A Visit to Australia and Tanzania via the Scenic Route

My scenic route from Oman to Australia, Tanzania and back

This year, Zawadi decided she and the children—Amani and Malaika—would decamp to Tanzania for the summer. I, too, was long overdue for a trip to East Africa. At the same time, I felt the gravitational pull of Australia and a growing sense of familial obligation. With Zawadi and the kids setting off a week ahead of me, and no particular urgency to my own movements, I opted for the path less travelled—otherwise known as the “scenic route.”

I began by flying to Dubai with Fly Dubai (a budget airline whose charm lies in its directness, if not its legroom). From there, Air Astana spirited me away to Almaty, Kazakhstan—a destination I’d long been curious about, partly because it sounds like somewhere out of a Tolstoy novella. A one-way fare from Dubai to Kuala Lumpur via Kazakhstan was surprisingly affordable, and since Kazakhstan appeared on SmartTraveller’s coveted green list, it all felt rather serendipitous.

Almaty turned out to be a tidy and surprisingly cosmopolitan city, with an agreeable blend of modern convenience and Soviet gravitas. I stayed three nights at the Grand Tien Shan Hotel, an old-fashioned charmer within strolling distance of Zenkov Cathedral and its adjacent parklands. The hotel had the sort of character you don’t find in cookie-cutter chains—think creaking floors, lofty ceilings, and staff who speak just enough English to smile at your bewilderment. I’d gladly return one day, preferably with the family and a better grasp of Russian.

To break up the epic journey (I develop mild existential dread after more than seven hours on a plane), I made a brief stopover in Phuket. There I did precisely nothing, except marvel at how many people appear to be permanently on holiday. Then it was back in the air with Malaysia Airlines to Sydney, and onward via Virgin Australia to Hobart for a few days of cool air, convict-built sandstone, and unapologetic weather. From there, I flew to Adelaide to reconnect with family—a heartening exercise in remembering where you come from, and being reminded that you were always the weird cousin.

Next came a flight to Perth, followed by a scenic drive down to Donnybrook, where my sister and her husband live on a farm straight out of a Qantas advert. Their house is cleverly positioned over a large dam, which sounds rustic until you realise it gives the place a kind of private-lake chic. The countryside down that way is quietly spectacular—rolling hills, towering gums, and the occasional kangaroo looking vaguely inconvenienced.

Then came the part of the journey that had a certain mythical allure: Rodrigues Island, part of Mauritius, yet sufficiently remote to retain its charm. I flew there with Air Mauritius via Mahebourg and was not disappointed. Rodrigues is like the shy sibling of the Indian Ocean islands—low-key, welcoming, and not yet afflicted by mass tourism.

I stayed at the Auberge St Francois, a modest and pleasingly affordable guesthouse on the eastern side of the island. The beaches were idyllic, of course, but the true highlight was the giant tortoise reserve. There’s something inherently calming about these ancient creatures—like walking among living boulders with excellent posture.

Continuing westward, I flew to Johannesburg with British Airways. From there, I picked up a hire car and drove a little over 200 kilometres to Pilanesberg National Park, where my inner adrenaline junkie was finally indulged. Forget lions and leopards—the real thrill came from the Zip2000 at Sun City, one of the longest and fastest ziplines in the world. Suspended like a festive ham from a steel cable, I reached speeds of up to 160kph, which is fast enough to make you question your life choices in real time.

Accommodation came courtesy of the Black Rhino Game Lodge, an elegant setup with excellent food, comfortable lodgings, and a schedule built around twice-daily game drives. The wildlife was abundant and obliging—lions lazing, elephants lumbering, giraffes pretending not to notice you. Even a cheetah or two made a cameo. I’ll definitely return with the family. I suspect the kids will love it, especially once they’ve seen the zipline.

Tanzania Roadtrip 2016

From there, at long last: Tanzania. It was a delight to be reunited with Zawadi, Amani and Malaika. We started with a few days of relaxed inertia at Kipepeo, which is as restful as its name suggests. After that, we launched into a long-planned road trip. Originally, the idea was to drive from Dar es Salaam to Musoma via Arusha and the Serengeti, then loop back through Dodoma. However, fate—in the form of a non-existent 4WD booking—intervened. So we made do with a two-wheel-drive van and stuck to the tarmac.

Even with these limitations, the journey offered plenty to savour. Mwanza, in particular, surprised us with the Malaika Beach Hotel—a genuine oasis of calm and comfort. Infinity pool? Tick. Friendly staff? Tick. Cold beer with a view of Lake Victoria? Triple tick. It felt almost too civilised.

We did manage a safari in the Serengeti, entering via the lesser-used Ndabaka Gate on the park’s western flank. For the day, we hired a Land Rover and a guide who knew his elephants from his elbow. The kids were beside themselves with excitement, and the wildlife did not disappoint. At one point, a pride of lions regarded us with the sort of disinterest usually reserved for telemarketers.

In Musoma, we lodged at the Matvilla Beach Lodge, a place where the décor is unpretentious and the views are unapologetically spectacular. Sunset over Lake Victoria, drink in hand, children asleep—it was one of those moments where you seriously consider never returning to real life.

The next day we made the trip to Burere village to visit Zawadi’s father, Owitti. The welcome was warm and heartfelt, and I suspect the visit meant even more to him than he let on—though Tanzanian stoicism often masks these things.

Eventually, we had to make the long return drive to Dar es Salaam. Remarkably, we only suffered one flat tyre over the entire 3,000+ kilometre journey—a feat of vehicular resilience that borders on the miraculous, given local road conditions.

Our final night was spent at the Ramada Beach Resort, which turned out to be far better than any of the other hotels I’ve encountered in Dar. Clean, stylish, competent—three words you rarely get to string together in one Tanzanian hotel review.

And then, just like that, the adventure came to an end. It was time to return to Muscat and resume civilian life—emails, meetings, and the sort of bureaucratic contortions that make you long for another detour through Kazakhstan.