Here’s something strange I learned: once you get used to the rocking motion of the boat at sea, the rocking doesn’t stop when you’re on land – bizarre, but true. This effect is especially pronounced in small spaces like showers and toilet cubicles, as well as when you close your eyes. It’s only made worse – or better, as the case may be – by consuming copious amounts of beer.
Suffice to say, the next day we nurse minor hangovers. Somehow, though, we find the strength to venture into town to shop at the local markets for fresh fruit, vegetables and other supplies. Fresh food is really cheap, and its quality is exceptional. The only problems we encounter are the horrible stench of fish and old meat (not easily tolerated by those with sensitive stomachs), and having to haggle a little to get the prices to current market value (as opposed to special prices for anyone looking even remotely foreign).
Tanzanian people are renowned for their friendly disposition, and the inhabitants of Tanga are no exception. A man Jenni and I meet at the market place offers to drive us out to the Amboni Caves, a couple of miles outside Tanga.
The drive takes about half an hour, but feels longer because of the sweltering heat. Clambering out the vehicle, a quick glance is enough to prove that the diversion was worth all the sweat: the entrance is next to a river, so the surrounding bush is lush and green. The caves themselves are moist, damp and cool. For a couple of hundred shillings, we are given a tour guide around the caves; he also ensures that we don’t get lost. He makes a torch out of plaited palm fronds, which burn slower so light the way for much longer. Local mythology and legend surround the caves, but because our guide cannot speak much English these are imparted mostly in Swahili. Our driver, however, fills in the gaps along the way back.
