All Roads Lead to Zanzibar
Sun, Sand, Spices and Swahili…Zanzibar is more then an island, it is a way of life.
Sun, Sand, Spices and Swahili…Zanzibar is more then an island, it is a way of life.
Just off the coast of northern Tanzania, in the warm and friendly Indian Ocean, several small, exotic islands create what’s known as the Zanzibar Archipelago. Strategically located between Africa, Arabia and India, the Archipelago first gained fame in the 16th century with a booming spice market, followed shortly after by a thriving slave trade and now, hundreds of years later, tourism!
The largest island, Unguja (colloquially known as Zanzibar Island) is the main port and largest tourist draw. Famous for narrow, stone streets, Omanian come European architecture, exotic spice markets and determined tourist touts, Stone Town is the heart of “Zanzibar Island”.
Disembarking the tourist ferry, after a pleasant 2-hour journey from Dar Salaam, Stone Town slapped me in the face. “Madam…Madam…Madam…!!!!” The tourist touts were some of the worst yet! Like prisoners begging for freedom or refugees reaching for a handout, touts pressed against the feeble fence separating new arrivals from the chaotic city streets. Extending brochures through the thin metal barrier and raising voices to encourage coveted sales, my only advice is to forget cordiality and “just say no”. |
Plowing into the 5-man deep mob, my backpacker alliance of 4 fought through the bag porters, wrist grabbers and mouth blabbers, clawing towards our a smile at the end of the tunnel…Amber. Arriving the day prior, my beloved travel buddy (met in Ugandan and again in Kenya) led us away from the chaos and into the labyrinth of stone streets.
First impression; charming but underwhelming. Sure the architecture was attractive and the cobbled streets historical, but after visiting Lamu Town, Kenya’s more traditional and less touristy relative, I found myself a bit jaded. Instead of donkey transportation, jet-black burqa fashions, and Swahili saturation, I discovered flashy restaurants, “same same but different” souvenir shops, and locals breathing nothing but tourism.
Settling into a 10-bed dormitory at Munch Guesthouse, one of the cheapest and best hostels in Stone Town, we immediately set out to explore this acclaimed town.
First impression; charming but underwhelming. Sure the architecture was attractive and the cobbled streets historical, but after visiting Lamu Town, Kenya’s more traditional and less touristy relative, I found myself a bit jaded. Instead of donkey transportation, jet-black burqa fashions, and Swahili saturation, I discovered flashy restaurants, “same same but different” souvenir shops, and locals breathing nothing but tourism.
Settling into a 10-bed dormitory at Munch Guesthouse, one of the cheapest and best hostels in Stone Town, we immediately set out to explore this acclaimed town.
First stop, the beach! Uh, what beach? Although stunning, the waters near Stone Town are not swimmable. Between the oversized drainpipes leading into the ocean, dozens of pre-teen horomonal boys gawking at bikini clad girls, and hundreds of wooden boats bobbing in the nearby shallows, the experience seemed less then enjoyable. Oh, and did I mention the nasty boat captain expecting payment for photographing his boat? Seriously dude, it’s a beach. I will photograph whatever the heck I damn well please!
Flustered and annoyed, we retreated to main street. No refuge here. “My friend, my friend, come in my shop!” A simple walk challenged by a barrage of unwanted conversation and purchase requests. A friendly person by nature, I usually sing back amiable yet witty replies but as I quickly learned, if you bite, they will snag. A severe case of Catch 22! If you reply, vendors pounce. If you don’t reply, vendors make you feel guilty. Using Swahili expressions like, "Hakuna Matata, Pole Pole” – chill out, slow down - in an attempt to generate guilt for your hurried, annoyed demeanor. "You Pole Pole sir and let me Hakuna Matata in peace...sheesh!"
Despite Stone Town’s bothersome surface, I was determined to experience the other side. The more traditional, exotic side I dreamed of. What’s more exotic then the spice trade?
10 USD was the small price to pay for a morning spice tour and afternoon secluded swim. Sounded like the perfect recipe for this unimpressed backpacker. That was, until the driver arrived. Hardly introducing the tour, or himself, he barely spoke until reaching the spice plantation. Appearing hung over (or high) his commentary, although informative, lacked any sort of charisma or energy one would expect of a guide.
Flustered and annoyed, we retreated to main street. No refuge here. “My friend, my friend, come in my shop!” A simple walk challenged by a barrage of unwanted conversation and purchase requests. A friendly person by nature, I usually sing back amiable yet witty replies but as I quickly learned, if you bite, they will snag. A severe case of Catch 22! If you reply, vendors pounce. If you don’t reply, vendors make you feel guilty. Using Swahili expressions like, "Hakuna Matata, Pole Pole” – chill out, slow down - in an attempt to generate guilt for your hurried, annoyed demeanor. "You Pole Pole sir and let me Hakuna Matata in peace...sheesh!"
Despite Stone Town’s bothersome surface, I was determined to experience the other side. The more traditional, exotic side I dreamed of. What’s more exotic then the spice trade?
10 USD was the small price to pay for a morning spice tour and afternoon secluded swim. Sounded like the perfect recipe for this unimpressed backpacker. That was, until the driver arrived. Hardly introducing the tour, or himself, he barely spoke until reaching the spice plantation. Appearing hung over (or high) his commentary, although informative, lacked any sort of charisma or energy one would expect of a guide.
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To wash all the spicy goodness down, a group of donation hungry college students climbed nearby tree’s to retrieve coconuts. Cracking open their rock hard exteriors for our drinking delight, we greedily drank the semi-sweet innards while receiving unexpected makeovers - adorned in homemade palm leaf necklaces, rings, sunglasses and a final touch of jungle lipstick. Breaking open a large, almond shaped fruit a dozen or so smaller pods patiently awaited. Lightly crushing the pods between my fingers, an intense red first slathered my tanned fingertips and then my lips. Except in my case, red equals orange. Orange lips and green glasses…Paris eat your heart out.
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My other Stone Town saving grace activity was the night market!! No kangas, tiki wood, jewelry or handbags for sale, just fresh, cheap seafood.
Flickering in the pale yellow candlelight, dozens of local food vendors await your business. Selling an array of crab claws, nan breads, falafel, banana pancakes and the undisputed favorite…kebabs. Everything from unadultered tuna and kingsfish to curried lobster and muddled crabmeat wrapped around a skewer. The verdict is still out on freshness, after seeing the same crab claw a few nights in a row, but the selection and price are a no brainer. 2 USD for 2 lobster kebabs…yes please!
Satisfied with my dinner and my time in Stone Town, it was time to move north...to the beaches of Nungwi!!
Flickering in the pale yellow candlelight, dozens of local food vendors await your business. Selling an array of crab claws, nan breads, falafel, banana pancakes and the undisputed favorite…kebabs. Everything from unadultered tuna and kingsfish to curried lobster and muddled crabmeat wrapped around a skewer. The verdict is still out on freshness, after seeing the same crab claw a few nights in a row, but the selection and price are a no brainer. 2 USD for 2 lobster kebabs…yes please!
Satisfied with my dinner and my time in Stone Town, it was time to move north...to the beaches of Nungwi!!