9 June, Thursday, Zanzibar
Zanzibar and Pemba are 2 islands off the coast of Dar es Salaam
and can only be reached by ferry which takes about 2+
hours.
It is an early morning which does not start well. Willie has
arranged the previous evening for a taxi to come and pick us up at 5:30. Us
running late, makes Willie impatient and he stomps off at high speed to get to
the gate leaving me to grope my way through the darkness. I am extremely
nightblind and it takes a long time for my eyes to adjust. There is no way that
I’m going to walk faster: to stumble and smash my
face?
No taxi at the gate raises Willie’s impatience several degrees.
The staff at reception asks the security guard to accompany us to the main road
which is a god 10 – 15 munites walk over a potholed road. We have tickets for
the 7 am ferry and the worry is that we will miss it.
Willie and the guard take off, leaving me again, trailing, trying
to figure whether the dark spots are holes or a rock or whatever. Willie finally
looks back and asks, “Can you not walk faster?” Now that pushes my buttons. “No,
I cannot see.”
He takes my hand, does not slow down which results in me being
dragged over the potholes. Car lights appear – yes, it is the taxi. Some
exchange between the driver and the guard takes place in Swahili and the taxi
disappears in the dark again. We are mystified. I think the guard, who cannot
speak English, tries to tell us that he will soon be back? This makes no sense
and does not help Willie, nor me!
We reach the main road – no taxi for another 10 minutes. Willie,
now, is seriously out of shape. We are not sure whether we should try and flag
down another taxi, because the guard is still trying to tell us something. It is
getting later and later and then finally, from behind appears lights again: the
taxi. He takes us to the ferry and we arrive there just after 6:30. Relieved we
sit down, licking our wounds, not on speaking terms.
It’s sunrise when the ferry leaves and we have a wonderful vies
of Dar es Salaam, the harbor and coastline. We find a place on the ferry to lie
down and catch up on sleep and that also helps us to chillax and brings us back
into harmony.
I’m excited to see Zanzibar – a place I’ve heard
of so much and a place with an interesting history. During its early history
Zanzibar and Pemba fell under control of the Arabic kingdom of Oman. A sultan
was installed on the island and a lucrative slave trading market developed
during the 16th century.
In the 19th century Victorian Britain was determined
to suppress the slave trade and this finally led to the downfall of the Oman
Empire although the sultan continued to rule under British protectorate.
Zanzibar also became independent from Oman. Present day Zanzibar is thus a
Swahili, Islamic enclave of Tanzania.
We arrive at the harbor after 9 where we have to go through
immigration. We are being swamped by taxi drivers, guides and hawkers who offer
us their best services. No does not mean anything and they continue to bother
as far as we go. One of the main attractions of Zanzibar is the Old Stone Town
–a labyrinth of narrow alleyways, craft and art shops where the artists are busy
sculpting, painting or carving in front of their stores. The shops, restaurants
and hostels are nestled in between a blend of architectural styles from the
Middle East, India and Colonial times. We’ve heard that Stone Town is a
photographer’s dream and it truly is – ornately decorated doors, latticework
balconies, brightly painted window shutters interspersed with dilapidated
buildings whose naturally distressed paintwork the ages are oozing.
We milk out to the central market - bustling
with activity, colors and smells captured in vegetables, fruit, spices, nuts,
meat, clothes, shoes, livestock and people. A potpourri of cultures blend together
with heavily veiled Muslim women dressed in brightly colored fabrics, different
from the somber black found in most of the Middle Eastern countries; Indian
women wear robes made from soft, flowing fabric; Swahili women with the
traditional, also brightly colored wraps and then of course us: westerners and
tourists easy to distinguish.
I can understand why people refer to Zanzibar as a tropical
paradise. The vegetation is lush and green with big, shady trees, palms and
banana plantations. Soft, white sand lines the turquoise deep blue Indian
Ocean. It is humid and quite warm and we find a restaurant on the beach where we
have lunch in the shadow of big leaf trees.
We walk back slowly along the beach to the port to catch the 3 pm
ferry. The water is rough and it makes for a choppy ride back which causes
Willie to feel quite sick. We arrive at the camp where Andrej and Hugo are
ready with a nice dinner for us: chicken burgers and homemade fries – a tasty
and happy ending to a day that started off not that good.
Zanzibar and Pemba are 2 islands off the coast of Dar es Salaam
and can only be reached by ferry which takes about 2+
hours.
It is an early morning which does not start well. Willie has
arranged the previous evening for a taxi to come and pick us up at 5:30. Us
running late, makes Willie impatient and he stomps off at high speed to get to
the gate leaving me to grope my way through the darkness. I am extremely
nightblind and it takes a long time for my eyes to adjust. There is no way that
I’m going to walk faster: to stumble and smash my
face?
No taxi at the gate raises Willie’s impatience several degrees.
The staff at reception asks the security guard to accompany us to the main road
which is a god 10 – 15 munites walk over a potholed road. We have tickets for
the 7 am ferry and the worry is that we will miss it.
Willie and the guard take off, leaving me again, trailing, trying
to figure whether the dark spots are holes or a rock or whatever. Willie finally
looks back and asks, “Can you not walk faster?” Now that pushes my buttons. “No,
I cannot see.”
He takes my hand, does not slow down which results in me being
dragged over the potholes. Car lights appear – yes, it is the taxi. Some
exchange between the driver and the guard takes place in Swahili and the taxi
disappears in the dark again. We are mystified. I think the guard, who cannot
speak English, tries to tell us that he will soon be back? This makes no sense
and does not help Willie, nor me!
We reach the main road – no taxi for another 10 minutes. Willie,
now, is seriously out of shape. We are not sure whether we should try and flag
down another taxi, because the guard is still trying to tell us something. It is
getting later and later and then finally, from behind appears lights again: the
taxi. He takes us to the ferry and we arrive there just after 6:30. Relieved we
sit down, licking our wounds, not on speaking terms.
It’s sunrise when the ferry leaves and we have a wonderful vies
of Dar es Salaam, the harbor and coastline. We find a place on the ferry to lie
down and catch up on sleep and that also helps us to chillax and brings us back
into harmony.
I’m excited to see Zanzibar – a place I’ve heard
of so much and a place with an interesting history. During its early history
Zanzibar and Pemba fell under control of the Arabic kingdom of Oman. A sultan
was installed on the island and a lucrative slave trading market developed
during the 16th century.
In the 19th century Victorian Britain was determined
to suppress the slave trade and this finally led to the downfall of the Oman
Empire although the sultan continued to rule under British protectorate.
Zanzibar also became independent from Oman. Present day Zanzibar is thus a
Swahili, Islamic enclave of Tanzania.
We arrive at the harbor after 9 where we have to go through
immigration. We are being swamped by taxi drivers, guides and hawkers who offer
us their best services. No does not mean anything and they continue to bother
as far as we go. One of the main attractions of Zanzibar is the Old Stone Town
–a labyrinth of narrow alleyways, craft and art shops where the artists are busy
sculpting, painting or carving in front of their stores. The shops, restaurants
and hostels are nestled in between a blend of architectural styles from the
Middle East, India and Colonial times. We’ve heard that Stone Town is a
photographer’s dream and it truly is – ornately decorated doors, latticework
balconies, brightly painted window shutters interspersed with dilapidated
buildings whose naturally distressed paintwork the ages are oozing.
We milk out to the central market - bustling
with activity, colors and smells captured in vegetables, fruit, spices, nuts,
meat, clothes, shoes, livestock and people. A potpourri of cultures blend together
with heavily veiled Muslim women dressed in brightly colored fabrics, different
from the somber black found in most of the Middle Eastern countries; Indian
women wear robes made from soft, flowing fabric; Swahili women with the
traditional, also brightly colored wraps and then of course us: westerners and
tourists easy to distinguish.
I can understand why people refer to Zanzibar as a tropical
paradise. The vegetation is lush and green with big, shady trees, palms and
banana plantations. Soft, white sand lines the turquoise deep blue Indian
Ocean. It is humid and quite warm and we find a restaurant on the beach where we
have lunch in the shadow of big leaf trees.
We walk back slowly along the beach to the port to catch the 3 pm
ferry. The water is rough and it makes for a choppy ride back which causes
Willie to feel quite sick. We arrive at the camp where Andrej and Hugo are
ready with a nice dinner for us: chicken burgers and homemade fries – a tasty
and happy ending to a day that started off not that good.
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