Tasting Paradise

Touching down on Zanzibar Island, we were greeted by Baboos colleague, Baboo. This one claimed to be the original Baboo. Taylor and I were undecided whether to refer to him as Baboo Le Premier or Baboo Part Deux. Anyway, he, his driver Mehdi, and sidekick James took us to town. Fortunately Baboo had informed Baboo that we were on a miniscule budget. We bypassed the usual options for accommodation and stayed with one of his friends. This was just fine with us.

Baboo and James accompanied us to the waterfront in Stone town. This is where the Omani Sultans, who ruled Zanzibar for centuries, used to come down and watch the boats at sunset. All kinds of street vendors were out ready to satisfy any weary travelers hunger. Our first stop was to a man running sugarcane stalks through a wringer. When he doubled it over, he would place spices between the folds. The result was a gingery and refreshing beverage.

It was decided that $15 was fair for bed, breakfast, and a little slice of heaven.

And since we werent just thirsty, but also hungry, we strolled along to see what was on the grill. We stopped at a table that had heaps of fish and pointed out the ones we wanted cooked. I settled on some king fish, mussels, and calamari. Mmmdelicious. Mind you the place is swarming with mangy cats, so dont look into those sad eyes or they will cast a spell on you. Obviously the man had to try to rip us off, but with the help of Baboo, we only paid half of his original price. He acted unhappy, but we were sure he made out alright.

After dinner we took a warm evening stroll through Old Stone Town. It isnt difficult to spot the European colonial buildings. Could it be the three storied numbers with wrap around verandas? Hmm The interesting part of the Old Town tour is when you plunge into the winding maze of streets. If it reminded us of a medina in Morocco, there is a reason. This is the oldest and most traditionally Arabic part of town. For me, the most special aspect of Old Stone Town was beholding the entrances to the houses. The doors were surrounded by exquisite cedar carvings of floral patterns and Arabic lettering. They are a symbol of the pride and craftsmanship of a bygone era as they are the most beautiful part of scores of crumbling buildings. Altogether, Old Stone Town reminds us that Zanzibars renown was great enough to attract colonizers from the Middle East as well as Europe.

Back at our lodgings we had our first encounter with the bucket shower. Basically, the hose was broken, so the only way to rinse those parts of your body, which do not fit under the faucet, is to fill up a bucket and then ceremoniously baptize yourself. Fortunately a cup was also included with the package so more precise splashing could be achieved. It turned out to be a very satisfying experience. I personally was satisfied just to get all the soap off!

The next morning Baboo set us up with a spice tour. The reason Zanzibar grew to such prominence in centuries past was because of its ability to produce a vast array of spices. Wed only heard good things about the tours so we looked forward to going on one. As it turns out there were many guides waiting outside the gates of the spice plantation waiting for the opportunity to lead a tour. More or less the one who struggled the hardest to get into our car got the job. He turned out to be a really good guide. Our tour was one of discovery. We would walk up to a tree and our guide would pluck some of the leaves, crumple them in his hands and say, You dont have any idea what this is. The leaves would always smell so fragrant. Many times we guessed correctly, but the problem is that often the spice comes from the root and smells different. On the tour we learned that white, green, and red pepper all come from the same plant. The difference is at which point of maturity the berries are picked. He told us that cardamom was the king of spices because Tanzanians use it in all their cooking. Cinnamon is the queen because they use every part of the plant. We were shown a prickly green fruit called lipstick fruit, so called because it contains a red juice perfect for adorning young girls lips. Next came lyang lyang, which is said to be the key ingredient to Chanel #5. Also interesting were jack and breadfruits, two huge, knobby, green, watermelon sized fruits. The taste was rather disappointing, mostly seed without much actual meat. We also got to sample some extremely sour star fruits, pint sized bananas, and oranges so green they looked like limes. After the tour we got to try all the fruits wed seen.

After Stone Town and a spice tour, the main attraction on Zanzibar is the beach. There being so many we thought to ask James for his advice. The beaches in the Northeast should be some of the best, but are overrun win backpackers. We asked about a quieter beach and without hesitating, he said Ras Machamvi was good. Turns out he was the caretaker of several bungalows belonging to a rich Italian. We were a bit surprised to learn that the island is very popular with Europeans, especially Italians, during the winter. The route is popular enough to accommodate direct flights from Milan to Dar. Lucky Italians!

Since we were on a budget as always and are not afraid of adventure, we traveled across the island with the locals via Dala Dala. The Tanzanian Dala Dala operates on the same principle as in many other developing countries. Take a vehicle, charge a low price, and cram as many people as possible inside. To say the least, the Dala Dala is an unforgettable experience.

The Dala Dalas on Zanzibar were pickup trucks. A roof has been built over the bed and the sides are lined with benches. It should comfortably seat around ten people. It was a very bumpy ride. The scenery didnt change much so we passed the time watching people getting on and off. At one time we had nineteen people either inside or hanging off the back. Each time we stopped Taylor and I looked at each other as if to say we cant possibly take on another person. It got to the point where we were carrying so much weight that the tires smoked when we went around the gentlest of curves. We actually stopped and an effort was made to examine the problem, but we ended up continuing without any modifications. One moment when I wasnt counting people or attempting to avoid inhaling smoke, I noticed a decorative touch in the Dala Dala. The poles and the roof were covered in wallpaper. Not just any wallpaper, but the kind with the floral pattern that your mom might use to line your drawers. When people began to get out I noticed that this same pattern decorated the benches on which we all sat.

Our first stop was Bwe Ju, which was due east of Stone Town and south of Machamvi. The difference from Stone Town was obvious. Bwe Ju is more of an area than a village. There were just a few crumbling buildings here and there. Though many roofs had fallen in, the doorways with their ornate cedar carvings were still intact, serving as haunting reminder of lost pride and glory. We were the only Mazoongoo around and were greeted with amazed stares as we bumped along in the Dala Dala. We came to a stop in front of a couple of guesthouses that sat right on the beach. While we waited for James friend to pick us up, Taylor and I decided to take a look at the beach. It was a splendid scene of perfect, white, powdery sand and beautiful turquoise water. It was just us and three kids playing in the distance. We were speechless. All we could do was smile and high five. And we werent even in Machamvi yet. Haha!!

After an even bumpier ride we arrived in Machamvi. A high roofed, thatched pavilion stood before us and beyond lay the beach. To the left were three bungalows with two rooms each. James said a couple of minutes were needed to prepare our room so we checked out the bay. Perfect turquoise water and nary a soul in sight. We grinned from ear to ear and gave each other another high five. Yeah! And there was that oh so white and powdery sand that is so soft under feet and in your flip-flops. We watched a beautiful sunset on the bay and chatted to some local kids. They did their best to convince us that this was not a good sunset. Haha!

James showed us to our room. Man, it was the best wed had since leaving Morocco. It came complete with a real toilet and accompanying toilet seat. What a luxury! We were introduced to Hamis, the resident cook, and we began to discuss prices. It was decided that $15 was fair for bed, breakfast, and a little slice of heaven. Tension set in when we began to discuss dinner. James wanted to charge us $5, at least two more than was previously discussed. I was prepared to go a little hungry and I suggested that we might have one plate between the two of us. James seemed to think about it, but an answer was not forthcoming. We began to wonder if he forgot about the question when he turned to us and said that he could do it for $3.50

That night we dined under the pavilion on octopus tentacles in a tomato sauce. It required copious amounts of salt and chili sauce since, like most cheap East African food, the taste was rather bland. But we were in a place that I dont hesitate to call paradise. We discussed at length that this was about as good as it gets. This place could make a perfect romantic getaway, a chance to escape and contemplate ones own thoughts, or a reunion with ones friends. Ahhhthe good life.

Breakfast the next morning included of some of the best pineapple and mango I have ever had the pleasure of putting in my mouth. James suggested that I sample the local custom of combining tea and coffee. The result was strange. Not quite good, but not bad either. It also gave me shakes for the next few hours.

James had arranged to take us out snorkeling and soon a local fisherman came down the road with a rolled up sail strapped to his bike. We would be going out into the bay in a Dhow, a traditional dugout canoe. When the wind caught the sail, the vessel not only cut a striking image on the water, but also moved surprisingly fast. We floated and dove around in the bay for hours. I cant tell you the last time I saw so many starfish. There must have been thousands. There were also two blocks of coral. Their smallness was more than made up by the marine life they attracted. There were some rather small, normal looking brown fish, but when I looked closer, I noticed they had bright blue eyes. This discovery was so startling that I actually flinched. There were also some blue and yellow-stripped fish. But the coolest one had to be a slow moving fish with fins like a boneless, seven fingered hand. Just fascinating. But as with safaris, there is a limit on the amount of time you can actually stare at creatures that arent really doing anything. With boredom creeping in, as well as a chill from the water and sunburned backs, we headed back to our exclusive retreat. It turned out to be not so exclusive as there were about eight people enjoying lunch under our Pavilion.

After lunching on fish and pilau spiced rice, we discovered that our guests were mainly Danish artists. They were staying in a village nearby and had only come to our bay for the afternoon view. A couple from Copenhagen had organized a kind of artistic retreat and the others had enrolled in the course. We shared our appreciation for Zanzibar and spoke of Europe and America. They even told me a bit about Denmark, which I found interesting since none of my European adventures had yet taken me to that northern land.

They wondered if wed received any problems from some biting cant see ems called sand flies. So far wed enjoyed a steady breeze, which had kept the pesky creatures at bay. To be honest we hadnt even heard of them. We were informed that it was because of these very creatures that there werent more guesthouses on the bay. Wouldnt you know it, at dusk the wind died and the sand flies descended. I couldnt tell you how many bites I received that night. The local boys just laughed as we swatted our legs. Actually they were always laughing at us. They just found us amusing.

The next morning it was time to leave this paradise and as always it was an adventure. Since the Dala Dalas didnt have a favorable return timetable, we piled our stuff into the Dhow and let the captain ferry us across the bay. We had several more people in our company so the boat rode quite a bit lower than the day before. It didnt help that there wasnt any wind. So between paddling, poling, and bailing out the hull. Our half hour journey became an hour and a half adventure.

On the other side of the bay we climbed in the back of a Dala Dala just preparing to set off. This time we were able to squeeze in 23 passengers. There might have been more had we not had our bags, but I dont think they are in the habit of refusing a ride just because it is crowded. During the trip back to Stone Town I perceived a nuance to the social dynamic of the Dala Dala ride. There was not much sliding of bottoms when a new person climbed aboard. The heavier matriarchs tended to encamp at the entrance with their crates of eggs, chickens, etc. New comers would make their way to spaces in the back, which would invariable appear next to Taylor and I. For some reason after a few minutes, our neighbors would decide theyd had enough of our intimate company and would manage to create a space next to us that the new passenger was obliged to fill. Poor souls!

Back in Stone Town, we embarked on a pleasant commercial ferry ride back to Dar Es Salaam. Our first Baboo greeted us with his infectious grin and found us a place to stay for the night next to the bus station. When we parted company he only asked for a modest fee, which we were only too happy to fork over. Hed really been a great help and I would recommend him to any traveler.

After another bland dinner accompanied by a delicious strong beer, we slept early in anticipation of our first truly epic bus journey.