Lushoto, Here We Come!

Packed and seemingly ready for trip, B and I headed to bus terminal in Morogoro. C had already called us a taxi and he was waiting for us in the driveway. That was easy, too easy almost. We got on the first bus, Hood to Mombo. The bus ride was a little bumpy--to be expected--and for some reason the refrain "I'm going to die, I'm going to die" seemed to continually run through my head. Especially when the driver went at high speeds and soared over "speed bumps" along the way. The lady sitting next to me--which wasn't B, we had seats across the aisle from one another--insisted on spreading her legs out over the imaginary boundary I'd created between our seats, which required me to spill out into the aisle.

Expert eavesdropper that I am, I overheard that the next stop was Mombo and we followed my new friend Lucas to a smaller bus headed into the mountains for Lushoto. Even though the bus was all but empty, Lucas decided it was necessary to corner me into my window seat and proceed into a Swahinglish chat with me. Taken by the beauty of the uphill drive and the lush surroundings, I was unamused and unimpressed by his offers to escort B and I to Irente Viewpoint the next day. As we disembarked at Lushoto--a small bus station, but seemingly hectic nonetheless--we were met with the usual onslaught of "help." We headed quickly for the Green Garden Hotel which had two singles for us.

Ready to stretch our legs, we explored to market and ducked into the first decent looking restaurant we could find. The market was much more welcoming than its Morogoro counterpart. We were met with many more "Karibuni"s--welcome--a much needed relief from the "Wazungu!"s heard when we grace the Morogoro Market. At lunch a shy Nancy, aged 3, exhausted all the Swahili I know in about five minutes but seemed entertained just watching B and I eat.