the best trip ever. part two.

Our safari was over and we still had two whole weeks left together. Great news. And the even better news was that things were about to get real.

The bus ride from Arusha to Singida is not exactly something you sign up to do for fun on a Saturday, but there we were – eating breakfast snacks we wrapped up from the hotel before getting on the bus (I had forgotten such a thing even existed, cinnamon rolls, muffins, and croissants, oh my!), eyeing a man who looked absolutely identical to Morgan Freeman and guessing as to what kind of character study he was doing undercover research for, and loving the view of the rolling hills, road construction and oncoming traffic (in which we all held our breath momentarily until a head on collision was avoided). My dad took over the demanding task of opening our bus window just as we were all about to pass out from stifling heat exhaustion and closing it as buses or huge lorries kicked up clouds of gritty red dust through our window and into our teeth. We picked up a passenger along the way who was eager to meet jeff and kath, and a few hours later we pulled into Singida for a night on the town with a gaggle of Peace Corps volunteers.

Up and down the streets of Singida we strolled, buying last minute gifts for neighbors and stocking up on fruits and veggies for the week ahead. The week ahead in my village, Sepuka.

From day one I was pumped about having my parents come visit me in Tanzania. But having them eat breakfast in my house, walk the paths between the clinic and the school and village center, climb the boulders behind my house to watch the red summer sun set, fetch bucket after bucket of water from the well, and meet and love my Tanzanian friends and family in another language was beyond words. We spent time with my counterpart’s family, toured the health clinic, checked out the World Map at the primary school, and still had time to love on my amazing site mate, Kiki, as they got a little glimpse of what my day to day looks like up close and personal. They met village government officials, my friend’s new baby, Samaki the little black kitten, my neighbors and extended family, and the countless others who greeted us as we moseyed around. We cooked dinners on my charcoal stove, and my dad fixed me up a nice stone path in my courtyard. Lazy days filled with translating ‘wow you look just like your mother!’ turned into cool nights as we cleaned rice, washed clothes and dishes, and told stories until the candles burned out. After over a year of hearing about my joys and my pains, the laughter and the tears, and the incredible moments that make my life as a peace corps volunteer worth waking up for every morning, they were finally able to live and breathe it, and begin to understand.









We hopped on a village bus passing by Sepuka and headed into Singida, spending the night in town before the last leg of our epic journey. My dad and I laughed as my mom lost the soap down the latrine hole in the bathroom. We ate ‘pizza’ at the Stanley, Singida’s classiest dining experience, and tucked under fleece blankets with puppies and ‘romantic lover dogs’ printed smack dap in the center. The next day we loaded on the bus headed to Dar es Salaam, despite the limited leg room. Looking to break the trip up a bit, we stopped in Morogoro to visit a friend who had recently started his Masters degree in environmental studies at a University there. We had lunch and told stories, answered questions and massaged our swollen feet before Humphrey escorted us back to the bus stand to catch a bus into the loud, dirty, and noisy booming city of Dar.


The rains came and went as our ferry crossed the open waters between Dar and Zanzibar. It was early morning and we were looking forward to linin’ up those chairs poolside and taking walks down one of the island’s most beautiful beaches. We arrived at Matemwe Beach mid-morning and didn’t take much time to lose the travel gear, slap on some sunscreen (thanks to our own personal cream master), and take a quick tour around the beach villas before settling into a few chairs at the pool with a great view of the white sand beach and the Indian Ocean.



We couldn’t have timed our arrival better. The full moon rose over the dark waters and lit up the beach like it was midday. Pre-dinner snacks and cocktails rang in the new moon and we made friends (of course, we’re joneses) with others visiting the Tanzanian island from all over the world. That dinner, and every other meal we had at Matemwe, was absolutely incredible. Tomato risotto, beef filets, and caramel crème dessert just to name a few, my dad and I partook in evening jogs down the beach so we could indulge in an equally exquisite meal the following day. We took walks down the wide beach as men returned from long days of fishing and women pulled in the last of their seaweed collections for the day. A dhow sailboat ride inside the reef was just what I needed. We zig-zagged into the wind and set a downwind tack for our ‘go-home’ route. Another amazing dinner and deep sleep in an air-conditioned room were just what I needed as I counted down the hours until Duncan would show up to spend the last few days with us on the island.

For someone who has been talking about going to Zanzibar since the moment we all set foot in this country, Duncan’s time at the beach was well worth the wait. Monday morning we all suited up and headed out on a small boat to a nearby island for some snorkeling. Now, my parents and I weren’t going to say anything, but I don’t think any of us expected much during this day trip. We couldn’t have been more wrong. The dinghy neared the island and one of the guides spotted a pod of dolphins surfacing to get more air just a short ways away from us. They told us to strap on those masks and get in the water as they pulled up right at the spot we had just seen these dolphins. Within seconds we had entered their underwater world, all sounds were drowned out by the absolute stillness of watching a baby dolphin nurse from its mother as she devoured a fish just below me. Soon they were swimming back up for air, around and in-between us. At one point the dolphin within 5 feet of me and I stared at it in awe, like I was intruding and watching something I shouldn’t be watching. The dolphins continued on their way, and we giddily made our way over to the reef for our scheduled snorkel tour. The fish on both sides of the island were beyond all of our wildest dreams. Blues, oranges, stripes, and polka dots flooded the spaces between the surface and the sand; the coral swayed and flowed with the current as we hovered above. We eagerly pointed out sea snakes and eels, new coral and Grama Sue’s favorite fish as we floated in our wet suits above a world we couldn’t even begin to understand the depth of. It started to get cold and the sprinkling rain wouldn’t let up so we all flipped ourselves back into the dinghy and set off back towards shore.





Dinners were a memorable time for all of us during those last few nights at the beach. Not only did we eat more delicious food as we drank bottles of red wine, but it gave Duncan and I a chance to pretend, if only for an evening, that we were just regular people on vacation, chatting and sharing embarrassing stories with my parents like normal people get to do all the time. For a short time we weren’t Peace Corps volunteers living amongst absurd poverty, we were normal people (I was even in a dress that stopped above my knee) out to dinner with my parents and it meant more than either one of us could express.


On the second to last day of our trip we left the resort and headed into Stone Town, the main city of Zanzibar located on the west coast of the island. The town center boasts the culture and heritage of both the old slave trade and the internationally renowned spice trade. Mazes and narrow alleys make up the heart of Stone Town, it’s shops, old carved wood doors, mosques, bazaars, and late night street food at the waterfront make this old city a hotspot for tourists while taking pride in the unique culture and history of Zanzibar.






The goodbye seemed to get harder the more days there were after the time we watched them walk through security at the airport. My dad put it best, ‘I didn’t realized how much I missed you until I saw you.’ Thanks mom and dad, for your unconditional love and support of whatever adventure I seem to find myself on. I wouldn’t be who I am today if you weren’t there with my every step of the way. I love you.