Then we come back to Dar Es Salaam. According to our original plans, we plan to go to Arusha near Mount Kilimanjaro, then Nairobi, Kenya, before climbing the long trail that leads to Moyale, Ethiopian border. Yes, but voila, Amabassade Ethiopia in Nairobi does more visas to citizens of countries that have Ethiopian diplomatic representation. This is the case of France, then we can not do a visa. The phenomenon is recent, two months, and the twist of fate for a change of ambassador. Remains only the possibility of flying to Addis Ababa, for a ride and leave by plane (the visa is obtained at the airport), m ais 
you do not want to fly. When we learned by talking with a couple of bikers Australian Ethiopian embassy there in Kampala, Uganda, we said we had to go. So we changed our plans and we took a bus to Mwanza on Lake Victoria. The bus station in Dar Es Salaam, eccentric, is a happy mess. You end up getting a direct bus that leaves at 6am, arrival at 21h or 22h in the evening. In fact, there really is not moving as fast as expected. The bus was a good start to 6:01, but he was unable to leave the station's 7:15. It's simple, all buses leave at 6am, then there is a huge traffic jam, and as we are opposite the exit ... The bus stops at the first three stations: refuel, pee, drop off passengers for a match. They are not happy because they had also had been told that the bus was direct.
Another stop along the road, or quantities of stock passing under the windows to sell to eat, drink, sunglasses, baskets, and anything they can imagine for sale. I am looking at the window to take a picture of the bus before us, and it's unbelievable. They yell at me m'engueulent, gersticulent, one of them will type up my camera with his sandal while ... I did not photo and I was trying to explain that I took the bus in front. Another has even been looking for a stick to hit me. Most other sellers are laughing. Only a few will alert the police. Our bus left before that confuses go further, but I'm abassourdi by their reaction. It's a strange phenomenon Dar Es Salaam and Zanzibar, we have had several dealing with people who seek the mess. It was already talking about the private beach where you had the snorkle. A guy we had on our arrival as fuck a Stone Town. 
Nothing serious, but dirty relations, fortunately we have not had since, having left the areas frequented by tourists. We tell ourselves qussi we were lucky, compared with a meeting that we encounter during our second pass at Dar Es Salaam. Name is Jeremy Mathieu, which can not be invented (Matthew is the name of my little brother), he is a musician and traveling alone. He meets a nice guy downtown, and it must take him by car to play. He goes first to pick up three friends, and they are 4 large arms that break the jaws of M 
athieu (he always black eye when I meet him) and bite all his money. Behind the smile and the cheerfulness of daily relationships, it must still remain very wary. This is the kind of problem that we had heard speak from Latin America. It should be understood that Tanzania is a foreign country. Very poor (average monthly income of U.S. $ 40), it is the location of tourism incredibly chic. Natural parks Ngorongor, Serengeti and Kilimanjaro each cost $ 50 per day per person, without a car, housing or food. When you add these, it becomes difficult to find cheaper than $ 150 per day per person, and more often $ 250. Price is staggering when you think we did four days of jeep 2 for $ 350 at Salar de Uyuni (Bolivia). U
No type has even gone so far tell us only $ 700 rent a jeep the day is whether the prices charged are completely detached from the local budget reality. Note also that the average age of Western tourists is far more here than elsewhere. Many have at least fifty, which was very rare on other continents. In a sense, it seems that independence has nothing to remove the settlements, because the white population is being used in luxury by blacks has perhaps even increased. And if relations with people are mostly pleasant, is the first place where so many people we meet implore our money. The kids in the streets, as well as meetings with adults who seek after 5 minutes of conversation enough to pay for a plane ticket to Europe or enough to pay one year at the university. It is very surprising, notwithstanding that we are shaped by wealth (although relative) places where they live, as has Mwanza example, far from being a miserable city.
But let our reveries, and return on board the bus. If feeling blue is that it's gray, rainy and cold wind. However, the landscape turns uphill. We discover the mountains in the form of bubbles, as the juices of the Yssingelais. A young neighbor with Down's syndrome uncovers our interest in the mountains. Adorable, we show every mountain path, a big smile and the thumbs-up. He is also laughing at each passage of a donkey, source to general laughter in the bus. Arrived on the set, the sun returns, and it crosses what might be called a forest of baobab trees. These fantastic trees populate the edges of the road, more or less into the fields. 
Little pee stop, or you buy a chicken-fried, then leaves. The light fades, night falls. Under the stars, there is more than the glow of bonfires in the bush. He is 23h when we get a. .. Nzega, or we change buses (yes, we took a bus "direct"). In fact, as it is forbidden for bus travel at night because of crime, we spend the night in a new bus to the stop before an early start, with the deafening car villains of the 90 tubes. After several stoppages in pretty small towns, or were notemment support a cage full of chickens, we arrive at Mwanza 11am. Here we are finally on the shores of majestic Lake Victoria. 
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