The next morning, the Impala Shuttle managed to pick us up only 40 minutes late, a feat by African standards, and we were soon bouncing along on the ever-so-dusty road to Arusha. I have to confess, it took me a full hour to adjust to the driving style in Africa. We were basically kissing the butt of every car we stopped behind. Looking back, it is actually ridiculous that we made the entire trip without hitting anyone. Morning commute tailgaters have nothing ...

After deplaning, we promptly got into a ridiculously monstrous line for immigration. Here's what I've learned about lines in Africa: you should just ignore the signs and go to the shortest line. However, as first-timers, we located the foreigner sign and spent the next hour in line commiserating with a scruffily cute Chicagoan, who had already gone through three different security checks coming off his flight from Uganda. I'm great at finding silver linings. :) A...