I had originally planned on repeating a trustworthy, upscale supermarket for lunch. Yet on the way, I passed a restaurant — although it was nothing more than a half-roof, loud American music, and old tables that were completely packed with locals — and whim meant I had to walk in. After some interaction (you know the kind: you start with long, verbose, polite English, then start condensing the sentence to be more understandable) a waitress showed me to a table, then stared expectantly at me. I laughed. She laughed. She called the chef over, who I was told to call Mama. I asked Ma for a menu. She gestured at herself: "I'm the menu!" Ma had chicken, fish, and banana. I said I didn't eat fish. Ma didn't understand and called over James, an IT supervisor at the local international school. James translated, and we settled on me eating chicken. With rice, specifically. As I sat, it dawned upon me I had no idea how I would pay for this meal. I had about $0.40 in cash — and $4.00 in Tanzanian shillings left in my account, and I lacked the wifi to make the necessary money moves to add to that $4.40. Of course, there was no way this place took card. I asked if they did. Then James asked if they did. Then James explained they indeed did not take card. I promised Ma I'd be back. Then I started walking, walking without direction, walking trying to find an ATM, hoping they wouldn't charge me more than $4 for the meal. As I walked, I questioned why I was going through so much effort for a meal, when I knew there was half-decent food at the supermarket. I decided that if I couldn't find an ATM in the next two minutes, I would just walk to the supermarket, and abandon the promise I made to Ma. I asked a security guard if there was an ATM within two minutes. He said there wasn't. I decided to keep walking, just to see. Two seconds later, forty metres down the road, there was an ATM. So it goes. I returned to the restaurant — via dropping a pin on Google Maps, for I doubted they were listed — which had somehow become even busier. The only seat left was next to James, the translator. We talked. I was given an absurd amount of food. Heart pounding, I asked James to ask how much. $4, on the dot. Perhaps that was a tourist price. On first bite, I stopped caring much. The food was incredible.