After the trek, Chris and I were obviously pooped but still wanting to go on a safari to see some of Africa's big game. We dodged the HyperTout in Moshi and called up a Tanzanian man who was a referral from other German travelers. He organized everything for us to go on a 3-day safari. We met 2 Japanese travelers who were also researching safari companies; therefore, the four of us got a great deal. For 3 days, the company would do the driving, the guiding, and the food and lodging. All we had to do was bring our zoom lenses and film. The first game park we visited was Lake Manyara in Northeastern Tanzania. In a LandRover with pop up roof, we drove through the park with eyes wide open. We were not disappointed because a lot of the animals were visiting the lake because it was late season and becoming dry in the Bush. The animals congregated near the water and shade. Lots of baboons, zebra, impala, elephants, lions, and monkeys. About the lions...a male and female were lounging about 100 feet from the "road" (a dirt path that the safari vehicles are limited to) and our guide explained that they were in their 7-day marriage. Apparently, they mate for 7 days during which the male does no hunting.

The next day we moved on to Ngorogoro Crater which was magnificient. After about 4 hours of driving along rough pot-holed roads, we arrived in the game park in the morning and stayed until late afternoon. This is a large crater that is popular for safari companies unfortunately. The reason for its popularity is because the animals live year-round in the crater because the rim is too high for them to migrate in and out. We were not disappointed because we saw everything: wildebeast, water buffalo, zebras galore, hyenas, jackals, millions of pink flamingos, hippos, one lion, elephants, rhino off in the distance, monkeys and the usual gamut of birds we couldn't identify. All in all, a fantastic day. Our last of the 3 days, we visited the Tarangire National park and were a bit disappointed because most of the animals had left the park (probably going to Lake Manyara) . But we did get to see some beautiful giraffe and lots of elephant families. Hope the picts will turn out well. One of the highlights was driving through the Masaii lands which surround the game parks. The Masaii are a tradiitional tribe that are known for the men in their bright red robes, carrying spears, and the women with colorful necklaces and other beaded jewlery and bracelets. The Masai dotted the countryside along the roads and herding their cattle. We will never forget seeing the young boys who were dressed in all black with faces painted with various white stripes and markings. Apparently, as part of their circumscision rites of passage, they dress this way for 2 months.

Then we headed north to Kenya for some R&R.

Side note: Manic depression. This trip is about the highs and lows. Any given day can be incredibly exciting and full of adventure around every bend. Or it can be completely dull and boring, sitting and waiting. The manic part is the absolute thrills that Africa has to offer in the way of 18-hour honking buses, aggressive touts selling wood carvings or tickets to those honking buses, or precariously-overcrowded boat rides, or loud music blaring at all hours of the night. The "depression" part is not bad, just boredom that comes from isolation. We miss hanging out with good friends. We meet nice local people on the road or other expat travelers, but it's not the same as family and friends.

After the jammed-packed adventures of Kilimanjaro and the Game Parks of Africa, we needed to rest on some beach and read trashy paperbacks to rest our weary bones. Weary because of the pot-holed roads. Other travelers had recommended Lamu, an island off the coast of Kenya's eastern seashore. So, we jumped in a bus to Nairobi (directly north of Arusha) and arranged our next leg of the journey. We toyed with the idea of going to Zanzibar but opted not to go since we heard it was expensive and touristy. We decided to splurge on a flight from Nairobi to Lamu. We spent 2 days in Nairobi and loved the city. It wasn't what we expected because many travelers and guidebooks say how dangerous it is. Thankfully, we had no problems and welcomed the moderness of the city and got our business done: collecting snail mail which turned out to be only 2 pieces of mail, confirmed our planes tickets with Egypt Air, and bought a one-way ticket to Lamu with Air Kenya.

So, remember what I mentioned about the "manic"ness of Africa. Our 20-seat airplane did not disappoint. In the lap of luxury (a plane ride is our equivalent of luxury on this budget journey), we boarded a plane full of other muzungus (translation is synonomous with "white" or "foreigner" or "gringo", it's the same word that was muttered or yelled at us in each African country). (Chris here - I beg to differ, I believe the correct interpretation is, "Hey whitey, white-boy, white, white, white-whitey! ...And you too, whitey white-girl!") Instead of going the cheap route to Lamu from Nairobi by chicken bus, we opted to spend the extra shillings and get there quickly. We would tough it out on the way back. So the luxury flight began. About 12 passengers settled in for a relatively short one and half hour ride. About 20 minutes into the flight, normal small-plane turbulence rocked the plane and the "Fasten Seat Belt" signs flashed on. Then the real roller coast began. Our plane plummeted out of the sky for 10 seconds and our stomachs shot through our mouths. Well, at least mine did because Chris seemed unaffected. He told me to stop gripping his leg with my hand each time the plane fell 1000 feet out of the sky. I was sure we were going to die. My heart raced and it felt like an eternity each time the plane bounced up and down but miraculously each time it resumed it's normal pattern. It felt like a roller coast car that kept falling off it's track on the asent or descent. I was either at the point of tears or vomit but Chris seemed un-fazed because he can sleep through anything. Later I found out that it was because this plane fortunately had a toilet and Chris was experiencing some slightly irregular intestinal problems. Read "diarrhea". Read "will be expelled wherever and whenever". So, he was just relieved that he did not have to squat in the back of the plane next to the flight attendant and die of embarrassment. I was sure we were going to die a long, and agonizing death crashing in the Kenyan countryside. The cries of fear mixed with laughter from the other passengers only made me feel silly for over-reacting. Some people even seemed to be enjoying the ride. Then a little 5-year old Dutch girl started crying and I commiserated. I was right there with her but wouldn't allow the tears to flow but inside, I was just like her.

On to Peace and Quiet. The island of Lamu is a tropical island of mangroves, white sandy beaches, white-washed houses that have not changed in hundreds of years. Almost all of its inhabitants are Muslim and their influence is apparent: lots of mosques and intricately-carved doorways, men wearing the traditional long white robes and Islamic caps, women wearing the black robes and veils with nothing showing but their dark eyes. There are no cars on the island and donkeys roam free. The Indian ocean is beautiful and the beach uncluttered. Fine, white sand as far as the eye can see. Sand dunes line the edges of the beach like freckled cheeks. Palms sway in the breeze and donkeys "hee-haw" as they pitter patter down the narrow white-washed alleys. The island has no roads, only chaotic maze-like paths cutting through the buildings. At most, only 2 or 3 people could squeeze by at once or possibly one-person plus a donkey transporting grain or cement bags.

When we arrived, touts escorted us into the village and carried our bags to a house that was recommended to us by other travelers. It did not disappoint us and after an hour of haggling over the daily price, we rented it for 11 nights. It was much bigger than we needed because it could sleep 12 people. It had at least 4 "rooms". It was a multi-storied house with no walls....all open air with Escher-like stairways leading off to secret rooms and palm-thatched roof-tops lazing underneath the African sky. Bougainvillea 3 stories high flowered gorgeous fushia-colored pedals. Arched doorways and wrought-iron gates peek around mysterious corners. 5 times a day the Muslim arabic Call to Prayer was magnified over the village loudspeakers. Every morning at 4:45AM the local regilious fanatic would scamper down the narrow pathway just below our "open-air" house to wake everyone up by yelling their name until they replied that they were awake. By the end of our stay, we were ready to strangle this guy. I guess he wanted to make sure that every Ali and Mohammed were awake before the Call to Prayer came on at 5:15AM for the first of the day's prayers. Chris started yelling back at him, but the guy only thought he was the people he'd been calling, and moved on a little quicker. We spent most of our two weeks lazing around the house reading books, napping, and playing cards at sunset. It was very nice and relaxing. The beach was a 45-minute to an hour walk in 90 percent humidity, so we only went occasionally.

After 11 nights, we felt rejuvenated and were ready to get moving. To get from the island to the mainland, we took a short 30 minute dhow ride (30 foot wooden boat with a diesel motor) and loaded onto our "Express" bus. The road to Mombassa can at best be described as a washed-out riverbed interspersed with washboard stretches that rattled our teeth and buns for 8 hours. All while accompanied by 4 armed guards carrying AK47s hired as our protection. The 3 buses making the journey to Mombassa from Lamu travel in convoys because of past violent robberies in the Northeastern Kenyan countryside. We had no problems during our journey and in fact, one of our guards even fell asleep. I kept my eyes open for bandits lurking behind baobab trees but saw nothing but dead weeds. Of course, like all good African bus drivers, each of the 3 buses had to continually race each other and overtake one another going around corners and up hills! To make the ride even more colorful, I have to tell you about few of our fellow-passengers. In front of us, I already mentioned the army-fatigued guards with rifles, to our forward right was a man with no iris or pupil. Mr. Gougey. Behind in the back of the bus, a man delirious with malaria kept raving and jumping up out of his seat only to be muscled back into place by his friends..., to our direct right was a Muslim woman garbed all in black, and behind us on the left was a young teenage girl carrying a live chicken hanging upside down by its feet and squawking its complaints about it. About halfway through the bus journey, we pulled over and were stopped out of the blue by a plain white car. When Chris said hand-cuffed prisoners were getting on, I thought he was kidding. He wasn't and 3 prisoners were escorted onto the bus by 2 plain-clothed men. The Muslim woman then got off soon after, but not before standing in the aisle to gather her things and elbow me in the face so that her entire black-robed sleeve was draped over the top of my head and in my face. She stood there while the bus was rolling along for about 5 minutes like that and I didn't say a word (I have adopted the African habit of grinning and bearing it) which of course made us both laugh.