Cheesy Tales - Illicit Monkey Viewing - 24 May 2002
A little bit of cheese goes a long way
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A little bit of cheese goes a long way
The plan was to go and swim with the dolphins down at Kamikaze (it's on the map kindly provided by Willy the webmaster) or some such. Actually, we needed some directions as to how to get there and so I popped my head into the diving shack next door to our bungalow complex.
I was only asking for a map and so I came away quite mindblown when I was given directions to the Funky Shamba, the name of a top dolphin guide and a large lump of European cheese to take to him. All very strange, but it turns out the this guy, Florian, helps out at the diving school from time to time and misses quality cheese (as we all do). Darlene, the proprietress, had just returned from Europe with the necessary.
We made our way south and discussed the notion of not actually turning up, but scoffing the cheese instead. We really fancied this dolphin thing, though, and so we fought off our intestinal desires.
Darlene had given us another tip for the trip down. On the way is the Jozani Forest which is home to a unique variety of Colobus monkey. If you want to see them, you must go into the conservation area where they promptly walk you back to the roadside where the little fellas congregate. To ensure attendance and payment at the forest, there is a no stopping policy on the main road. I did my best to work out the exact mileage to the forest so that I could turn off the fuel a mile or so short and feign a petrol crisis so that we could stop and see the monkeys for free. How tight is that? Of course, the plan failed and we cruised the length of the forest without so much as a hiccup. Although we scanned the trees on the way past, there was no sign. Obviously they had more brains than us and were sheltering somewhere from the persistent rain.
Pat has just totally embarrassed me, by letting rip to the loudest fart, in the smallest Internet caff in the world, with two black clad Islamic women and a fully attired Masai warrior as company. Bizarre or what? This certainly shatters any illusions that tribes people are behind the times.
The way to the gaff in the south took us down roads of sharp coral gravel, and I worried that it was sod's law that while our pump and spare tyres were sat in Dar Es Salaam we would inevitably have a puncture.
Into the bargain I was irritated by the locals deliberately misdirecting us to guide us to their brother's/cousins hotel. Trying to explain that we had a delivery for someone and we had to find a particular hotel fell on coral ground.
Eventually after a number of abortive turnings we found the place, which we fall in love with and I will make a feeble attempt to try and describe. The place was created by a New Zealander and a German, who had made no compromises on mod cons but had used a hybrid of Flintstones, Henri Moore and traditional building styles to create en-suite thatched huts. The place has only 2 huts completed and is planning to be fully open in 6 months, I recommend it to all those who like a few comforts but want to feel at one with nature. How Hippyish do I sound? They are also planning to be pretty self-sufficient on the fruit and veg front, growing all manner of spices and exotic fruit.
The recipient of our delivery was in Stone Town, ironically as we had passed through on the way down. He was attending a funeral and was unsure how long an island funeral may take. We relaxed for the evening with their cordial assistant Abdilla. We resisted the urged to taste the cheese which we knew to be sitting in the fridge beckoning to be consumed.
The following day the owner emerged late morning, after arriving back from an extended wake at 4.30am. Florian was a cool German, who seemed to have an efficient African attitude. Laid back, but things still get done. We chatted and he confirmed our worries about dolphin swimming. Saying that all the boats locally, pursue the poor creatures and then allow umpteen tourists to dive in with them. That only scares the animals down to the bottom of the sea bed not to be seen again. I think we will wait till we find more dolphin friendly tourist boats.
This was the only occasion on the whole trip that we have bargained a hotelier up! The official cost of a hut was $20 a night, they were asking 10. Since it was, we felt, superior to other places where we had paid 15 we settled on that on the basis that we'd love their resort to be a success. Clearly European cheese is the thing to bring out, if you want a reduction in hotel bills.
We managed to catch the Colobus monkeys using the previous tactic as we shot back to Stone Town. We hoped to see if the Hot Rockers had turned up and found that not only, but also there were the four Water Aid cyclists. We had a jolly evening catching up on everyoneís movements (travel that is) and gossip. Rex negotiated the hire of a couple of motorbikes and we all watched from the balcony of the Africa House Hotel as he kangarooed up the road. How he convinced the owner to hire out the bike, I'll never know, as it was clear that he'd never ridden a bike before in his life.
We wait with baited breath for the arrival on the island of Johnny (tiddly winks champ) and the new crowned queen of shooter drinking at the Masarani Snake Park, Fi. It seems that the Hot Rockers had managed to amply fill the off season coffers for Ma by a bit of serious relaxing.
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Poor Stevie and Brumus are still stuck in Nairobi as they had had a few problems getting stuck in muddy roads when they went out and about. Andy (Grizzly Adams) is also still stuck in Nairobi awaiting a correct sized piston to arrive. That must be at least a month he's been there so far. The repair of our gearbox seems more and more incredible by the day.
Johnny and Fi turned up at last and it looked as though Johnny was in a pretty bad way. He'd had his plaster removed from his arm the previous day but is now suffering from a dreadful virus which has had him coughing and spluttering and not eating for a few days. Surely his run of bad luck must finish soon.
Fi was hale and hearty and only paled a little as she recalled her shooter drinking evening at Ma's bar. Got a bit confused when she described the bar thus. "So you were drinking shooters in a Mars Bar? How odd." Seemingly she and Wayne had managed to tuck away 125 between them. This is a new record for a man/woman combination. I guess that should read mixed doubles but it's a bit corny. I'm sure my old man will soon email me to tell me what a terrible influence the Hot Rockers are on his innocent little son.
We've got to get back to Dar es Salaam to argue with the bank that re-swallowed our cash into the cash till as we didn't pull it out fast enough. They assured us that the money will be credited back to our account, but as yet there is no sign. STANDARD CHARTERED are a bunch of robbers - pass it on. We are planning a sit in until we get our money back, but are a little worried that African patience will last longer than ours. We are equipped with books and the like, but may have difficulty with the guards when we set up the petrol stove to make tea in their reception. We shall see.