dar es salaam

Translates from Arabic to Home of Peace. Three nights in Tanzania’s biggest city at a hostel with stable Wi-Fi and AC gave us a much-needed place to catch our breath.

love letter to the slow leopard

Leopards were probably the only major animal we missed on our safari, but we’d get to know one pretty well. When we first pulled up to The Slow Leopard hostel at 2:00 am after our bus ride, however, we weren’t too thrilled. Half-awake, we scanned the cramped room with five bunks that the ten of us would be sharing. It wasn’t the prettiest accommodation we’d stayed in, with no decoration save the cushions on a concrete bench.

Things turned around in the morning when sleep deprivation was no longer clouding our perception. Outside our room, the hostel was charming—most of it a bamboo-sheltered outdoor space, the resident cats darting between the chairs and tables. I had a complimentary yogurt bowl with the sweetest fresh mango, watermelon, and pineapple for breakfast.

There was one bizarre night at The Slow Leopard where we were transported—to where? I’m not sure. But it certainly didn’t feel like Tanzania. Three Americans had begun rigging up their music equipment in the common area, and before we knew it we were the audience of a live concert. More audience members trickled in by the minute. We hadn’t been in the presence of so many white people for weeks. The music was even whiter—David Bowie, Noah Kahan, Tyler Childers, Fleetwood Mac. There were some curveballs: Chappell Roan, Katarina recognized in shock, a relatively small queer pop artist she had tickets to see upon her return home.

My moment was when they covered “All At Once” by Jack Johnson—one of my favorite songs of all time and has made me tear up more times than I’d want to admit. I listen to it whenever I need to feel grounded. Before I knew it, that tiny island of familiarity passed and I was back in a foreign place.

the gift of getting around

While we were staying in Arusha, even getting to a grocery store was a major logistical undertaking because of a lack of accessible transportation. Dar Es Salaam is the only city in Tanzania with operating rideshare services, like Uber and Bolt. I realized just how much I take that sort of mobility for granted—we had reliable transportation from the bus station past midnight, my friends could take themselves to a medical clinic, and we could avoid a 20-minute walk in the heat if we wanted The fixed rates, especially when split between us, were fantastic. We felt safer, more able to take care of ourselves, and more able to explore the city.

authenticity in tourism

On our second morning, a group set out on a city bike tour that had been recommended to us by a connection of Katarina’s. Named the Dar Reality Cycle, this tour promised to show us the lesser-traveled parts of the city, touch on socioeconomic issues, and allow us to sample local coffee and tea. I was so pleased when our guide, Mejah, delivered on all these expectations. He showed us his own neighborhood, little kids running to greet him and latch on to his legs as he explained what his childhood was like. He introduced us to the local midwife, who has served her community for over 40 years, and explained the uses and properties of the herbs in her garden that she uses for natural remedies. Taking in the aromas of a local spell shop, he told us how to manifest our dreams using dried starfish dust or craft a love spell using the powders of three different trees.

I loved learning about kanga, a rectangular piece of patterned cloth with a phrase in bold black letters near the border. These phrases are often Swahili proverbs, aphorisms, or popular sayings. Women typically wear wrapped around their waists as skirts. Mejah exposed the hilariously petty side of kanga, where the phrases can be used to beef with people. Going to the lengths of customizing a cloth with an insult, waiting for it to be made, and then wearing it around the targeted individual in hopes that they see it is petty in the most wonderful way.

I’d done a bike tour in Berlin as well, which by comparison made me aware of the lack of a safety briefing before hitting the chaotic Dar streets. But it also made me incredibly appreciative of the rawness of the way the tour was designed. We’d had an extremely performative experience at a Masai village in Arusha, which left a terrible taste in our mouths for the prevailing motive behind tourist attractions. Experiences like this one are such gems.

Currently in: Rabat, Morocco!

I’m here studying French and doing a journalism internship for 6 weeks. It’s the first time I’ll be solo for more than 5 days this year. But not lonely! Between my homestay and friends of friends, I’ve been able to explore the city with so many different people and already plan exciting trips for the future.

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