This place is crazy.

I just returned, feeling moderately victorious, from my first big walk around Arusha by myself. Liza's out of town this weekend working on our organization's legal NGO status, so I'm left a little bit to my own devices ... which is certainly daunting, but probably a good thing for the long term! I decided to venture out after taking some time around the house to relax and put down a big, round straw mat in my room for a kind of rug. (The floors are concrete, which helps keep the house nice and cool, but it also makes the room feel kind of like a cell.) It looks nicer now. I also have a newer, fancier mosquito net to hang up (we sleep under them every night), if I can get my spacial reasoning skills to function later.

Of course I was a little bit nervous to go out by myself, because I've heard a lot about African men staring at white women, asking them to marry them, and being in generally a little sketchy. The staring is certainly true, and you can see why: on my forty-minute walk into town, I saw only two other white people. (Once you're actually in town, there are more white tourists and residents, but still a tiny minority.) There were certainly some suggestively raised eyebrows, a few whistles, and some hisses (my least favorite) from the men, but in general, everyone is kind. They smile, and look pleased (or maybe they're amused) to hear you use Kiswahili. Going out by myself was a fantastic way to see my neighborhood up close, and to practice my greetings!

On my walk, I conversed at length with three men. The first, Richard, was a young Tanzanian guy who stopped me and began speaking to me in very good English. He began to walk alongside me on my way into town, which made me a little nervous at first, but he ended up being a wonderful person to meet! He was extremely gregarious as he regaled me with stories about the other (probably young, female) foreigners he had welcomed into Arusha and shown around town. He explained the difference between himself, a nice guy, and the 'flycatcher' men who were prowling the roundabout in the middle of town, talking to foreigners, trying to get them to come into shady shops or be paid to show wazungu around town. (Later, when I was alone, these men were quite aggressive.) I let him show me a craft market in town, where I impressed him by using Swahili with the vendors. Then I told him I needed to stop in at one of the airline offices (which I did, sort of), just in case Richard ended up being less innocent than he seemed. But he truly was a nice guy: he never asked for money or was sketchy, and seemed genuinely friendly. This was a pleasant surprise.

The second man, Harry, was a tourist from Southern Scotland. He was sitting alone in the coffee shop that I ducked into to avoid the flycatchers described above. We struck up a conversation, which consisted mainly of Harry's glum, flustered complaints about Africa. He'd been traveling all over the continent, and seemed to come away from the place largely remembering the poor service, dirt, poverty, and discomfort. I listened sympathetically; he seemed like a nice guy who wasn't cut out for solo travel in Africa. Then, I discovered he'd done a similar trip before, and was returning to see friends he'd made it in several countries! Then, he began to complain in a similar way about Heathrow Airport in London! Some people just know how to complain. It was actually kind of funny, and I didn't mind sitting in the cool, safe coffeeshop to make him feel better.

The third, Mike, was an extremely tall Tanzanian guy on the way to work at his duka (little roadside store). He was very cute, friendly, and said I had good Swahili.

It's amazing what you run into when you travel by yourself.

Photos aren't working so well right now, but I'll keep trying.