I don’t know about you; but, I grew up with fantastic ideas about trains. Specifically, traveling by train. Maybe it was the bad musicals, or the Disney movies, or just the general sense of nostalgia that I— as an American— had pounded in from country westerns. But, when I think about hopping in a passenger car and trying to get from Point A to Point B, I used to have a set of basic expectations:
- Being on-time.
- Being fed.
- Being able to sleep.
You know, some of the foundations of that whole Maslow thing.
But, several years ago, I took Amtrak from Los Angeles to Seattle. It completely, and thoroughly, disabused me of any romantic ideals. To keep a tortured story short: we were intentionally stranded in the mountains, denied food, lied to about our “delay,” and finally— thankfully— the train was cancelled in Eugene and everyone was loaded onto buses to finish their trips.
Well, everyone but us. We weren’t about to be tricked into a vehicle with even less legroom! And, Sam, who I had been traveling with, had been able to call his mother. Worse, she had ample time to drive down from Washington and pick us up.
My other rail experiences haven’t been much better.
For Chris and my travel through Africa, taking trains and expecting that sort of disaster still comes out nicely. When we went to wine country or crossed from Cape Town to Johannesburg, the trains were weren’t pleasure excursions; but, they were acceptable.
So, with this all in mind, the simple fun of riding the Tazara was a utter shock.
It’s was like my childhood dreams come true. Do you want a picturesque traversal of Zambia and Tanzania? The Tazara crosses two game reserves. How about cheap and delicious cooked food? It’s available from both the dining car or through the windows at every village you pass through.
First class is a little less than $60 USD. And, you get three days and two nights of peaceful transport plus the equivalent of a safari. Moreover, there’s no shortage of characters to be found between the staff and your fellow passengers.
We boarded at the Zambian terminus, Kapiri Mposhi— a dusty and small town about 100km north of Lusaka. And, went the whole way to the Tanzanian coastal city of Dar es Salaam.
I can’t imagine any form of transport topping the Tazara.
