After leaving Arusha we had a joy-filled day of smooth pavement.  We
were going the same route as we had taken to get to the Serengeti -
minus one vital turn off - so we kept our eyes peeled for animals.
There were none to be seen.  Not even a cute little Thompson's gazelle.
 It was really nice though, just spending a day chatting and being
able to look around.  I don't understand people's joy on the dirt
roads.  It's not like it's proper trail riding - they're just terrible
roads and you can no longer keep an eye out for anything of interest.
We stopped at a place called "The Snake Camp" - obviously a common
overlander stop.  It had t-shirts and undies all over the ceiling, and
photos on the wall that dated back to the '60's and '70's.  Many a
young backpacker with fluffy hair and tight jeans sitting beside their
freshly bagged water buffalo.  The ones from the '80's onwards seemed
to be more drunken folks who got a fella to dress as a woman.
We also stopped at the Masai Museum.  I have very few pictures of the
Masai - few will let you take them, and those that will charge you for
the privilege (fair enough).

That evening at camp we had a beautiful view of a valley with a lake
which we could only see when the sun was in the position to reflect on
the water just right.  At a certain point we realized that there was a
large village of mud and grass huts almost directly in front of us -
we hadn't seen it because it blended so well with the environment.
That evening we watched the lightning storms in the distance.  We are
now in the tropics.  We are headed towards the rainy season, which is
moving northwards.  We also headed for more dirt roads.  It would be
nice if we got past them before we meet the rain.

Some days you really shouldn't wake up.  I headed off that morning
onto the dirt.  It was a beautiful start-up, passing women selling
hand woven grass baskets and tapestries which hung from the trees.  A
family of over thirty baboons crossed my path, and I watched as
mothers shuffled along their little babies and some called out to the
rest, having spotted me.  But then it was back to the same old thing - head
down, focus on the dirt.  Some of it was fine, but then we got back
into the hidden rocks, secret sand piles, and my old friend -
corrugation.

And then I got a flat.  That wasn't a problem - I fixed it.  But then
I got another.  And another.  And another.  And then I jumped on the
truck at lunch.  We caught up to the dinner truck which had broken
down.  We all helped to transfer the water trailer to the lunch truck,
but while we were doing that, the kids in the area were going through
anything left on the bikes and stealing it.  They got away with one
camera and a toolkit.  It was too bad - we were playing with them
while we waited, and everyone was so helpful.  It was really quite
ideal there - red dirt, lush green tropical trees, mud huts.  But I
suppose poverty is poverty, and in their eyes we have everything.
They're not all that far off, after all.

The dinner truck got in very late, and so I set about fixing my flats.
Once fixed, I walked over for a cup of soup and someone shouted -
"Miranda, I think your tire just went flat".  I thought they were
joking.  They weren't.  I took it to Mark.  He figured that it was my
rim tape and realigned it.  I fixed my tube and reinserted it, and all
seemed well.

 When I woke the next morning both of my tires were flat.  I was near
tears.  Paul looked at me and said - "Don't worry, we'll fix it - it's
not like there's voodoo on your tires or anything."  That made me
laugh and realize that my frustration wasn't going to get me anywhere.
 I decided to jump on the lunch truck and spend the extra time
swapping the rim tape from the "wheel of terror" for electrical tape.
I fixed the other tire, which I figured was a normal flat, and at
lunch was ready to carry on - a newer, happier version of myself.  The
total - 8 flats in a 24-hour period.  The sad thing is Simon Hexley had
more - 9 flats one day followed by two the next.  I admire his
patience.

Peter caught up with me at one point and so we rode together, though
we didn't see or say much - the roads were taking all of my focus.  We
passed over dried-up rivers which would soon be raging.
We stood across from camp at the end of the day drinking warm coke
from glass bottles as children gathered around us.  I played "monster
finger" with them, chasing them around while  trying to touch their
foreheads.  And then the heavens opened up and it poured.  Two
chickens ran for cover under Peter's wheel, showing once again why
they've never really evolved beyond a food source.
The rain passed, I did some yoga, and then sat up with some folks in the
evening watching "Lightening TV".