I Wish I Could Fly

Crossing back into Tanzania, we walked across border from Rwanda and took a taxi to the next village where we decided to stay overnight. Definitely interesting. We stayed in a small guest house for 3500Tsh. We ate rice and beans.

We purchased our bus tickets to Mwanza that evening. The bus was leaving at 600 so we made it a plan to head to bed early. Not that going to bed early was hard now. It was almost like a routine. 2100 was feeling like midnight.

That morning we waited in the cold for the bus to arrive. The "sales agent" who sold us the tickets was there too. When the bus came, it was full. No seats. Boy were we happy and did that guy ever get an earful.

It would be a long journey and every bus ride is a gamble with death. This trip was the deadliest of all. I thought I was going to die. No word of a lie. Bumps, rain pouring in the window, swerving. It was all in front of my eyes. My entire life in this bus drivers hands. I wish I could fly.

But we made it. Finally to Mwanza. This city is right on Lake Victoria. A beautiful place. Not much to do, but beautiful.

Carla would be flying out in two days back to Canada. I would be heading back to Morogoro...by bus...and staying with our safari guide. He is letting me stay with him until I figure out what to do next.