After a long and hot bus journey shared with a group of middle aged Iranian men (random) we re-entered Tanzania and headed to Moshi, a small tourist town at the base of Mount Kilimanjaro. We dropped off our bags at a nearby hostel and slowly climbed the five flights of stairs to the only rooftop restaurant in the town. Our expectations of a view of the sunset over Kilimanjaro were somewhat dashed when it turned out that the sun set in the completely wrong direction, and cloud cover was so heavy that the snowy peak was visible for only a brief five minute window at dusk. So instead we sat there and took photos of our Kilimanjaro beer and bottled water a substitute.

Considering the cost and sheer effort of attempting to climb the bloody thing, we decided to go shopping in the morning instead. As we sat at lunch sipping our ice-cold Fantas and recovering from the serious lack of activity, looking up at week-long trek through cloud and snow, I think we made the right choice!

Just to revel further in the self-indulgence of it all, we headed to the only swimming pool in Moshi at the YMCA to take a refreshing dip. No sooner had I sat down on a sun lounger around the deserted pool did an attendant come up to me and explain that swimsuits were not allowed for women. Excuse me!? We were not just talking bikini's here as I soon clafiried, but any kind of swimming costume altogether. What exactly was allowed in this Christian, yes, not Muslim, swimming pool then I asked? Oh a t-shirt and shorts would settle the matter (this is when the 'feminism' button was pushed in my head). Just as Jack emerged from the changing rooms with a look of excitement on his face at the prospect of the cool, refreshing water, I stormed past and told him we were leaving right away.

The rest of the time passed with not a lot to do, so we made plans to move on the next day. We caught a bus to Arusha, where most tourists fly into the airport when heading to Kilimanjaro. The bus station was a bit of a nightmare so we found the nearest hotel and wandered into town (which was also lacking in charm). Our plan was to head down through Tanzania to Malawi as soon as possible as time was ticking, but overland it would have consisted of three or four ten hour bus journeys over unsealed roads. So we treated ourselves to a flight back to Dar es Salaam (how overjoyed we were to see the place for the third time) and then caught a day-long bus the next day to Mbeya at the south of Tanzania.