Zanaibar

Border officials can be a fickle lot – the Malawian guy wouldn't accept a manifest and a stack of passports, and insisted on marching us all into the office; meanwhile his Tanzanian counterpart threw us out of his office, and insisted on one person with a stack of passports. Eventually we made it into Tanzania, and on to Old Farm House camp site near Iringa.

The third day of malaria is reputed to be the worse, so I did not envy Jacques as we set off at 6am for the long drive to Dar es Salaam. The first two hours were spent covering half a mile through road works, and when we got up to speed on the bumpy road, one of the brake lines went (a different one this time). This was plugged up fairly quickly, and we proceeded for another hour on three brakes, until a brake booster expired.
















Fortunately this happened in a small town. The local mechanic found a spare, and after two hours work beneath the truck, we were back on all four brakes. The unplanned stop did give us a chance to interact with the local kids, who were much shyer than their Malawian cousins; they sheepishly approached the truck, but quickly scattered if you approached or produced a camera. After two pit stops, roadworks and traffic jams, we reached Dar es Salaam at 9pm – 15 hours after we set off.














To get the ferry to Zanzibar, we first had to get the crowded, noisy car-ferry across the bay. We survived the mad dash off, and even found our taxi (which was handy, as our bags were still in the boot). The 90 minute boat trip to Zanzibar is unspectacular if you're sat in cattle class – apart from the initial choppiness, you might as well have been sat in a (cramped) cinema. Once on Zanzibar, we had a quick lunch in Stone Town, before bidding farewell to our companions (for a day) and heading north to the beach. The beach in question was Kendwa – a pretty stretch of corral sand, which is not too developed, and with the added advantage of a steep drop off, meaning that you don't have a 2-mile walk to the water at low tide.














First on the agenda was to book the diving with Scuba Do (see what they've done there?), before taking a relaxing late afternoon dip. The dive trip was to the reef off Mnemba island – the island itself houses an exclusive $1000 a night resort, although all your water sports are included in that price. The folks on Mnemba might well be cursing their bill, as the rain was pelting down when we arrived - still it never rains under water. Owing to some rather strong currents, we had a blink and you missed it, trip over the reef, although quite a few turtles did try and swim into me. The second dive, along a reef wall, was prettier, and again with inquisitive turtles.

You'd expect frequent power cuts on Zanzibar, and we certainly got them. As an added bonus the lack of power meant no water (the tanks were filled by a pump). All this would have been tolerable if the staff at Sun Set were not so incompetent and surly. Ultimately you get what you pay for – if we'd walked 150m down the beach, there was a 4-star resort for $150 a night, however their guest, a few of which were on our dive boat, were hardly singing its praises.

Another morning dive, on a nearby reef, kicked up a nice array of scorpion fish, stone fish, croc fish and a whole lot more I need to learn if I'm to look like a serious diver. While the diving is good, it's not world-class, so we chose to spend the afternoon on the beach.





















Zanzibar has a rich history, with its role in the spice and later the slave trades, giving it a mix of african, Arabic, Persian and Indian cultures. While we flirted with the idea of spending our last night in one of Stone Town's exclusive hotels, meanness got the better of me, and we opted for the well located, though basic, Karibu Inn. After lunch in the vegetarian Indian restaurant next door, we plunged into the maze of alleyways.














Stone Town is basically a triangle, with sea on two sides and a major road on the third – if you can keep your bearing and walk for 10 minutes you will hit either sea or road, so getting truly lost is hard, and we managed to hit most of our targets straight off. First on the list was the Anglican cathedral, built on the sight of the old slave market (the missionaries were instrumental in abolishing the trade). There is little trace of its former use, save for a couple of cellars used to store the “merchandise” in horrendous conditions, and a sculpture of several slaves in chains.














Next up was the Darajani market, which is split between fish, meat and fruit and spices. Being mid-afternoon, most of the meat and fish had gone, just leaving the nauseous smell and the flies. The market is fairly free of hassle, but the alleys selling the tourist tat are not. The key is to show no interest whatsoever (unless you actually want some mass produces, generic painting of a group of Masai), lease they follow you relentlessly down alleys – I mistakenly gave a thumbs-up to a Obama tea-towel. Saying that, compared to Cairo or Istanbul, it's a breeze.

We couldn't afford to stay at the Serena Inn, but we could stretch to sunset cocktails, watching the dhows return home for the evening. This was follow with a traditional(ish) dinner at Monsoon – basically, sit bare foot on rugs as a local band played traditional music – a fine way the finish Zanzibar, and only slightly spoilt by the 6am start to catch the ferry back.