5/9/05. Tanga, Tanzania.

The Kenya/Tanzania border crossing is a walk in the park, relatively. No bribes, no "road tax" (not even the $20 I legitimately owe the government of Kenya), very few moneychanging touts and several well-wishing officials. It's followed by 35 miles of horribly sharp rocks. I'm now on a non-Michelin Desert front tyre (Metzeler Sahara since you ask) and the primal fear of punctures has returned. Ah Deserts! 10,000 African miles and NO PUNCTURES as Magnus Magnussen would say, probably.

So - one night in Tanga, en route to Dar and Zanzibar. As I sit in the lavish bar of the hotel next door to my not-lavish one, watching CNN coverage of Hurricane Katrina (My! That George Bush is a bit of a div!), I peel skin from my newly-bronzed arms and swig Kilimanjaro lager. My Venice Beach style tan is a result of a week at Tiwi, just south of Mombasa. White sand and turquoise water. "Paradise" was the most overused word of the week in the beach bar. You gotta love East Africa. Everywhere I've stayed (except North East Kenya on the Wajir road) - Addis, Nairobi, Eldoret, Jinja, Kampala, Murchison Falls, Hunters Inn, Tiwi - has been (a) great; (b) slightly better than the previous place.

I've treated Fluffy to a course of Holt's "Damp Start". She will now speed through heavy rain without so much as a cough.