Wandering Through a Misty Day in Kigoma
the morning air was thick with humidity, the kind that makes your skin feel like it's wearing a second coat. i'd just rolled out of bed after a restless night, and the numbers on my weather app said 17.2Ā°c, but it felt more like 17.5Ā°c with the dampness clinging to everything. pressure was sitting at 1014, and the humidity was a whopping 97%. basically, it was the kind of day where you question whether you're sweating or just perpetually damp. if you get bored, dar es salaam and mwanza are just a short drive away, though i'm not sure i'd want to leave this misty cocoon just yet.
i grabbed my camera and headed out, the streets of kigoma quiet in the early hours. someone told me that the local fish market is the best place to catch the sunrise, but i heard that the real magic happens after the first few boats come in, when the haggling starts and the air fills with the smell of fresh catch. i decided to check it out anyway, and it was... there right now, hope you like that kind of thing.
the market was a riot of colors and sounds, with vendors shouting over each other and the occasional laugh cutting through the noise. i overheard a local say that the best ugali in town is served at a tiny spot near the port, but i also heard that the service can be slow if you're not a regular. i made a mental note to try it later.
later, i wandered down to the lakeshore, where the mist was even thicker. the water looked like it was holding its breath, and i couldn't help but think about how different this place must be in the dry season. i checked tripadvisor for a good spot to grab a coffee and ended up at a little cafe that had rave reviews for its espresso. the barista, a young guy with a quick smile, told me they import their beans from the southern highlands. it was worth the detour, even if the humidity made the steam from my cup curl into the air like a ghost.
as the day wore on, i found myself back near the market, this time for a late lunch. i'd heard from a fellow traveler that the best chapati in town is sold by a woman near the bus station, but i also heard that she only sets up shop in the afternoons. sure enough, there she was, flipping dough with a practiced hand. the chapati was flaky and warm, the perfect comfort food for a damp day.
by the time i made my way back to my room, the mist had started to lift, revealing a sky that was still overcast but less oppressive. i checked the weather again, and it was still hovering around 17.2Ā°c, but the humidity had dropped a bit. maybe tomorrow would be clearer. for now, i was content to sit on the porch with a book, listening to the distant sounds of the town settling in for the evening. if you're planning a trip here, just remember: the weather might be damp, but the people and the food more than make up for it.
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