While not exactly clean, and predominantly third world, the word that best sums up Zanzibar is exotic. It’s also eclectic in the sense that your surroundings make it hard to pinpoint where exactly in the world you are. Technically it’s Africa yes, but both the population and the architecture are a diverse mix of Arab, Indian, Malaysian, as well as African – though the people are predominantly Muslim and dressed accordingly no matter their racial denomination. To disembark from the ferry into the crazy melee at the terminal wasn’t a terrible experience. I actually found it enhanced the sense of adventure and reinforced the knowledge I was thousands of miles from home.
Zanzibar comprises two islands, and is two hours by high speed ferry ride from Dar Es Salaam. It is surrounded by the clearest, bluest waters imaginable and is bordered by beaches of the whitest sand I have ever seen – it has the consistency of talc and felt like clay between my toes. Add to this coral reefs, colourful fish and gigantic seashells – and what you get is paradise. It has so much to offer: it is so astoundingly rich in culture and history, and the natural physical beauty of the place is truly breathtaking.
The main city is Stone Town/Zanzibar Town, a UNESCO World Heritage site. The settlement is extremely old, and still has a colonial (German, British) vibe. Zanzibar, a Rastafarian I befriended on the ferry told me, doesn’t consider itself part of Africa or Tanzania and in fact has its own separatist movement. Up until the 1960s it was actually presided over by the ruling Sultans of Oman. The city is a jumble of old Indian, Arab and colonial buildings that feature the most intricate architectural detailing – there’s old palaces, an old dispensary, the old slave market (so sad what happened there), the old customs house, old mosques and churches, and bustling spice and produce markets. There’s also a market where you can watch them slaughter chickens as a form of entertainment, but I had neither the stomach nor heart to partake. The Old Quarter is a maze of narrow, winding alleyways lined with small mosques and market stalls. You really need to hire a walking guide for navigation, otherwise you will get lost – and possibly robbed. The buildings are crumbling, but feature carved wooden balconies and shutters, and most famously, massive, elaborate doors. These I learned are what Zanzibar is famous for. The doors are either Indian or Arab made - the Arab version features only ornate wooden carvings, while the Indian ones feature large metal spikes originally designed to stop elephants from charging them. The city’s hotels are built in old mansions painted brightly and with mosaic tiling and ebony embellishments, as well as little balconies and large arch shaped windows. In typical Middle Eastern style every building has a rooftop patio – an amazing venue from which to watch sunset over the roofs of the city (there are no buildings exceeding five floors here). One of the big attractions is the house where Freddie Mercury grew up. I had no idea he was from here and Queen isn't my thing, but it seems to be a huge tourist draw.
The harbour is a mix of yachts, freighters and old wooden dhows, one of which I took to Prison Island, about 30 minutes out. These dodgy wooden boats (I watched them bail one out with coffee mugs before the passengers boarded) seat 5-8 people and have non appropriate names painted across the sides like “Gladiator” or “Jambo”, and the crews are smelly, salty old seadogs in filthy tattered clothes. Anyway, Prison Island was both tranquil and amazing. It houses the ruins of an old slave prison, long since closed and now painted bright colours – it’s the happiest looking prison I have ever seen. It’s a prime diving and snorkeling spot with a deserted beach and best of all a giant tortoise sanctuary. The oldest is age 150 years and the others range from babies to more than 100. There are just over 150 tortoises, and you can wander among them, feed them (they love pineapple and cabbage), pet them, play with their babies – it’s like a petting zoo. They have far sharper teeth than I imagined, and they are massive – also, they can move damn fast when they want to. But they are so gentle, and their skin feels so leathery; they are very docile really. And just like dogs they enjoy a good chin scratch.
I also toured the old buildings and Sultan’s Palace in town, and bought the autobiography of national heroine Princess Salme, the Arabian princess who eloped with a German (oh the horror) in the 1800s, escaping the repressive life of a royal Muslim female. These places, which haven’t changed since the colonial period, effectively transport you back in time. The nightlife isn’t bad – we hung out at various cafes and a rooftop bar, sitting on pillows surrounded by Arabic flourishes and an arched roof watching the sunset, drinking watermelon,lemon and sugarcane juice, listening to the ‘call to prayer’. Being a Muslim country, alcohol is prohibitively expensive so we forewent booze. Most eating is done on rooftops, including breakfast for which we had a traditional Zanzibari spread– Papaya, special fried breads and Tanzanian donuts – oooh, and they make the BEST coffee, but damn it’s strong. In general, the food was really good though everything tastes like curry. There was one exception: I bought a peeled mango that looked so tasty at a street stall – but didn't realize that Zanzibar people don`t care for sweet things. So with fruit such as mango, they pour cayenne pepper and loads (seriously-loads!)of salt all over it. Lesson learned: salted, spicy mango is disgusting and not something I`d recommend.
Zanzibar is an incredibly lush place –it's nickname is the `spice island`. I went on a spice plantation tour with some Germans and a Dutch doctor I met, which took us far up the west coast of the island. Once you leave the city, it just has such a feeling of peace and calm, and your body automatically relaxes. The sound of the wind rustling in the palms, the dappled sunlight shining through the spice and fruit trees, the beautiful plants and the smell of spices and flowers in the air… and the locals, so friendly and laid back and in their colourful traditional clothing - there’s something really unique about it. The popular local saying is 'hakuna matata' which means ‘no worries’(you know it from the Lion King I’m sure) and that really is how they live. I have found very few places in the world that make me feel this way. I’m not the type to relax when I travel (always too much to see and do), but here, Uruguay, the French Riviera, Tel Aviv, Macau and Byron Bay have all had a similar vibe about them that I can’t quite articulate. The plantation was fantastic in that they literally picked everything fresh off the trees for us to try – the bark of the cinnamon tree smells amazing! The climate is so conducive to growth and the soil so rich that they can, and do, grow almost everything. We ate pepper corns, fresh cacao, jack and bread fruit, star fruit, vanilla, grapefruits, cayenne, cumin, cloves, cinnamon…and the food was great. A little hot - they use the spices and mix them with coconut milk and vegetables I have never seen before – and it tastes a little like some Thai foods. Unfortunately, Tanzania is also well known for parasites and food poisoning. I fared relatively well but definitely had stomach ‘issues’ for a solid week after returning to SA.
I was also lucky enough to be on the receiving end of a serious marriage proposal from a toothless old Muslim as we finished up the spice trip. Apparently the women of Zanzibar are ‘nasty’ and `a handful` but he had heard that Canadian women were well behaved and obedient. I had to decline – probably worked out best for him as well – I’m not sure many of my exes would describe me in those terms...and I like my men with teeth.
Next up, I headed along the East Coast (the deserted coast) to a thatched hut cabin for a couple of days of seriously needed peace and quiet. It was located between the villages of Paje and Jambiani, right on the beach. I didn’t love the miniature jumping spiders that looked suspiciously like tiny tarantulas, or the constant power outages – but did love pretty much everything else there. For three days I wore no shoes, didn’t comb my hair and basically just lived in a bikini on the most incredible beaches. Yes, I looked like a filthy hippie but I didn’t care. There were a few small hotels along the beach, and a kite surfing school, but otherwise it was quiet except for some annoying Masai from Kenya who lived in a tent and spent their days lying on the beach (sun tanning???) and harassing girls. I had to make up a fake husband to get rid of them – maybe I should have brought my toothless suitor along. I spent the days beach combing and found some incredible shells, as well as swimming, and lazing on the white sand or lying in a hammock listening to the waves and reading about the renegade princess. I also spoke with a few locals about living conditions in Zanzibar, and was even invited to a birthday party one night – but in the interest of my safety didn’t go though I really wanted to (sometimes being a girl sucks). I also trekked out to a super remote village to snorkel with dolphins, but as luck would have it a massive storm hit that morning. At 7 am I was not stoked to be on a rickety wooden boat with two non English speakers in gnatty speedos, chasing dolphins through massive waves that were totally unsnorkle-able. I ALMOST lost my breakfast over the side. So after beating a hasty retreat, I instead visited some small villages and saw how the people lived and played with local children. And then later in the day, I lay on the beach surrounded by a random herd of cows that just wandered down to sit at the water’s edge. Nights were spent socializing with the other guests – there were ten of us in all, dining by candle and star light on the actual beach, with millions of twinkling stars lighting up the sky. It was magical.
