18: Zanzibar

Zanzibar Pictures Here.
Stone Town Door Pictures Here.
SCUBA Diving Pictures Here.

Week 18 Update:

Zanzibar: Stone Town, Nungwi, Stone Town. (Just for Mike)

Day 120:

Glad that we were not staying next to a Mosque and not being woken up by prayer singing, we eventually lounged on the veranda through morning coffee awaiting the arrival of our guide for our spice tour. A young man arrived promptly at 9am as arranged and asked us to follow him. As the two of us were walking through narrow dark streets in Stone Town, after having handed over $30 for some tour we knew little about, the brutal trust we displayed as skeptical Africans amazed me. We had no idea who our leader was, nor where he was taking us, but for some reason we followed without question until we reached another tourist office where the Wazungu outnumbered the locals.

One short briefing by Abdulla later, 12 of us piled into a vehicle certified to carry 12 passengers. The suspension was non existent and the seats just a little harder than your average wooden church bench. The tourists felt ill at ease with the lack of personal space, but by this time Catt and I were rarely surprised at any African way, so just smiled at each other and opened the windows. The taxi driver, although sober, was still driving quite aggressively and stopped in a plantation in the middle of no where, instructing us to disembark and wait for another vehicle. Once again we followed instruction with blind obedience and stood around a Teac plantation, taking some photos and introducing ourselves to the group. Abdulla arrived shortly after and our tour kicked off.

Apart from explaining the plants and spices, we were followed and entertained by two local boys who were making banana leaf jewelry for the girls, picking fruit for everyone to try and finger painting their faces with some crushed Tandori seeds. Abdulla explained that the farmers planted all the different crops and trees they wanted in between each other and not in some order as we westerners were used to. The logical reasoning was that if one plant or fruit got diseased, the farmer still had a crop of another so provide an income. The plants they used also complimented each other. As an example he pointed out a clove tree which provides deep shade and protection for another spice as the cent of cloves also kept insects away. We were shown pepper and jack fruit (Disgusting by the way) vanilla and nutmeg which local woman use to get stoned and sampled oranges and nectarines and the freshest, reddest litchis I had ever encountered! I always thought they were brown, but apparently they have to be really old to loose their red color. Half way though the tour I decided that the $15 fee was a bargain for what you got to experience and the day had only started.

We left the family farm and visited a ruin of a Sultan’s Bath. The sultan of Oman at some point moved his residence to Zanzibar and needed these baths to drink coffee, relax, get a massage and take a batch on his way to his spice plantations. Keeping in mind that Zanzibar is VERY flat and walking takes little strain in any direction, it struck me that this Sultan was quite a lazy bastard. A traditional lunch was next on the “menu” or agenda if you will. We randomly stopped at some village on the way to somewhere we did not know, got marched into the village and sat on grass mats in some random building eagerly awaiting food. It arrived in the form of a bucket of rice, a bucket of spinach and a bucket of sauce made from mainly coconut and butter I thought. Resisting the urge to stand on my hands and knees and lick at the buckets, I took a plate and dished up. This stuff was so tasty that I simply could not get enough! I had plate after plate and only stopped when I got the sideways look from Catt indicating that I was on the verge of being really rude.

We followed the piper like obedient little children back to the mini bus, piled in and got driven to an old slave cave. Ironic, I thought, but entered none the less. Abdulla explained how the land and plantations above belonged to a slave master who ignored the abolishment of slavery and how he used to keep a few hundred souls in this cave until he could shift them via a low tide tunnel to the nearby beach. From the beach they would be loaded onto boats and sold off to other people who were still convinced slavery was the thing to do. The cave was from limestone and came complete with fresh water spring, so better than Malawi’s modern day prisons by all accounts. A few bantering stories later marked the end of our spice tour and the only thing left on the agenda was a swim at the beach. This specific beach was in front of a fancy hotel and I wasn’t sure how that fitted in with the local tour operators. We did swim over the coral and sea urchins without touching the bottom and we watched a local spear fish his way through the bay, taking a healthy amount of octopus from the sea. The security guard from the hotel came to remove the hotel’s beach loungers and towels before we could contaminate them, but we still had an hour’s fine time in the warm ocean before being marched back to the mini bus to be driven back to Stone Town.

On the way back we had to stop for a massive mango tree that was lying across the road. What soon came to light was that a man with a chain saw was responsible for this and that we simply had to sit and wait until he could hack enough branches up and out of the way for us to pass. The driver seemed unimpressed, jumped from the taxi and started shouting abuse at the person in charge. Abdulla started helping to clear the branches in a calm and controlled manner well suited to his position and I, laughingly, took some photographs of the Zanzibar road block. We got back to the tourist office around 16:00, only half an hour behind schedule. By this time we had already formed a pretty decent idea of the layout of Stone Town so without following familiar routes, we found our hotel in no time and settled in for the first part of the evening.

Catt had heard that a local musician was performing Taraab (Local genre of at the Old Fort Restaurant later that evening and as there was no charge for entrance, we had decided to go. We even convinced a group of English girls in our hotel to join us for an evening of ethnic culture in Zanzibar. The performance only started at 22:30 which was very very late for us. Our determination to sample local music was assisted by multiple mugs of strong Mzuzu Coffee and by 22:00 we were on a buzz and heading out the door. With all the walking we had been doing in town we knew the shortest route already and were seated at a table in the old fort within 15 minutes. We were the only people there… apart from the waitress that is. Good old British guilt forced the purchase of a round of drinks consisting of the cheapest beverages on the menu and with the arrival of that, the show started.

It was terrible! I could see that the style of music could be nice, but this poor guy had very little talent, almost no skill with his keyboard and relied of the pre programmed rhythms and huge speakers to entertain his crowds. He came complete with what looked like a pimp, but probably his agent who insisted on jumping up every once in a while and doing some weird and scary dance routine right in front of the performer. I was ready to leave very soon, but the same Britishness which dictated the spending of money on drinks outnumbered me, so I had to stay until the end of the first set. A fairly painful half an hour later it got quiet on stage, noisy in the restaurant as people started arriving for their evenings entertainment, and we snuck out, braving the dark narrow streets back the hotel. It was a very bizarre experience and due to the amount of “keeping awake juice” we had consumed before it was a fairly restless night.

Day 121:

My main interest in going to Zanzibar was scuba diving. I enjoyed the culture and scenery in Stone Town and Catt loved the millions and millions of little shops selling what looked to me like the exact same shit. We had planned a full day walking around town, finding information on diving and getting organized for the next week.

We were out of the hotel by 9am and found our first dive shop within half an hour. This instantly revealed the insanely high prices we had feared. We were never that interested to dive from stone Town but rather from the beaches further north and although these guys offered packages including the northern beaches we decided not to sign up and take our chances from the northern villages. We also realized that we needed to get our hands on some US$ to pay for all the fun, but no forex place would take VISA. This meant that we had to walk to an ATM, using two cards draw the Ths400 000 maximum allowance per card per day, take that to the bureau de chance and change it into Shillings. I was pretty sure that we were getting royally screwed with exchange rates and bank charges somewhere along the way, but it was the only option to us.

In one of the markets we saw a fantastically colorful and pretty unique painting of some elephants which was a third of the price of a similar size on the mainland. We decided to find a courier cost to the UK before buying it as we would not have been able to carry it with us. DHL had an office in town and their quote was about $90. That was the end of that idea. The post office quoted us about $12, but no one could supply the much needed cardboard tube for us to ship it in, so we left it.

By the late afternoon I had learnt the Swahili word for “no” (Hapana) and had used it extensively. I had also gained about 400 brothers as everyone started their invitation into their place of business with “My brother…” and about double that amount of friends as those who were not my brothers were apparently my friends who were very keen on helping me find my way and book activities for us. One special case kept following us and shouting advice. This time it was Catt’s turn to loose her temper. She turned around and gave the man a stare that would make children cry, but he obviously was a sensei in relentlessness as he simply smiled and refused to budge. I suggested that we walk into a really expensive hotel and Africa house at about $200 a night a person suited our needs perfectly. We had a chat at reception explaining our predicament and were allowed to wander up to the sunset bar deck and hang out for 20 minutes while the security guard had a short conversation with our friend. When we emerged back into the streets he had vanished… probably found a new friend to pester until that one lost his temper. We were confident that we had in fact walked in excess of 80% of the available alleys and roads in Stone Town. We had found the fastest internet connection at a cheap rate (It was way faster than anything we had experienced outside of South Africa) and we had said “Jambo” (Hallo) more times to more people than I had greeted over the previous ten years collectively. I needed to escape! We had one more stop to make though…

The old slave market in stone town was turned into a bit of a museum, a hotel, a coffee shop and a small memorial. The site of the market itself was the foundations for a huge Anglican Church. There was an entrance charge of $5 per person which we paid but I was soon very disappointment in the value if the fee I forked out. The building the hotel was house din had a few cellars where people told horror stories of early day slave trading. The memorial was the familiar pit with statues of five slaves in them you see on postcards and tourism brochures and there was a wedding in the church, so we couldn’t really walk around too much. The hole dragged out experience took less than 10 minutes and rated very, very low on my “Time and money v value” O-meter.

Back at Mange Lodge we arranged our transport for the next day. By this time we had sussed how the system works. You express a wish, get told a price and time of departure and if you accept, you hand over money and give your name. There is no receipt or paperwork or clear way of knowing if you handed the money over to the right person. In fact, as everyone seemed to be called either Abdul or Abdulla, it wasn’t even as if you could ever trace the person you handed the money over to. The one clear thing was that tourists (wazungu) were definitely paying more than locals, but they were getting special treatment. I handed over the $13 equivalent in Shillings to Abdul and asked for an 8:30 shuttle to Nungwi. He accepted the payment with a smile, asked out room number and said that someone would pick us up in the morning. With that the deal was done and the trust was formed. I had no doubt that we would be picked up the next morning.

We had heard about a fantastic food option the previous day. The local fisherman apparently grilled skewers of fish and offered salad and bread on the sea front every evening. This was like an open air food market where you could walk around and choose your food which would be prepared while you wait and it was apparently very cheap. This sounded fantastic so we left the sanctuary of Mange and braved the brothers and friends once again. The market was right in front of the old fort and it was a truly inspiring site. The 50 or so stalls had pretty much the same things on offer, and the only thing that separated them was the flamboyantness of the tout trying to get you to choose his place over the next.

Every afternoon the local teenagers had a habit of attending in pronto diving competitions off the pier. We watched their antics for a while before being engaged in conversation by three young boys. They explained that their English teacher sent them to the market to find tourists and converse with them, thus practicing their English and making more friends. I honestly thought that everyone on the island was related or friends, so wasn’t too sure why they wanted more. Anyway… It was very entertaining to have these conversations and to learn about the different ideas and conceptions the buys had about life and universe and all that. When one of them started asking Catt to take him back to South Africa, we thought the antics had gone on long enough, so excused ourselves and left. Bizarrely, they did not pester us further, did not ask for money or pens and actually greeted us politely and went on their way. I found that quite refreshing and different to my usual experience in similar situations.

After making a few more friends and gaining a few more brothers we piled a selection of fish skewers onto a plate and asked for it to be grilled. We ate to our heart’s content and drank half a liter of pure sugar cane juice each. This was made using fresh whole sugar cane and putting it through a rolling press to extract every last bit of juice. It was surprisingly little sweet and very refreshing. We even had plantain (Huge banana looking fruit) with chocolate sauce for dinner. The total cost was about $18, so not the cheapest, but worth while we thought.

Day 122:

Screaming cats woke me up around 7am. Tanzania’s time zone was an hour later than the other countries we had been to, so the sun was barely over the horizon at 7am. It was time to get up anyway and after making coffee we hit the shower. The facilities in Mange Lodge were shared, so no en suite. The shower room was tiled from wall to wall and had one drain in the corner for the room. The toilet was in the same room with a tap by one end of it for the “washing bottom after using” kind of people. It was all a little strange, but seemed to work well enough.

At 8:30 sharp a young man came by and announced that we had to follow him to our shuttle bus. This was not the person I had paid the previous day, but we obediently walked after him none the less. Around the second corner was a car park full of minibuses and it was clearly the staging post for their daily exodus to the northern beaches. The Wazungu were no longer outnumbered by the locals. We were piled into the first of seven 12 seaters and left shortly after with only the two of us occupying the passengers seats. The driver took us through the narrow streets of town, stopping at a few more lodges and hotels until we were packed to capacity and then hit the road north. The island was small enough so that we made the journey in about an hour and a half, dodging goats and chickens and cattle and children and almost hitting an ox cart.

In Nungwi we drove through the typical and seemingly perpetual African village to get to the beach and suddenly five or so shuttles stopped at the same place and at the same time. Accommodation was pretty full at the time, so we had to work fast to secure ours. Jambo Brothers was our first port of call but the expected $30 a night for us suddenly became $45. We saw the next place and they started at $45 as well. The previous day we had spoken to a diving operator in the area who offered to help us find accommodation, so we decided to walk the 300m or so down the beach with all our gear to find him and ask advice before making a decision. We were confident that we would be able to find our choice of accommodation before the second wave of fresh tourists was deposited on the beach after 14:00 that afternoon.

We spotted another dive operation right next to the drop off point and decided to see what they offered as well. East Africa Divers quoted us the same price, had great advice of negotiating a better room rate and they were within spitting distance of where we wanted to stay, so we decided to book a 6 dive package with them. As we were doing the obligatory paperwork and showing our qualification cards to the owner, she suddenly gasped and shouted “NO WAY” before telling us that our advanced instructor, Jaco, was working for her. We protested, saying that it must be a different person as our good friend Jaco Hoffman was working in Mozambique, but with a huge smile she informed us that he had left his previous employment and had been working for her for a month. That incredible and lucky coincidence sealed the deal! We had found our dive operator of choice who helped us find accommodation on the beach for $35 a night including breakfast and we could just hang out by the dive shop.

To Jaco’s great surprise we walked up to him as he stepped off the boat after his duties for the day. We spent a fantastic afternoon catching up and telling stories of diving, skydiving and reminiscing about fun we had had in the past. We had a lunch of rice, meat, vegetables and re fried beans for Tzs 1 500 each which could only be organized by Sahidi, one of the local staff as the restaurant charged wazungu much more. The plate of food was formidable and it was only the purest dedication and determination that made me finish it. 17:00 was the end of his day which brought on a cold beer or two but as Jaco had a date with his new girlfriend that evening, we retired to our not so luxury room, made some dinner and fell asleep excited about the prospect of diving the next day.

Day 123:

Waking up early we braved the shower before breakfast. That moment was the single biggest disappointment I had had in more than a month. Terrible! You could squeeze more water from a hand full of desert sand than that thing produced in a minute and trying to wash under it was a complete waste of time. I though that perhaps the water had run out, so asked one of the staff about it who’s answer was to turn a pump on outside. That made absolutely no difference at all. I explained the water pressure in Mana Pools as being comparable to a runny nose. These were a hundred times worse.

Breakfast almost made up for the lack of water pressure. The plate contained a juicy orange, a home made bread, a banana and a one egg plain omelet. It was tasty and well presented and accompanied by some of our own Mzuzu coffee was just what was needed before a day’s diving.

Our chosen dive site for the day was Mnemba Island. This small, uninhabited Island off the coat was inside a national park, attracting a healthy park fee and a 30 minute boat ride from the dive centre, attracting a surcharge. It was said to be fantastic, so we just had to check it out for ourselves. Jaco was skipping the large semi rigid (Rib) boat with two 115HP outboards powering it. The reef and shore are protected from the ocean waves because of shallow water, so we never went through the breakers as we had been accustomed to. The sea was calm and flat and the sun was shining which made the boat ride comfortable and fun and little work for Jaco to get us to the dive site. After a short briefing the seven of us got into the clear turquoise warm water and started our descent.

It was vastly different to the diving and the sites we had experienced in the past. There was a fairly strong current, but very little surge and the water seemed clearer and bluer than what we had seen. The visibility wasn’t necessarily better and you couldn’t necessarily see further under water. It was just a different color. The tropical sea fishes were similar to the species we had seen in South Africa and the numbers were as high, if not higher. The reef was long and narrow, similar to a wall and we simply allowed the current to take us along it at our chosen depth. Two freshly qualified divers with our group mistook diving for Olympic swimming and shot off into the blue yonder before Jaco could stop them, but the rest of us had a fantastic and relaxing float around with the sea life before surfacing after an hour.

In Scuba diving you have to have a minimum of one hour on the surface between diving. This is aptly called a “Surface Interval” and has the purpose of working out the residual nitrogen in your body that you get from breathing normal air (21% Oxygen) under water. Because of our boat trip distance we did our surface interval on the boat instead of going back to land. This was also a first for us, but as the sea was so calm, and the waves so far away, it was perfectly comfortable. The crisps and cookies provided by the dive centre obviously helped and the fact that we saw a family of dolphins swim by and were allowed to jump in and swim with them also made the wait easier.

The second dive was fairly similar to the first. We thought that the visibility was good even though the Scandinavian idiot on the dive was complaining about it. We thought the reef was interesting and the sea life plentiful. It was another very pleasant experience which was cut short by set Scandinavian idiot who refused to surface with his buddy, only to run out of air shortly after. This meant that Jaco, our dive master had to surface with him which meant the end of our dive as well. Rude bastard!

The ride back to the dive centre was as comfortable as the ride out. We made it in great time and stepped onto dry land before 14:00. Sahidi was employed to organize the local scrumptious lunch for us again while we washed our gear and dried our bodies. By the time lunch was dealt with, the gear put away and everything sorted it was so close to “Beer o clock” that we didn’t even bother going back to our room. We had also decided to have a traditional South African feast for dinner at the staff house.

Everyone involved manage to bring something delicious and by the end of the Fillet and tons of salads and fruit salad everyone was well satisfied, a little tipsy and ready for bed. We walked back through the village in pitch black darkness, fortunately being able to follow Marianne, the little French freelance dive master whose house was very close to our room.

Day 124:

We had decided to go diving on the local reefs, using the Dhow for that day. This meant an 11am departure time which meant that we could sleep in, have a leisurely breakfast of fruit, eggs and bread and attempt another splashing in our ridiculously crap shower before slogging the 40m over the beach to the dive centre. Our friend had to take the rib back to Mnemba so we had no chance diving with him. We were left in the very capable hands of Opaz, the Israeli dive master who had been there for four years and who knew the reefs extremely well. The other nice thing was that the boat was very empty. Our dive group consisted of only four divers and the other group, led by Tanya the Italian instructor was only two divers.

The Dhow was about 18 foot long and powered by a 40HP outboard engine. Although a little slow, it was surprisingly comfortable with the heavy wooden bow cleaving through the swells like a butcher’s knife through tender beef. We reached our first reef within half an hour, got ready and dropped into the welcoming warm water. This reef was vastly different to anything we had ever seen under water. The coral was called Plate Coral and looked almost like a frozen brown waterfall on one side of us with Open Ocean on the other side. The current was insanely strong, propelling us along the edge of the reef. There were lots to see and many entertaining little critters, but once you had moved past something, there was no way of going back. Opaz expertly lead us along the reef to the end, across some sandy sea bed and onto another reef close by. We saw some Guitar Fish which was pretty rare and I even had one swim along with me for a few minutes.

Our surface interval was on the boat again and while we were watching our dive computers tick down to zero, the Dhow was sailing us slowly to the next dive site. Tanya and her student jumped into the water first and when our time came we dropped just off a reef called “Shanes”. The first few minutes was a little strange as there was only sand to see and I was convinced that Opaz had lead us in the wrong direction. He did show us a small sea snail that excited him greatly (Apparently very rare) and just as I was wondering if the rest or our dive was going to be looking at snails and sand, we hit the reef. And man what a reef that was! It was full of life and magically colorful! I felt like I was swimming in a well stocked and manicured aquarium.

Our underwater camera has no battery reading. It can seem fully charged at one minute and then simply tell you the battery is flat the next minute. It picked this precise time to do exactly that! I wasn’t too fazed by this. I simply stashed the camera in a pocket on my BCD (Buoyancy control device) and enjoyed the rest of the show. There is no good way to explain how incredible this dive was. Suffice to say that I started noticing that all four of us tried to get the other’s attention to show them something really cool. This became a repetitive phenomenon until the very end of the dive when all four of us spotted a turtle at the same time. This turtle was completely unperturbed by us and she simply floated in mid water with her head down munching on some coral. We spent our last five minutes of allowed dive time with her and when it was time to go up Catt took her regulator out of her mouth, dropped her bottom lip and shook her head indicating “No, I don’t want to surface now…” I felt the same. It was an absolutely fantastically incredible dive!

Back at the dive centre we met up with the rest of the gang and staff for a beer in the afternoon. Marianne came by after an afternoon nap and with the biggest smile and widest eyes and strongest French Accent you can imagine proclaimed that she was “Soooo Grmpeeee” ending in a pitch a choir boy would whish for. This obviously had the same effect on the rest of us. We rolled around on the concrete floor laughing and wishing that we could be “grumpy” like that. Later that evening we had Jaco and Lotta, his Dutch girlfriend over to our place for dinner. It was amazing that we could offer a decent meal by using only our trusty MSR stove and a few things we found for sale on the street.

It turned into another late night with very interesting discussions. Lotta had a grant to research and write a book about Child Soldiers. She had been living in Sierra Leone, Rwanda and the DRC for the previous while and was on Zanzibar to escape the possible violence in Rwanda associated with the elections. Her plan was to stay two weeks. By the time we visited she had been there for five. All good things had to come an end and it was after midnight by the time we slumped into the comforts of our thin mattressed hotel bed.

Day 125:

Our third day of diving started with a rain storm. That wasn’t exactly part of our island plan, but it soon passed and after breakfast we strolled over to the dive centre. The Dhow was the only vessel launching that day but as we had asked to visit the same reefs as the previous day, this suited us perfectly. The group had grown in size and we were unfortunately joined by our Scandinavian friend from two days previous. He was assigned a dive buddy by Opaz our Israeli dive master and kept to himself before long, which suited us fine. Tanya the Italian was doing the final dives with her student and Engvil; the Norwegian instructor had two students of her own. I felt like calling the United Nations meeting to order before we walked off the beach!

The wind was blowing a bit and the sea was deceptively rough. The Dhow cleaved through the swells with relative ease and got us to our first dive site within an hour of leaving the dive centre. While we were getting ready the boat was floating side on to the waves which made life quite interesting and made poor Catt Sea sick as hell. Our friend from Scandinavia did not help matters much by faffing and taking twice as long as anyone else to get ready so we made it into the water seconds before feeding the fishes.

Below the surface we entered a new, interesting and sometimes quite scary world. The current was almost non existent but there was a massive surge associated with the wind. Because the reef was relatively unprotected, the sand was being lifted of the bottom of the ocean and flowed freely in mid water. The fish seemed a little scared of the environment and was hiding in amongst the plate coral and the visibility fluctuated between 5 and 10 meters and sometimes, when the sand hit hard, it was zero. It was the first time for Catt and I to dive in conditions like that and we both felt that it was interesting and challenging. It could almost be described as driving in a sand storm. I don’t think the other divers shared our sentiment and they started complaining about the conditions as soon as we broke the surface after an hour’s dive.

Back on the Dhow the sea had turned even more active and the swells were so high that even the captain seemed a little weary. Tanya was visibly green in the face and before long Catt was mentioning a slight queasiness as well. Opaz handed over some of his home brew spice tea which seemed to sort Catt out instantly and just in time for me to start feeling the effects. I couldn’t really understand why as I never feel motion sick, but there we were… We spotted some dolphins swimming in the surf and headed their way. The distraction did everyone on the boat a world of good and we arrived at our second dive site, Shanes, shortly after.

I started getting ready with some apprehension. I was feeling as sick as a dog and I expected the conditions below the surface to be less than great. At the same time I did not want to leave without seeing that reef one more time and waiting on the rocking boat while the rest of the guys go diving was simply not an option! This time it was me who almost threw up seconds before hitting the water but I managed to control it. Catt gave me a concerned smile once we were in the water and mentioned how green I looked. I had no energy fo9r a response.

Once we reached the reef it was a different story all together! The conditions were absolutely pristine and the reef was as incredible as the day before. We managed our depth in a way to achieve the longest possible dive without needing decompression. The fish from the day before seemed to be in the same places and this time I made sure the battery of the camera was fully charged. Catt played spotter and after every time I released the shutter she would take me to yet another fantastic photo opportunity. I took 145 pictures in that single dive! Our computers started screaming at us after 55 minutes so we had to start our ascent. We managed to see and experience most everything from the day before and in even better conditions and the only thing that was missing from a perfect diving experience was the fact that we did not see the Turtle again.

Back on the Dhow I noticed that Engvil had disappeared. I asked the captain who smiled and through yellow stained teeth told me that she could not handle the Dhow any more and swam the 2km to shore. I was mildly impressed, but at the same time convinced that given the options I would also have opted for the swim. Back on terra firma we rinsed our gear for the last time, tried to have another hopeless shower and walked over to the staff house to find Jaco who had had an off day.

Lotta and Jaco had a seemingly busy day installing gutters, planting trees and putting up mosquito netting at the house. I did not envy them! They were probably as tired as we were so we decided to treat ourselves to a restaurant dinner that evening. Their choice of restaurant served pizza and curry. I ordered pizza and was not disappointed. Catt ordered Masala. After trying it I lost the power of speech and all feeling in my lips so I was happy that I did not have to suffer though one of those dishes. My one bite meant that we had to go to a chea0per bar to find some beer after dinner. It was after all our last night in the area and it seemed like we had made a great variety of cosmopolitan friends who were all going to be there to meet Marianne’s boyfriend for the first time. Ron, from Malawi had been working in the UK for quite some time recording albums and playing gigs. They had a plan to visit Malawi’s Festival of Stars a month or so from that time but also to travel a little and dive a lot as Ron was also a Scuba instructor. I couldn’t help but feel he would be a fantastic addition to the East Africa diver’s staff. With him added they would represent no less than eight nationalities. It was, once again, after midnight by the time we dragged ourselves away from the crowds and along the white sandy shores of the Indian Ocean to our Banda on the sand.

Day 126:

We had organized the tourist shuttle back to Stone Town for 9:30 so we did not have a load of time that morning. The weather was overcast and fairly cold, so at least it seemed like we were not missing too much. It was still very sad to greet our new friends at the dive centre as they readied themselves for another day under the water. We mentioned how impressed we had been with Opaz to the owner Darlene who almost burst into tears at our explanations. One big wave and good bye later and we were ushered into Abdul’s minibus with six other tourists on their way to new adventure.

As we drove through the village I could not help but smile at the concept of these metal tubes delivering fresh tourists batches to the business and hotels of Nungwi twice a day. It was clearly not difficult getting clients. Abdul was an absolute gem of a taxi driver. He was driving slow and considerate and did not scare me once… with his driving. His conversational skills with the two young females in the front left a bit to be desired for, but it was all taken in good humor. He dropped us off right in front of the Zenji Hotel in Stone Town within two hours of loading us at the dive centre.

Zenji was our choice for three reasons: We wanted an en suite bathroom with hot shower. We wanted to be close to the ferry port as we were planning to leave the next day and we wanted some internet time. The offered all three, including free Wifi and a buffet breakfast for a very reasonable $45 for the two of us, but they were fully booked. We walked around for a little while and found a place that could satisfy two of the three needs for a little less money and close enough so we could visit Zenji’s coffee shop to abuse their Wifi. This place was called the Narrow Street Hotel and offered the pinkest of pink mosquito netting I had ever seen! It was however in a prime location for us. It was clean and neat and had fantastic water pressure in the nice clean bathroom.

It was around lunch time by the time we had checked in so the shower had to wait. We walked to the market in search of food and found a football sized grapefruit for about $0.25. It was perfectly ripe and amazingly juicy and so massive that we had to share and still struggled to finish the beast! Catt invested in some “kokois” (Almost towel like which you wrap around your waist) at a very good price and we bought some Dates on the way back to the Narrow Street Hotels fantastic shower. We also secured our ferry tickets for the next day from the ticket office at the correct price instead of the hustler with the street stall.

The mammoth grooming session took more than an hour as we both got stuck in the shower for a while and really did not want to leave the room again. By late afternoon we were ready to go none the less and made the 5 minute walk to the coffee shop for some internetting. WOW! Was this internet fast? It was almost like discovering broadband for the first time. Emails sent immediately, BlogSpot pages got edited with ease and we even managed to download the 378 Meg Mac update while drinking a well presented Americano and listening to some Taraab music on a CD player. It was obvious that that band would not play at the Old Fort any more.

The location o9f the hotel and coffee shop meant that we could walk past the barbeque on the beach again. The same tables were represented by the same brothers and friends at the same prices. He had it sussed in no time and made our selection from a friendly old man who could not speak a word of English. We had learnt enough Swahili to get by and could even understand how much money we needed to pay him. Our plates consisted of: 3 Kebabs, two samoosas, a coconut bread, salad for two, chips, falafia (deep fried mash potato balls) and two spicy meat ball looking things. Our bill was less than $10 and we almost did not manage to finish it all.

After dinner we walked back to the hotel, had one glass of wine and fell into a deep sleep on our very very very very very pink bed.

If I had to do it again:

Once again a greatly successful week. It was hard travelling with Scuba gear, but when you roll backwards off the boat in your own gear, it all makes sense. Stone town was fantastic and worth the three days we spent there as was the spice tour. We obviously arrived at a very busy time of year, so finding accommodation was challenging, but manageable. For future travelers on a tight schedule I would recommend booking one of the millions of hotels. T4A had little to no info on Zanzibar but I walked Stone Town flat with my GPS around my neck, so hopefully that will change soon.

East Africa Divers was really good! Great people, exceptional staff, fantastic gear and no more expensive than the next place. Diving on Zanzibar is more expensive than most people would be used to for scuba diving. It was, in my opinion, not one of the 10 best places in the world to dive, but if you do there, you should at least do a few.