What Made Me So Amazed by Tanzania?

This trip was simply amazing, from start to finish. The incredible people I met, the stunning landscapes, and the many cultural differences—some of which were surprisingly positive.

Africa isn’t exactly a budget-friendly destination, certainly not as affordable as Asia, for instance. Maybe it’s because of the economic challenges. But it’s hard to shake off the feeling that every local sees you as a walking wallet.

I’d heard about dual pricing before, but I didn’t realize it extended even to those who consider themselves your friends. According to Chiaravutthi (2019), whether charging tourists more than locals feels fair depends less on the practice itself and more on how large the gap is and how it’s framed. Even when you do them a favor, they don’t feel the need to reciprocate when the opportunity arises.

But, of course, there were some remarkable exceptions. I remember a kind stranger who reached into his pocket to help me out when I was stuck at a hotel late at night (!).

They were asking me to pay again for a room I’d already settled. And I had no cash and a bus to catch. 

How Did I Learn to Deal With Tanzania’s Inflated Tourist Prices?

Despite such incidents, if you’re looking to unwind, this might not be the best place because you have to keep your wits about you. What troubled me most was how locals lied so effortlessly. I’d prefer prices to be upfront—this for visitors, that for locals.

Instead, you’re faced with inflated prices not only when buying souvenirs or taking taxis. But also in hotels, buses, and even pharmacies. No breaks given. 

After a week or two, I grew a thick skin and learned to negotiate. All in all, when I compared what I paid to what I could have ideally paid, I might have overpaid by $200.

Considering the total cost of the entire trip, which amounted to over 3,000 Euros, it was a modest sum. So, I felt quite pleased with myself, especially as a solo traveler venturing into a new country.

What Did My Three-Stage Trip Look Like?

During my two and a half weeks in Tanzania, I embarked on three distinct journeys. I started by climbing Kilimanjaro, followed by a safari. And concluded with a cruise to Zanzibar, where I spent three wonderful days.

Kilimanjaro is a bustling industry. Countless guides, cooks, and porters—utter chaos. There are six different routes to the summit, and I chose the six-day Machame route.

It stood out because it passed through five climatic zones (rainforest, alpine, sub-desert, desert, and Arctic) and went above 4,000m altitude four times, following the principle of ‘climb high, sleep low.’ This route offered the best acclimatization and had a high success rate of over 70% according to 2012 data. 

But it’s not as straightforward as it sounds. The service, though, was exceptional. Each tourist got a guide, cook, and two or three porters.

The guides and porters were quite impressive. Carrying 20-30 kg backpacks, they’d run ahead to ensure a hot meal, water from streams (often an hour away). And a tent were ready at camp.

The cook, an older man, was also remarkable. Despite missing half his teeth, he was just as agile as the youth, leaping over rocks with 30 kg on his back.

Why Are You Never Alone at Kilimanjaro?

I worried initially that going solo might be isolating, especially with a guide who struggled with English. But it turned out to be pleasant. Since camps were set up along the route, those who started on the same day as me continued in parallel.

This created a sense of familiarity as I saw the same faces each evening. The guides and porters were never bored; they knew each other well, and the evenings were lively for everyone. Kilimanjaro had its own culture, with specific songs and customs. 

For instance, between Barranco and Karanga, there’s a rocky, steep climb with a stone that must be held to pass. Each climber kisses the stone as they go by. The familiar refrain of “pole pole” (slowly, slowly) and other encouraging cries filled the air.

The guides and porters addressed each other as “brother” and “sister,” creating a sense of camaraderie. Radios played lively bongo fleva music as porters ran along the route.

Until the final base at Barafu, 4,600 atsl, the climb was manageable. I walked comfortably, without breathlessness or pain. I was among the fastest in the group.

However, my tent at Barafu was terrible, and I struggled to sleep due to the cold. My health deteriorated daily, and I developed a high fever.

In desperation, the crew moved me to their tent, where the guide and cook shared their warmth to help me rest after six sleepless days. This unconventional arrangement worked, and I managed to sleep for two hours.

What Was Summit Night Like on Kilimanjaro?

And off we went on our tour, starting at two in the morning. My initial attempts weren’t smooth; rocky terrain caused me to stumble several times, almost breaking my leg. I winced in pain, but I persevered.

Then things got tougher. People react differently to altitude. Fortunately, I didn’t experience the three main altitude-related issues: no headaches, no breathing difficulties, and no stomach problems. 

Maybe it’s because I’m a scientist and have honed my intellect from an early age, but my mind remained sharp. If I wanted to integrate something into my memory, I felt confident.

However, my legs felt like they weighed a ton each. After ascending to a certain point, I’d take exactly ten steps, lean on my pole to catch my breath, and then resume.

Summing it up, instead of the estimated 4 hours, it took me 7.5 hours to ascend. Dawn found us halfway up the mountain. I spotted tourists descending from the summit, which kept my spirits high.

In theory, I should have encountered those who’d failed and turned back, as those who’d reached the summit had a different route down. Perhaps my guide chose the more challenging sandy path up, meant for those descending from the summit.

This way, I wouldn’t witness those who’d given up, aiding me mentally. And it worked. 

I made it to Stella Point at over 5,700 meters above sea level and collapsed on the ground for a brief respite. A few people rushed over, thinking I was in trouble, but I was fine.

I refused to entertain the thought of giving up. Uhuru Peak was within view, a seemingly gentle hill, a little deceiving, only a hundred meters or so higher. 

What Happened After I Reached the Summit?

Determined, I pressed on. At the summit, my progress slowed to a crawl. I was practically taking three steps at a time, prompting the guide to lend a hand for the last hundred meters—a mixture of arm walk and dragging.

Interestingly, despite moving like a giant snail, I felt good—my mind was clear, and my mood was positive. The guide snapped a few pictures of me. And after a short break under an information board, we began our descent.

I encountered fellow climbers on the way down, carrying even more than I was. I encouraged them not to give up.

My strength returned swiftly. At around 5,200 meters, I felt so good that the guide and I started running down the sandy slope. It was risky, but we were racing against the approaching noon.

How Did the Descent Go?

We needed to reach the bottom base at 3,000 meters before evening. At Barafu, the porters and cook welcomed me with open arms, allowing me an hour’s sleep. I burned a cake during a short nap, but then pressed on. 

Only now did I truly feel the effects of the altitude in my gut and stomach. Indeed, according to the CDC Yellow Book, Kilimanjaro sits among the destinations with the highest altitude-illness risk.

According to Jackson et al. (2010), nearly half of Kilimanjaro trekkers show signs of acute mountain sickness by around 4,730 meters, regardless of which route they take.

But the goal had been achieved. The descent was also challenging.

Four hours of brisk walking over rocks, with a few close calls where I nearly twisted my leg or worse. We reached the Mweka camp at dusk, and the following morning, early, we descended the last section. I received a summit certificate, took a farewell photo with the crew, and had a parting beer.

The overall experience was astounding. The tour was like a rollercoaster ride, and the people were wonderful.

How Did My Fellow Climbers Make Me Feel?

I was concerned I might encounter mostly couples, but I met many people who, like me, were traveling alone. Among them, two girls—an energetic 27-year-old Croatian and a confident 28-year-old German—whom I spoke to daily.

Moreover, I felt valued in this group. The guide repeatedly mentioned how strong my body was. It wasn’t surprising; who else would attempt Kilimanjaro after about 160 hours without sleep?

Many people commended my resilience and courage for undertaking this solo journey. Notably, according to Bahrke and Shukitt-Hale (1993), hypoxia at altitude commonly clouds judgment and mood, which makes the climb as much mental as physical.

They commended me for this journey and conquering the mountain, especially given the circumstances of it being planned as my honeymoon before my fiancé’s departure. My daily work also garnered praise.

Upon learning I was studying the brain, people praised my skills and capabilities. Overall, I felt like someone.

Somehow, in the mountains, I always feel like somebody. The saying “everything I love is in the mountains” holds true for me. It’s an honest sentiment—everything I cherish can be found in the mountains.

I sense that I can tackle anything. When I return to civilization and look in the mirror, my eyes reflect an inner fire. 

How Did My Attitude to Hiking Change Over the Years?

It’s amusing to remember how I used to argue with my parents at age 8 or 10 when they wanted to hike up the mountain pastures in the Bieszczady Mountains during a family trip. Back then, I reluctantly joined, unable to fathom the point of going up and down the same place within hours. Who would’ve thought that two decades later, I’d voluntarily trek up five-thousanders for the sheer thrill?

Maybe it’s because by the end of elementary school, I realized I had a knack for it. And during college, I learned that the coolest people were the ones who hiked in the mountains.

Oh, the coolest people. Each camp had a wooden hut with logbooks for registration. As I perused these books, I learned that there were more women than men on the tour.

And most were in their thirties. What intrigued me most was that they were doctors, scientists, company directors—people who dealt with significant stress daily.

I recall a scene from the iconic “Fight Club” movie where the protagonist, a corporate worker, expresses a desire to inhale smoke, essentially wishing to hurt himself. It’s similar to the individuals who embark on Kilimanjaro journeys — people who, amidst escaping stress for a few days, seem willing to inhale smoke and endure challenges. During those brief days, I often felt as though I was conversing with a mirror image of myself; our similarities were striking.

What Was the Safari Experience Like?

During the safari, I experienced a spectrum of individuality. Sharing a car with four avid bird enthusiasts, I found myself losing interest as we stood in fields for extended periods, waiting for bird sightings. Meanwhile, others clicked away with their large cameras.

I also felt I was aging rapidly, given that three of my companions had just returned from Kilimanjaro. And yet they seemed more energetic than I was.

Perhaps they are more accustomed to mountain walks than I am, which isn’t surprising considering I live in the Netherlands. Additionally, I sustained a few minor injuries, like my hands becoming overly sensitive and burning due to a cheaper substitute for Malarone. My hands were a mix of open wounds and scabs, resembling hands from budget horror films.

Oddly, there was no pain. However, onlookers were taken aback and insisted I bandage them.

The safari was a delightful diversion and a form of relaxation. Three days of worry-free living in a tent within a controlled area, being catered to.

And off-road car rides made for a soothing break. I acquired some Masai art and engaged in conversations with fellow travelers, mostly in their early 30s, who traversed more than I did.

An Austrian programmer was most enthusiastic about mountain hiking and displayed great skill in it. He came to Tanzania to conquer Mt. Meru, Kilimanjaro, and Mt.

Kenya, with a safari break. A Dutch woman, peculiar in her own way, worked as a web editor and was passionate about animals. However, her approach to aiding animals seemed somewhat off-kilter.

Who Did I Meet on Safari?

She counted turtles on Mafia Island and spent $500 to watch mountain gorillas in Rwanda for an hour. Yet her actions seemed to lack tangible contribution.

The concept of paying a hefty sum to watch mountain gorillas baffled me. However, the rest of the group, two German girls, one vivacious and the other quiet, had extensive travel experiences.

The lively one had a diverse upbringing, raised between Germany, Canada, Nigeria, and Indonesia, and shared a connection with me due to both our disrupted plans. Their careers involved international call centers and the Lufthansa investment office.

Interestingly, these individuals were all single and passionate travelers, finding their daily work mundane. Perhaps, as it seems, travel is incomparable, making every job appear dull in comparison. Travel offers the luxury of exploration and fresh interactions daily.

A perfect life, one could say. I brought three books on awareness, but during the journey, I ignored them, tossing them aside.

Who knows what the future holds? Or perhaps I’m fortunate to have a job I can enjoy?

What Was the Trip to Zanzibar Like?

Leaving the safari behind, I set my course for Zanzibar, a Tanzanian tourist island. The island exuded tranquility and relaxation, akin to a resort, with locals who were less aggressively opportunistic towards tourists compared to the mainland. It proved to be the ideal conclusion to my journey, a true idyllic escape.

During this time, I crossed paths with two New Zealand students who had been traveling almost ceaselessly for years. They were cheerful, adventurous, and skilled in traveling cost-effectively.

I joined them on a cruise to Zanzibar, followed by a stay at an economical hotel and exploration of the city. Astonishingly, they managed to discover prices ten times cheaper than what guidebooks indicated.

I believed that with a few more trips, I could achieve the same level of expertise. For now, like any beginner, my focus was on crucial aspects: avoiding theft, illness, significant expenses, and injuries. However, surpassing the financial outcomes presented by Lonely Planet was a task for seasoned travelers.

In Zanzibar, I spent three days joyfully, dancing each evening. There was a local disco and two beach parties. Regrettably, the locals lacked dance skills, and rumors of their musical prowess were exaggerated.

Their rhythm was off, and their movements were awkward. Nonetheless, their hospitality was remarkable. And I experienced more marijuana consumption in those three days than ever before, all for free.

I overslept breakfast one day, and the chef offered papaya and joints instead of pancakes and bread. We ended up getting high together at 11 AM.

What Was Life Like on the Island of Zanzibar?

The locals exhibited trust as well. Once, they lent me a dress and a white powder for a fringe, as I urgently wanted to buy it but lacked cash — and it was pricey.

The island had a laid-back vibe, though it changed for business-oriented mzungus (white people). I encountered Kinga, a Polish woman who started a popular restaurant on the island after facing challenges.

She regularly faced tribulations due to constant reporting. When we met, she had just returned from the capital, having to sort out matters swiftly, or she would have had to leave the country within 24 hours.

I must admit, I’m proud of myself. I’m a bit unconventional, yet I prioritize my well-being. During a spice tour in Zanzibar, I was the only one unaware of needing a swimsuit.

Undeterred, I simply walked into the ocean unclothed. Additionally, I disregarded minor burns and even engaged in a fistfight with an Arusha receptionist.

Upon realizing that my tour operator was failing to meet the Kilimanjaro and safari contract and attempting to swindle me, I took matters into my own hands. I confronted him and acquired some items, including quality gaiters. He was an imposing two-meter-tall figure, but that didn’t deter me from rearranging his toiletry cabinet and pantry.

I grew bored during the safari, didn’t wash for ten days straight, drank cheap cognac, and braved the sun without UV cream. I essentially did everything my mother would scold me for.

What Was the Aftermath of My Trip to Tanzania?

And what’s the result? I’m content.

Everything fell into place: I conquered Kilimanjaro, explored the savannah, toured Zanzibar, connected with amazing individuals, and returned healthier and more energetic. I accomplished a lot, adhered to proper vaccination, had a competent guide, and the journey unfolded without major surprises, even though it was my first demanding expedition. 

My luggage was only 15 kg, and with hindsight, I could have trimmed it by about 5 kg. Simultaneously, these encounters made me ponder.

It’s incredible to meet someone who has traveled through 40 countries yet views your companionship as special, wishing to travel together someday. This sentiment, shared by multiple people, filled me with pride.

It also made me contemplate the charisma of these individuals. I wonder if charisma emerges from traveling or if traveling suits people with strong characters.

Personally, I lean towards the former. Travel molds and toughens individuals. 

Additionally, having traveled, you amass more stories and life skills to draw upon. I believe that when my children are 15 or 16, I’ll fund a long, independent journey for them to Asia, Africa, or South America.

Once they’re hooked, they’ll save for their future expeditions, maturing alongside their travels. Nothing imparts life lessons like travel.

I enjoy reading biographies, and many of my idols experienced internal transformations at 27, much like Steve Jobs. These shifts often followed travels, especially in Asia.

What Did I Realize About Myself and My Relationships?

I sense that my own journey has brought about change.  According to Noy (2004), backpackers commonly narrate their travels as a turning point that reshaped their sense of self, regardless of how dramatic the trip objectively was.

I recognized my independence, adeptness in various situations, physical stamina, interpersonal skills, and the power of a smile. I also realized that if this journey were my honeymoon, my hypothetical husband might feel like a burden.

It’s tough to climb Kilimanjaro when someone weighs you down, and conflicts might arise if I outperformed him. Ultimately, I’d likely go solo, not wanting him to feel inadequate.

I would have never met all these amazing people if I had stayed tied to someone. We traveled together in Italy, Austria, and the Caribbean, but during those journeys, I hardly got to know anyone. My focus was always on pleasing that person. 

But why did I need that? Someone who cared more about Batman movies than different cultures and ways of thinking. For the first time, I realized it might actually be a good thing.

Otherwise, I’d always be in their shadow, not fully embracing my colorful personality. Now, I’m beginning to think that maybe they’re not worth me, rather than the other way around. I feel good, even really good.

Today marks the official start of my second PhD in the Netherlands. I’m currently sitting in a Vietnamese bar in London, feeling a bit sleepy, sipping on some unusual tea. I’ll be here until 3 in the morning before catching the Stansted bus.

And starting tomorrow—well, let’s just say it’s going to be exciting. Hakuna matata!