Tanzania - Zanzibar paradise?

Chris gets thrashed at pool by local maasai man
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We had been dreaming of the Zanzibar section of our trip for what seemed like an eternity. Azure waters, palm fringed white sands, coral reefs, fresh fish . . . we were ready for a bit of that.

So we arrived in Stone Town (capital of Zanzibar) with our dreams being fulfilled right before our eyes. Pouring rain, visibility about 30 metres! Better not get that bikini out just yet! Still with our tour group, we had a day and night in Stone Town before we headed off to the beach so I comforted myself with the fact that the BBC five day forecast (tragic I know but yes I did look at it) was wrong and the weather would be clearing in a little over 24hrs.

To pee or not to pee?

Sun on our last day - typical
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If Dar es Salaam was like being on a cultural flight east, then at Stone Town the plane had landed. Although quite run down now the town has immense charm and beauty. The streets are narrow, winding their way so close around the port you can hear the sea, but so maze-like you never quite seem to get there.

Each street and alley is lined with small shops, booths and ornately carved doors. Just walking around can be an exercise in survival, not just because you fear getting lost for days, but because you frequently have to jump out the way of children playing with their wheel and stick, whilst men hurtle by on their bone-shakers, ringing their bell of warning with a few seconds to spare before they mow you down.

Stone town kids
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Islam is entrenched here, the sound of prayer filling the air as the robed men and women hurry saunter by. Even many of the young girls here were in hijab so I presume the island interprets the faith quite rigidly.

Apart from taking in these wonderful sights, Chris and I had other business to attend to. So fixated as ever on our stomachs, the highlight of the town was to be the food market that evening. After sipping cocktails and watching the sun go down from Africa House (it did pop out from behind the clouds for about a nanosecond) we wondered over to the food stalls by the port and were greeted by a cacophony of chatter and barter, and smells of fresh seafood, spiced tea and 'zanzibar pizzas'.

'Romancing in day time'
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We started the great gorge with the latter, more a kind of soggy omelette come quiche than a pizza. Fresh pastry filled with meat, spices and egg and cooked in front of you. Delicious. Then it was onto the fantastic fish and spiced potatoes, washed down with a cup of sweet spiced tea. Finally, we tipped ourselves over the edge and into our customary state of post-feed immobility with two chocolate and banana pancakes. Oh, and then we had a beer. All in all it was a perfect night.

The next morning was spent on the Zanzibar spice tour, which takes in not only the local spice plantations (if the name hadn't conveyed that to you already) but also the old slave market.

The boat we SHOULD have been on!
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Although slavery had been practised in Africa throughout recorded history, its greatest expansion in East Africa came with the rise of Islam, which prohibits the enslavement of Muslims. By the 19th century, Zanzibar was the key slave trading port, with slaves being shipped to Arabia, Persia and the Indian Ocean islands.

We were taken on the tour to the place they were housed in before being sold. Up to 70 of them would be kept shackled in a room about 5m by 3 m, with windows so small that many of them suffocated. When they were taken to market, they would be tied up to one particular tree and whipped. Those who didn't cry or scream fetched the highest price.

Had to get this arty farty one in - Junior playing Bao
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Although the Brits caused a lot of long term problems during the European carve up of Africa, the one good thing you can say is that they abolished slavery. Of course you can say that we perpetuate an informal kind of slavery still. But let's not go there today.

After being depressed at the slave market then nearly killed at the spice plantations (I didn't hear the instructions to only lick and not chew the clove bud and nearly exploded with pain, followed by my tongue being numb for half an hour, following this up with a crazed show of bravado by eating a chilli) we headed off to our beach accommodation on the other side of the island.

Chris making the most of some male company
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The optimist in us was still hoping that the east side would have escaped the downpours of the west but as we neared Kemba beach the rain grew heavier and heavier, turning the road into a streaming yellow river with almost enough force to drive us off the road. When you've been waiting for the beach for so long, telling yourself that the rains are good as the last rainy season was drought-inducingly bad, is like telling a child to finish their dinner because "there are people starving in the world". It just doesn't work and we were gutted. Totally gutted.

Despite the rain (and maybe all the more impressive because of it) the water was still an incredibly inviting blue) so I refused to be cowed and jumped in with Junior, Grandad and a few others, Chris putting up a brave (and victorious) fight against Junior as he tried to drag him fully clothed into the ocean.

The rainy season is just coming to an end now and each day you could feel it tailing off a bit more. We'd have a few hours of sun in the morning before the clouds and eventually the pouring rain would roll in. Planned snorkelling was a right off, although I did get in a (bad) dive. Our wallets (or money belts more accurately) had been as distressed as us on seeing the rain so most of our days were filled with playing volleyball with the locals (Chris was amusingly nicknames 'Shabba'), playing pool, followed up by copious amounts of drinking.

Our last day on Zanzibar was sunny - an annoying departure - so we took the opportunity to get some photos for the blog just to irritate you. Chris and I had a final swim in the sea, which was rudely curtailed by a passing jelly fish that decided to land on my foot. This resulted in much confusion as I wailed and threw my leg around above the water, flapping my foot like a seal, and leaving Chris to conclude that I was starting some maniacal splashing.

Apparently you're meant to pee on jelly fish stings but even us, with our standards so lowered by 3 months on the road together, couldn't bring ourselves to do it. So we just left it to wear off. Which took about 4 days!

It was our last day on the tour and we had made some good friends, who we were sad to leave. If we were sad, though, they were worried. We had bought our return tickets separately from the group as we had originally planned to spend a week on Zanzibar, but the rain and the call of Kilimanjaro prompted us to leave early. So we arrived at the port and started boarding the boat with the rest of the tour group, only to find we had bought tickets for the wrong vessel and had to sprint our way to catch it, without having time to say goodbye to our new found friends. It didn't bode well for resumption of independent travel!