Life now, version two

Well, life now has taken a bit of a turn toward the east.

We've moved from Togo to Tanzania!

So, from now on this blog will be all about our life and experiences in Dar es Salaam.

First impressions? Tanzania and it's people are lovely -- Dar is a big city which is a huge change from sleepy Lome.  There are shopping centres, plenty of huge grocery stores stocking most everything one could want. There is a huge variety of restaurants, way, way more expats than Togo and real, proper mind-numbing traffic jams.

We'll keep this blog going with the occasional tip for those moving to Tanzania.

First tip: If you're getting your visa at Julius Nyerere International Airport in Dar es Salaam, be prepared to wait for several hours in a poorly air-conditioned arrivals hall with no access to water or food. There are bathrooms.

There is a person, usually a uniformed police or customs official, wandering around taking cash and passports. He will deliver it to the customs officials doing the actual visa processing, you just need to find him in the crowd of people and shove them into his hands.

Hours later, once processed, a timid voice (usually of a very short and quiet) customs official will squeak out a name. This causes a crush of people to run forward, each thinking they heard their name. If unfunny things make you laugh when you're tired, hungry and overheated, it's hilarious.

Rugged Luggage

Generally, we're firm believers in travelling light and living with what can be found in local shops. 

However, there are still things that can't be found -- or are of poor quality and high price-- that are more easily bought abroad. 

The main concern for me has always been: "OK, so you bought that new slow cooker crock pot. How are you going to get it to Togo in one piece?" 

Well, I think I've finally found the solution. 

On the way to Heathrow with our new hard-sided 'tool boxes' -- which make great rugged luggage. 

Travelling with soft-sided suitcases is good and blends in well -- but leaves breakables vulnerable to crushing. And those hard-sided plastic suitcases still flex too much for my liking.

The ultimate in protection would be a Pelican Case, but they weigh too much and cost way, way too much. I don't need it to withstand a bulldozer and be completely waterproof. Just a hard-sided, rugged airline OK sized box to put my stuff in.

While on a recent trip to the UK, I began searching for such a box. Which led to some difficulties with the English language. (Do I call it a plastic footlocker, a trunk, a case, a bin -- definitely not!)

After days of looking at and for a Gorilla Box (Chimp size, to meet airline size regulations) and googling for distributors of Contico and Sterilite containers, I nearly gave up.  I even started looking at hard-sided suitcases again.

And then, with time running out, I decided to look at tool boxes. Shortly into my search I came across a polypropylene tool box with wheels and multiple carrying points and handles. 

The best thing? A shop a few miles outside of London had them in stock. So off I went to find the Multi Utility Box (MUB) by GT Line. 

It's rugged, light-weight (6.3kg empty) and holds a lot of stuff (89 L.)

It even has 4 padlock holes, so you can lock it up (or zip-tie as I prefer) for the flight. 

The dimensions are just a tiny bit over most airline regulations of 62 linear inches, but I've travelled with mine and have had no problems.

Other than that, I don't know what else to say. It works for travel to Africa. And makes a great storage container on arrival. 

A small note: when travelling to Africa, we've found that customs officials are attracted to shiny new luggage. Make yours look old with some scuffs and duct tape before your journey. The same goes for whatever appliances or goods are inside. Leave nothing new in the box and remove all price tags

Substitutions for real things

When packing the 6 suitcases of our earthly belongings in preparation for the move to Togo, there were a few things we really thought we would miss. But, thanks to technology, great supermarkets and some pleasant surprises, here are a few things we actually don't have to live without.

Family & Friends - Going a long time without seeing friends and family is tough, but having Skype sure makes a whole lot easier! The other night we had the chance to talk to both our sets of parents and even the grandparents all within 1 hour, even though they live in different provinces and were on the other side of the world.

Current North American TV programs. We are able to stay up to date by accessing streaming TV thanks to websites like sidereel and watchseries. Due to the slow internet connection shows take a few hours to load but we can usually watch them the day after they have aired back home. Some of our favorites right now include Canada's Worst Driver 7, Glee, NCIS La and The Mentalist.

Oma or mom's homemade canned peaches. Here peaches in a can taste gross. They are almost salty tasting. At omas house or moms house canned peaches are available even throughout the winter months and they taste great with ice cream. The other day we went to the import grocery store and found this peach compote in a can. Not having high hopes we bought one can of it and one week later, it was empty! It tastes almost like home and goes great on toast in yogurt and in smoothies. We'll have to try some of the other fruit compotes from this company.

Cheese. Since Togo is a former French colony there are many French foods one can find at the import grocery stores called Ramco and Champion. Smoked Gouda, cheddar, mozzarella, Swiss, parmesan, it's all here.

Nutella. D loves this stuff and I have weakness for it as well especially on freshly ripened finger bananas from the market.

Fresh bread. White bread, whole wheat bread, baguettes, flat bread, rye bread it all exists here. There are bakeries that sell this stuff as well as bicycle riding vendors who will drive by your house every morning with fresh bread in the boxes on the back of their bike.

Root beer. Its one of our favorite types of pop. While there are rumours of its existence at the US Embassy, we found it locally! The other day we were in Ramco and noticed this can of pop which claimed to be Sarsi flavour. It was imported from Malaysia and Sarsi turns out to be Short for sarsaparilla -- root beer! We are not ashamed to admit that we are hoarding quite a bit of the stuff.

Swimming. The strong current in the ocean makes swimming impossible or very, very dangerous at the beach. But there are plenty of places with swimming pools overlooking the ocean. You have to pay about $2-$5 but it is worth it. At the club the school owns D and I get to swim for free and, yes, it's lovely.

Two wheels or four?

As many of you know, we packed along two motorcycle helmets in our luggage. We planned on purchasing a motorcycle to zip around town on. When required, the thought was D could use it when off on assignment as well. Small, cheap, blend in with the crowd, good on gas, easy to fix -- what could be wrong with that?

But our plans have since changed. We are now looking for a car -- here's why:

While vacationing in Benin, we got caught in a sudden torrential downpour. (Trees across the roads-wind pushing the rain sideways-roads turning into rivers-can't see five feet in front of my face rain.) Thankfully we were in a vehicle. Watching motorcyclists scramble like drowning rats for any semblance of shelter planted the first notion that perhaps a motorcycle might limit our travels.

About a week later, we had some shopping to do in downtown Lomé, so we hailed a cab here in 'la Caisse' (literally, 'the cashbox' -- an affectionate nickname for our neighbourhood.) Within two minutes we had veered into oncoming traffic a few times, nearly side-swiped some very expensive SUV's and almost taken off a few motorcyclists' legs.

Turns out our taxi driver was not only drunk out of his gourd, but one of his front wheels was about to fall off. We calmly asked him to pull over at the earliest opportunity. As we tried in vain to hail another cab, two thoughts crept into our minds. Firstly, not all taxi drivers (or their cabs) are reliable. Secondly, I wouldn't want to be a motorcyclist when that cabbie is still on the loose.

Eventually we made it to the Grande Marche, finished our shopping and caught a cab back to 'la Caisse.' The drive was uneventful, until we came up to the entrance to the neighbourhood. A car had struck several motorcyclists -- injured people laying on the ground, motorcycle bits strewn across the roadway, etc.

Before that horrifying scene had a chance to sink in, a clap of thunder and a smattering of rain reminded us to hurry the last block home.

We didn't make it. Just as in Benin, the rain which we thought was at least 15 minutes away was upon us in a flash. Crazy downpour. Again. Now we were the absolutely soaked rats.

As we stood on the flooded street, trying not to think of all the goodies mixed in the rain water swirling at our ankles and over D's nice Josef Siebel sandals, the last nail struck Mr. Motorcycle's coffin.

And now, the search for a car begins...



The street after the five minutes of rain that changed our mind.

Togo Tummy

Well, it has finally arrived.

At first I figured that I had made it unscathed -- that somehow my innards were more fortuitous than the rest.

But thanks to some suspect prawns cleverly disguised in a scrumptious coconut-tomato sauce -- Togo Tummy has arrived.

At first, it was just a rumble in the distance followed by some awkward squirming.

But by this evening, I was sprinting toward any porcelain pot in sight.

And internal events can be influenced by external surroundings...

Whilst making my way toward the neighbourhood supermarche, Ramco, I began to notice the rumbling once again.

'It will be a quick shopping trip, nothing much -- just some deli meat, cheese and some cereal,' I reasoned.

I can control my functions for five minutes, right?

But unfortunately, Ramco has bone-chilling air-conditioning, which, as I found out immediately, speeds up time.

Three minutes later, Natalie was left to do the shopping on her own, whilst I bolted for the door.

Once outside in the sticky heat of the night, things settled down long enough for me to march home.

Also, Pepto Bismol is a great invention.

What ifs...

Sometimes I have difficulty sleeping because I fall into the what if while I am trying to drift off. The what if game goes something like this

What if I don't get a teaching job overseas this year?
What if I have to work here this year?
What if I don't even get a job here? What will I do?
What if I had gone to the international recruitment fairs? If I went would I have gotten offered a job overseas?
What if I had graduated two years sooner or even last year? Maybe I would have a job or at least a bunch of prospective offers for employment.
What if I never finished school and just stayed overseas way back when I first went?
What if...

I know its bad to get stuck in this game as it messes with my head and even my heart to some extent. It makes me loose sleep. It makes me feel ill. It makes me mad. It makes me sad.

I try to remain positive but the window of overseas opportunities continues to shrink at an alarming rate. I wish I had better news. All I can say is there are only 7 countries left. Only 8 more schools. And then I have the answer is it there or here this year. Then I begin living in some of those what if's...