Serengeti Crossing

I’ve crossed the Serengeti and traveled through Ngorongoro Crater. I’ve stood spitting-distance from giraffes, elephants, and a lion only several moments away from her kill. I’ve seen gads of baboons, impalas, wildebeests, and zebras. And I’ve even glimpsed the more elusive hyenas, crocodiles, hippopotami, black rhinos, and cheetahs (one with five young cubs). But for me it wasn’t the unadulterated thrill it might be; I seem to have a disposition against guided experiences. And crossing the Serengeti is today typically a guided experience – albeit one of the most unique, most intense, and most incredible.

Somewhere on that long, dusty and beautiful drive – Serengeti is the Maasai word for endless plain - I was asking myself how I could possible be dissatisfied with what is – despite its trendy commodification and accessibility – globally unique and singularly sought after. The predictability, the safety and the guarantees – everyone goes guided in Land Rovers with tops that flip open – involved with riding through a space with 1.5 million wildebeest, 500,000 zebra, 200,000 giraffes, and 2,000 lions, pulls some mystery, intrigue, and surprise out of the experience.

The raw deadliness of the area, however, blocks many other options. Last year two Japanese tourists fell from the top of their Land Rover. They’d climbed onto the roof for a better photo angle. They were promptly mauled by a lion and died. I didn’t jog from our hotels along the way. The wild ended only at the room door. During a lunch break in Ngorongoro Crater a monkey jumped through the roof of the vehicle next to mine, pulled a sandwich off the front seat, and hopped back out. Outside the trucks and hotels, the Serengeti is the animals’ kingdom.

Nonetheless, nonetheless, I felt handcuffed. It was like, I imagine, being in one of the best chain stores or restaurants in the world. Ruth’s Chris Steak House or Saks Fifth Avenue may be opulent and exciting for many, but their repeated predictability, in my thinking, undermines their enticements and makes them less interesting. To happen upon unexpectedness is one of travel’s central joys, and that is rare on the Serengeti.

I must add though, in terms of pure comforts the place is profound. The hotels have been designed to cater to a high-end international travel crowd, and they do so with practiced expertise. The first night in Serenera Lodge I saw the sun drop behind the plain from an outdoor patio bar while watching a new brand of local wildlife – chattering Dutch, German, and English tourists. The buffet dinner included everything that could not be found in Karagwe – a table full of appetizers abutting another flush with main courses and leading to a third brimming with desserts. Breakfast was similarly decadent and the next evening’s sweets selection included flan, coconut custard, triple chocolate cake, currant pie, and more, more, more. I regained some missing pounds.

That second night was spent in Ngorongoro Lodge, where every room has a view looking out over the edge of the crater. It is approximately 12 miles across, and was formed when a volcano the size of Mt. Kilimanjaro caved in, leaving the massive hole. It is cooler than the surrounding area – the morning thermometer read about 55 degrees Fahrenheit, and lush. The green and the smell of fertile earth was so present on the drive up to the hotel that several Pennsylvanians mentioned the smell reminded them of a specific road, driveway, or trail at home.

In Arusha we stopped briefly at the Cultural Center, where a Euro-expat ran a small industry in selling local crafts and artifacts. The owners of the outdoor store in the states, Cabella’s, had visited the day before and bought a 240,000 US Dollar Tanzanian stone. The group I was with was more interested in the inexpensive Maasai necklaces and artists’ prints. As the Amizade group moved into town en route to Kilimanjaro Airport I hopped out of the Land Rover, glad to once again be on my own.