As seen below, I am staying at the Markham hotel. I climbed out on the roof (there were shoes out there, so I figured other people did it, too) and something about the proximity of the signage demanded a picture.

The landscape is exactly what I expected from the outskirts of a sub-Saharan African city, but I would not have expected a hotel to be in an area like this. My camera was hiding in the deepest crevasse of my backpack when I went to the city center, so no comparison pics yet.

I liked how the scene below picked up on natural and man-made contributions to the landscape as well as contrasts between informally constructed shacks and well-designed fortresses (I'm not sure what the neighboring building is for -- "fortress" is only used here for imagery's sake).

Meal one: Breakfast at the hotel. Rule 1 is about to be thoroughly trampled with the two simple wedges of papaya seen in the bowl to the left, right next to the round slice of pineapple. Without knowing how well washed the still-attached skin is, I not only risk the contamination of the papaya I eat, but the foods, utensils, or fingers that come in contact with the skin of the papaya. But, it is done. (And, admittedly, it will be done again because there is no way I am going to get in the habit of turning down fresh tropical fruit -- as in, sold right off the streets after having been macheted from a local tree. It is just not one of those things I am physically or psychologically capable of.) The plate holds (clockwise from an obvious starting point) a hard-boiled brown egg, fried potatoes with julienned tomatoes and green pepper, sickly sweet canned beans, and chicken gizzards cooked with carrots and peppers.

I wish I had a picture of the Subway sandwich I got for lunch. Any of you could easily recreate it, though. Go to a Subway, any Subway, and ask to take a photo of a sliced 6" wheat sub roll. It will look exactly like my sandwich. I didn't know it was possible to put on so few toppings that you couldn't see even the smallest dent made in the roll by the toppings, but it can be done, even with every vegetable except jalapeno peppers added. Anyone who has seen my usual sub -- the type where the bread only makes an obligatory show of trying to keep all the toppings together in a loose union of veggie goodness, and from which a good portion of tomatoes, peppers, olives, and lettuce tend to slip out the back with each bite -- should understand the depths of my disappointment. Ah, well. At least I won't be tempted by Subway for the rest of my stay.

After breakfast, I ran errands all morning with the unexpected and much-appreciated guidance of a hotel employee, Faustine. If you say his name the way he does (F+Austin), it sounds much more masculine than the common pronunciation (which rhymes with Christine), and strikes me as a very cool name. Anyway, Faustine gave me some impromptu Swahili lessons, descriptions of various types of theft, and an idea of what kind of foods I would have to look forward to when eating out or cooking in my own kitchen in Zanzibar. I didn't realize until about noon that he had been working since 5pm the night before and was using his time off to help me after his 15-hour shift!

Upon realizing how completely worn out Faustine must have been, I finally released the poor man and came back to enjoy a victory lap in the local grocery store. I assume it is the store's proximity to the US Embassy that amplifies the Western-ness of its stock. Prices are equal to or greater than those in the States for most things (especially brand name things like Kellogg cereals and Laughing Cow cheeses), but I found everything I needed (a journal with a hard cover, a converter so I could plug in my electronics, and shampoo). It was after that when I got that terribly disappointing sandwich, but at least talking to the employees while they made the sandwich was fun. I came home ready to take a much deserved shower (admittedly, standing outside for 10 minutes is probably enough to need a shower around here), but decided to write this first in the breeze of my air conditioner. If this is winter weather, I am pretty sure I would have no hope of surviving a summer here.

======

While writing this post, I fell asleep and slept through to bedtime. I didn't have much trouble transitioning to China time when I moved to Zhuhai, but I don't think this time change will be nearly as forgiving to me. I have included a world clock at the bottom of the page so you can keep track of what time it is here in TZ and hopefully simplify any time zone change calculations my posts may demand you to do.

For now, I am going to try to get back to sleep, but tomorrow (after my orientation at work) I should be able to fill everyone in on what I will be doing most of the time I am here. =)