A Tale of Two Cities

24^th February - 26^st February 2010 – Days 149-151 – Arusha and Moshi, Tanzania

Our arrival to Arusha was slightly less invasive than we expected from this place, one of the tourist capitals of Tanzania. We'd stopped off here for a few hours on the way to Karatu and it was as we would have otherwise expected – tourist stuff for sale, rip-offs aplenty and a general feeling of being a walking cash dispenser. Not for the first time, my mind cast itself back to Sudan and Somaliland. On the way back, however, we'd arrived on a dalla-dalla and, aside from a few taxi drivers looking for business, the bus station way empty. Where was everyone? I was tempted to think that Arusha may not have been as bad as I had imagined it. We wandered around the streets looking for a place that a guy on the dalla-dalla had recommended to Freda and, after a few wrong turns, we found a place to shack up for the night at the Kilimanjaro Villas Hotel (or something similar).

The next morning, at least for the first 5 minutes, was as quiet as the night before had been – that was until Freda got Jamboed and for the next 2 hours we were surgically attached to a bunch of guys who were trying to sell us some stuff and wouldn't take no for an answer. When we ducked into a supermarket, we were awaited at the door, and when we went into a bar they hovered over our table and gave us some rasta-speak (“Jambo my friend, one love, peace love and gratitude my friend!”). Freda bought some stuff from the guys, we got completely overcharged for the beers, an argument ensued (during which the woman at the bar closed up and refused to speak to us) and, once again, a tourist town left a bitter taste was left in my mouth. It seems that every time we go to one of these places, I hate them more and more.

We left soon afterwards towards Moshi – it's another tourist town as it's the nearest city of any size to Kilimanjaro (and it was too late to get any further than there) but it did seem more relaxed from the window as we passed by on the way up from Dar es Salaam. On the way to the bus station we bumped into one of the Jambo-men who was a friend of the one of the guys who'd ripped us off at the bar. We explained our predicament as diplomatically as possible (thinking that this guy was probably in on it) and we were told that, well, I don't know where my friend is, and, well, maybe he works at the bar but I don't know, and, well, hey, it's only money right? M and I pointed out that the “it's only money” argument only works in one direction and we were greeting with a telling wall of silence and a bit more “one love” rasta lines. My tourist-town hatred was confirmed (as if it needed any confirmation) and I suddenly started looking forward to Burundi a lot more than I ever had before.

Arusha was by no means the worst place we've been to but, once again, we've seen the effect that mass tourism has on towns such as these. Grr.

As we rolled into Moshi, the familiar feeling of tourist-town angst came over me but it was soon quelled by the look of the place. Even from the window of the bus, Moshi's feeling was more relaxed and I felt a lot less pre-arrival annoyed about this place. We got off the bus, wandered off for a snack and then took a walk down the main street looking for somewhere to stay. A few people said hello, a few people smiled at us, and no rastamen or carving-toting guys charged up to us with a big smile and a JAMBO MY FRIEND! Things were looking up. Moshi is quite an attractive town as well, and we enjoyed wandering around, taking in the atmosphere. The few people who approached us for business were direct and took no for an answer and we had a friendly chat with them before they wished us well. Things were definitely looking up. After finding a place to stay we engaged in the familiar routine of barbecued meat and beer and retired to bed. I'm in a much better state of mind now.