trip report 2

I haven't got round to putting up more photos here but they are on Facebook if you're interested.

The sun was really strong and apart from the first day sun bathing on the beach, the other times we were either diving or under some cover. I don't think I have ever shunned the sun like I did, considering the craze I had about being tan just a few years ago. I even thought I had become too dark - never thought that would happen... Anyway, I wanted to talk about this boy who called himself Mr Pizza and was one of a few boys who supplied fruit to tourists on the beach. Because it was pre-peak season, he wasn't getting too much business and obviously had quite a lot of time on his hand. I think he must be about twelve years old although he claimed to be sixteen when we asked. You know education is free in Tanzania but a fair amount of people choose not to send their kids to school. Not exactly sure what the reason is but it might have something to do with rich relatives in Middle East sending money back home. So we bought three small mangoes for USD$2 and they were really ripe and sweet - best mangoes in a long time. The pineapple was too expensive - $5 for a pineapple! He called it "mzungu price" which meant for us tourists/foreigners. He was rather cute and all the English and Italian he knew was acquired on that beach.

Five nights in Kendwa and we moved on to Stone Town. Thankfully we didn't have to pay another $40 to get to the town (which we did for the transfer from the airport to Kendwa). We booked ourselves into a simple guest house, with air-con nonetheless, called Jambo. I reckon I have a pretty good sense of direction but still we got lost a few times in Stone Town. The streets are narrow and lined with 2-3 storey buildings, and they curve slowly so it's difficult to keep a sense of NSEW at any time. The maps weren't much help as the streets weren't signposted, and sometimes unnamed! At least the place isn't too big (about the size of Cambridge city centre) and there's always someone who's willing to show you the way. We found that it's better to ask for help than accept those who offer because the ones who offer will want a tip at the end. It's really annoying when that happens and you go away with a bad feeling. Bad feeling knowing that because you've given them some money, they will go on to harass other tourists and extort money the same way. I found the place to be quite safe although the guide book recommended that you take a cab home after hours.

Anyway, we went on a city tour guided by a Tanzanian mainlander and he told us the usual history, politics and culture of Zanzibar. It was just the two of us and West. The most interesting piece to me was about the slave trading and David Livingstone. Zanzibar was the busiest slave trading point in East Africa and hearing about the history was quite saddening. Seeing the underground chamber and the shackles made me think how cruel or greedy people can be for their own gains. David Livingstone finally managed to illegalise slavery in 1873 but he died of malaria the next year - such a sad story!

Zanzibar is full of history and culture from the Arab, African and Indian influences. It's always buzzing with people haggling, touting or praying and the smells are overwhelming with spices and perfumes. It isn't uncommon to see Masai people on the streets and selling their colourful beads and accessories. Most of the people on Zanzibar are mixed race and inter-racial marriages are common. They are tolerant of other religions, and Christianity, Islam and Hinduism co-exist which isn't common in Africa I don't think. Most of the people are conservative Muslim and it's considered impolite for females to reveal their shoulders or wear anything shorter than knee-length skirts/trousers. This can be quite uncomfortable in the heat as you might imagine. By the third day, we'd worked out a route to and from our guest house to the main shopping streets so we weren't getting lost anymore. I think they don't see very many Chinese and they gossip a lot so somehow a few shops had picked up my name "Paulina". It would be quite funny if there was another Chinese girl around who looked similar to me and they started calling her "Paulina" too!

We wandered about Stone Town for the rest of the holiday, gathering gifts and enjoying as much seafood as we can. I think at the end we were properly seafooded and ready for some meat action. We checked into a nice place for our last night at Baghani Hotel. Our flight back home was leaving rather late the next day and we had to check out by 10am. But they had a bathroom and private area for us to clean-up/change before we left, and this was without any charge whatsoever. I was quite impressed with that. Thinking of the times on backpacking holidays where I had to wander with my rucksack until it was time to get on the flight smelly and unclean, this was ace. Anyway, the rinse was rather useless as we started sweating once we got to the airport. The check-in counters are the front of the airport, which was nothing more than a brick shell, and you had to take your own bag from the check-in counter to the scanner machine after you were given your tickets. Everything was mechanical so the tickets were handwritten and the weighing machine was a scale balance. This is even more exciting - you know the tags they put on your check-in luggage? The check-in man wrote details onto these rectangular pieces of paper with a loop of string attached to them, and laid them on the luggage. Then person no. 2 came to string the tags onto our luggage but we had to carry them to the scanner. What a stupid system - person no. 2 is totally redundant!

It was a long way home via Dar Es Salaam, Addis Ababa and Rome. We only had to get off at Addis Ababa where I encountered a grown man in the ladies toilet. I tapped on his shoulder and said "Erm, this is the ladies" but he obviously did not understand me. A female attendant came by and he left soon. But lo and behold what came next was a sight - the ladies toilet was chock-a-block full of African women cleaning themselves and holding doors for each other. There was a kettle being passed around and they used it to wash their hands and feet. I stood there patiently waiting for my turn but it wasn't gonna happen. The attendant told me to use another toilet so I exited and saw Pete waiting there. He didn't have any luck with the gents either. Apparently it was prayer time and there were the African people bowed on the floor. It was quite funny.

Anyway, so that was the end of our trip. Heathrow was suprisingly quiet at 8am and I got through immigration in record time I think.

Oh, and Merry Christmas to all and have a Happy New year!