So Long Arusha

We made it. Two months in Guta apartments with two forks shared between three people. Two months of dusty streets, mzungu pricing, and karibu everywhere you turn. Forget karibu. It's supposed to mean welcome in Swahili. But it really means "give me a second so I can size up how much I'm going to charge you for this." Don't get me wrong, there is a lot we will miss about Arusha: our guard Ima, our main taxi driver Nixon, the guy who sells oranges on the side of the road on the walk home, Picasso for lunch, and the non-mzungu pricing to name a few things. It has been a really good summer, but we are really ready to eat salad, drink tap water, and be able to walk outside after dark.

Off to Mafia Island (no relation to Sicily, although clearly potential natural sister-island; come to think of it, the owner of the first lodge where we are staying is Italian...) for a few days, then Dar, then Dubai, then home. Badai!