Zanzibar Paradise

At the end of the world, sitting in probably the only air-conditioned café in Stone Town drinking a frothy strawberry milkshake, I’m going over the notes taken during our island experience.  This café has an all too familiar feeling as the waitress turns on the greatest hits of Kenny Rogers.  It’s pretty distracting and hard to write because all I want to do is start singing with “Lucille” knowing that I’ll be the only one who knows the words.

Where to start.  Okay, after a horrible experience waiting at the ferry dock for the boat, we managed to find two available seats, buy a small bag of cashews from a boy selling them on the boat and tucked in to a pretty sweet boat ride to Zanzibar. We struck up a conversation with a fellow next to us who agreed to take us to the dalla dalla bus station when we dock. I’m sure glad we found that guy because once off the ferry we were immediately surrounded by shouting touts. Our guide gave us the block we needed just by saying in Swahili “they are with me”. Shock sets in following this guy through the streets of Stone Town. It’s just chaos. Everywhere. It’s the main market place for all the locals and even though Heath and I stood out worse than sore thumbs we were welcomed into that chaos with friendly faces.

After negotiating with a couple of taxi drivers that promised us the dalla dalla to Paje (where our hotel is located, on the eastern side of the island) wasn’t coming until that evening and we would be stuck in the hot sun for hours waiting on it. Fifteen minutes later our infamous dalla dalla arrived offering a ride for half the cost. I kind of felt bad for the taxi driver. Sure, he lied to us and we almost fell for it but, hey, a man’s gotta make a living, right?

The game with the dalla dalla ride is to see how small you can make yourself and hold that position for as long as you can.  Pay no attention to the fellow passengers practically sitting in your lap while you breathe in their sweat. You just get used to it, honestly.  A dalla dalla is a converted truck turned open-window van that the Tanzanian’s used for a public bus. Locals jump on and off even when it’s still in motion. A hell of a good laugh.  We made our way to Teddy’s Place in Paje. For $1.50 you couldn’t get a better, more entertaining ride. Once the stares stop you really do end up feeling like a local.

One hour and five minutes later (you count, trust me) was a welcome surprise. Thatch huts encloses a tropical paradise where mellow souls greet you with a yummy Safari beer and a smile. Why, yes, we would love to see our hut (room) and throw these bags down and come with you for a tour of the grounds. Teddy’s Place. Look it up. Go there.

I think that I match the beach more than anyone. The sand is whiter than me! We spent the remaining day swimming in the amazing Indian Ocean, eating octopus coconut curry for dinner and letting the sea breeze cool us down after that long, insane day.

Okay, fine, so I still didn’t sleep that well seeing as how I was trapped under a mosquito net which made me paranoid about the little flying malaria-infested vampires trying their hardest to get at you. Eventually I did pass out though a managed a few hours.

We couldn’t muster up the strength for any tours and busied ourselves playing in the ocean pretty much all the next day. The ocean receded about a mile out which left pools of soft squishy sand and home-made seaweed traps set out by local women who make beauty products with it. It was quite the contrast to the kite surfers flying out just pass them. It is kite surfing heaven, by the way.

Another night of interrupted sleep waited for us when we were woken by a very loud “BOOM” and the smell of fire. Heath ran out of the hut to see what happened (me, I’m a chicken) and came back with nothing. Good luck sleeping after that.

Not to stress, though. Apparently, after chatting with the receptionist the next morning, it was just a palm tree that had fallen and somehow caught on fire. It was just passed the entrance of the hotel which is why Heath didn’t see anything. I really thought we were under attack and only managed about an hour sleep.

Another great breakfast of buttery pancakes with honey and chocolate syrup and we were off back to the dalla dalla stand to catch a ride back to Stone Town. School’s out time and the majority of the ride consisted of Muslim girls with their math books and curious eyes. They were adorable and I didn’t mind all the stares.  We traveled across the countryside and witness life as they know it. Cows and dirt and mud huts lined the roads and the occasional fruit stand selling what I expected was mango and some other strange fruit that is the size and shape of a potato but a very light green color. You see children everywhere with it in hand.

Two short nights at our tropical paradise, a place which I most definitely will return to, and that’s all the beach we’ll see until Namibia. One more night in Stone Town, once home to the world’s largest slave market, to look forward to which as you well know now makes awesome strawberry milkshakes and has excellent taste in music.