Mombasa to Tanga: Tracing the Soul of the Swahili Coast

After a night of roaming Mombasa’s lively streets—buzzing with music, matatus, and midnight snacks—I barely caught a wink of sleep. The city had kept me on my feet and wide-eyed: from impromptu rooftop conversations to late-night strolls through Old Town’s winding alleys, scented with spiced tea and grilled mishkaki. Still, the plan was to catch an early morning bus to Tanga, Tanzania.

But when morning came, I found out that all the seats on every bus plying that route had already been taken. In hindsight, I should’ve booked a ticket online weeks earlier—but truth be told, I wasn’t even sure I’d be upright in time for the journey after that kind of night.

The setback didn’t shake my resolve. There was no room in my itinerary—or my wallet—for delays. I had a long road ahead and a clear deadline: I needed to be home in time for Christmas. So, without missing a beat, I activated Plan B.

That meant heading south—starting with a ride on the Likoni Ferry, where I joined the throng of early morning commuters shuffling aboard as the rising sun glimmered off the water. From there, I wound my way down the coast through Diani and Lunga Lunga toward the Horohoro border post. 

^{From Likoni, I wound my way down the coast through Diani and Lunga Lunga toward the Horohoro border post.} 

And what a journey it turned out to be. East Africa’s coastline is nothing short of enchanting. The landscape shifts between dreamy stretches of white-sand beaches, swaying coconut palms, and sun-bleached fishing villages where life hums at its own rhythm. But beyond the scenery, it was the people and the pulse of daily life that made the trip unforgettable. I bartered for fruits in roadside markets, squeezed into minibuses where Bongo Flava thumped through rattling speakers. 

This wasn’t my first dance with the Swahili coast. On a previous trip, I’d wandered through the laid-back towns of Watamu and Malindi. This time, I paused in Diani—a postcard-perfect haven where the turquoise sea felt like a balm for the road-weary soul. After soaking up the beachside calm, I pressed on toward Horohoro. Crossing into Tanzania was smooth, and on the other side, I was met with smiles, Swahili banter, and curious glances that quickly melted into warmth.

Finally, I arrived in Tanga. Honestly, I hadn’t expected much. Tanga tends to hover under the radar—overshadowed by its louder, more popular neighbors like Mombasa, Zanzibar and Dar es Salaam. But that’s part of its charm. This overlooked coastal town doesn’t demand attention; it earns it quietly, through time spent walking its sleepy streets, sipping coffee with locals, and watching the sun melt into the ocean.

^{This overlooked coastal town doesn’t demand attention; it earns it quietly, through time spent walking its sleepy streets, sipping coffee with locals, and watching the sun melt into the ocean.}

In my next post, I’ll dive into my Tanga experiences: the unexpected encounters, the echoes of history, and the kind of inner beauty that doesn’t show up on brochures. Spoiler alert: Tanga didn’t just meet my expectations—it quietly surpassed them.