Tarangire National Park Day 2: Watching Them Watching Us

“I kept dreaming something was crawling on me,” Greg said when he woke up—even though we were safely enclosed inside a mosquito net.

I spent the night dreaming that I was trying to take a shower before the hot water turned on at 6:00 a.m.

On our way - safari day #2!

Leaving early in the morning at 7am, I expected something different than yesterday. Edward announced, “It’s a good day. The air is fresh.” It was quiet and peaceful - just us - and a massive park to explore. The animals must’ve felt it too because today they were happy to see us. Today, they made eye contact. They know we are there - watching them - watching us. And they don’t care.

Right off the bat we see more elephants

Before this trip, if someone had asked me which animal I should worry about most, I probably would have said a lion. But Edward explained that it's actually the unpredictable African buffalo.

Watching them, they look like a herd of cows; you don't feel like you're in danger at all. Yet they never take their eyes off us. It almost feels like one of them is trying to sneak around and flank us.

Edward explained that if we were on foot, they might see us as a threat. In the jeep, they simply see one large animal—something more like an elephant than a person.

One of Africa's Big Five—and arguably the animal I'd least like to meet on foot.

A little farther down the road, we pull over and Edward shuts off the engine. That means there's definitely something here to see.

But what?

"Lions," he says.

Right below us are two lions, just waking up. They don't even acknowledge us. One eventually wanders off, and within seconds the dry grass swallows it whole.

That's when it hits me: I wasn't seeing nothing before. I just didn't know what to look for. The animals aren't absent. They're hidden in plain sight.

Just waking up and being lazy

All the jeeps that came late to the game and couldn't even get up close

The trees in Tarangire aren't just trees—they're massive baobabs that look like they've been standing there forever, like they've seen every safari before ours and will see every safari long after we're gone.

In a way, they have. Baobab trees can live for more than 2,000 years.

Standing next to one that is estimated to be 1,500 years old, it occurred to me that these trees have been here longer than most of the world's man-made treasures.

Baobabs may look familiar—they're the trees often featured in "Tree of Life" artwork and jewelry.

We stopped at a couple watering holes. They are cool and just like you see in the movies, with various animals together drinking water.

We saw the biggest elephant yet. It's easy to understand why a large male elephant has no natural predators.

Dumbo and Pumba hanging out together at the watering hole

We came upon a pair of graceful giraffes standing perfectly still, almost as if they thought they were trees.

Just as I finished asking whether they ever move, a giraffe suddenly took off running in the distance. Edward pointed out the people walking nearby. They were with a park ranger – and a very big gun. Apparently the giraffe got spooked because it isn’t used to seeing people on foot.

A walking safari escorted by an armed ranger. I think I'll stick with the Land Rover.

Near the park's border, on our way out, we passed eight safari vehicles stopped to admire a group of zebras—probably just as excited as I was when I spotted my first zebra yesterday.

Edward smiled. "These people are fresh from town."

Tarangire National Park had been good to us. Over two days, it had allowed us to see three of Africa's Big Five: lion, elephant, and buffalo.

After another excellent lunch, we headed to the village of Mto wa Mbu for a cultural tour. If you had asked us then, we probably would have skipped it. I know—that's completely out of character for me. But I had read mixed reviews, I was feeling a little lightheaded, and Greg was running on fumes after the long travel days. We reluctantly tore ourselves away from the comfort of the Land Rover and started the roughly two-hour walking tour hot, dusty, and not particularly enthusiastic.

We were wrong.

It ended up being far more interesting than either of us expected. Having a local guide allowed us to walk through the village comfortably, seeing places we never would have ventured into on our own. We wandered through banana plantations, workshops, markets, and neighborhoods, getting a glimpse of everyday life that we would have completely missed from the safari vehicle.

We still stood out, of course. Everywhere we went, I caught people sneaking curious glances in our direction. We were clearly the outsiders. But it never felt uncomfortable—just like we were seeing a side of Tanzania that most tourists drive right past.

Our first stop was a banana plantation, where we learned more about bananas in 45 minutes than I had learned in my entire life. From a prior tour in Costa Rica, I knew that a banana plant produces only a single bunch before it dies. Now I also know:

• New plants spread from the roots, similar to bamboo.
• The bananas must be harvested while still green, or the baboons will beat the farmers to them.

·       One of the strangest things we learned is that bananas start out pointing down, then slowly turn upward toward the light as they grow. The process takes about five months. Suddenly my grocery store bananas seemed a lot more complicated than I had realized.

Touring the banana plantations

Stages of a growing banana bunch

After visiting a carving “workshop” (three-sided hut), we went to the local bar for a taste of traditional banana beer. Despite the name, I couldn’t taste much banana. What stood out was the millet. It was thick enough that it felt like it needed an extra chew before going down. At only 0.5% alcohol content, it wasn’t worth the effort.

The local bar

We walked too quickly through the fruit market. There was so much to see!

 By the end of the tour, we were dustier than we had been at any point on the trip so far. More than anything else, two things stood out to me. First was the amount of waiting that seems built into daily life. We passed shopkeepers sitting patiently outside their stores waiting for customers, farmers waiting on crops, and people gathering in small groups under the shade of trees. Life didn't feel rushed. It moved at its own pace.

The second thing that stood out was how little many people seemed to have compared to what we're accustomed to back home. Walking through the village offered a glimpse into daily life far different from what we're used to back home.

A traditional mud-and-stick home in Mto wa Mbu. 

Upon arriving at our hotel for the next two nights, they told us what we needed to know, like dinner and breakfast time - and that the room has a walkie talkie. We are not to walk alone in the dark - we must call for assistance. I clarified: only in the dark? Yes. Because we are on the border of Lake Manyara National Park and elephants and buffalo may roam through during the night.

Then Edward joined the conversation with a concerned look. "To be clear," he said, "there can be predators. It is not safe to be outside."

"Yeah, I'm not walking this alone at night," Greg said as they escorted us all the way to our room at the far edge of the property.

I sincerely hoped they carried more than a flashlight—unlike the escort at last night's lodge.

We are staying in a lodge overlooking the Great Rift Valley, which stretches from the north all the way to the south of Africa—a geological feature so large it spans multiple countries and thousands of miles.

Our room is tucked away on the outer edge of the encampment. It is so new it still smells of fresh paint and is one of the only rooms with a private wading pool and view of Lake Manyara below.

Our room at Moonbow Lodge had large everything: entry room, bedroom area, walk-in shower, separate toilet area, and private deck with a pool.

Off in the distance we could see view of Lake Manyara

At dinner time, when we radioed for an escort...

They brought a flashlight.