Thanks, Lynn, I tried my best to capture my mixed feelings about these things. I posted a disproportionate number of balloon photos (compared with shots of all the wildlife we saw) because I wanted to show (and tell) as much as I could about that whole experience. I know a lot of people post on this board asking whether the balloon ride is "worth it." Same with the Maasai village visit. So hopefully this gives a picture of what our experience was like, and some things for people to think about.

You're right, I do wonder about that baby jackal, and many of the individual animals we saw! He was definitely one of my favorites, and we've got about 10 pictures of him to remember him by.

And oh, I forgot to add the rest of that story about James and the baboon. Yep, they did have to get him drunk again to get the bell off!

PART 12 – “Goodbye Kenya, Hello Tanzania” (Oct. 3rd, 2007)

We jumped at the chance for one more early morning game drive in the Masai Mara before we left Kenya today. So many times in the past few days, I’d been glad that we opted to fly back to Nairobi and then onward to Arusha rather than making another long drive across southern Kenya. The best result of flying was that we had extra time in the Mara—a chance for a longer goodbye than if we’d had to head off to Nairobi at the crack of dawn. I shouldn’t have been surprised at all by the way I was feeling so blue, since I had dreamed about Kenya since childhood and had spent more than a year planning this particular trip. But in some ways, I was a little surprised by the depth of my feelings, my sadness at knowing this was our last day here. I knew there was still so much to look forward to in Tanzania, but this morning felt in many ways like the end of our trip and I felt such a heaviness in my heart as we climbed into the ice cream bus this morning. Looking back on it now, I know that a big part of it was knowing that we were going to have to say good bye to James today, too. I tried to put those thoughts aside and focus out the open window, wondering what beautiful Kenya had saved up for our last morning.

At first, though, it appeared that the Mara was closed for business again, as it had been when we’d first arrived. Empty, rolling plains of short-mown grass stretched nearly as far as the horizon, and the few vehicles that were out and about this morning occasionally radioed each other or pulled up alongside to compare non-information: nope, we haven’t seen anything, either. So instead, we concentrated on the landscape: an area dotted with thousands of small termite mounds, grass tinted green from the rain, bleached white skulls and bones scattered over the savannah and under a wide, blue bowl of sky. As we looked out across the Mara toward the Serengeti border, James told us his opinion of Tanzania—that we had seen such beautiful landscapes in Kenya that even Tanzania, with all its own beauty, could not compare. He said that he thought we would find that, “In Kenya, everyone is kind, everyone is friendly… in Tanzania, they do not care so much about their visitors, and they are very slow.” He told us that if we ended up liking Tanzania better than Kenya, we should write to him right away and tell him… but if we liked Kenya better, “you do not need to tell me, because I already know you will feel this way.” His pride in Kenya and his characterization of Tanzania made us smile, and we assured him that no matter how much we enjoyed the Tanzania portion of our trip, nothing would ever make us forget how much we loved Kenya, and what a wonderful safari he’d given us.

As always seems to happen, if you don’t worry too much about finding an exciting animal sighting, something will find you. We did not leave the Mara with more cats or another spectacular fight, but instead were treated to something less splashy and yet not at all less profound. First it was a huge herd of tommies, grazing peacefully on the new green shoots. As we watched, a few individuals suddenly began taking turns running in crazy zig-zag patterns back and forth through the herd—five or six of them seemed to be competing with one another for who could pronk the most impressively, who could leap the highest, or just flat-out run the fastest. It was breathtaking to watch these guys in action—I have never seen anything run so fast! There was no predator in sight, though, and we asked James why they would be doing this, running and leaping and bucking, then suddenly just stopping, breathing hard, perfectly calm. It didn’t necessarily seem to be mating behavior. “They are practicing,” he replied. “They are keeping up their skills so that they will be able to avoid a predator when they need to.” I loved this answer, and the richness this showed us about each animal’s life—their concerns, the special ways they have adapted to their circumstances, maybe even the types of things they think about from day to day.

Not far from these tommies, and still within close sight of the Tanzania border, we saw some of the advance guard of zebras already on their way back to the Serengeti. This wasn’t a mixed group of animals like the others we’d seen—these were just zebras, as far as we could see, stretching out in a long column of mares and foals (and at least one stallion that I could identify). They were ambling, trotting, strolling, occasionally stopping to graze and nurse their babies and bicker with one another and roll in the dust. One boss mare, who clearly was the leader of this posse, paced up and down the line, turning to trot back against the flow of traffic and bray furiously at anyone who dawdled too much. At one point she stopped to sass another mare who had paused to nurse her foal, and the two got into a kicking spat. As a group their speed was not great, but the sense of purpose was palpable. I wondered how far they would get in a day. Seeing this caravan made us think of their long journey ahead, and also reflect back on all the little glimpses we’d had of the Great Migration here. More than anything else I’ve ever witnessed, these groups of zebras and wildies had really helped me understand the great wheel of nature, and what a small cog each of us is in it. I felt really lucky to have seen this zebra family at the start of their journey, and to know that they, like us, were leaving the Mara and heading onward to Tanzania. I only hoped that we, like most of them, would be returning here someday.

With that, sadly, it was time for us to head back to the Serena lodge to collect our duffel bags and head out to the nearby airstrip. This would be our first bush flight, from a little dirt airstrip near the lodge. But first we had to say goodbye and thank you to James, who had done such a wonderful job of guiding us through his country. We’d written him a card last night to give with his tip, and also tried to express that in words—how much we valued his experience and knowledge, how much we enjoyed his stories and his humor and his company, how much we appreciated his good, safe driving, and how we know that his job is a very difficult one and we appreciated all aspects of what he had done for us, how we would never forget him. He made us feel good when he said we were his favorite type of clients: always on time, interested in all the things nature wanted to show us, not obsessed with ticking off lists or just trying to get the animals to pose for photos. (Maybe he says that to everyone, but it did make us happy to hear it!) I gave him a ball cap from the movie studio where I work, and he put it on so we could take a picture together. “Is this from Hollywood?” he asked, “My grandchildren will be so pleased!” I decided not to split hairs about Northern California’s Bay Area versus Southern California’s Hollywood, so I just said yes, not far from Hollywood. While we waited and waited for our plane to show up, we hung out with James and he finally admitted that perhaps he did have a favorite animal after all – he loves birds, because even after all his years in the bush they still presented a challenge to him, and there was always more to learn. “I have the best job in Kenya,” he said proudly, “because I never grow bored!” He reached back into the ice cream bus and pulled out a photo to show us—a portrait of himself and his wife the year they were married, taken in 1969. “Now, I go home to her,” he said, beaming as he showed us. “I am always carrying this picture with me on the road, reminding me of what I have waiting at home, my beautiful family.” I asked if he was anxious to get home and he smiled widely, saying, “You do not know how much!”

The airstrip was beginning to get busy with other waiting passengers, and as the sun rose higher we eventually took shelter in the shade of the little “waiting room,” tracking every speck in the sky and wondering if it was our Air Kenya plane. We waited, and waited, and waited, but still no plane and we were more than an hour late. A curious family of warthogs came by and trotted past the luggage lined up on the red dirt beside the runway. But still no plane. I started to get anxious, knowing we made to make a tight connection at Wilson to our Tanzania flight. But Serah had warned us at the start of our safari that these flights were usually “on African time,” and not to be concerned—Air Kenya would hold the connecting flight for us. And indeed that’s how it worked, despite the nail biting suspense: we climbed up the stairs into the plane (a much larger plane than I’d expected out here, actually), waving back to a smiling James on the runway below, then strapped into our seats and zoomed off to Nairobi. Once we reached Wilson airport, the flight attendants hustled those of us making the Tanzania connection off the plane first, and an airline employee met us on the tarmac to escort us quickly through immigration and right past security without stopping, then straight onto our next plane which ended up taking off only a few minutes late despite our late arrival. I was impressed by how well and how quickly it all happened. So quickly, in fact, that we barely had time to really say goodbye to wonderful, beautiful, generous Kenya—one of our favorite countries we’ve ever visited. I couldn’t think of anything I’d experienced that could compare with our ten days in Kenya, both as the realization of a lifelong dream and now, the reality of the place itself and the experiences we were privileged to have there.

Tanzania, on the other hand, did not make a very stellar first impression. The very first experience we had was walking into Kilimanjaro International Airport and getting ripped off by the immigration official… or so we thought. We had printed out our single-entry visa applications ahead of time and safeguarded two crisp, new $50 bills through the first half of our trip. I had even double-checked the Kenyan and Tanzanian embassy websites the day before we left California, to be sure I had the right amount for both visas. But when we approached the window, the official looked at our applications and passports and said brusquely, “For Americans, $100 each.” We were completely surprised, but not prepared or willing to argue with her. “100 each?” I asked, and she snapped, “Yes!” Feeling a bit shell-shocked from all the day’s plane-hopping, I just dug out another $100 from our tip stash and handed it over. I did have a brief moment of wondering whether the visa fees had gone up, but there were no signs anywhere and nobody explained this to us. Later as we waited for our luggage, my husband looked at the visa stamp and got angry, “She charged us for multiple-entry visas!” he said. Sure enough, there was the stamp and her handwritten “Multiple Entry” below it. We thought about going back to argue that we had definitely asked for single-entry visas, but the line at the window was quite long and I didn’t want to get into a scene with a government official in another country. Still, $100 is a considerable amount of money and now we had that much less for tipping. We collected our bags and headed out, both really irritated and feeling like we’d been scammed like dumb tourists. I wondered if there was really supposed to be a multiple-entry stamp that differed from the single-entry one, and that her hand writing the note was a way of her keeping the extra $100. I hated having these thoughts about someone. Despite myself (and knowing better), I thought about what James had said about Tanzanians, and I wondered if we’d left our hearts back in Kenya and would ever find as much to love in this country.

Thinking back on this now, how we were feeling at that moment, I want to laugh at myself for ever thinking I might not fall absolutely in love with Tanzania, too. But more importantly for this report, I want to clarify what actually happened with those visas. As it turned out, the Tanzanian government actually DID raise the visa fee while we were on the road in Kenya. Unless we had kept checking their website during our safari, there’s no way we could have known this (there was no indication that fees would be going up when I looked at the site in the months leading up to our trip). When we mentioned it during our safari briefing at Green Footprint Adventures’ office, no one there knew anything about it, either (in fact, they told us that they thought we probably had been swindled, and apologized profusely). It was only after we returned home and I started reading this chat board again that I found out about the change in visa fees – Americans are now required to pay $100 each and always get a multiple-entry visa. I wonder how many other travelers were caught off guard like this (it would have been especially hard on backpackers and people traveling on a very strict budget! At least for us, we were able to make up for the cash shortage by using our Visa card a few times.). I now feel awful about suspecting that woman at the counter of ripping us off, but I do still think it would have made a lot more sense if there had been some sort of official notice on the visa window about the fee increasing. I really regret that this soured our first impressions of this country, where we quickly found so many things to love that the sting of this one thing eventually faded.

The first really terrific thing about Tanzania was Jackson, who met us outside the baggage claim with a sign with my name on it, and a huge smile. “Welcome to Tanzania!” he said. I had been wondering what our guide here would be like, and if we would be as lucky in our guide assignment as we had been in Kenya. Well, we could not have been luckier. Not only was Jackson an amazing guide and an excellent driver, but he was so different from James that we enjoyed getting to know him in a completely different way. Jackson is in his mid-30s, the same age as us, and from the start we had an easy rapport with him. We had less time with Jackson as our guide (5 days together, compared with 10 days with James), but in that time we had such great conversations about life and careers and politics and music and culture and our childhoods (and wildlife too, of course) that he had become a dear friend by the time we left Tanzania. All this was yet to come, though. At our first meeting, we were struck by how friendly and talkative and quick to laugh he was, and we liked him right away. Jackson showed us to a very nice, spiffy new Land Cruiser and handed us out itinerary in a pretty woven banana-leaf folder, with a nice map of Tanzania and t-shirts and baseball caps with “Green Footprint – Touch the Earth” on them. So far Green Footprint was making a great impression.

We drove into Arusha from the airport and the landscape changed drastically along the way—from hot, arid and dusty brown to a riot of greens, thick tropical foliage and bright purple jacaranda trees, coffee farms and banana groves clustered along the sides of the road as we drove into the foothills of Mt. Meru. We saw gardens and nurseries with dozens of varieties of plants and flowers, and the bright orange flickers of red hot poker tree blossoms above. The jacarandas are my favorites, though—the way they line the streets here, making a purple canopy overhead and leaving a scattered purple carpet on the ground below. I thought about how these same trees had welcomed us to East Africa in Nairobi too. (Unfortunately we have very few pictures of this beautiful area, because Jackson told us that generally Tanzanians are not happy about having their picture taken without permission, and like everywhere we’ve been in Africa there are always so many people walking along the road that it’s almost impossible to snap a photo out the window without a person in it. Usually when we shot pictures out the window in Kenya people would just wave at us, but here, already, we were noticing more people pointing and calling, “Mzungu!” as we drove by.) The place still vivid in my memory, though, and I think the area around Arusha was one of the most beautiful landscapes we saw in East Africa. It reminded both of us very much of Hawaii, where our families live. Such a contrast from that morning in the wide open plains of the Masai Mara! Here we had the cloudy grey bulk of the mountain looming over us, and in the sky and the evidence of all the green around us was the certain promise of rain.

On our drive to Green Footprint’s office, Jackson told us how he grew up in the Arusha area, but that his wife and 3-year-old son were still living in Dar Es Salaam because of her job. Jackson used to guide safaris in the southern Tanzania game parks, but had recently started this job with Green Footprint and was hoping to make his family roots back in the Arusha area again. He told us that he was building a house nearby and that we would pass by it tomorrow on our visit to the national park. He asked questions about our jobs and interests and where we lived. He was curious to know what we’d seen on our safari in Kenya. “Have you seen lions? Elephants? Giraffes? A leopard? All of the Big 5 – even rhino??” When we replied us to all these, he looked a little disappointed, “Well, hmm, what will I be able to show you? You have seen it all!” I told him we had never seen a Tanzanian lion, or a Tanzanian giraffe, or a Tanzanian elephant, and he cracked up. “Well, yes, of course, they are all very, very different here!” We assured him that the best thing about having seen so much already was that we could spend the safari time still ahead of us just enjoying whatever came our way. And that we never tired of seeing any animals, even the most common ones. “Okay,” he said, “But I bet I will find something for you that you haven’t yet seen.”

At Green Footprint’s office, a dog immediately offered to be our friend when we hopped down from the Land Cruiser. It wasn’t clear whether this dog belonged to Green Footprint or just to the parking lot, but he was a charmer and reminded us of our little buddy Kyle at home. We sat out in the garden with Cristina, the young woman who had replaced our safari planner Mirjam when she moved to Kenya. (I was a bit disappointed when Mirjam e-mailed me that she was moving, because we’d been such pen pals for the past year of safari planning that I would have really liked to meet her.) We went over our itinerary with Cristina and Jackson, and she gave us some tips about travel and safety here, reminding us to take our malaria meds and keep drinking that bottled water. And then our conversation turned to travel in general and we chatted a lot about India, one of our favorite places and a place that was very high on her wish list. “But,” she said, “Tanzania will spoil you, you won’t ever want to go anywhere else!” After that, Jackson took us to downtown Arusha to change some dollars into shillings. The Tanzanian shillings were worth much less than the Kenyan ones, and he advised that most people would prefer to receive tips and payment in US dollars, so we did not exchange much. But I think everyone who visits should change at least a little money, so you can see how beautiful the bills are with their illustrations of Tanzanian wildlife!

Arusha, like other towns and cities we’re passed through, was fairly nondescript—plain concrete-block buildings, everything a bit rundown but functional. There was more traffic here than any place we’d been since Nairobi, with chaotic roundabouts every few blocks that made us glad we weren’t driving ourselves. Our hotel, Karama Lodge, was on the outskirts of the city, but it felt a world away. To get there, we had to go straight up a steep dirt road, climbing higher and higher past views of Mt. Kilimanjaro (socked-in with clouds) and Mt. Meru (mostly hiding behind clouds, too), plus homes and small farms tucked into the valley below. We would be able to hear radios and roosters from some of these houses later on.

Karama Lodge was delightful and had such great, offbeat style that my husband wanted to take pictures of everything so we could build a house like this someday. The lodge is situated on a jungly hillside site, and each room is a freestanding a-frame “log cabin” on stilts with its own balcony and view out into the treetops. We loved our room, and spent some time on the deck looking at the peek of the mountain and listening to the chorus of birds. This was one of the first chances I’d had in a while to just sit and relax and write in my journal (while my husband did his own kind of writing—music), so we really enjoyed the downtime… another benefit of choosing to fly back from the Mara and catch the earlier flight to Tanzania. Around twilight the bugs drove us indoors to lower the mosquito net around the bed. This place is considered “rustic,” but we thought it was fantastic – very much what we’d imagined when we dreamed about Africa. Not to mention, we made another dog friend here, a little black pup who started licking my hand and followed us down the path from our car to our room, then came running back to our door to walk us to dinner.

Tonight we had a delicious meal in the mostly empty dining room, downstairs from the super-cool, partially open-air bar where we spent some more time relaxing after dinner. The food was African-inspired, if not exactly traditional: mchicha crepes (hope I spelled that right), maboga (pumpkin) soup, a tomato and basil tart that my husband dubbed “a Swahili personal pan pizza,” and “mad monkey tails” (chocolate-and-nut-covered bananas) for dessert. Yum! We are definitely not going to be losing any weight on this trip.

While trying to fall asleep to the distant babble of someone’s radio, we heard bush babies crying in the trees outside our cabin, and then a tremendous THUMP of some animal (probably a bush baby, from the size of that thump) leaping down onto our deck. Welcome to Tanzania!

As you were describing your blue feelings about leaving Kenya, I was knew what the problem was--leaving your wonderful guide. Sure enough, you soon came to that conclusion too. Showing the photo of his wife and then admitting his real fav animal were wonderful parting memories.

I know what you mean about boarding the plane and then being whisked off with no real mental time for bidding farewell to a place that has offered so much.

Cool you saw pronking!

The lack of announcements on the new Visa fees comes from the same place as Africa time. Different priorities. That's too bad you thought you were ripped off for the whole trip. But all is well that ends well.

Great answer to Jackson about looking forward to Tanzanian lions, etc. I know some people who even structure their trips with the biggest game viewing up front, so they can settle down and appreciate the other vieiwng after that.

I'm sure you'll have an outstanding time in Tanzania.

I *hate* switching guides, and it's one of a few (ahemFodor'spostscough) reasons I don't think I would particularly enjoy southern Africa.

Glad we're in Tanzania, now, though. I'm putting Karama Lodge on my list.

Loving your report.

Tommies were "born to run!"

Believe second fastest on the plains after the cheetah.

They've gotta practice.

On video or DVD, a NatGeo or Nature film "Born to Run" following a Tommie from birth thru 1/yr. Believe by Hugo vanLouwig, wildlife photog, one of his last films.

Sandi, thanks for the heads-up on the video about tommies! I'm a huge fan of those little guys. Believe it or not, I'm not actually writing about everything we saw each day (just imagine how long THAT trip report would be!), but tommies were a big part of what made me happy every day we were in the Mara (and elsewhere too).

Leely, you'd love Karama Lodge. We really liked staying someplace that felt like we were near where people lived, rather than totally isolated in a tourist compound, so the radios and roosters didn't bother us at all. But some people might find it a bit noisy, I guess -- thought I should add that, since there isn't much on this board about that lodge. Almost all the other guests when we were there were climbing Kilimanjaro. I'd love to go back someday and do that!

Neat little footnote here: the day after I posted that last installment, we got a letter in the mail from James!

I think the tommies were having fun. Getting a letter from Kenya is a reason to start pronking.

A letter from James--how wonderful.

I don't know if I posted before about how impressed I am with your photos, but I just looked at them all (some again, I think), and they are beautiful. You have some of the best shots of Nakuru I have seen. And how lucky to see cheetahs among rocks, right where they'll pop for your camera.

Great job. Let's see some more.

There are so many great comments and observations in your trip report that I won't even attempt to comment on them individually. I'll just let you know I started reading this the day before yesterday and couldn't wait to get back to it each time I had to stop. And if this is the condensed version I can't imagine how wonderful the whole version is. Thanks for taking us on your trip and sharing your thoughts and feelings. (I've had a few of them myself!) Since you are already home I don't need to tell you that if you thought leaving Kenya was hard, just wait because it gets worse. Getting on the plane to go home has to be the hardest part of a trip to Africa. I look forward to hearing more.

Cindy

Thanks, Leely. I'll post another round of photos to go along with Arusha National Park and Tarangire.

Cindy, thank you so much! Glad you're enjoying it. Yeah, it was heartbreaking to get on that plane and come home... and partly for a reason that I'll describe when I get to that point, just an odd encounter we had in the airport with someone who really didn't "get" Africa at all. We, on the other hand, have been so obsessed with Africa that we've been desperately trying to figure out ways to go back ever since we returned home in October! Alas, there are precious few vacation days and even fewer vacation dollars at this point, so it's going to be a while. Reading this board is going to have to be my "fix" for a few years...

Here's the next day -- Arusha NP.

Wow, I've tried three times now to post my next installment and nothing is happening. What's going on? I guess I'll try again later...

PART 13 – “Does the Government Feed These Animals?” (Oct. 4th, 2007)

We really felt like we woke up in the jungle this morning, our little tree house surrounded by a riot of birdsong and an accompanying chorus of roosters crowing in the village down the hill. Jackson picked us up after breakfast and we drove through the city and around the mountain to the entrance of Arusha National Park.

Compared with Kenya, most of the roads in this part of Tanzania are a dream: paved, relatively smooth, and drivers (generally) stayed in their own lane. Just as I was thinking this, though, Jackson pointed out a steep ravine beneath a bridge where a truck had crashed over the side not long ago; the guardrail was still twisted and torn apart as a grim reminder. We were thankful for our sturdy vehicle, and for our guide’s careful driving. This drive, like yesterday’s, was really beautiful—the deep greens of coffee and rice fields dotted with the bright colors of women’s clothing. After we turned past the national park sign, the pavement ended and Jackson warned, “Here is the dancing road – also known as African massage. Let me know if it gets too bumpy for you.” We assured him that we’d had many African massages in the last week and a half, so we’d be fine. This road took us deeper into the green, past small, misty villages and into the forested foothills of Mt. Meru. One of the villages we passed was Jackson’s, a WaMeru village called Ngongongare, where he’d grown up. Along the way he waved at and chatted with people he knew, and pointed out his primary school to us. He also showed us the plot of land he owned next to his brother’s place. He had started building a house there, but was still saving up to put a roof on it. Once he had the house finished, he was hoping his wife and son would be able to move here.

When we stopped at a little visitor’s center for Jackson to handle the paperwork, we read the sign listing the national park fees and noticed that locals pay considerably less than tourists to visit the park. Good, that’s as it should be… but we still wondered how many local people could actually afford to come here. Also, you have to pay a $35 “rescue fee” if you get lost in the park. That seemed funny at first, but since this area is a big magnet for mountain climbers, I bet they have to collect that fee more often than one might think! At least there are no predators in Arusha NP, so if you have to get lost somewhere in Africa, this is as good a place as any.

The first animal we saw here was a huge, gorgeous African crowned eagle—an auspicious beginning for our luck with Tanzanian wildlife. Not far up the road we entered the part of the park called the “Little Serengeti,” and it was a real stunner. If someone asked me to draw a picture of the Garden of Eden, I would come up with something very much like this place: a verdant, misty plain surrounded by deep green croton trees and a purplish-blue mountain rising up beyond, filled to the brim with animals—zebras, buffalos, scampering baboons and warthogs, with no predators to threaten them and an abundance of food, so that all of them looked well-fed and healthy.

But most of all, GIRAFFES! They were everywhere around us, strolling and grazing and lying down to nap in groups, their long necks arching gracefully into the trees and rising up out of the shrubbery, curious, as we drove slowly past. We stood up watching out the open roof of our vehicle, and had the unique thrill of making eye contact with them—seeing a giraffe, and knowing he was looking right back at us. It doesn’t matter how many times you experience that, each brief moment of contact with a wild animal is always a unique one, and it touches your soul in a way that nothing else can. This park, along with Samburu, was our most amazing opportunity to see giraffes in all their moods and attitudes and beautiful variety. Which is fitting, since they are Jackson’s favorite animal and the national animal of Tanzania, as well. Here’s something incredible we learned about giraffes today: their horns actually grow from the tops down to the skull, gradually replacing cartilage with keratin as they get older. And here’s something else incredible we overheard today, from some safari-goers in a nearby vehicle:

Woman, perfectly serious: “Does the government feed these animals?”
Man, totally irritated: “Oh, give me a BREAK!”

(Makes you wonder what the soundtrack for their safari sounds like… not to mention their marriage!)

We reluctantly moved on from the Little Serengeti, past a green, marshy area where we saw a big herd of buffalo with lots of calves, and hundreds of birds—saddlebill storks, sacred ibis, egrets, and so many others. Then through wooded areas of quinine trees and the crotons favored by giraffes. Here we saw Sykes blue monkeys up in the treetops and troops of baboons down below on the ground, pairs of dik-diks, sandpipers, little grebes, and little green bee eaters (I’m starting to see why they say Africa can make a birder out of anyone!). We stopped at the ranger station near the start of the trail that takes hikers up Mt. Meru, and Jackson told us about climbing it for fun, as well as his brief stint as a porter on the mountain. He said Meru is becoming more and more popular with climbers, because it’s not as famous—and therefore not as crowded—as its neighbor, Kilimanjaro. It’s certainly a beautiful mountain, and much less stingy about showing itself than Kili proved to be (for us, at least).

We headed on into the dense, darker forest where the black and white colobus monkeys live, and saw a quick blur of red that Jackson said was a red forest duiker. At the end of the road was a lovely little clearing on the side of the hill, with a broad view that took in Kilimanjaro (still shrouded in clouds), the Momela lakes (where we’d be canoeing later), and Arusha town, far below. This is where we had our (enormous! who can eat all this?) picnic lunch, with the car parked behind us in front of a view of Mt. Meru, looking like it was the star of a Land Cruiser commercial. A little bushbuck strolled by, high up on the hillside. It was so nice to have a picnic outdoors and not have to head back to the lodge, and it made me wish we’d asked to do this more in Kenya. We ended up pooling the leftovers from our three lunch boxes (Jackson couldn’t finish his either) and saved them to give to our canoe guides later on.

(continued)
After lunch we headed back down the mountain, past a pair of fighting giraffes, to Small Momela Lake to meet our canoe guides, Michael and Michael. The lake was in a very different environment from what we¡¦d seen so far today¡Xthis part of the park was surrounded by rolling hills covered with dry grass, much more open and brown. Amazing what variety there is in this little park. We buckled on our life jackets and each got into a canoe with a Michael. My Michael was extremely talkative, venting about George Bush and wanting to know what we thought of him (he seemed very happy with my reply, and at the risk of getting too political that¡¦s all I¡¦m going to say about that! ƒº). Then he asked me if I knew why ¡§all those rich Africans in America don¡¦t care enough to come visit Tanzania.¡¨ After talking with him a bit, I realized he was talking about African-American celebrities and sports stars he¡¦d seen in the media¡Xbased on what he¡¦d seen on TV and in movies, he seemed to have the idea that all African-Americans were extremely rich, and he didn¡¦t understand why most of the Americans he met on safari were white. I tried to explain that there were many wealthy people in America, but also many poor people, and everything in between¡Xand that many Americans, of any color, could not afford to come on safari even if they wanted to. ¡§But everyone is rich in America!¡¨ he insisted. I suppose compared with the average Tanzanian, most Americans are very rich indeed, so I felt silly trying to explain. I didn¡¦t feel like I had a very good answer for him, and several times he rebutted me with, ¡§I think they just do not care about Africa.¡¨ ¡§I don¡¦t think that¡¦s necessarily true,¡¨ I replied, but he just said, ¡§Bono is the one who gives most of his money to Africa, and he is a white man.¡¨ Then he became more cheerful and started telling me about ideas he had for promoting Tanzania as a travel destination, and how he thought the government could do more to make the country competitive with Kenya. ¡§Everyone thinks of a safari and they think of Kenya,¡¨ he said. ¡§But they should think of Tanzania first! Did you also go to Kenya?¡¨ When I said we had, he laughed and said, ¡§You see? But at least you made the right choice and came here too!¡¨

Michael was a really interesting guy and I enjoyed talking with him, but he was sometimes so talkative (and always wanted to hear my opinion) that I had trouble concentrating on everything we were seeing as we paddled around the lake¡Xand there was quite a lot to see. The birdlife was especially diverse: little grebes, blacksmith plovers, cormorants taking off and skidding to a landing on the water, sacred ibis and Egyptian geese, to name just a few. Our most exciting sightings were a bit bigger, however. We paddled past a large water-bound rock and my husband¡¦s guide spotted a gigantic python stretched out on top of it, sleeping in the sun. We watched him for a moment, and then suddenly he slithered down the side and launched himself into the water with a tremendous splash! We saw a waterbuck on shore coming down to drink, and then a family of hippos peeking up out of the water a fair distance away (and believe me, we kept an eye on them and made darn sure we maintained that distance! Seeing those hippos in the same water with us was exciting, but it was also one of the few animal encounters we had on safari that really made me nervous.). The big finale of our hour-long canoe trip was paddling near three immense cape buffalos who stood on shore, staring at us with frank curiosity. It was a unique moment, to be so close to these great creatures with no metal or glass between us, and to not feel any worry about it.

The Michaels were happy to get our sandwiches and cookies when we said goodbye back on shore. As they dragged the canoes out of the water and stacked them on shore, I asked whether they ever worried they might come out here some afternoon and find a family of baboons paddling around on the lake. One of the Michaels laughed and said maybe he should leave a few life jackets behind, just in case.

Back on our drive, we headed off into the forest again in search of those elusive colobus. On the way through the woods we passed a shy bushbuck mother and baby, who both startled when a nearby baboon let loose shrill warning call (actually, I was a bit startled, too). We drove past the clearing where the two male giraffes were still locked in their slow-motion dance of a fight, and stopped to watch them. They had an audience of waterbucks as well, so Jackson told us the legend about how they got the white markings on their rear ends: they were last animals to arrive on Noah¡¦s ark, and the only place left to sit was the freshly-painted toilet seat! The next pair of waterbucks came along and sat down on the closed toilet lid¡K and that¡¦s why one variety has a white ring on its rear, and the other has a solid white patch.

As we drove uphill into the dense forest, we were so busy craning our necks upward in search of primates we almost missed seeing a little suni antelope down on the ground. And then, what luck! There were those gorgeous colobus monkeys with their long white plumes of tails hanging down from the branches. They were so animated, such fun to watch as they raced along and followed one another down paths in the tree branches. One of the monkeys was a tiny baby, hiding behind his mother and peeking down at us.

Our last big sight in Arusha NP was the overlook at the top of the Ngurdoto Crater, a deep bowl of green that is closed to vehicles and about as pristine-looking as anything we¡¦d seen in Africa. A large herd of buffalo were grazing below us, black dots on a patchwork of green. We were allowed to get out of the car and hike up a short way to the viewpoint. While we stood here admiring the view of the crater, a crowned hornbill hopped along a high branch in a tree nearby, giving us a different sort of view. On our way back down the road from the lookout, we saw an interesting drama unfolding¡Xan eagle perched in a tree and hunting a very nervous blue monkey, who was gathering leaves in the brush below and didn¡¦t seem to know exactly what he was so nervous about. The monkey kept glancing around and pausing in his work to duck into the bushes, then popping back out and making little peeps of alarm. Meanwhile, the eagle tracked his every move with its head, ruffling its feathers and creeping forward on the branch, getting ready to strike. At the last second, the monkey finally looked up and must have seen the eagle, because he let out a blood-curdling shriek and darted away into the brush. The eagle settled patiently back on the branch, and we were a bit relieved that we¡¦d been spared the sight of monkey death.

Our last animal sighting on our way out of the park was a group of elephants neck-deep in the bushes, busily grumbling and talking amongst themselves. As we drove slowly by, one of them raised her trunk like a periscope and sniffed us out, and another one trumpeted at us. What an incredible little park this was! It¡¦s sad that it seems to be left out of so many northern circuit itineraries, because it really packs a diverse wallop into a relatively small area. You can see the whole park in a day, and it is without a doubt one of the most beautiful spots we visited. If you¡¦re a fan of giraffes, you should definitely come here!

We had a very brief peek at Kili as we drove up the bumpy road to Karama Lodge (finally! that stubborn, camera-shy mountain!), so we celebrated the day by hanging out in the lounge and sampling the local Kilimanjaro lager. We liked the lounge so much, we asked if we could have our dinner there instead of downstairs in the main restaurant, and our waiter said no problem. Another delicious dinner, with a spicy veggie dish called ¡§the crazy imam.¡¨ But things got a bit bizarre when another couple decided to do the same as us and have their dinner in the lounge. They sat so close to us we couldn¡¦t help but overhear everything they were saying. He was an older white guy with an American accent, and she was a very young African woman in a fancy dress. He started talking (loudly) about how, since he was going off to jail, he thought they should break up. She began sobbing and he just sat there drinking his beer and explaining that she should always do what he said, since he was the older and wiser one. It was all very creepy. Fortunately, a big group of mountain climbers came into the bar to celebrate their successful Kili climb, and they were so boisterous that Creepy Jail Guy and his girlfriend moved to the other side of the lounge to get away from them. We spent the rest of the evening trying to imagine the story behind that odd couple¡K but really, we were glad we didn¡¦t know it.

Apologies for the screwy characters in that last post. First, it would not let me post at all. Then I tried posting this installment in two parts, and it looks like the first part is fine but the second part somehow messed up all the quotation marks and apostrophes. I give up! Hopefully it isn't too horribly hard to read -- I don't think there is any way I can fix it at this point, is there?

Fodor's editor, what's going on? I've never had this problem before.

Don't fret about it, not that bad. Thanks for a great report.

regard - tom

MDK, after this instalment, nobody going to Arusha will be able to avoid going to Arusha NP!

Your report on Arusha National Park is wonderful. To think I'll be there next week! wow

Raelond, you'll love it. The other great thing about Arusha NP (at least when we were there) is that other than the "do they feed these animals" folks, we never saw another vehicle, except at the ranger stations when we stopped for bathroom breaks. It really felt like we had the park to ourselves. Are you planning on canoeing?

Arusha photo slideshow:
http://tinyurl.com/2ugs2p

I want to go to Arusha NP right now!