Zanzibar, Africa’s paradise
Zanzibar, an island rich in history and memories, our days here not long enough as usual, but the perfect break after 5 weeks of camping in the bush. Dar es salaam is Tanzania’s largest city, and a massive resort with beach side camping sites was where we began our journey across the sea. I thought about Rob, a fellow Mullaloo surf clubber who recently rowed from our home in Perth all the way here, to Dar Es Salaam all in the name of mental health. I told his story as best I could and encouraged the others to read his journey via is live Facebook posts he made throughout the journey. Rob was supposed to be making it into Dar Es Salaam a similar time we were here, yet exceeded all records and expectations arriving 4 months ago. Insane.
To follow robs journey: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100085457294871&mibextid=LQQJ4d
Our time here was less strenuous, jumping in the water warmer than I’ve ever felt it was almost grossing me out, it was literally hot. Sunset bevs on the beach and our final dinner together as a group before once again people went their seperate ways. The beach was packed with locals enjoying the warmth, the city is huge and dirty, I am definitely not a city girl. Our morning trip across the water on a local ferry was all kinds of unenjoyable, hectic and sweaty. We joined another 150 people heading off to work, uni or home, squished onto a car ferry, standing shoulder to shoulder whilst trying to protect our bags we had packed. I fortunately left most of my things back on the truck (this time on purpose), so only had one small backpack, but others had suitcases and it was absolute chaos, I had lost more than my body weight worth of sweat by the time we reached the city centre.
After pushing and shoving once again I was relieved to make it to the ferry terminal, this time more similar to the Rottnest ferry back home, much more chill.
The ferry to Zanzibar is fancy as heck, the reclining seats and restaurant put Rottnest’s to shame, and don’t at all fit with the dirty vibe of the city we left from. The hour and a half journey flew as we watched the islands pass us by before eventually pulling up into Zanzibar.
Tanzania, as it’s now universally known is a merger of two countries, Zanzibar and Tanzanica. Before colonisation by the Germans these countries were seperate and if you try tell a Zanzibarian that they are from Tanzania you better be ready for a fight. Despite being merged since 1964 Zanzibar still likes to consider itself seperate, with its own military (who mostly do the gardening) and even an immigration at the port, meaning our passports got stamped. The pride of Zanzibar is special and they’re very gracious of their history however when crossing back into the mainland 4 days later, no one even asked to see a passport…. Weird and confusing, but I’m calling it as a country, so, Zanzibar, country #8.
Stone town is the city centre of Zanzibar, worlds apart from Dar Es Salaam. The port is essential to the islands fishing and tourism industry, the Portside restaurants and bars creating a stunning backdrop to watch the small and large fishing boats come back from their days at sea. Our final lunch as a family found us at Cape Town Fish Market, it’s prices more than I would pay at home, but the high end food was delicious, and I knew I would be living off fresh fish for the next few days. God I missed sushi!!! The Old Fort was used to defend Zanzibar and protect the Germans, nowadays free to enter and homes local market stalls and crafts.
The change in humidity was evident the minute we stepped out of the air conditioned ferry, all sweating profusely after walking for 5 minutes, however being able to explore by foot was a luxury we have all missed. A favourite thing about travelling is exploring cities and towns by foot, you see more, soak up smells and use all your senses compared to when sat on a bus, plus we all needed some exercise. Of course we treated our steps with a cold beveragino overlooking the ocean, plotting our plans for the next few days.
Our itinerary has us staying in stone town overnight before heading to the northern beaches the following day, but seeing how hot it was and the fact we had seen all stone town had to offer minus its incredible spice tours, Lauren and I decided to snag a taxi up to the beaches a night earlier. Checking into our resort which would be home for the next 4 days made us feel like trespassers. The luxury compared to the past 6 weeks was indescribable, our sweaty messes of clothes and skin stood out like sore thumbs compared tot the glamour of the guests and staff here. Lots of wows and excitable squeals later and we had sat our butts down by the water for a happy hour cocktail (or two). The waves crashing under our deck glistened in the moonlight, locals and tourists playing in the ocean or soccer games on the sand filled my heart, a moonlit dip was necessary, I was not waiting until the morning to get in this water. Thankfully it was not as hot as Dar Es Salaam, the cooler (but definitely still not cold) water was welcomed, I was seriously concerned about how warm the water was the previous day. We sunk into our beds after sleeping on skinny tent mattresses for too long and passed out knowing there wasn’t an alarm set for the morning, another luxury I’ve forgotten the feeling of.
Our days here were spent soaking up the sun and becoming “cappuccino” as I was called by the locals (they “like white better” - lucky for Lauren) and enjoying the local food, resort hopping and boat wrangling. The weather when we were here was unfavourable for snorkelling, the choppy ocean meant wasting money on a snorkelling trip would have been silly, but I knew I wanted to get out onto a boat, and what easier way than to just swim out to one. Bossman greeted me with open arms and a trip the following night was quickly arranged, I wasn’t interested in the main boat offered, cramming 50 people onto a small vessel isn’t my idea of fun. Instead the following night the 10 of us headed out on a private trip, sailing up the coast on a traditional ship, reminding me much of the boats in Moana. Playing tunes and sipping beers, soaking up the last of the days African tv, jumping off the roof into the very clear water whilst it went behind the horizon topping off an incredible evening. I still couldn’t believe we paid $15 each for the experience whilst we watched the boat full of 50 who paid $30 !!
Boots filled with middle eastern platters, sashimi, poke bowls and fresh smoothies, skin sun kissed and well slept, we bar hopped and beach walked, the only thing dampering our time the local “masai”.
The masai are an African cultural tribe who wear red/orange sarongs, their transitional footwear and hold sticks. (I’m excited to learn more about this culture next week). They roamed up and down the beaches, and we soon learned these masai weren’t depictions of the culture. Most of the Masai on Zanzibar are imitators, they’ll befriend you and invite you to parties for sex work and later visas and passports!! Fortunately Lauren and I had our heads screwed on to ignore these guys yet it was sometimes frustrating to have to continuously repeat ‘Hapana’ (No), at one point I got rather frustrated but for the most part was impressed with my patience.
Zanzibar is 2500 square km’s large and whilst we were on the northern beaches, home to luxury resorts, flat waters and easy access to mnemba island, I wish we had time to explore the rest. The eastern beaches see thousands of backpackers flock each year, the party scene sounds incredible, as does the kite surfing, likewise with the west, where the top end luxury villas are met with pools and windy ocean conditions.
Sad face was on leaving Zanzibar, leaving Lauren there to catch her flight home meant I had to make new friends!!!! ,, and saying bye to the beach knowing I wouldn’t jump in the ocean again for another month equally as upsetting. Albeit I was excited for this next leg of our journey, this next ‘trip’ is only 9 days, journeying through Tanzania into Kenya before we get a new group of friends once again. Zanzibar you were too good, and I’m not sure I’m ready for roughing it again.
