Killing Time in Moshi

I’d consider Tanzania a bit of a culture shock in comparison to Rwanda. Sure, there are probably more similarities than differences, but after a week by myself in Rwanda, the differences are much more apparent. I’m making general statements here, but Tanzania (at least northern Tanz) is more on the beaten path/tourist track, bringing with it more paved roads, influx of cultures and variety. I’ve seen more white people in one hour here than I did in an entire week in Rwanda. Good, bad or indifferent, I can’t say. Just different.

What I will say is that after feeling totally by myself in Rwanda for a week, it is nice to come into contact with other like-minded travelers for a chat and story-sharing. Then again, there is something to be said about traveling solo and coming into more intimate contact with the local lifestyle. People tend to shut themselves off much more when in groups. The same can be said when traveling with lots of money. Solo, budget travel necessitates openness and really throwing yourself out there.

Case in point: back in Rwanda I was walking with Emmanuel from Gitare to Kidaho. As we walked through the villages, everyone smiled, waved and said hello to me. I mentioned to Emmanuel how nice everyone was and he told me that it was a treat for them to see a mzungu walking around. They infrequently see mzungus in the first place, but to see one actually walking as a form of transport was truly special. The only time they really see Westerners is as they whiz by in safari Land Rovers or taxis, waving from the windows.

It’s so true. Even walking around Moshi, if I veer off the main street or into the market, I’m usually the only tourist around. But if pop into a hotel’s bar/restaurant, it’s filled with Westerners. We certainly love to find our little sanctuaries, hovering above and not really scratching the surface of getting to know a place. Whatevs, to each his own. It does seem awfully boring to me, though. What makes the inside of a hotel in Moshi any different than that of one in New Jersey? Perhaps the paranoia associated with drinking the water, but I wouldn’t drink the water in Jersey, either.