Crossing the border 

Saturday 07/10/17: We’ve left Kenya for Tanzania and any differences, in the villages and countryside this close to the border, are subtle. The dust tornadoes are getting larger though and the shacks are roughly finished rather than the bright hand-painted signs in Kenya. There are a lot more of the small circular buildings with twig roofs here that look like they might hold livestock. There are even more of the matatu, colourful minivans that dart about filled with squished passengers whose varied groceries, luggage, and boxes are piled high on their laps. The people and kids who wave at our truck still smile from ear to ear. Instead of the ubiquitous, “jambo!” greeting in Kenya, people here are more likely to say “mambo!” but it’s all Swahili to me… 

The road to Arusha, our stop for the night, is lined by the odd distant mountain and the air looks so very crisp and clear at their peaks. A third of our truck, whose tours had finished have departed this morning, replaced by new, as yet unburned, faces. I feel like an old hand now, as if I know anything after my ever so brief trip! We arrive in Arusha and it’s a busy town but with mountains towering in the distance, still feels distinctly African. The temperate climate and purple jacaranda blossom on the tree-lined streets makes it feel like spring. We’re staying in a campsite in the city for one night before we take 4×4 jeeps to the world famous Serengeti national park. We’ve got an early start in the morning so everyone’s frustrated when our campsite’s bar plays blaring techno to an empty dance floor until the small hours. I leave for the serengeti tired and cranky but looking forward to the upcoming game drives.

One thought on “Crossing the border 

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