It's been 2 weeks since I arrived in Tanzania and I have literally no idea where the time has gone! I arrived in the driving rain and spent most of the first couple of days chilling out and chatting to the fellow travellers. Since the Ujamaa Hostel works very closely with volunteering projects here in Arusha, most of the people staying here are volunteers who are staying for a few weeks. Nick and Amy from Seattle had just climbed Kilimanjaro and were working at a children's home, as was Californian Kelley who had been travelling with a hospital group with her parents. Jennifer (Ohio) and Monique (Australia) had been here for a little while and hadn't found projects which suited them, and there was a family who spent their days helping out at a nearby school. While I couldn't get involved in a project straight away - I needed my volunteering visa - I did tag along with Nick, Amy, and Kelley one afternoon to Ujamaa Children's Home. The kids were in the middle of their homework when we arrived, but got up and shook our hands and we got stuck in, drawing and colouring with them. After a few hours of playing games whose rules I was unsure of (I'm pretty sure Piggy In The Middle merged into a form of Dodgeball) we headed home and went to a gym near the hostel.

The next day I joined Monique on her daily walk in to town - it's no small feat as it's a solid hour's walk away. Arusha is - especially compared to Nairobi - sweet, compact, and relatively hassle-free (people will try and sell you stuff, but as soon as you turn them down they tend to take the hint). We went to a cafe before it started to rain again and, rather than going to a masai market, we hopped on a dalla dalla - the Tanzanian version of Kenya's matatus - to go grocery shopping. It was Thursday and I'd been informed (warned?) that Thursday nights were party nights so we grabbed some booze on our way back. When we got back, there was a new arrival called Nandon from New York who apparently wasn't new at all but had just been on safari for a few days. After dinner and a few drinks Nick, Amy, Nandon and I headed out to Mango Tree with Gasper, who runs the hostel, and his brother Evans who works here. I won't lie, the rest of the night gets rather fuzzy but in my defense, yeah, it was the first time since New Year's that I'd been partying. The next day was, predictably, a write-off and as Nandon reminded Nick, Amy, and I of our antics I spent the day mostly wallowing in self-pity.

Saturday was to be Monique's last day before heading to Cape Town (I was slightly jealous) and we had a lovely 4-course lunch at Shanga, a small glass-blowing centre in the outskirts of the town. The sun was out and as we sipped champagne and lazed on the sofas in the garden there with Australian friends of Monique, it felt a long way from the Africaaaah of charities' fundraising videos. The glass-blowing was fascinating: in contrast to the Swedish glass-blowing I'd seen, with its protective masks and clothing, here there was nothing but a blackened cloth used to help shape the glass, and a flame-thrower which was left blasting the ground when not in use on the glass. A health-and-safety nightmare, but everyone seemed to know what they were doing and there was a definite order in the chaos. The workers at Shanga are people with various disabilities who have been taught the craft in order to be able to make themselves a living, and they did so with pride and cheer, shouting out "Karibu!" ("welcome") as we passed. That evening, I was desperate to watch the England-Ireland rugby, but the combination of the sports bar I had found having shut down and a power cut just as kick-off approached hampered my efforts. Eventually, the power came back on and Gasper kindly found the rugby on his personal TV for me and let me watch it in his livingroom.. and what a game it was!

The next day, Evans took myself, Amy, Nick, and Kelley to nearby Lake Duluti for a hike. It was another beautiful day and we got a nice view of Mt Meru, the second-highest peak here that towers above Arusha and is normally surrounded by thick cloud. It was a lovely excursion, and we managed to spot an owl (thanks to the hawk-eyed guide), a big lake lizard thing (yes, that's the official name), and a huge millipede. After Nick took a dip, against recommendations although I won't say I didn't envy the swim, we headed back to the hostel.

Monday was the start of volunteering, and Evans took me around to see the different projects: First we went to Mount Meru school, where the family who were staying at the hostel went to volunteer. They have four classes, and only three teachers for them, and the challenge faced there was clear. The children were having breakfast as we arrived, and after speaking with the headmistress for a while, I was taken into each class where the kids would stand up and chant in unison "Good morning teacher, how are you?" - it reminded me of school-days back in Fulford village, although this time I was "teacher" (eek!). I was also shown their little garden which was in much need of TLC, and their chicken coop which had a few holes that needed patching up. Then we moved on to Neema House, an orphanage for babies up to the age of three. A few of the babies were sleeping when we arrived, and the rest were outside with the nannies that work there. It was a clean, organised place with a structured schedule of sleeping and feeding, and while some of the ladies were preparing the food, others were caring for the babies. As I was being shown around, a door opened and a bunch of tinies waddled out with the bleary-eyed look of newly awoken babies. Before long I had one in my arms, one clinging to my skirt, and another holding my hand and my heart completely melted. As I sat watching the women taking care of the babies and comforting those who were crying, I only wished I was staying for longer: I knew that it would be too hard to leave after just a few weeks. If it was hard for me, I couldn't imagine the trauma for a baby of establishing trust for someone only to be abandoned (developmental psychology is still lodged somewhere deep in my brain). Evans wanted to show me where he lived and suggested that we go there, then have some lunch nearby before seeing the last place. He lives in a small, sparsely furnished two-bedroom house with a nice big garden that would have cost an absolute fortune in London! We went to a nearby place for a lunch of ugali - mashed corn, the East African version of South African pap - and grilled meat called Nyama Choma. It was great, and they come around with a can and bucket and poured soap and water on your hands before and after eating. (There's no such thing as cutlery.) After lunch we went to Pippi House, which is a women's centre that takes in teenagers and young women that are living on the street either having run away from domestic abuse at home, or thrown out for being a burden - some having even suffered rape and then been thrown out for being pregnant. The aim of the home is to help the women through formal and non-formal education and training with a roof over their heads and food, and either help them onto their feet on their own or reconciling them with their families. It was impressive work considering the limited resources at their disposal and although the women weren't back from school when I visited, I was shown around the living quarters and welcomed by the "father" of the house. After all that, I felt a brain overload, and getting back to the hostel I took a walk around the village with Jennifer and we stopped at "Hard Rock Pub", one of the small roadside shacks, for a much-needed beer before dinner and more beers with the rest of the guys at the hostel.

The next day was beautiful, and as I had yet to decide on a project and someone mentioned the word pool, I tagged along with Jennifer, Romy - a Dutch girl who stayed a couple of nights while researching about the East African Community (EAC), Hadji who also works at the hostel, and Gasper. We were the only ones there and Jennifer and I could have stayed all day, but Gasper was starving so after a couple of dips, we headed for lunch - more ugali and nyama choma! (I think I could eat that every day… not much different to ribs at the Larrik!)

I went with Evans to the Meru View school the next day to help paint a see-saw that had been built there. When I arrived, I was shown into a classroom and told that the children were copying down the alphabet from A to J from the blackboard into their exercise books. As the teacher left, mayhem erupted and the children who had been shy and curious started shouting "teacher, teacher" and flocking around me, asking me things in Swahili that I didn't understand. Things settled down a little and I started marking their books, but with kids shouting and literally climbing all over me I struggled to get much actual correcting done. Eventually, it was playtime and they ran out to the swings while I got on with the painting. It was hilarious to see all the kids playing; about 7 clinging to each tyre swing with one pushing and several others millimeters away from being knocked over. It had been a fun couple of hours, but again I wasn't sure how my presence there was contributing to these children's education, and was sure that someone with more teaching experience would be better equipped to manage.

The next day, I went into town with Jennifer, and as it was sign-up day for the Kilimanjaro half-marathon I put my name down and got my number. The suggestion for the marathon had come out of nowhere - Kelley had been on the treadmill at the gym and someone had asked if she was training for it. As she does cross-country running at college in the US, she was keen to participate and asked if anyone was up for it. Loathe to turn down a challenge, I stepped up and that's how it came about! So on Saturday morning, after hydrating with beer on Thursday night and spending Friday relaxing by the pool, Kelley, Jennifer (who signed up for the fun run), and I hopped on the bus to Moshi. Arriving at the hostel, we were pleased to find that it was a short walk from the start of the race, and met a couple of others who were taking part in the race too: Jodie was doing the half, as was Eric who worked at the hostel we stayed at, and Rose was doing the fun run. We went to bed early that night to rest up - except for Eric who, as a local, went out partying and got home with practically just enough time to change clothes - and were up at 5 on Sunday morning for pre-run breakfast. We headed to the stadium where the start was, and the adrenalin kicked in as the reality of what was going on hit me. In a surreal haze, we joined the runners at the start-line and counted down to the start. To add to the surreal-ness (that's a word) I bumped into a group of South Africans that I had met out on the previous Thursday and they seemed bemused to see me as they said I looked in much better shape than last time they'd seen me. (Soz babes) Seconds in, Kelley sped off and I continued the run with Jodie and Eric for much of the first half. However, as I was timing myself, I felt confident enough to up the pace a bit and left them with promises to see them at the finish. The scenery was beautiful and the atmosphere was hilarious; some people were running in converse and jeans, some in a beanie and football shirt, some ended up with only one shoe on their foot and one in their hand… Also, there seemed to be no such thing as a steady pace; I would be passed by everyone on the downhill stretches, and then pass all the same people walking on the uphill parts. The first few water stations were an absolute scrummage too, and even the finish-line was rather unclear once I entered the stadium. I was so happy to have done it, and to have beaten my target time by running it in 2 hours and 12 minutes (if the start and finish lines were where I thought they were), and in the adrenaline-fuelled high I contemplated staying in Moshi one more night to party and celebrate! This soon wore off though, and as soon as we got back to the hostel, had a shower, and sat down we were in no state to party. I decided I would return to Arusha with Kelley and Jennifer, and after much logistical difficulty we finally returned to Ujamaa Hostel - or "home" as I've begun to call it - to welcoming smiles and congratulations: Good to be back!

Yesterday, after a wobbly climb down from my bunkbed, I decided that - although my actual volunteering has so far been limited - I would go into town with Nandon, whose last day it was. We wandered around, found a food market offering us live chickens (tempting, just for the banter of returning home with it!) and all sorts of fruit and vegetables, and stopped by a masai market full of stalls offering beaded bracelets, sandals, coasters, wooden carvings, and paintings with eager shop-keepers insisting that we have a look at their wares.

Which brings us to today. I have decided that Pippi House is the project that suits both my skills and interests the best, so I will head there today. I have also been in touch with the Danish consulate and will be geeking out on Thursday, meeting with someone working there to pepper him with questions about the work they do and the challenges they encounter. I've also found a rugby team - the Arusha Rhinos - who I've e-mailed and hope to train with. They have a coaching development program at an international school here too that I'd like to help out with. So, it may have taken a couple of weeks, and I may have been less-than-efficient, but I have finally found my feet here and look forward to the next couple of weeks. In my defense yeah, TIA (this is Africa), and I'm adapting rather too well to "Africa time". Hakuna matata!

*DISCLAIMER: The photo used is not my own but taken from www.spurwingkenya.com - I have yet to upload photos from Tanzania*