Tanzania (part 4)

I had decided that I wanted to go to the coast and left on the tenth day for Tanga, which I picked over Zanzibar for economic reasons. I got ripped off of course at the bus station, paying a tout a luggage fee that I afterwards learned did not actually exist, bye bye $5. I don't mind long bus trips. And here I've learned not to mind either a lack of any personal space during on these trips. The trip was beautiful though, starting in the lush jungle area in the raid shadow of Mt. Meru, proceeding through the desert that followed, entering into the rain shadow of Mt. Kilimanjaro (though not being able to see the mountain itself due to a foggy morning) then back into desert, then passing miles and miles of Cycil (sp?) plantation which I originally mistook for Pineapple plants due to a similarity of appearance, and then an hour or so of palm trees. I arrived in Tanga late afternoon. There were about 10 men promising to be my taxi before the bus even came to a complete stop. One of them grabbed my bag before I was even off the bus and started off to his taxi. Third World Travel Trip: Never ever go with the first tout that approaches you, always avoid the most aggressive helper wannabies and instead pick the ones in the rear, the ones who appear to have been beaten to punch. If you pick the most aggressive characters, as I have tended to do, they will feel that their aggressiveness has earned them something, they will feel that they have won you, and they will be more inclined to use aggressive behavior to manipulate you further into their will. Conversely if you pick the stragglers, you create a scenario in which your tout's good fortune comes from your own beneficence and not so much the application of his calculated and forceful demeanor, thus increasing the chances that his stance towards you is one of gratitude and that he will deal with you more as a generous benefactor who will hopefully reward him if he treats him well rather than a vulnerable tourist who can be coerced into coughing up some extra spare change.

The following anecdote will illustrate this principle: Though I was rather irritated with the man who had taken up my bag and headed toward his taxi, and though I had stopped him and took my bag from him, I proceeded to enter into negotiations with him. There were a couple of hotels I had found online that I was considering, namely Ocean Breeze hotel and Inn by the Sea. I was leaning toward Inn by the Sea because I had heard it was actually ocean front (a fact that my tout readily affirmed) whereas Ocean Breeze, though cheaper, was actually in the downtown area. The taxi tout wanted 5000. I said 3000. He said ok and I realized that I needed to work on my bargaining skills (btw the exchange rate is about 1$ to 1300Tsh). Just then one of the other taxi men exclaimed that he'd take me for 2000. This man looked more desperate but not forcefully so. Looking at him I knew that I'd rather ride in his taxi than with the impatient volatile man that had been the first one to take my luggage. However my more passive nature did not want to upset this man with whom I had originally entered into negotiations, and I felt in that moment a kind of obligation to him for having talked to him first so I decided that if he met 2000 that I would stay with him despite having preferred to go with the kinder looking man. He did of course, but reluctantly. His reluctance set off alarms in my head and twice more I checked with him, "2000?" "You will take me for 2000, not 3000?" "Your sure, 2 000?" "yes, yes yes" he replied, "2000" rather curtly, and he hurried me to his taxi, which actually wasn't his, he was only touting for it, which confirmed my tuitions that I ought to have gone with the other man. On the way to the hotel he angrily vented to the driver, I'm guessing against the man who had under bid him. The hotel cost more than I expected. From internet guides I thought it'd be 10000-15000 but the manager insisted upon 20000 and would bargain, which I at the time blamed on the tout who accompanied me into the lobby against my will. I didn't want to go to a different place because I knew that my angry taxi tout would be sure to over-charge any deviation from the original plan in order to make up for being underbid at the bus station. I conceded. My bargaining troubles did not end there however as my taxi tout refused to accept the 2000 we had agreed upon and threatened to take me to the police for not paying him. "This is not possible, my friend!" he yelled at me, "Do you know how much petrol costs now?" "We agreed on 5000!" "3000 is ok, but not 2000!" I was agitated, I felt a little sorry for him for having been under bid the way he was, but I was sick and tired of being conned by touts and I was not going to budge on this issue. I told him to call the cops, left the 2000 on the desk and went to my room. The hotel concierge stood and watched the entire 1/2 hour scene with indifference, I got the feeling that he expected I should pay and when he pretended not to speak English when I asked him to help me get rid of this lying tout I was sure that the two were in some kind of unspoken cahoots against the mazungu (Swahili for white man, also used in Shona btw).

In all it was probably the worst hotel experience of my life. The hotel was not ocean-front, it was bay-front. The "beach access," for which I had favored this hotel over the Ocean Breeze place, led to a mangrove forest (known in Africa as "malaria trees" because of their excellent hospitality towards mosquitoes) covering the shore. But even if I could have accessed the water I wouldn't have wanted to swim in that filthy water. The promised hot water showers were cold, not even luke warm, just cold. The room was dirty and smelly like the bay. The Muslim concierge obviously didn't give a shit, was decidedly difficult to communicate with, and spent most of his time behind the main building smoking cigarettes and sipping on his flask. But above all the place had zero security, no guards, no gates, no bars on the windows, nothing. In Africa, an evidential lack of security measures cannot possibly suggest a relatively safe community, especially not when all the neighbors are obviously armed to the teeth with barbed and electrical wires. A 12 year old girl could have kicked my door in, and an 8 year old could have picked the 18th century locking mechanism. The concierge added immensely to my paranoia. He insisted that it was perfectly safe for me to walk the 3 blocks down the pitch black, unlit streets to the nearest restaurant, and when I asked that he keep my laptop bag in the hotel safe while I was gone (as was explicitly suggested by signs posted up all around the hotel and inside the rooms), he flat out refused, twice (the second time in spite of my direct insistence), telling me that it was "no problem" that I could keep it in my room. At this point I was positively certain that the concierge was in cahoots with the taxi tout and some form of organized crime syndicate that robbed helpless tourists like me who refused to play generous money games with taxi touts. Instead of getting dinner I locked myself in my room, hid all my valuables through-out the room, and piled all the furniture against the door. I slept wearing my headlamp with the light on and both my knives; blades already out, against my side.

The next morning I ate my complimentary breakfast (an egg and toast with tea) and walked with all my stuff the 2.5 miles back to the bus station, adamant never to stay another night in Tanga. The walk was rather pleasant actually, I spent first half of it alongside a fellow tourist. He was a 59 year old man with an accent I couldn't quite peg. I overcame him as he was taking a photo of Baobab tree. When I caught his attention he told me what kind of tree it was, apparently expecting me to share his touristy interest. I didn't give a shit, but I didn't mind being able to talk with someone who didn't see me as a source of income. He told me he grew up in some Arab county, Iraq or Iran, I forget, and then he went to school in Germany and got a job in Spain from which he had recently retired. He divorced his wife when he left Germany, or she divorced him, I forget, and he was sorry about it but he had to move to Spain, that's where his job sent him, she didn't want to move to Spain and he was sorry for that. He had a girlfriend in Kenya now. She wanted him to come back to her. He wanted to see Tanzania and Malawi first. He was her sugar daddy.