Fish Eagle Point

Dear Felix P. Enner,
you were supposed to having caught up with me here in Tanzania by now. Apparently this is not the case as all my Schnops bottles (colloquial new-huttisch slang for Schnaps) are still well-sealed. I will never be able to enter the Arabic hemisphere under such circumstances, you know? My neighbouring seat is still unoccupied. While I wade the wild waters of the western Indian Ocean, my hammock dangles emptily between the mangroves. It could have hosted you but it seems that now is not the time. And what about this Christmas we wanted to spend together in the mountains? Remember? I planned to show you all 24 bit shades of colour a chameleon can adopt. Oh my dear friend, I write this letter to you in order to animally go you on your nuts (förmlich-deutsch: jmdm. tierisch auf die Nüsse gehen) or, more scholzishly phrased: in order to well and truly bring you up the palm tree (jmdn. gehörig auf die Palme bringen/aufpalmieren).

Here at Fish Eagle Point I discovered a remote, calm spot to lick my wounds and in addition to that I also found ... yet another crazy Norwegian who just finished 6000 km within three weeks across Tanzania in his Land Rover. For birdwatching. And he also got stuck like the other one we met together in Botswana. This place is run by Zimbabweans and I already feel integrated into their family. One night simply turned into three. Now, around mid December is supposed to be the worst season for a visit but - as I cannot tell the difference - for me this place truly is a hidden gem of Tanzania! The whole place consists of a labyrinth of narrow paths washed/built into ancient coral limestone. Fossils everywhere! Beware of the sharp edges! Some rocks are easily mistaken for volcanic tuff stone or similar. Obviously the sea level was much higher some many many years ago. So, let me tell you that you can safely stop worrying about climate change. Hidden in dense bush there are scattered guest houses - some of them coming with a private lagoon - and a separated campsite where I sneaked under a tree-bush-thingy with my car. At night you have to watch out for tiny little crabs on the path who live in recycled snail shells and think that they are way stronger than you. People say that in times of scarcity of shells these crabs build houses in plastic debris. So, we should keep on using plastic - especially bottles - and throw it into the ocean from time to time in order to save the crab population. I regularly get visited by super-huge rats with longer tails than yours. They are very clever and not afraid of me camping here. In Morogoro they are trained to scent out land mines and Tuberculosis. Crazy, isn't it? The bush babies make fun of shouting at me in a high-pitched scream while I stroll around at night. Once a small monkey was sitting on my roof rack. There are no mosquitos or nasty other parasites, not at night nor during the day. What a paradise! The bush neatly blends into mangroves. We have strong, warm winds from the sea which throw sea weed and mangrove leaves back on the beach. The tidal variations are immense! Within three hours the water retracts so far that it is barely to be seen. You just hear a faint swooshing of distant waves and can walk around on what has been the bottom of the reef minutes ago. No need for snorkeling, just sit down and say hello to Mr. starfish. You would have had to bring your own drinking water because the water from the well is slightly salty. Even though it's clean and pure the water from the big rain catchment tanks I only recommend for cooking/washing. In the night, when your gaze wanders over the ocean straight to the East, you wonder if it is distant land that you see because of the many lights far away. It's not Pemba Island, it's fishermen! Oh, fish! Did I already tell you about the food?! Holy banana! Yeah, I probably have so I won't go into details here.

I hope that by now your heart hurts as much as mine =)
Merry Christmas!
Michi, derLæs mere