No diving with us

After two full days of driving through pouring rain we arrive at the calm south-eastern coast with less rain. Pretty good timing, huh? Still, the following wet morning Mikindani keeps us in its cosy quarters and we concentrate on our internal well-being by implementing an adequate veggie omelette processing station. This is where my previously acquired Mozzarella finally pays off. The good-looking French owner of our hostel-like accommodation runs a diving school and eagerly tries to lure us into starting a new hobby. We are strong and lazy and can withstand his charming mightiness.

Around Mikindani town we find a restored old German boma from colonial times which is now converted into a vocational training centre, museum and luxurious guest house with beautiful botanical surroundings. It also features a pool. Sanda loves pools. I don’t see a purpose in pools. Especially not next to the ocean. And whenever I enter the pool naked, somebody screams or complains. Oceans in turn never complain.

In the search of tasty chipsi mayai as afternoon snack we end up in Mtwara at a non-tasty chipsi beach bar with drunk locals, and ugly, loud, yodelled Tanzanian music. We survive. On the way back we stop at a traffic intersection where tons of people gather for the night food market. Hell yeah, let’s jump out of the car! It is dark and we squeeze into the masses. Flying termite swarms hatched after the recent rains and enrich our biomass conglomerate. We survive. Tiny stands offer freshly boiled octopus and squid in a rich broth flavoured with pili-pili and lime. Grilled mussels and smoked sea snails lead my way to paradise! Grilled corncobs are served with yellowish chilli salt which you scrub-in before you start nibbling. Your lips will appreciate! Colourful fruits, flamed chickens, fried somethings, sun-dried fish and stinky entrails ... we survive. In small tents some locals watch soccer and sip their evening coffee from tiny cups. Everybody is welcoming and grinning. This is Tanzania.En savoir plus