Basking at the foot of Kilimanjaro

For our last week in Africa (sigh!), we've taken refuge high up in the in the
cooler, lush and leafy foothills of Mount Kilimanjaro in a town named
Marangu. We are the sole occupants of a sprawling 1930's German-built
hotel, the Kibo Hotel. This is a very funky old place, oozing with
charm and bedecked with climbing paraphanalia - including a dining
room decorated with hundreds of signed T-shirts, flags and pennants
commemorating various Kilimanjaro ascents. Hemmingway would not be out of place slumped in a fireside chair with a cold Tusker lager in the
big, open lounge. The hotel is a bit of "This is Africa" meets Fawlty Towers. When we place dinner orders (always done a few hours in
advance), we are greeted with the puzzling response "I think it is
possible". We are surrounded by lush banana and coffee plantations
but, as seems ususal throughout Tanzania, we are always offered
instant coffee. One day the several person strong cleaning staff
managed to forget to clean our room - the only one of 34 in the hotel
actually occupied. When we queired at the desk, the manager said that
they might have been afraid to enter beacuse we had "our valuables
there". Notwithstanding these whimsical observations, we are really enjoying the place and our "private staff" as well as a swimming pool fed
from the snows of Kilimanjaro, jasmine trees blossoming in
full scent in the evening below our balcony and the requisite supply of cold beer and red wine.

We are filling our days with wonderful hikes through lush forests and mountain streams. Yesterday, we did a 12km hike to the 6,250 foot Marangu gate of Kilimanjaro National Park where we were enetrtained by the somewhat embarassing spectacle of groups of spritely
"mazungo" (white folk) decked in the latest climbing fashion gear and
daypacks sprinting up the first part of the ascent while their many,
many porters follow behind lugging huge backpacks on their backs and
camping supplies on their heads.

As for the mountain itself, it has proven as elusive as brewed Tanzanian coffee. However, following local advice, I got up and out at 6:30 this morning and caught a view of the magnificent and towering 16,500 foot "Kili" with its broad, snow covered wide saddle - a wonderful sight indeed. The only problem with this place is that we are being constantly pestered by locals who want to guide us on walks, or up the mountain or to traditional heritage sites etc. all, of course, for a fee. They are hard to shake off and sometimes I've had to resort to deploying a self-invented, crypto-Eastern European-sounding language and tell them "Eeem not undersanding of Englisch". The children are formidable hounders as well - always asking for pens and chocolates. We took a rest today by a
mountain stream near a school and were soon surrounded by about 20
eager school children offering to take breaks from their classes so
that they could guide us to yet another "Kili view point" . Oh well,
from all accounts, this pestering serves as good training for India
where, apparently, we can expect pestering to be lifted to a new level. And
we'll find out soon enough as we leave for India on Saturday - first
stop, Goa.