The more things change, the more they stay the same

My internet connection is generally so poor I'm going to focus all my energy on just getting some pictures up rather than writing a story. So here we have the requisite holiday montage, African-style.

Halloween

The kids went trick or treating at the Embassy. Josh was a Bionicle (if you don't know what that is then you must not have an Elementary aged boy). Ben was a pirate (for the second or third year in a row. Go Ben). And Josie was a princess. If I was more clever I could write an ode about how much I hated that costume. It was supposed to be a size 4-6 but there's no way in hell it was any bigger than a size 2. I spent 30 minutes trying to take it off after Josie's school party. I finally cut the back.

Thanksgiving

We celebrated Thanksgiving at a friend's house. They had at least 30 people there! We had two turkeys, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, home made rolls, gravy and, of course pies. I think I counted 6 pies. After it was all over Bob stayed up and watched the Packers play football. He was in Heaven. There was so much left over turkey that we had a full Thanksgiving dinner the next day (and then he watched Planes, Trains, and Automobiles).

Josh was a happy camper.

Ben loved his dinner. His Dutch friend wasn't so sure...

And this isn't all of them.

Thanksgiving Round 2

What I did on my summer (no wait fall, no spring) vacation

The school here has a break every year in October. If we were in the US this would be called a fall break. But since we are 7 degrees south of the equator October is definitely not autumn. Technically I suppose it’s spring—but that’s assuming we have 4 seasons which we do not. Here it is hot and rainy, hot and dry, and just hot.

Anyway, the school was closing for a week so we decided to go on vacation. But first we had to figure out when the vacation would actually start. You see the four weeks leading up to fall (sorry spring) break have been Ramadan which is the time for fasting in Islam. Since Tanzania is approximately 50% Muslim, the government follows all Muslim and Christian holidays. The end of Ramadan is marked by the festival of Eid-el-Fitr which is a national holiday. But the beginning of Eid is dependent upon the sighting of the new moon—which is apparently somewhat more complicated than looking up at the sky and seeing if there is a moon. We were told that Eid would start on either Friday or Saturday and if it was declared for Friday then there would be no school and our vacation would start one day early. I decided this was the Tanzanian equivalent of waiting to see if you’d have a snow day. Phone tree lists were distributed and there was lots of gazing at the sky on Thursday hoping to see a sliver of a moon…

No such luck. The kids went off to school on Friday and Bob went to the office. On the plus side I got a few extra kid-free hours to pack for our vacation. We were planning to leave at the crack of dawn for a long drive to a lodge in the Southern Highlands. We’d been told that it takes anywhere from 8-13 hours to get to our lodge (broad range huh?). I’ve already written previously about my loathing for car trips so I was not looking forward to this…especially since our car had been making a very strange and only recently diagnosed noise (the bearings).

On Saturday we left at 6:15 AM which is something of a minor miracle considering I am perpetually late and we had to pack a week’s worth of junk in the car. Since it was so early and was also a holiday there was very little traffic in Dar. As we got out of town we saw lots of families dressed in their nicest clothes off to the Mosque. Lots of women were decked out in pretty new khangas and boys and men were wearing long white robes. We drove through Mikumi National Park (free safari!) and were fortunate enough to see lots of warthog mamas and babies, a buffalo, and plenty of impala and zebra.

We continued on through the Great Rift Valley, a giant valley that runs along East Africa from Mozambique all the way up to the Middle East.

The bottom of the valley is sparsely populated; all we could see were giant baobab trees and occasional tables piled high with giant buckets of onions for sale. Apparently they really like onions here because they sure sell a lot. At this point we were very glad that we had the portable DVD player with us; there’s just so many times you can thrill the kids with “Look! More onions!” Just past Iringa town we turned down the dirt road that would take us to the Mufindi region and the farm where we were staying. Two and a half hours on a dirt road is a long time; did you know that is 9000 seconds? But it really was quite pretty. We kept going up and up and up until we reached 7000 feet. There were forests of eucalyptus trees and bamboo as well as many tea estates. Finally, we reached the Fox Highland Fishing lodge.

The lodge is run by the Fox family; Geoff and Vicki have been living in this area for 48 years.

They have a number of other safari lodges across Southern Tanzania but this is the only one that is not located in or near a National Park. Basically it is a working farm. They raise cows, sheep, and pigs and also grow vegetables, coffee, and tea. They have nine cabins, a lodge and numerous activities for families. People say it reminds them of the Scottish Highlands but since I’ve never been there I have no idea if that’s really true. But it is spectacular. For five days we did not get in a car or use a telephone. It is so much cooler than Dar and very quiet. We went hiking, fishing, and horseback riding. We played pool and had sundowners overlooking the valley below. We played croquet, lawn bowling (which I think must be the British equivalent of curling), and baseball. Josh conquered a giant boulder;

all three kids rode horses for the first time; and everyone caught a fish.

One of the funny things about going on vacation in Tanzania is you almost always see someone you know. When we went to Mikumi Park we saw Ben’s teacher. This time we saw half the school. There were six other families there from Dar with kids at IST. Kinda strange… Fortunately everyone got along and so there was lots of fishing, racing, wrestling, and hill rolling.

We also got to see a sheep dog herding demonstration which was quite cool except now Benny wants a dog. The kids did not want to leave at all; none of us did. Our plan was to stop halfway home and spend the night. However, when we got to our stopping place the kids asked if we could keep going. Hmm… maybe we’ll survive road trips in Tanzania, after all.

File this one under "things we didn't expect to do in Africa"

Last month we got to go on a tour of an active duty naval destroyer. The USS Forrest Sherman made port in Dar es Salaam. We were told this was the first time a US military ship had docked here--which seems sort of impossible--but it sounds cool, so what the heck. The Embassy invited Americans and Tanzanians who were affiliated with the Embassy for a tour. It took Bob and I about 2 seconds to say yes. Well actually Bob said yes for me, since he had to work. With three kids and especially two boys aged 6 and nearly 9 how could we not go? There were three tours scheduled. We decided to take the latest one in the afternoon so that the kids could have a chance to come home from school and do their homework first. Apparently everyone else decided to do the same thing because there were so many parents with kids that there wasn't enough room in the vans. But we all squeezed in and some folks took their personal cars and we were off to the bandari (that's the port for all of you who are rusty on your Swahili).

The ship was even cooler than I had hoped. The kids weren't quite sure what to expect--and since Ben had given up his swimming playdate to go--I had my fingers crossed that this wouldn't be a bust. They were not disappointed. We got to see the deck of the ship with the 5 inch cannon, the bridge, and the command center.

When we went to the bridge they let the kids sit in the captain's chair.

Ben thought it was awesome.

Josh did too.

We'd never been on a naval ship before so all of this was new to us. And a lot of it was just like what you imagine or see in the movies. There were lots of ladders to various levels and oval shaped doors with the funky wheel you turn to open and close them. OK, maybe schlepping Josie up and down all those ladders wasn't the funnest thing to do but at least I got in a work-out. The best part was the command center. (But you'll have to take our word on that; we couldn't take pictures there-sorry). It was a dark, air conditioned room with different stations where they can monitor radar, launch missiles, and do all that other stuff you see in spy movies.

So of course the experience got me thinking: it's ironic that we had to come all the way to Africa to get a new perspective on, and first-hand exposure to, the US military. We don't have family or friends who are in the service so we've never given it much thought. But here many people are either current or former military and lots of people have gone or are considering going to Iraq. They go for all sorts of reasons: because they think it's the right thing to do, because the money is good, because it can help them to get a better job in the future. All valid reasons.

So I guess the take home message here is that I’ve learned to appreciate all the things that our military folks do and the sacrifices that they and their families make. I may not agree with everything but I’m grateful for what they do.

And you thought we were roughing it?

See? There's no reason not to visit...especially you, Kimmy.

The End of an Era

Last night our friends came over for dinner with their three kids. We were feasting on steamed crab ($2.50/pound) and wine when the phone rang. Another friend was calling to say that we'd need to change our plans to swim at the Hotel Sea Cliff the next day because it was in the process of burning down.

We were all stunned. The Sea Cliff is a fixture in Dar es Salaam and particularly for folks who live near here. It's a lovely hotel with a gorgeous pool, restaurants, casino, bowling alley, hair salon, etc. Over the course of the evening we got periodic updates from folks who lived near there or decided to venture over. First we heard it was just the roof, then the whole hotel, then we heard it had spread next door to the Sea Cliff Village--a shopping area with a supermarket, restaurants, bookstore, and other shops. Like all rumors some were true and others were not. From the outside it doesn't look that bad because the walls are still standing but the inside is another story. The good news is that no one was hurt and the fire did not spread to Sea Cliff Village. The bad news is that the hotel is destroyed: all the rooms (which were remodeled only a year ago), the reception, one restaurant, the pool bar are all gone. It remains to be seen if the Karambezi (the restaurant overlooking the ocean) will be salvagable. It might not have been so bad except there is no city water out on the Msasani Penninsula. Everone here gets their water trucked in by large tankers. I heard stories of the fire fighters getting water from the pool and from the storage tanks at the Embassy but it just wasn't enough. I feel so bad for the folks who worked there and for the economic impact of losing a big hotel.

It seems a bit silly to be sad about a building but, of course, places are like that. They are tied with events and memories and thus, they have significance. I stayed at the Sea Cliff for two weeks last year when I came here for work. At that time I never, in a million years, thought we would be moving here. So when we arrived in February and I was able to take my family to the Sea Cliff it was pretty amazing. I have a lot of happy memories tied to the Sea Cliff.

So RIP Hotel Sea Cliff. We'll miss you.

Happy update!!!

Contrary to what I heard earlier, the right wing of Sea Cliff is good enough to open. The casino, Karambezi restaurant, hair salon, and (most importantly) bowling alley are all open!!!

A gift

So my friend Stella announces in late June that her daughter is going to have a baby very soon. I'm thinking that "soon" meant, well soon. Silly me, I'm in Africa. Tanzanians have a very different concept of time--whether it be for meetings, buses, deliveries or babies. Four weeks later Eunice was still very much pregnant and I'm sure Stella was tiring of me asking if she'd had that baby yet. But finally one day in late July Stella called me up and said her daughter was finally off to the hospital and could I give her some money for the hospital fees. I was happy to help as it wasn't a lot of money and folks here don't have insurance. So her and I get some money from the bank and drove across town to the Catholic mission hospital where Eunice is waiting to have her baby. We got there around 11 AM. In terms of African hospitals it was pretty nice. Eunice was in the ward which she shared with 2 other ladies. I'd never met Eunice before but she was the spitting image of her mom. She was obviously uncomfortable but I was impressed that she didn't look more miserable especially since she didn't have any drugs. Heck, she didn't even have a bed sheet (and remember this is a good hospital). Anyway, I just stayed long enough to pass my greetings and drop Stella off.

Two hours later Stella called me to say that Eunice had delivered a healthy baby boy. I was really impressed. Three hours after that she called again and said they were ready to leave the hospital and could I give them all a ride home. What am I supposed to say but, sure. So I quickly arrange for childcare for the boys as I figured this might take a while. Stella lives really far away and it was now the beginning of rush hour. Meanwhile I'm thinking "what the hell have I gotten myself into?" I've only recently gotten comfortable enough to drive from our house to the children's school and now I've got to drive over an hour away in a car through African rush hour with a baby that's only three hours old??? And never mind the fact that I don't have a car seat?

Now before you all roast me to a cinder about the car seat you have to realize that I just didn't have an other option. Most people here don't have cars, probably 95% of Tanzanians use public transportation to get around. Car seats are very rare and expensive. In the 6 months we've been here I can't recall ever seeing one at any of the stores I've visited. Some folks do use them (we do) but really there just isn't the car seat culture like in the US. Which is too bad because road accidents are common and deadly here. So before I continue on and further convict myself let me just say that had I happened to have an infant car seat with me I doubt they would have consented to use it at all. There was no way Stella was putting that baby boy down. She was one proud grandma.

So we all pile into the car: me, Josie (long story but she had to come), Stella, Stella's brother, Eunice, and the new baby. I'm quite certain I have never driven as slow or careful since I was 18 and taking my driver's test (though hopefully a tad better). I knew roughly where Stella's house was and it was not close. I'd venture to say it was halfway to Nigeria. Stella said it takes 50 minutes to get to her home by private car (but remember the whole Tanzania-time thing). After an hour we finally turned off the main road and headed back to her house. It was still another 30 minutes to her place down what was surely the worst road I have ever driven. Honestly it was horrible. It was like driving down a dried up creek bed...except worse because we were always going up or down extremely steep hills.

Meanwhile Stella and Eunice have announced that I need to name the baby. Good Lord, talk about pressure. Isn't enough that I have to drive your three hour old child through the African bush without a car seat? Now I have to give him a name that will follow him for the rest of his life? So I hem and haw and say that surely they'll come up with a better name and quickly change the subject. Finally we arrive at Stella's tiny house where she lives with her husband, Eunice, and now two grandsons. The first grandson Jimmy is two and takes one look at me and screams in terror. Josie and I drop our friends off, stay for a few minutes to be polite and then head home. It's late and we're tired.

A few days later Stella comes over. I ask about Eunice and the baby and she says everyone is doing well. I ask what name they've chosen and she says "we're waiting for you to pick one". Damn. I really thought I'd dodged that one. So I say "well how about a Swahili name?" Meanwhile I'm thinking what Swahili name would be good? Which ones are for boys and which ones are for girls? Do folks here in Tanzania name people after events that occurred around their birth or what? Really, I have no idea. Thankfully, Stella saves me from eternal embarrassment. She says "Yes a Swahili name is good. Maybe a gift." So I say OK--well how about zawadi--the Swahili word for gift. Is that a boys name? "Oh yes, zawadi is a very good boy's name. I'll tell Eunice you named him zawadi."

Lions and tigers and goats, oh my!

Ever since we found about the possibility of moving to Tanzania—and even before—I’ve imagined what it would be like to take my kids on a safari. I wanted them to see and appreciate first hand the animals they read about in books or see on TV or at the zoo. I wanted them to see how exciting it is to look off in the distance and see a giraffe grazing from a tree top or a lion pounce on a gazelle. The grasslands are so incredibly beautiful—wide open spaces with a million shades of brown. I’ve carried that memory since I was living in Kenya. Back then I used to walk every day to the training center where I was learning Swahili. I walked across a gigantic open field near the town of Naivasha right in the middle of the Great Rift Valley. Far in the distance I could see Lake Naivasha and occasionally a pink splotch—thousands of flamingos stopping to feed or rest. But what I really loved was walking past the zebras. Frequently in the field were small groups of zebra grazing on the grass. They were almost as common as squirrels and I never tired of watching them. I don't know what it is about zebras that I like; I don't have any sort of romantic notion about them being intelligent or nurturing--basically they're just fancy donkeys. I guess I just like them because they're so darn cool looking. And even after two years of living there, I still had the urge to shout “zebra!” every time we passed one on the road. So it was with a lot of anticipation and expectation that we planned for our first safari in Tanzania. We decided to go to Mikumi National Park. It’s the closest park to Dar es Salaam about 200 km away which means it can take anywhere from 3 to 6 hours depending on traffic. And all in all, aside from a few bumps in the road (literally and figuratively) it was a wonderful trip.

Most of the folks I know with kids here always comment on their children’s flexibility—how they can roll with the punches and are used to traveling. Long trips are par for the course in Africa. There isn’t a speedy way to come to Tanzania (just ask my mom about her 12 hour flight between New York and Dubai) and once you get here the infrastructure is so miserably non-existent and the traffic so unbelievably bad that a trip across town at rush hour practically warrants a Valium just for contemplating it at all. Traveling in Africa requires a huge does of patience (and the aforementioned Valium) and my kids sadly have neither. Quite honestly, I hate taking road trips with my kids. In the US I would gladly volunteer to drive just so I could get out of “chairing the entertainment committee” (ie—playing referee, fetching cereal bars, finding ways to pass the time, etc). So the thought of piling three kids, my mom and my husband in a car for three days of non-stop driving without the benefit of McDonalds, DVDs, or hell even bathrooms was a bit intimidating. I’m not going to lie…there were a few moments, particularly at the end, where I would have rathered walk home by myself, barefoot over broken glass than listen to another second of whining but it was all worth it. Taking my kids on safari was so cool. I loved it all—even the miserable parts.

Most of the trip to Mikumi was uneventful. The scenery was pretty—rolling hills, coconut trees, and plenty of goats. The road was good (by African standards) though it was jam packed with endless lorries trucking goods from Dar’s deep water port to the rest of Tanzania and on to Zambia and the Congo. This is a bit problematic since the “highway” isn’t much bigger that your average two lane country road and people here either drive extremely fast and terrible or extremely slow and terrible. Getting stuck behind a string of lorries is maddening. There’s a whole complicated system that drivers have for communicating with each other which I’m not sure I’ll ever fully understand. Basically the vehicle in front will put on their right turn signal to indicate that you can pass and their left signal if you cannot. You need someone in front of you to signal because the road is so narrow that you can’t check yourself without playing chicken.

So much of our trip to Mikumi was spent dodging careening 18 wheelers, goats, bicycles, mothers with babies and the occasional motorcycle and warding off the never ending “are we there yets”. It was only after we had been traveling for about 4 hours that the scenery changed and shortly after that we passed the entrance to the park. Mikumi is Tanzania’s third largest park and the Tanzania-Zambia highway runs right through the middle of it. There are no fences--just a vast open space. But as soon as you cross into the park everything changes because there are no people or villages or goats or anything except endless scrub brush known as miombo. The miombo is really quite beautiful and while it isn’t exactly like the flat-topped acacia trees on the National Geographic channel, it’s pretty darn similar. And Amy if you’re reading this (she’s an ecologist who studied in Tanzania for 2 years), please be nice and tell everyone that my description is accurate—even if it’s not.

So while all the adults in the car were oohing and aahhing over the scenery, the kids were pretty unimpressed. But then we saw a gazelle. We slowed to a complete stop on the highway and took about 15 pictures of a barely visible buck. The kids shouted and were pointing. Then we saw more. And more. We passed some closer to the road. Then we saw a baboon sitting on the road.
A few minutes later I finally saw a zebra. It had been 11 years since I last saw one in the wild and better yet I got to share that experience with my children. They’ll never know that it was such a special moment for me but that’s par for the course in parenting.

Unlike at Serengeti Park and Ngorogoro Crater, Tanzania’s most famous safari destinations, there are only a few lodges and camping sites at Mikumi. We decided to stay at Vuma Hills, a tented camp located inside the park. We were given two really nice permanent tents—complete with comfortable beds, porches with beautiful views, and hot showers.
We were definitely not roughing it. The kids were thrilled to have their very own tent (though Bob ended up staying with them at night). The tented camp had a tiny pool which was ice cold (it is winter, after all) but that didn’t stop the kids from jumping in.

The following day was our main day of game drives. We booked a guide at the park entrance and set off. Our goal was to see lions however we knew it would be unlikely as they are not common in Mikumi and it was also the “burning season”. This is the time of year when small fires are set (I think by the park rangers) as a way of making new grass. I must admit is was a bit unsettling at first to be driving past numerous brush fires which came right to the edge of the road, but no one was concerned whatsoever. The only problem was they tended to drive away the already reclusive lions. We did not have to drive long before we started seeing wildlife. There were tons of birds which thrilled Benny to no end. We saw giant vultures, hornbills, tiny beeeaters, beautiful kingfishers, lilac breasted rollers and lots of guinea fowl. We saw large herds of impala, wildebeest, and a few buffalo. And many, many giraffe and zebra. Everyone had their personal favorite. My mom loved the elephants. One time we saw one that was literally standing on the edge of the road. We needed to continue down the road and this thing wasn’t moving. So Bob decided to just drive past. We paused when we were very close (maybe 5 feet away). I thought our poor guide was going to have a heart attack. She was shouting at Bob to go fast because elephants can (and do) charge people—especially if they have young. So maybe it wasn’t the brightest thing to do but it was still way cool.

Later that day we stopped at a small pond full of hippos. Ironically this is the one place in the park where you are allowed to stop and get out of your car. It’s ironic because hippos are far more dangerous and aggressive than all other African wildlife. So we figured what the hell…we’d already braved the elephant, may as well check out the hippos too. Poor Josh was terrified and stayed in the car the whole time (maybe he shouldn’t read so much) but the rest of us had a lovely time looking at the hippos.
(Believe it or not those "dots" in the middle of the pond are hippos--about 4 or 5 adults. You never want to see a hippo on land). We also saw a crocodile and a gigantic monitor lizard. In the end, we saw and did everything we had hoped to do…except see the lions. The guide told us no one had seen any in a week. So we’re thinking we’ll need to venture up to Serengeti so that we can get our fill of lions.

Full Moon Over Zanzibar

Howdy ya'll. I'm feeling lazy so I'm taking the week off and letting someone else do the work. So here's a little bit my mom wrote about her visit here. And if I can get it together I'll try to rope my 3rd grader into writing up his story too.

Cheers!

*****

And here face down beneath the sun
And here upon earth's noonward height
To feel the always coming on
The always rising of the night…

Archibald MacLeish

Part 1: Spice Tour

It looked like we’d never make our 7:30 am flight from Dar es Salaam to Zanzibar. The driver was supposed to pick us up at 6:00 and it was already 6:30 with no sign of him. Early morning traffic in Dar, especially on a Friday, can be daunting, and the airport was not close. Luckily for us (and the driver), the traffic was lighter than usual. After a stop at the wrong terminal and a mix-up over boarding passes, we slid into our seats just before they closed the door.

Barely time to heave a sigh of relief before we were up and down. Total flight time: 20 minutes. Zanzibar is an island (actually, a handful of islands—an archipelago) in the Indian Ocean off the coast of Tanzania. These islands have a long and not always savory history, stretching back perhaps as much as 2,000 years. But more of that in Part 2.

We were met at the airport by our highly reliable driver, Mr. Mandazi. A very quick ride and we were at the American Embassy Guest House. Situated just outside of Stonetown, the guest house has three spacious bedrooms, each with large windows and view over the tropical gardens and the ocean. Downstairs there is a living room, a dining room, and a game room, as well as the kitchen. The very reasonable fee includes not only housekeeping staff but a cook as well. I could get used to this!

Breakfast was ready for us in just a few minutes. Passion fruit juice, French toast, scrambled eggs, tea, and coffee (instant, just to prove you can’t have it all, I guess). We ate our meals on the wrap-around, screened porch with the same ocean views as the bedrooms. The kids loved playing on the large hammocks and chasing the guinea fowl that roamed the property. Beach access was through a locked gate, so there were no worries about unauthorized swimming.

That afternoon Mr. M had arranged for us to take a spice tour at a kind of demonstration spice farm. The kids each got a big banana leaf rolled into a cone to hold samples of all the various spices. Our guide took us around to the plants and, after giving us a chance to guess what each was, explained about how they were grown and what they were used for, both as food and medicine. Zanzibar is known for its spices, especially cloves. The smells were wonderful, and of course there was an opportunity to buy packets of individual spices or combinations of spices such as Masala tea.

The tour ended with a fruit tasting. In addition to the expected oranges and tangerines, we sampled passion fruit, mango, custard apple, jack fruit, papaya, and others whose Swahili names are lost to memory. The pineapple was especially sweet and delicious.

We left looking like extras for a production of South Pacific, decorated with hats and necklaces and rings cleverly fashioned from leaves and stems. On the drive back to the guest house, in the growing darkness, we saw through the trees the full moon over Zanzibar.

Part 2: Stone Town

The next day the Tiptons decided to head across the island to the east coast where the best beaches were said to be found. I opted for a tour of Stonetown and some shopping. The resourceful Mr. M drove me into town and arranged for a tour guide-- a history student who spoke quite good English.

For two and a half hours we explored the streets and buildings of Stonetown. It was hot by my standards, although it was “winter.” But I was quickly caught up in the history and drama of the islands and eager to learn more. Through the centuries the island has been visited by traders and explorers from Greece, Persia, India, and a host of other countries. The Portuguese were here in the late 15^th century and later the Arabs and the British.

Zanzibar served as a staging area for famous expeditions like those of Livingstone, Speke, and Stanley. An excellent book about Stanley’s search for Livingstone is Into Africa by Martin Dugard. Fortunately, I had read this book just before coming, so I was a least a little familiar with the places and events surrounding those expeditions.

During those same years, the slave market flourished in Zanzibar. Slave traders, mostly Arabs, brought captured slaves to the island where they were sold and shipped to destinations like Arabia and Persia (Iran), or kept to be used to work the plantations on Zanzibar itself. The Anglican Cathedral, built in 1877 when the slave trade was abolished, now stands on the site of the slave market. On the grounds of the cathedral is a group of stone statues of male and female slaves, a grim reminder of the past. We also went down into the underground holding cells where large numbers of captives were crowded in damp, airless conditions before being sold. That was a somber moment.

The narrow, winding streets of Stonetown provided a happier aspect. My guide took me through the local fish, meat, and vegetable markets and then on to important local landmarks like the House of Wonders, the Old Fort, and the Palace Museum, formerly the residence of the last Sultan of Zanzibar. Here I first stumbled upon mention of Princess Salme, daughter of Sultan Seyyid Said and a slave woman.

Her story is a fascinating one. As a young woman in 1865 she met Rudolph Heinrich Reute, a German businessman. They became lovers. When she was found to be pregnant, she fled the country, fearing for her life. Eventually, she married Reute and lived in Germany, even after his death. She tells the story of her life in Memoirs of an Arabian Princess, which she wrote in German. An English translation is available and I look forward to receiving it from Amazon.com when I return home. There are many photographs of her, both as a young girl and as an elderly matron. Her compelling gaze gives evidence of strong personality.

After a lunch of falafel and chips (French fries) at the Stonetown Café, I spent the rest of the afternoon shopping. It’s a good thing I have plenty of room in my duffel bag for the baskets and cloth and other trinkets I couldn’t resist.

When it was time to leave, I simply called Mr. M. from my daughter’s cell phone (everyone here seems to have a cell phone, and they “text message” all the time) and he appeared within a couple of minutes. We arrived back just as the Tiptons drove in from their day at the beach. But I’ll leave it to them to tell you all about that. Another night now and another full moon over Zanzibar.

Ski Dubai

Living overseas poses a unique set of challenges for families with children. Some are to be expected: staying healthy, schooling, etc. Much has been written about the concept of “Third Culture Kids”—that is kids who are raised in a culture apart from their parents. For children who have lived their entire life overseas they sometimes find that the “home” culture really isn’t their own nor do they fully fit in to their host culture either. Thus, they belong to a third culture of their own. And like I said, this poses some unexpected challenges.

Take the example of Ben’s friend. He is a really nice kid. His parents are from Denmark, yet he has lived in Tanzania since he was a baby. Tanzania is the only home he has ever known. Soon his family will be returning to Denmark for good. He’s visited Denmark, but just for short visits and never in the winter. In other words, he’s a Scandinavian kid who’s never seen snow. His folks know that going “home” will be a huge adjustment for him—particularly the weather. So what’s a concerned parent to do when her Nordic child has never seen snow? Why the answer is simple, of course. Take him to Dubai.

Dubai, for those geographically challenged, is in the United Arab Emirates next to Saudi Arabia, where summer temperatures easily top 100 F. And Dubai, with all of its oil wealth has become quite the tourist destination for folks living in Africa and Asia. In fact, Dubai is the fastest growing city in the world. (I’ve read that 1/3 of all construction cranes are in Dubai). Dubai has tons of money, a desire to grow and seemingly endless creativity when it comes to outrageous construction projects. This is,after all, the city that built a gigantic palm-shaped island...

And in the center of it all is Ski Dubai, an indoor, downhill ski resort in the middle of the desert.

Thanks to good insulation, a 15 foot thick roof, and buckets of money, Ski Dubai offers real snow, 5 downhill runs, sledding, snow boarding, and any thing else a snow bunny might need—including a ski school. Included in the $73 ticket price are lift tickets, skis, boots, and of course warm clothes—since most folks here don’t own parkas.

And for someone off to live at "home" it’s more than worth the cost.

http://www.skidxb.com

Things we never expected to see in Tanzania

As a companion to my previous post--here I have a sampling of things that surprised us about life in Dar es Salaam:

1. Miniature golf


I knew Dar had a reputation as being a "family friendly" city but I definately never expected to be taking the kids to play putt-putt. This place is called "Funky Orbits" and it opened in March. They have 9 holes of minature golf, a climbing wall, and a gigantic playground. The food is mediocre but they have a kids menu with macaroni and cheese.




2. Pirates of the Caribbean


There are two theaters in town. One mainly shows Bollywood films and the other shows American films. Still we never figured that we'd be seeing Pirates of the Caribbean on opening weekend, in full stereo sound. It was awesome and the kids (yes we took all three) were thrilled.




3. Strawberries and rhubarb


We knew we'd have more than our share of pineapple, mango, and coconuts. Imagine my surprise when I went to the market and found strawberries and rhubarb! Yes, we made a pie. Yes, it was very good.

4. The Pink Tower

Those who know us personally know that we are big believers in the Montessori system of education. We were really dismayed when we moved here and realized there were no Montessori schools nearby for Josie. However I recently learned of and visited a Montessori Training Center. It's not close enough to send Josie but they do have a workshop where you can purchase materials. (Emily and Johnnie, if you're reading this I hope you don't think Maria Montessori is rolling over in her grave because we are introducing some of these materials at home...)



5. Blue cheese and fresh pasta

There is an Italian deli in town. It's different from most American delis as there's no freshly sliced meats and cheeses...and it's about 10 times more expensive than a deli in the states. But they have imported cheese and incredibly yummy fresh taglitelle and ravioli. Sorry, no picture of the pasta. I ate it all.


6. Great pizza...delivered!


This is a recent discovery. There are plenty of pizza places in town but this one is particularly good--and--they deliver. We even got a Mediterranean pizza with red peppers, black olives and feta! How awesome is that???


Why is it that practically this whole post is about food??