We left Chitimba with two additional passengers in our car headed to Tanzania. Two girls had just finished their 27-month peace corps posts in Botswana and were on a hitchhiking vacation before heading back to the US. They needed to get to Mbeya. We were headed to Mbeya. They bought us fried bread from the side of the road as a thank you. The bread was dense but a good vehicle for the honey that Ricus had gifted us, which came straight from a man on the mountainside - it was in an old coca cola bottle and it’s definitely the best thing I’ve eaten on this trip so far. It tasted like vanilla and burning wood. We poured it on top of our donuts as we drove and spilled it all over the car.
Once we crossed the border into Tanzania, the topography immediately changed. It’s surprising how scenery can change so dramatically with only the passing of a simple line in the land. And it’s not just the landscape - as soon as we crossed the border the people changed too, and the clothing. We began to see more tribal dress, maasai men wearing vibrant red robes and women in dark purple wraps with stretched earlobes and piles of beaded necklaces. As we’ve transitioned through every country, the difference across both landscape and people has been nearly instantaneous.
Our car climbed on winding narrow roads high into the mountains where the air turned cool and crisp and our ears popped. It was a welcome temperament after the beating heat of Malawi. The valleys below were filled with tea plantations. A group of young girls in matching school uniforms played soccer on a small plot of grass on the side of the mountain. An even line of banana trees created the field’s boundary on one side, the cliffside acted as a more stern boundary on the other. As we hugged hairpin switchbacks, we could see the farms below - perfectly organized plots of land growing tea, coffee and sugar. The farms on the mountain felt like the most organized thing I’ve seen in all of Africa so far.
We dropped the peace corps off at the train station in Mbeya. It was 45 minutes out of the way of our 6 hour drive, but with a trip determined by random acts of kindness I was happy to give them an alternative ride to the chicken bus. We circled back out of Mbeya and headed for the Utengule Coffee Lodge. Tom was afraid to speed in Tanzania (as we’ve heard the cops are aggressive, the fines are steep, and getting locked up for the night is a common outcome to any police interaction) but he cautiously drove as fast as he possibly could - his eye set on good coffee after a month of instant relief.
We were camping at the edge of Utengule Coffee Lodge’s property, but confusingly “camping” meant we had our own house e.g. indoor bedroom, mosquito net, indoor bathroom and shower, a living room and a kitchen. We asked incredulously if this was still the same price as camping. It was. We kept quiet. I hope they never learn what “camping” is. Not only did we have our own house, but we also had access to the hotel’s expansive property - a beautiful old stone restaurant which felt like a relic of British colonial rule. As I write this, we’re sitting outside on a wrap-around patio filled with bougainvillea, watching the sunset over the coffee fields. Our luck turned a while back and I feel like the luck is still sitting on our side.
We left early the next morning (after Tom’s millionth pot of coffee in 12 hours). We were ultimately headed to the Swahili coast and gave ourselves two nights to get there. The drives were long but scenic. We stopped for lunch in a small village. We ordered a plateful of french fries and some ambiguous meat on a stick from a roadside stand. As we were eating, we debated if the meat was beef or octopus. If I ever find myself in a debate of such opposites, I should probably stop eating.
Once we crossed the border into Tanzania, the topography immediately changed. It’s surprising how scenery can change so dramatically with only the passing of a simple line in the land. And it’s not just the landscape - as soon as we crossed the border the people changed too, and the clothing. We began to see more tribal dress, maasai men wearing vibrant red robes and women in dark purple wraps with stretched earlobes and piles of beaded necklaces. As we’ve transitioned through every country, the difference across both landscape and people has been nearly instantaneous.
Our car climbed on winding narrow roads high into the mountains where the air turned cool and crisp and our ears popped. It was a welcome temperament after the beating heat of Malawi. The valleys below were filled with tea plantations. A group of young girls in matching school uniforms played soccer on a small plot of grass on the side of the mountain. An even line of banana trees created the field’s boundary on one side, the cliffside acted as a more stern boundary on the other. As we hugged hairpin switchbacks, we could see the farms below - perfectly organized plots of land growing tea, coffee and sugar. The farms on the mountain felt like the most organized thing I’ve seen in all of Africa so far.
We dropped the peace corps off at the train station in Mbeya. It was 45 minutes out of the way of our 6 hour drive, but with a trip determined by random acts of kindness I was happy to give them an alternative ride to the chicken bus. We circled back out of Mbeya and headed for the Utengule Coffee Lodge. Tom was afraid to speed in Tanzania (as we’ve heard the cops are aggressive, the fines are steep, and getting locked up for the night is a common outcome to any police interaction) but he cautiously drove as fast as he possibly could - his eye set on good coffee after a month of instant relief.
We were camping at the edge of Utengule Coffee Lodge’s property, but confusingly “camping” meant we had our own house e.g. indoor bedroom, mosquito net, indoor bathroom and shower, a living room and a kitchen. We asked incredulously if this was still the same price as camping. It was. We kept quiet. I hope they never learn what “camping” is. Not only did we have our own house, but we also had access to the hotel’s expansive property - a beautiful old stone restaurant which felt like a relic of British colonial rule. As I write this, we’re sitting outside on a wrap-around patio filled with bougainvillea, watching the sunset over the coffee fields. Our luck turned a while back and I feel like the luck is still sitting on our side.
We left early the next morning (after Tom’s millionth pot of coffee in 12 hours). We were ultimately headed to the Swahili coast and gave ourselves two nights to get there. The drives were long but scenic. We stopped for lunch in a small village. We ordered a plateful of french fries and some ambiguous meat on a stick from a roadside stand. As we were eating, we debated if the meat was beef or octopus. If I ever find myself in a debate of such opposites, I should probably stop eating.
The next day the weather started to turn and we saw our first rain, luckily it was sporadic and light. Apparently in Tanzania it’s typical to get rain this time of year - the heavy rains come in November when we’ll be long gone. On our second day, we stopped for lunch during the rain and sat under an awning that barely protected us from the slanty rain. We ate banana and beef stew and fish with rice. A group of maasai came in after us and ordered a heaping plate of beef. They were so beautiful, with chiseled jaws and thin faces, I couldn’t stop staring.
We drove through tribal villages and working fields. We drove through a valley filled with baobab trees - massive ones with gnarly branches twisting around each other. The trees look like they were planted upside down. Many of them were growing straight out of the hillsides.
We drove through tribal villages and working fields. We drove through a valley filled with baobab trees - massive ones with gnarly branches twisting around each other. The trees look like they were planted upside down. Many of them were growing straight out of the hillsides.
As we got closer to the coast, things started to really change. Tom said he didn’t think it looked like Africa anymore because it was so tropical. Palm trees were everywhere, they looked like hundreds of fireworks tethered to the ground. Now instead of selling tomatoes and onions, the roadside stands sold mangos, coconuts, papaya, limes and pineapple. I was so happy we were finally going to eat something other than starch.
Gallery:
