So I have officially left the persistant public transport deposited dust of East Africa behind for the decidedly undusty UAE. In reality, this place is exceedingly dusty (a charming mixture of sand and construction byproducts congealed by humidity), but the dust seems exclusively reserved for the non-Arab manual labor force imported from various Asian locales to build the Vegas of the Middle East.
This is the first Mideast location where a taxi driver/tour guide/hotel clerk has not pointed at my ethnically ambiguous face and (by now) mahogany suntan and asked if I am Algerian/Syrian/Lebanese etc. I am pretty sure it is the backpack and (by now) ratty clothes that are telegraphing that I am not part of the Arab upper crust. So I have observed and adopted a few strategies to blend with the highest social group I may realistically aspire to, which is still many levels down in the hierarchy: the carelessly slovenly international jet set crowd.
Strategy One: Look world weary and travel jaded. This one is not hard, particularly hard after a few months on the road experiencing the best buses multiple continents have to offer. Also, one of the downsides of a long trip is that even the most fantastic sights and experiences start failing to impress. To wit: "Oh yes...another lion eating a wildebeest. Very lovely. Where's the nearest flush toilet? Thanks.". One good way to communicate weary jadedness is to ignore the spectacular and act impressed by the mundane. Even if the guy next to you pulls up in a $400,000
supercar, do not gawp and take photos. A real member of the in-crowd is more impressed that the taxi driver's uniform is perfectly color matched to the paint on the roof of the car. Another good tactic, especially when shopping in places one cannot possibly afford in the company of white robed strangers who clearly can afford the goods, is to invent arbitrary and ridiculously precise demands. At the gold souk I saw some pretty cool designs but did not want to come out and ask the price or stare openly, so I picked out something I wanted to look at and asked if they had a minor and meaningless variation on it. "I want the string of gold filigree flowers on that pair of earings but do you have it in a pendant with the white gold flower in the middle of the yellow gold ones not on the end? Can't you make one? Oh, then no thanks, I'll look someplace else."
Strategy Two: Do not appear to pay attention. One thing I have noticed about the actual jet setters is that they have a blind and almost foolhardy certainty that they will somehow magically be taken care of, whether that means being swiftly and aircopnditionedly conveyed to their destination or served properly cooked food not made of worse-for-wear goat. Not paying attention signals to everyone else that it is their job to make sure things happen right. NB: this strategy does not work well in East Africa, where it tend to get you left by a roadside in the middle of nowhere. In general, the best way to accomplish strategy two is with...
Strategy Three: Always be fiddling with a blinking gadget. So I guess I did not really adopt this practice so much as continue applying it as normal.The blackberry is an awesome device even when used only to accessorize. Ditto the Kindle. Nothing says I belong here more than frowing at an elecronic device as if contemplating some major financial or political decision when in reality you are using twitter or reading a novel.
More to come...
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Sunday, June 28, 2009
I think Tanzanians are easily impressed
Some of the entertainment on offer at the 1001 Arabian Nights shindig were a little lackluster. The belly dancer, though genetically gifted/surgically enhanced, was easily distracted by the roving photographers and spent a good portion of her stage time motionless and posing for snaps. The band was often lost in the overactive fog machines and accompanied by decidedly atonal car horns. Despite these issues there was near constant wild cheering from the Dar crowd. And since it was a cash bar, I have to assume the cheering was genuine.
The highlight of the evening was the whirling dervish whose performance involved spinning in circles for 20 minutes wearing essential a hoop skirt with a crotch pocket for pulling out various fabrics to twirl above his head. After the twirling he would ball up the cloth and cradle it to his face like a newborn before flinging it offstage through a beaded curtain to an assistant who was usually not looking. Then to the crowd's intense delight he flipped a switch (presumably also crotch-located) and lit up some Christmas lights embedded in the skirt. Everyone started snapping pictures like mad, so I folloed suit. I image there are a lot of blurry UFO pictures being deleted from memory cards across Dar tonight. Or not.
Early return to the MidEast take 2
I guess it sgould not be completely unexpected in a place called Dar Es Salaam to stumble upon an event celebrating Arab culture. One of the big hotels in Dar was hasting a 1001 Arabian Nights dinner and show and I ended up with a complimentary ticket. And the hummus flow restarts.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
East African Private Transport Episode 3: Return of the Aaaarrrrgggghhh
As it turns out, private transport is the same PITA as public transport. I found out the hard way that flying to Dar is not as simple as, say, making a booking, paying for the ticket and showing up at the airport with your luggage and passport. My "airline" which shall remain nameless (but rhymes with Derision to Spare) decided inexplicably to cancel my ticket and not inform me before I showed up at the airport having paid them an additional $10 for a 5:30am shuttle.
By way of explanation of why the ticket disappeared, the counter agent just showed me the computer screen with the letters XLD and said "see, cancelled... The computer did it." Oh, that explains it. The computer. I thought about making a HAL 2000 reference, but decided it was probably just as futile as trying to explain to fellow bus travelers that windowside meat skewers are not my thing.
I have to be in Dar to pick up my next flight by 1pm, but there was no room on any flight to Dar out of Kilimanjaro airport. No flights to Zanzibar, none to Nairobi. None anywhere close to Dar. The counter lady suggested I try Arusha airport, a small airstrip 50kms away, since they sometimes have small planes leaving for random destinations. Unfortunately, she thought the flights left at 8am (it was 7 by then) which initiated a mad dash to a special hire (actually the private car of one of the security guards driven by some guy he found loitering at the minibus taxi stage). Random driver guy spoke no English, but we eventually made mutual hand gestures to communicate my need to hurry and he burst forth with "highly speeding!" and floored it, speedbumps, police, and oncoming traffic be damned at 140 kms/hour. I put my headphones on and listened to some Death Cab For Cutie to relax. It seemed appropriate.
We made it to the airstrip with a few minutes to spare but HAL lady was wrong and there were no seats on Derision's next flight. I went next door to Coastal Air and the very helpful, surprisingly enterprising agent there went running around the airstrip trying to find a private charter going to Dar or Zanzibar with extra room. We came close to getting a bush pilot to pick me up in a puddlejumper and drop me in Dar after he ferried his safari customers to Zanzibar, but a last minute equipment issue mean the flight would get in 20 minutes too late for my connection. He did offer to book me on his next direct to Dar at noon for the discounted "local" price then used a pretty generous exchange rate to knock it down even further. The difference more than makes up for the cost of the shuttle and death cab.
Missing my Dar connection entails rebooking a flight to Doha on Qatar Airways and another to Dubai on Emirates. Both requuire calling the Dar offices, which have an annoying habit of not picking up their phones. Qatar finially came on the line and sorted their end out, but Emirates is still AWOL. Managed to get through to their Zanzibar office, who commisserated with me on their Dar colleagues' fickle record of attendance at the office. Unfortunately, the commisseration did not extend to actually heling me rebook herself.
Next time I am teleporting to Dar.
By way of explanation of why the ticket disappeared, the counter agent just showed me the computer screen with the letters XLD and said "see, cancelled... The computer did it." Oh, that explains it. The computer. I thought about making a HAL 2000 reference, but decided it was probably just as futile as trying to explain to fellow bus travelers that windowside meat skewers are not my thing.
I have to be in Dar to pick up my next flight by 1pm, but there was no room on any flight to Dar out of Kilimanjaro airport. No flights to Zanzibar, none to Nairobi. None anywhere close to Dar. The counter lady suggested I try Arusha airport, a small airstrip 50kms away, since they sometimes have small planes leaving for random destinations. Unfortunately, she thought the flights left at 8am (it was 7 by then) which initiated a mad dash to a special hire (actually the private car of one of the security guards driven by some guy he found loitering at the minibus taxi stage). Random driver guy spoke no English, but we eventually made mutual hand gestures to communicate my need to hurry and he burst forth with "highly speeding!" and floored it, speedbumps, police, and oncoming traffic be damned at 140 kms/hour. I put my headphones on and listened to some Death Cab For Cutie to relax. It seemed appropriate.
We made it to the airstrip with a few minutes to spare but HAL lady was wrong and there were no seats on Derision's next flight. I went next door to Coastal Air and the very helpful, surprisingly enterprising agent there went running around the airstrip trying to find a private charter going to Dar or Zanzibar with extra room. We came close to getting a bush pilot to pick me up in a puddlejumper and drop me in Dar after he ferried his safari customers to Zanzibar, but a last minute equipment issue mean the flight would get in 20 minutes too late for my connection. He did offer to book me on his next direct to Dar at noon for the discounted "local" price then used a pretty generous exchange rate to knock it down even further. The difference more than makes up for the cost of the shuttle and death cab.
Missing my Dar connection entails rebooking a flight to Doha on Qatar Airways and another to Dubai on Emirates. Both requuire calling the Dar offices, which have an annoying habit of not picking up their phones. Qatar finially came on the line and sorted their end out, but Emirates is still AWOL. Managed to get through to their Zanzibar office, who commisserated with me on their Dar colleagues' fickle record of attendance at the office. Unfortunately, the commisseration did not extend to actually heling me rebook herself.
Next time I am teleporting to Dar.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Dubai on the Grumeti
On a game drive today in a remote part of the Serengeti, I got a text message on my Tanzanian cell phone welcoming me to the United Arab Emirates. Huh? Turns out that a well-heeled Emirati prince (I guess that is pretty redundant) bought a property neighboring the national park to turn into a private hunting retreat complete with cell towers shipped in, installed, and operated by his carrier back home. And apparently the locals are up in arms because they get charged roaming fees when their calls get picked up by his towers. Oops.
East African Private Transport Episode 2: The 4x4 Strikes Back
So I decided to take a short safari to the Serengeti…mainly to forestall repeated explanation of why I went to Tanzania and did not see the biggest attraction there. But also because going on safari involves taking a private 4x4 driven by a sober, trained, expert whose attention to your safety is guaranteed by the custom of tipping at the end of the trip. First thing to note is that the Serengeti is HUGE. Over 14,000 square kilometers. Second, its paths are unpaved and in most cases ungraded. Third, is most of the good game viewing spots in June are in the remote North and West part of the park. And fourth, the combination of the previous three means that normal expectations of safe driving do not apply. What do you think is a reasonable speed going over rough, winding roads in the dark during a rainstorm? If you guessed 100km/hour, you have a future as a safari guide. Luther, my driver, also had the disconcerting/reassuring habit of not using the headlights. Sure, it probably made the drive a little more risky, but you can’t worry about the effect of running over rocks, streams, guinea fowl or small ungulates when you can’t see them. I have another full day of flat out driving to get back to Arusha, but after that, I am flying back to Dar. I mean it this time.
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