My kids at both schools in Moshi had exams the last week of March, meaning that there was essentially nothing for me to do, so I and three other friends from the hostel decided that Zanzibar was calling. Maura and Amanda, (Kili climbers), and Sara, a girl from Sweden, and I planned to bus to Dar Es Salaam on Monday the 22nd. When the Dar Express office was closed for several days, we decided that flying one way was not a bad idea. Great news: Maura and I are quite consistent in our airport misfortunes, as once again we somehow managed to almost miss our flight. To update the screen of flight happenings would be ludicrous, but this time it wasn’t as dramatic, as there are no loud speakers at Kilimanjaro airport for Dutch women to call and mispronounce names, so notification of our plane preparing for take-off came in the form of a woman wondering up to us to ask if we were possibly supposed to be on this particular flight. We made it and enjoyed air conditioning for the first time in 6 weeks. 1 hour of heaven...complete with locally grown cashew nuts.
Our plane landed in Stonetown, a city on the west coast of the island, where we planned to stay for 2 nights at the Flamingo Hostel; $10 a night, and they throw in a breakfast of fresh fruit, coffee, bread, and an omelette.
Stonetown is an immediate different feel from Moshi, as it is a predominately Muslim community, with architecture that creates a much more European-Indian-tropical feel. Other than shopping, there is not a ton to do in Stonetown, and the only thing we wanted to accomplish there was a spice tour. The island grows an abundance of different spices, and for $20 we were taken through a spice farm, sampling all the different spices of cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, lemon grass, vanilla, and 20 others. After this we visited the baths of a former Zanzibar royalty, took a trip to India as we ate our lunch barefoot on the floor of some random shack/shelter, eating only locally grown rice, vegetables and spices, and then visited a slave cave. The cave connects to the sea, and hundreds of people were hidden in the natural cave before being forced into ships waiting at the end of a tunnel. It was a sombre experience, but our guide who kept singing a song he made up about Barack Obama—complete with a dance—kept the mood somewhat light...and odd. After this we had an hour to spend at a beach...which we were told was the least impressive of the Zanzibar beaches. It was hard to believe at the time, but we headed up north the next day to spend the next 5 days on the proper Zanzibar beaches, and upon arrival, the myth quickly became fact.
Nights 1 and 2 were spent at Kendwa Rocks, in two rooms with a tiny ceiling fan, two twin beds, and community bathrooms. Cheap was the name of the game...business as usual. When our friend Amanda had to head back to Moshi for a presentation, we checked pricing down the beach and found a beach hut for three people, complete with a private bathroom, and for just 5 extra dollars a night...prepare yourself...air conditioning. Jump. Up. And. Down. We took it and never looked back.
Maura took a open water diving certification course that lasted for four days, and Sara and I spent the days on the beach watching the locals in their small wooden fishing boats among many other things. Quite a variety to see there was, what with the frequent traditionally dressed Maasai, the men with the monkeys, and the other mzungus (white folks) passing; perhaps the biggest novelty of all... The sun was the hottest I have ever felt it...no comparison even to Mexico...and in one week I used an entire bottle of sunscreen. 12 hours a day on the beach left me under the thatched awning for most of the day, unless in the water. Is my body still moulting like a snake? Ndiyo (yes).
Anyhow, Sara and I took a break from our strenuous beach life for a day trip of snorkelling at Mnemba Island. About a two hour boat ride away on the eastern side, we reached the protected island which is breeding ground for sea turtles and coral, and more fish than I have ever seen. Because it was a two hour boat ride, and I was quite conscious of the heat, my efforts to stay hydrated left me jumping over board to, in the words of the instructor, “make high tide,” before we actually reached the reef. As I jumped overboard in the middle of the Indian Ocean I realized that it seemed a bit odd to not have been asked my swimming capabilities, and though lifejackets were apparently on board, no hard proof had been offered. Anyhow, we all had a good laugh at my situation and soon we were in the water over the reef with masks and snorkels. I just cannot stress enough how blue the water was, and visibility lasted for at least 12 meters below the surface. Needless to say, it was a pretty okay day.
That night I put on shoes to go to a shop just down the street for more bottled water, and when something didn’t feel right, I realized that it was the shoes. Let this be a fair warning to you future Zanzibar goers: There is no real anything off of the beaches in northern Zanzibar, and before you know it you haven’t left the beach in days. Supermarkets with anything more than some biscuits and beverages...forget it. If you think there are ATM’s up north, or anywhere other than in Stonetown...think again. Oh and if you assume this means your beach accommodation will take any form of plastic...you are sadly mistaken. They instead will drive you to Stonetown when your stay is finished, you will take out cash, hand it over to the driver, and that will be that. Trusting people these islanders...
Geeze Louise, two nearly two pages...when it rains it pours, eh? I’ll leave you with a few photos of the island and a promise of several more entries to follow.
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