Travel & Time

I find it rather hard to pack for one temperature extreme when experiencing another, so my packing was random to say the least. We then drove very early to the airport in a snow blizzard which, now sitting in the sweltering evening heat, seems so far away.

There were a few minor incidents en route including landing in Addis Ababa and finding that the connecting plane had been over booked. There was a mass of anxious people hovering round the departure gate; I eyed up the opposition and decided that there were some large mothers I could not take on, but in general after a few swift shimmys I made it far enough up the queue to ensure my seat to Kilimanjaro. I may have left a trail of sprawling bodies behind me - I could not possibly comment.

Once in Tanzania, I searched for the driver holding up a board with my name (I was so looking forward to that bit) but no joy. It seems that there is a concept about time – Tanzanian Time - that involves adding 6 hours on and my lift was happily cruising around Moshi, waiting for 7 p.m. to arrive. Strange? well the story has a happy ending, so read on.

I tried a phone number I had but it didn’t work, and I couldn’t find the other numbers that has been carefully stashed away (I had been so sure of my lift!). But I knew the address (for ‘knew’ read ’thought I knew’) so got a taxi into town & we started looking for the road. We finally found it – and let me say that male taxi drivers do not ask for help when lost; it was after many suggestions that he stop and ask that I finally stopped and asked a man myself. Of course I know virtually zero of the language so in the end the taxi driver had to do the asking anyway.

So we found the road (for road read very rutted dirt track) and started cruising up & down, no make that slowly rumbled along, looking for house numbers. What no house numbers? Bugger, we’re back to asking people again and you know how much he likes that. Anyhow between me starting conversations and him finishing them off we discovered that the houses don’t have numbers. At which point I conceded I would have to find a room in town & email for help (HELP!)

I will not bore you with the different hotels & rooms I visited until I finally got the message across that yes, really I cannot afford these great prices, and found a cheap lodge. Once there I started to unpack my bag and found the number for the recommended taxi driver. Hooray! I bribed the lad on reception to use his phone with a £5 note (he was sweet and kept looking at it wondering what it was. I pointed to the ‘five’ and ‘pounds’ and assured him that it was worth a few dollars) I was then collected to be taken to the house. On the way it transpired that this recommended taxi driver was the man supposedly meeting me at the airport (how unexpected!) and he pulled out a piece of paper with my name and ‘7 p,m’, on it. How does that work?(and I know he was told one o’clock as Lorraine heard the booking conversation when one o’clock was repeated 3 times.

As I say – Tanzanian Time.

So I am here, I am safe and I am getting used to the heat. I sat in on a clinic today and already have seen some very grateful people who feel better for having homeopathy. There is a good purpose to being here.