one out, it said it wasn’t formatted correctly for my camera. At another store, the card didn’t work at all. In the meantime, I was trying to reach Michelle, but wasn’t able to get through with my Kenyan SIM card. My frustration grew when, en route to a camera store that had been suggested to me which turned out to be closed, it began to pour down rain. I didn’t have an umbrella so I had to just stand under an overhang waiting for it to let up a bit. When the rain finally slowed down, I decided to just take a cab back to the hostel and figure out how to get ahold of my friends from there. On the way to the main street, however, I saw an internet cafe where I thought I may be able to get a SIM card. They didn’t have the SIM card, but did have an 8GB mini SD card that came with an adaptor and seemed to work in my camera. At least I finally had one thing I needed.
Back outside, I hopped in a cab and gave the driver directions back to the hostel. On the way, I tried a different way of dialing the international number for Michelle and managed to get through. I was still in the cab, but we were heading the wrong direction towards their house so I had the driver turn around and go the other way. I knew it was going to cost me more, but it made more sense than going all the way back to the hostel just to hop in a cab again. As we got close, it was clear the driver didn’t really know where he was going even though I kept putting him on the phone to talk to Michelle and Jaco’s housekeeper in Swahili. We eventually pulled up in front of the Korean embassy and a short time later, Michelle arrived in her van. Of course the driver wanted entirely too much money, but since I had’t really discussed the additional cost with him when we changed direction, I had no choice but to pay him pretty much what he asked.
Once in Michelle’s van, we drove the short distance to the family’s gated complex. Everyone in the family, including six-year-old Sydney, looked much more blonde and tanned than when I had last seen them in the middle of the New York City winter. Michelle gave me a tour of their huge four-bedroom house, which looked like it could have come straight from Westchester County where the family last lived. I guess the difference was that they said nothing had really worked right when they first moved in, even though the house was brand new. I had left House Hunters before we filmed with them in Tanzania, but having done a lot of the legwork and organized the back story, it was interesting to see where they ended up. Out in the side garden, Jaco had built a beautiful covered patio with a built-in grill. It seemed to be where the family spent a lot of time when they were home at night and on the weekends.
By mid-afternoon, the weather had cleared up enough that we were able to go to the nearby yacht club. Michelle and Jaco are members even though they don’t yet have a boat as that seems to be where a lot of the Dar-es-Salaam ex-pats hang out. I hadn’t brought a bathing suit with me from the hostel so Michelle graciously lent me one of hers. Luckily it pretty much fit even though she's a lot skinnier and taller than me. When we got to the club, we got right into the water to go paddle boarding. Michelle and Jaco each had their own board with Sydney riding on the front of Jaco’s and I was lent the inflatable board. It was my first time trying to paddle board, but Jaco said I did the best he’s ever seen someone on their first try. That’s probably because I have experience kayaking and the motion is somewhat similar, though on the board you also have to worry about keeping your balance. I didn’t fall off once, though I did jump off into the warm Indian Ocean water at one point because I was getting really hot standing in the sun. We only went out a short distance to where some boats were moored before turning around and heading back to shore. While Sydney took a turn on the inflatable board I swam around a bit closer to shore until I felt I was getting stung by some sort of sea creature so I headed back to the beach.
After leaving the club, we went back to the house and Michelle and Jaco’s German neighbors and a young British couple came over for a cookout on the patio. Jaco grilled chicken, steak and some nice squash while Michelle made a rocket salad and garlic bread. After dinner, I was invited to stay at the house instead of returning to the hostel, but since all my stuff was there I decided to go back at least for the night. Jaco called a driver they often use and he brought me back to the hostel on the other side of town. When I got there, many of the guests and staff members seemed to be up on the second-floor terrace. Instead of going directly back to my tent I went right upstairs to join them. A short time later, a few people were leaving to go out, but since it sounded like they were going to be staying out late, I decided not to join them.
When I finally got back to my tent, I made a very unpleasant discovery. I had apparently not attached the string that went around the fence post to shut the gate carefully enough and the hostel’s three guard dogs had managed to get inside. They had torn a hole in the netting of the tent’s front room and had ransacked the bag that I had unfortunately left there instead of locked in the back “bedroom.” Stuffing from an airline pillow I was carrying around was strewn all over the yard and the remains of three pairs of destroyed underwear were scattered in various different locations. I later discovered that I was also missing one wool sock that I never managed to locate. I was pretty pissed, but it was too late to do anything about it so I just shut the fence and went to bed.
The next morning was Easter and I was up early again with the sweltering sun. I went into the house to make breakfast since the staff had the day off. While I was eating, I told some of the other guests about what had happened to my stuff and most people were pretty sympathetic. After breakfast, I left with two of the other hostel guests to head over to the orphanage, which is partially funded by proceeds from the hostel. Long-term volunteers at the orphanage stay at the hostel and two of them were already at the home making cookies and dying Easter eggs. When the three of us arrived, there was no one at the guard desk to let us in and no one in the house could hear our knocking (and later shouting.) In the end, we had to climb over the wall to get inside the complex. Initially only two of the kids were home because the rest had gone to church. That gave us an opportunity to hide the dyed eggs and some candy that one of the other volunteers had brought with her.
About an hour later, the rest of the kids came home and immediately caught sight of some of the eggs. A few of the kids grabbed one or two, but one of the boys just picked up a whole tire with an egg lying in a crevice on top and carefully carried the whole tire without removing the egg. It was seriously the cutest thing ever. Before the kids were allowed to look for the rest of the eggs, however, one of the full-time workers made them go inside and change their clothes. Finally she gave the go-ahead and the children raced around finding all the eggs and candy in about ten minutes flat. Some of the kids had trouble finding any so we made sure to point them in the right direction.
After the egg hunt, we spent another half hour or so just hanging out with the kids before they went to eat their lunch and we sat under a gazebo eating ours. I mentioned to the Canadian manager of the hostel what had happened with the tent and though she initially seemed very dismissive and more concerned about the damaged tent than my stuff, I later learned through an apology e-mail that she hadn’t realized how many of my things had actually been destroyed. I had already decided, though, that I was going to stay with Jaco and Michelle for the next two nights since a free air-conditioned room with a private bath definitely sounded like an upgrade from a steaming hot tent. The tent incident gave me a good excuse to get out of the last day of my booking. I called Michelle and let her know I was taking her and Jaco up on their offer.
Shortly after lunch I rode in the non-profit’s van with the others back to the hostel, packed my things, paid my bill and waited for Jaco’s cabbie friend to come and pick me up. When I arrived at the house, I met another set of neighbors, a Kenyan and Zimbabwean couple and their three kids, who had just returned from a weekend in Zanzibar. A short time later, we hid some plastic eggs filled with candy around the lawn for the kids to do an egg hunt. It was already my second hunt of the day, though unfortunately my job in both cases was to hide rather than seek. After Sydney and the neighbors’ two older kids found all the eggs, another couple arrived with their toddler son who got to find a few eggs of his own. That night we cooked out again and I spent the night in a lovely climate-controlled room.
Monday was also a holiday (Easter Monday) so Michelle and Sydney had the day off from work and school. Michelle and Jaco wanted to go paddle boarding so they dropped Sydney and I off at the beach across from their house so he could go surfing with his friends. While Jaco gave Michelle a head start on her board, he said I could get on his to paddle around a bit. I tried to get on board, but because of the motion of the waves I was immediately knocked off and went under the water. I stupidly was wearing my sunglasses on my head and they had fallen off into the surf. Even though I was in only about three feet of water, I couldn’t find them anywhere and after about five minutes of searching knew they were lost for good. Luckily, I was able to buy another cheap pair outside of a shopping center later on that day. Sydney, meanwhile, was trying to get on his board with the help of his friends’ mother, a Mexican woman named Lucinda (if I’m remembering correctly) who is married to an American man who works with Michelle. Sydney was getting very frustrated and wanted to give up, but Lucinda kept insisting he give it another try and he finally almost stood up. In the meantime, the other kids, a twin brother and sister, were getting restless, so we soon headed back to shore with me keeping a hand on Sydney’s board until we got to the beach.
All the kids wanted to go to the yacht club, but Lucinda had to go home to bring her older daughter to a party. That meant I was in charge of dropping her off and then driving the other three kids to the club. After I got Sydney into dry clothes and all the kids piled in the back of the SUV, I hit the road driving for the first time on the left-hand side of the car (in a borrowed car owned by my House Hunters contributors... eeek.) I did okay, exact that I kept turning on the windshield wipers instead of the turn signal because the indicators were on opposite side of the car from what I was used to. Every time I would do it, Lucinda would calmly say, “That’s okay. The turn signal is on the other side of the car,” as if to keep me from completely freaking out. After I dropped Lucinda off, I was left in the car by myself with all three kids chatting away to each other in the back. I definitely felt like Nanny Jen, especially when I had to tell them to “sit back” when they started to get a little overexcited. Luckily we all made it to the club in one piece and the kids went off to play in the water, while the twins’ dad and I sat on the deck drinking beers and waiting for Michelle and Jaco to arrive on their boards.
At lunchtime, we all went out to an Italian restaurant and then returned to the house where Jaco gave the twins and Sydney a “SCUBA” lesson (with a portable emergency tank) in the complex pool. In the late afternoon, we had to drop all the kids off at the twins’ apartment complex for their weekly skateboarding lesson. Michelle, Jaco and I then went around to a few stores so I could pick up some things I needed for my train trip. When we went to go pick Sydney up, I got a chance to see the inside of the twins’ apartment, which was apparently in the same complex where Michelle and Jaco viewed an apartment on the show. The family had previously lived in Nepal and the dad had worked in North Korea so there was a ton of amazing artwork from Asia all over the walls. When we got back to Michelle and Jaco's later, we had a quiet dinner of leftovers and then Sydney talked me into watching him while he went swimming again in the pool. Jaco seemed to notice that Sydney and I were getting along smashingly because once we were back inside he jokingly asked, “Do you want a job as an au pair?” The moment was short-lived however, as when I asked Sydney for a hug goodbye that night, knowing I wouldn’t see him in the morning, his response (before grudgingly letting me hug him) was “But I just took a shower. I don’t want get all dirty again.” I thought that was hilarious, but when I told Jaco what he said, he gave Sydney a bit of a hard time.
The following day, I had to catch my two-day train from Tanzania to Zambia. I needed to call the agent from the ferry terminal to tell him I had changed locations, but just as I made the call my phone ran out of minutes. Since Jaco was out to breakfast with a friend, his housekeeper fortunately offered to ride his bike to buy a refill card for me. As slightly uncomfortable as the thought of domestic help in a developing country makes me, in this case, I was really glad he was there. And as Michelle told me, ex-pats who don’t hire help are actually criticized for not providing jobs for local workers. When he got back I was able to make my call and then when Jaco returned he brought me around to a few shopping centers to pick up some last minute things I needed. Michelle met us at one shopping center for coffee so I was able to say goodbye during her break from work. At about noon, my taxi arrived and I was off to the train station for the next leg of my journey.
On Friday, April 6th, I left early in the morning by bus for Dar-es-Salaam. It was supposed to take about nine or ten hours, but instead took nearly twelve. Along the way, I was once again harassed by an immigration official who boarded the bus and asked to see our passports. I felt like she was rude and gave me a hard time for no good reason, but what do I know. By the time we arrived it was after dark so when I got off the bus at the crowded bus station, I just followed the first cab driver who came up to me and got a ride to the hostel. It was a bit of a drive and after a few wrong turns and stops to ask passersby for directions, we finally found the small dirt road where the hostel was located.We arrived just after 8:00pm and I discovered that the private room that I had reserved was actually a tent outside in the yard. I was actually okay with that because the tent had a fairly comfortable full-size air mattress with sheets, was cheaper than a dorm bed and also gave me some privacy. The only major problem (or so I thought) was that by 7:30/8:00am in the morning, it was so sweltering hot inside the nylon confines of the tent that I had to escape inside to the (relatively) cooler comfort of the main house. After breakfast, I called a couple that I had worked with at my last job when I cast them on the show. Michelle and Jaco are a South African couple who moved from outside New York City to Dar-es-Salaam with their young son, Sydney. We made plans to meet up in the afternoon after I took care of some things.
My first priority on Saturday morning was to book a train ticket from Dar-es-Salaam to Kapari Mposhi in Zambia so I could catch a bus from there to visit Victoria Falls in Livingstone. The manager at the hostel were I was staying was heading to the orphanage that is affiliated with the guesthouse so she dropped me off on the main road to pick up a cab from there. I flagged down a rickshaw taxi since it was less expense than an auto cab and told him I wanted to go to the train station. I learned afterwards that I should have specified the TAZARA station, though I think he still may not have known where to go even if I said that. He stopped multiple times to ask for directions and eventually just dropped me off by the main port area where you catch the ferry to the island of Zanzibar. Immediately a tout approached me to try to drag me into a place to buy a ferry ticket. I told him I didn't want a ferry ticket, but rather a train ticket. He said he could help me with that too and against my better judgment I followed him. I really should have tried to go to the actual train station, but had no idea where it was and didn't think the rickshaw driver did either. So I got out and went with the tout to the tour office.
When I got inside the office, the agent made some phone calls and at first said that the train was all booked up. Then he said he could still manage to get me a ticket and convinced me to also get a ride to the station with his driver. I really should have tried to find out how much the train ticket cost ahead of time because since I had no idea, I could only go on his word. I knew there would be a little bit of commission, but I had no idea until later exactly how much. In any case, his scare tactic of saying the train was fully booked worked and I agreed to pay what he was asking without even really trying to bargain. It did make me a bit nervous that he only gave me a receipt and said the driver would have the ticket when he picked me up, but there was nothing I could really do about it after the fact.
After leaving the booking office, I walked around the downtown area a bit to try to find a place to buy another memory card for my camera since the last allegedly 4GB one I had bought was already full. Unfortunately, since it was the Saturday of Easter weekend, many shops were closed. I also wanted to buy a new Tanzanian SIM card for my phone, but was running into the same problem with that fruitless search. I found one electronics store that sold memory cards, but when I tried to test one out, it said it wasn’t formatted correctly for my camera. At another store, the card didn’t work at all. In the meantime, I was trying to reach Michelle, but wasn’t able to get through with my Kenyan SIM card. My frustration grew when, en route to a camera store that had been suggested to me which turned out to be closed, it began to pour down rain. I didn’t have an umbrella so I had to just stand under an overhang waiting for it to let up a bit. When the rain finally slowed down, I decided to just take a cab back to the hostel and figure out how to get ahold of my friends from there. On the way to the main street, however, I saw an internet cafe where I thought I may be able to get a SIM card. They didn’t have the SIM card, but did have an 8GB mini SD card that came with an adaptor and seemed to work in my camera. At least I finally had one thing I needed.
Once in Michelle’s van, we drove the short distance to the family’s gated complex. Everyone in the family, including six-year-old Sydney, looked much more blonde and tanned than when I had last seen them in the middle of the New York City winter. Michelle gave me a tour of their huge four-bedroom house, which looked like it could have come straight from Westchester County where the family last lived. I guess the difference was that they said nothing had really worked right when they first moved in, even though the house was brand new. I had left House Hunters before we filmed with them in Tanzania, but having done a lot of the legwork and organized the back story, it was interesting to see where they ended up. Out in the side garden, Jaco had built a beautiful covered patio with a built-in grill. It seemed to be where the family spent a lot of time when they were home at night and on the weekends.
By mid-afternoon, the weather had cleared up enough that we were able to go to the nearby yacht club. Michelle and Jaco are members even though they don’t yet have a boat as that seems to be where a lot of the Dar-es-Salaam ex-pats hang out. I hadn’t brought a bathing suit with me from the hostel so Michelle graciously lent me one of hers. Luckily it pretty much fit even though she's a lot skinnier and taller than me. When we got to the club, we got right into the water to go paddle boarding. Michelle and Jaco each had their own board with Sydney riding on the front of Jaco’s and I was lent the inflatable board. It was my first time trying to paddle board, but Jaco said I did the best he’s ever seen someone on their first try. That’s probably because I have experience kayaking and the motion is somewhat similar, though on the board you also have to worry about keeping your balance. I didn’t fall off once, though I did jump off into the warm Indian Ocean water at one point because I was getting really hot standing in the sun. We only went out a short distance to where some boats were moored before turning around and heading back to shore. While Sydney took a turn on the inflatable board I swam around a bit closer to shore until I felt I was getting stung by some sort of sea creature so I headed back to the beach.
After leaving the club, we went back to the house and Michelle and Jaco’s German neighbors and a young British couple came over for a cookout on the patio. Jaco grilled chicken, steak and some nice squash while Michelle made a rocket salad and garlic bread. After dinner, I was invited to stay at the house instead of returning to the hostel, but since all my stuff was there I decided to go back at least for the night. Jaco called a driver they often use and he brought me back to the hostel on the other side of town. When I got there, many of the guests and staff members seemed to be up on the second-floor terrace. Instead of going directly back to my tent I went right upstairs to join them. A short time later, a few people were leaving to go out, but since it sounded like they were going to be staying out late, I decided not to join them.
When I finally got back to my tent, I made a very unpleasant discovery. I had apparently not attached the string that went around the fence post to shut the gate carefully enough and the hostel’s three guard dogs had managed to get inside. They had torn a hole in the netting of the tent’s front room and had ransacked the bag that I had unfortunately left there instead of locked in the back “bedroom.” Stuffing from an airline pillow I was carrying around was strewn all over the yard and the remains of three pairs of destroyed underwear were scattered in various different locations. I later discovered that I was also missing one wool sock that I never managed to locate. I was pretty pissed, but it was too late to do anything about it so I just shut the fence and went to bed.
The next morning was Easter and I was up early again with the sweltering sun. I went into the house to make breakfast since the staff had the day off. While I was eating, I told some of the other guests about what had happened to my stuff and most people were pretty sympathetic. After breakfast, I left with two of the other hostel guests to head over to the orphanage, which is partially funded by proceeds from the hostel. Long-term volunteers at the orphanage stay at the hostel and two of them were already at the home making cookies and dying Easter eggs. When the three of us arrived, there was no one at the guard desk to let us in and no one in the house could hear our knocking (and later shouting.) In the end, we had to climb over the wall to get inside the complex. Initially only two of the kids were home because the rest had gone to church. That gave us an opportunity to hide the dyed eggs and some candy that one of the other volunteers had brought with her. About an hour later, the rest of the kids came home and immediately caught sight of some of the eggs. A few of the kids grabbed one or two, but one of the boys just picked up a whole tire with an egg lying in a crevice on top and carefully carried the whole tire without removing the egg. It was seriously the cutest thing ever. Before the kids were allowed to look for the rest of the eggs, however, one of the full-time workers made them go inside and change their clothes. Finally she gave the go-ahead and the children raced around finding all the eggs and candy in about ten minutes flat. Some of the kids had trouble finding any so we made sure to point them in the right direction.
Shortly after lunch I rode in the non-profit’s van with the others back to the hostel, packed my things, paid my bill and waited for Jaco’s cabbie friend to come and pick me up. When I arrived at the house, I met another set of neighbors, a Kenyan and Zimbabwean couple and their three kids, who had just returned from a weekend in Zanzibar. A short time later, we hid some plastic eggs filled with candy around the lawn for the kids to do an egg hunt. It was already my second hunt of the day, though unfortunately my job in both cases was to hide rather than seek. After Sydney and the neighbors’ two older kids found all the eggs, another couple arrived with their toddler son who got to find a few eggs of his own. That night we cooked out again and I spent the night in a lovely climate-controlled room.
All the kids wanted to go to the yacht club, but Lucinda had to go home to bring her older daughter to a party. That meant I was in charge of dropping her off and then driving the other three kids to the club. After I got Sydney into dry clothes and all the kids piled in the back of the SUV, I hit the road driving for the first time on the left-hand side of the car (in a borrowed car owned by my House Hunters contributors... eeek.) I did okay, exact that I kept turning on the windshield wipers instead of the turn signal because the indicators were on opposite side of the car from what I was used to. Every time I would do it, Lucinda would calmly say, “That’s okay. The turn signal is on the other side of the car,” as if to keep me from completely freaking out. After I dropped Lucinda off, I was left in the car by myself with all three kids chatting away to each other in the back. I definitely felt like Nanny Jen, especially when I had to tell them to “sit back” when they started to get a little overexcited. Luckily we all made it to the club in one piece and the kids went off to play in the water, while the twins’ dad and I sat on the deck drinking beers and waiting for Michelle and Jaco to arrive on their boards.
The following day, I had to catch my two-day train from Tanzania to Zambia. I needed to call the agent from the ferry terminal to tell him I had changed locations, but just as I made the call my phone ran out of minutes. Since Jaco was out to breakfast with a friend, his housekeeper fortunately offered to ride his bike to buy a refill card for me. As slightly uncomfortable as the thought of domestic help in a developing country makes me, in this case, I was really glad he was there. And as Michelle told me, ex-pats who don’t hire help are actually criticized for not providing jobs for local workers. When he got back I was able to make my call and then when Jaco returned he brought me around to a few shopping centers to pick up some last minute things I needed. Michelle met us at one shopping center for coffee so I was able to say goodbye during her break from work. At about noon, my taxi arrived and I was off to the train station for the next leg of my journey.
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