Ta-ra Dar

Dar es Salaam airport’s may be the only check-in hall where That’s The Way It Is by Celine Dion replaces the soundtrack of cavernous echoes. As well as the ubiquitous Westlife of course. The music brought a touch of fun and I was left pondering that if global royalty processes worked, Westlife would be (even more) stinking rich and accumulating millions on a daily basis.

My many leftover bags of Polish zloty and Peruvian nuevo sol make me persistent in my efforts to shed currency each time I leave a country that I won’t visit regularly. As I engaged in my usual pursuit of scouring shops in the departure lounge, I found the airport underwhelming overall. I didn’t want to spend 30 dollars’ worth of Tanzanian shillings on Danielle Steel or Jeffrey Archer books, on sale in one of those ‘Out of Africa’ themed shops, pitching itself as a purveyor of traditional African products. Strange stocking policy.

I arrived in Johannesburg where I’ve got to arrange my next visa for Mozambique. There had been some confusion about the guesthouse I’ve booked showing differently on various maps, so I had some flustered communications to resolve it. It may bring some cheer to those of you who abhor the internet’s ability to stalk our cyber movements that Google and Expedia failed to talk to each other on this one, showing the incorrect location. It brought some hope for the sanctity of online privacy, but likely minimal reassurance if I’d had to wander in sketchy areas of Johannesburg. Although I believe its reputation is over-exaggerated, it isn’t a city that you want to arrive in without knowing where you’re going.