ZANZIBAR
GETTING TO ZANZIBAR WAS ON A BIT OF A KNIFE EDGE...............
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One of the issues we occasionally come across in our 'last-minute-dot-com' approach to holiday planning is that officialdom can bugger us up. In this case we knew we needed visas for Tanzania (Zanzibar being part of Tanzania), but to get the visa we had to upload proof of return flights, and until just before Christmas we didn't even know for sure the date we were flying, let alone returning, let alone even flipping going there. Once that was finally settled we applied online, not really accounting for Christmas close-down being Thursday/Friday and the visa offices being closed at weekends. Oh, and NYE being another holiday day. Their own government website advertises two weeks, and my even more reliable close personal friend ChatGPT also advises two weeks. Interesting.
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We gave them 11 days, of which there were only 4 working days. Was that wise in hindsight? To make matters worse I completed my application and then did Sara's. On Sara's they asked questions about arrival dates and hotel which, weirdly, I had not filled in on mine. Conclusion? I was in trouble. Sara's duly arrived. Mine, not so much. Two pleading emails later and with only hours to spare mine popped into my inbox. Are we getting too complacent I ask myself? Kudos to the Tanzanians however. Phew.
TALK ABOUT A CHANGE......
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Having slept hardly a wink sitting bolt upright in a non reclining aircraft seat for six hours from 0100 to 0700, waited 45 minutes for our driver (why whenever we order a car does it never turn up?). We could have just jumped in a cab.
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At least we got straight into our room at 06,45 local time for a nap before setting out.
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Hotter, way more humid, really scruffy, total change of pace. Learn a bit of Swahili, Hakuna Matata - The Lion King, they really do say it, means 'no problem'. And unlike our lovely French neighbours, the locals understand their own language parroted back at the by well meaning tourists, as opposed to feigning ignorance and finally repeating the word you used, in exactly the way you used it.
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AND BEER AT £3 A PINT. Back to fun pricing, back to not having heart palpitations every time you pick up a menu. Back to that holiday feeling we had in South Africa.
And lovely, friendly people. All speak excellent English, and they are really considerate as well, they go that bit further to help and be nice. A small bit of street hassle, but in a nice way. I learn HAPAN ASANTE - SIO LEO, which (I hope) means 'No thanks, not today'. We familiarise ourselves with Stone Town, a UNESCO World Heritage site and the old part of the capital Zanzibar City. Lovely restaurants, lovely people, followed by a lovely and much needed 12 hours straight sleep. Up early and book an afternoon walking tour of the town and tomorrows boat trip for seeing the offshore sights, plus firm up on the next hotel, an expensive all-inclusive that Sara as had her eye on for some time, further north in the resort area of Nungwi.
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So a great nights kip, then off out for the walking tour. Meet Abu our guide and we DO Stone Town. Fascinating, tiny side streets, vibrant markets, chopping up fish, chickens, meat, real earthy stuff, entrails everywhere, but lovely people, no issues, many smiles.
A TOTAL CHANGE OF PACE!
Zanzibar could not BE more unlike Dubai, there is no comparison. This is down-home Africa, crowded, chaotic, smelly, but fun. Wandered around the town for a couple of hours, then into the market for a bit more wandering and to watch the locals entertaining themselves by jumping into the floating flotsam and jetsam in the harbour (see the video below, sound on/off bottom right of screen). Not for the tourists mind you. No, they do this to amuse themselves! Every night. Beats the young European tourists starring into their mobile phones all night. Guaranteed dysentery, but much better for your mental health, and Sara survived dysentery in Brazil so it's not that bad. Then the markets then dinner for two back at the right price range of about £15 each including drinks. Better!
NEXT A BOAT TRIP, MAINLY AS THERE WAS NO HOP-ON HOP-OFF BUS.....
The quantity and quality of any towns sights and attractions listed in any town can be quickly gleaned fro good the old Get-Your-Guide app. For Stone Town they list two basically. The walking tour and the boat trip to Prison Island and the 'Sandbank' for a BBQ. So off we trot, good little tourists, onto the beach, big rollers coming in, no jetty, we've been here before, this is going to be WET and DANGEROUS, and it was. The boat comes into about 2-3 feet of water, bashes about, old rusty steps to climb before we tumble into the boat for a 20 minute vomit inducing ride to an island. We had made a sensible detour to the pharmacy for sea sickness tablets though. No fools us.
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Prison Island ($20 US per person tax to visit) is small, has one building, built as a prison - but never used as a prison, has Turtles gifted by the Sultan of Oman in 1860, which grew to a population of 250 until some bright spark realised they made good soup, at which point the population dwindled to 6. Back to 40 now, thank goodness for the introduction of packet soup! That was two more life threatening on and off the boat exercises, only three more to go! People falling over in the boat, in the sea, big fat birds sploshing about screaming, it was like Dunkirk when boarding and D Day when landing!! Only with more casualties.​
Then we had another 45 minutes of rolling around to reach The Sandbank, which was as advertised, just a sandbank.
But earlier in the day the locals drag over a load of plastic tables and some sails on posts for shelter, and we all land, slog up the bank, then sit in gale force winds drinking beers at $5US each, and eat sandy BBQ squid.
That really is the epitome of 'Built it and they will Come'! Whoever thought up the idea is a genius. Any normal person would reel back with incredulity if you suggested sailing hundreds of tourists in a really choppy sea to a fucking windblown sandbank, 30 meters wide and a couple of hundred long, to risk their lives climbing off the boats in two foot waves, marooning them there for a couple of hours, and then sailing them back, and charging for the service.
Sheer genius. We paid about £45 each for that!!! Kept us amused all day though.
THERE'S A LOT OF ITALIANS IN ZANZIBAR.....​
Apparently the largest bloc of tourists to the island are Eyeties, followed by the Krauts, followed by us. Everyone on our boat was Italian. We met up with a lovely family who were us, just 15 years younger. Dad 60, wife 13 years younger, two kids, first one born when Dad was 43 (same as Miles), 3 year age gap between the kids. It was like looking in a mirror, for us looking back, for them looking forward. All they wanted was to be us, travelling the world, not having two teenagers staring at their phones all the time. Poor them.
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It was an interesting conversation about the fact that Miles and Beth were at school before mobile phones became a thing. Before social media even existed, before every single person on the globe has a phone, and an online presence, before our friends were guilt tripped into reading this piffle, Those were the days my friends.................
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AND WHILE I AM ON FOREIGNERS,,,,
What is with hotel designers these days? Why have glass panels into the toilets, why have glass doors on the toilet. In hotel after hotel this is apparently a thing! In Saudi, where you view your wife through a letter box on her head, why on God's green earth would you have a clear glass panel in the bog wall? OK, at the flick of a switch you can frost it. Cool, expensive, and when the power goes off, which it does regularly, the poxy thing goes clear. But even dafter is that the actual toilet door is clear glass, as is the door to the bog itself. Go Figure?? Head to toe in black with just her eyes showing. In the bathroom, the poor woman is visible from every angle while picking her nose (for instance). It makes no sense. This is about the third hotel where this has happened.
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I only mention this as it has happened again at this hotel. Here in a five star in Zanzibar there is a glass panel from the bog that looks directly at the bed, frosted, yes, but which room do you want to leave with a light on at night, the loo! So here it lights up the room, and if you are showering, you are silhouetted, WHY?
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Mind you the RIU JAMBO All Inclusive at a budget breaking £320 a night is lovely, as long as you don't pick your nose in the shower), Stunning beach, with Sara approved blue water and white sand. So we settle in for a four night stay with added art classes. And unlimited food and booze.
BUSY DOING NOTHING ..............
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At last, a chance to chill. Bit uptight in the bathroom at times, but otherwise this a real change. We don't normally do all inclusives but we have in the past loved cruises, which are about the same thing, only on the water. Excellent food, unlimited booze, entertainment, classes, plus all day to do nothing.
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The plan here was to spend five days at this hotel, The Riu Jambo, just down from one of the tourist towns on the northwest coast, Nungwi. That failed. We left it so late to book that we were reduced to grabbing the three nights they had left. As you can see above it is a superb beach and a lovely hotel, if a bit on the big side. Excellent food selection. We signed up for the art class, as we always do, and the result is below. My attempt at acrylic was not a success so only Sara's is up for exhibition. We partied hard for one night on their super-large Gin & Tonics and duly suffered the next day.
We also grabbed a cab up to Nungwi to check out what a resort town is like here. Its like a bundle of shacks on a shitty crowded beach is what. It is surprising how little price difference there is between a very average hotel on a very average beach, and our all-inclusive. Well actually it's £100 a night, or £50 each. The sister hotel to the one we stayed in in Stone Town was £220 here on the beach, a beach nicely decorated with rubbish, seaweed, numerous fake Maasai and looky-looky boys, plus scruffy beds and backed by a maze of tin shacks. Compare and contrast to ours, white sands, top quality sun beds by the hundred, classes, unlimited food and booze. It really is not difficult to consume the extra fifty quid's worth of grub and skimmish by midday, really not, after that it is all downhill, both figuratively and in reality.
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On the bright side, if you were a solitary, tubby bird then it was wall to wall Maasai to talk to. They are like gulls around a bag of chips, Nobody need ever be lonely with these lads around, they'll talk to anyone, even me.
However, with my secret weapon, Swahili, I could fend the boys off. "Hapan Asante" (no thanks) was my anti Maasai watchword. I offered to teach it to the fat bird but she seemed uninterested.
So where to nexr? Six more nights in Zanzibar and the world of the late bookers is our oyster. Sara has her heart set on a next-level all inclusive called The Mora. Far side of the island, excellent reviews. At a heady £510 a night it so is NOT us. That is 65% over our daily budget and so the finance committee rule it unviable. The Hotels Team persevere and come up with a demon deal at £350 a night, goodness knows how but it had something to do with spoofing our geographical location with a VPN and pretending to be on PIP or SEND, or both. Anyway, for just a few bob over budget we get probably the nicest hotel since the Maldives, excepting only that here everything is FREE!
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We travel across the island by cab and pull into this enormous suites-only oasis of calm and greenery. It is mahousive, about 20 acres or more. Nice crowd of Italians and, reassuringly, no Russians. A smattering of English. Enormous rooms, loads of restaurants, lots of classes, including three yoga classes a day, so I won't see Sara from morning till night. I settle into my long-stay routine. Long marmite-centred breakfast reading The Times, long beer-centred lunch reading my latest book (seven read so far), then an activity of some sort before a long wine-centred dinner and bed. Rinse and repeat.
WE MAY HAVE OVERDONE THE ACTIVITIES A TAD...
I tried my hand at KUBB, a lawn game between two teams, oblong wood blocks on the grass, you chuck small logs at them to advance, teams of two. I was the only guest playing against the staff, and with amazing finesse, and no little incredulity from the staff team I whooped 'em! I asked how this game came to Zanzibar, they said "no idea, we think it's Swedish". Seriously???? Then the inevitable art lesson, getting better and better. Then I learn another game, this time it is definitely Zanzibarian, I saw loads of old boys playing it in town, called The Bao Game. Then Makuti Bracelet Crafting so that I can look like a slimmer version of Clarkson with a bundle of bangles around my hippie wrist. This hard work, not relaxation at all!
Above is the incredibly complicated Boa game, which I lost, but not before making a proper complaint. The instructor was 30 minutes late for our game, no notice, just turned up and said "Sorry I'm half an hour late, I was at a meeting about improving customer relations, it over-ran". Ironic or what?? I was not best pleased, as in typical UK fashion I had finished what I was doing to be there five minutes early, so I asked for his manager. Oscar turned up and was again completely oblivious to the irony, and seemed to see no issue with keeping his staff from their guests to discuss how best to please that same guest, so I asked for his manager. Edgar turned up and as the Hotel Entertainments Manager had the good grace to acknowledge the quite ridiculous situation where he single handedly pissed of goodness how many guests by talking about how not to piss off the guests. So he bribed me with a beautiful hand carved Boa board that weights a ton and is a game I will never play again. So one of you expect a Boa board on your next birthday!
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Above you can see just how little I understood about Makuti Bracelet Making Class. We made a whole load of stuff out of Palm leaves, hats, bracelets, rings, flower vases, and then we walked it all back to the room with Sara telling everyone we had renewed our vows and people clapping as we swaggered by.
​DOLPHIN HUNTING....
Sara fancied some snorkelling and swimming with dolphins so she alone signed up for another boat cruise round Mnemba Island. I sat in the bar. I really did not fancy another bashing and soaking in a battered old tub. And I was right.
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Sara set off in one of the most battered boat in the fleet of about 50 of the things, all clattering into each other, people falling in, on and off them. Out to snorkling made more fun by all the boats squirting around the swimmers. Propellers everywhere.
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Then the HUNT. A pod of dolphins spotted and the chase is on!! 20 boats chase, surround, hassle, frighten and generally irritate the poor things for 20 minutes. Great sport!! Sustainable responsible tourism. NOT!
Sara finally returns to the bar for a well earned silent cinema and a game of SkipBo, a weird card game we traditionally lug around the world and have only played once in five years. We play a couple of games and quickly recall why we have only played it once.
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We round that off with a lesson in the new fad game of Padel, a tennis/squash mash up that is really good fun.
And Sara rounds off the free classes at this excellent all inclusive by learning how to be a bat. Actually it is called arial yoga, could have fooled me.
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Six days in our massive room, in this massive resort, we calculate that from the room to the beach is half a mile!!! So we do actually burn off some of the thousands of calories we consume each day, not all, just some. Really relaxing, but it is time to get back on the road. One night in an airport hotel for a 02.00 up, up and away back to Dubai on the 05.30 flight, then a cab for 2 hours to Abu Dhabi. Back to modernity and high prices, and a water-park!!
BUT BEFORE WE LEFT I MADE SOME NEW FRIENDS............
I decided that staying in a nice hotel with four massive pools and a beach, then possibly, just possibly I should put my feet in the water, somewhere, at least once. So I picked the pool with a swim up bar, swam one length, didn't like it one bit, so sat at the pool bar for one beer. While people watching I could not miss out on the sight of two elderly South African gentlemen, one sporting bright red eyes, splashing about in the water, the red eyed one appeared to practising how to drown. The how-to-drown training went on for some time with a whole lot of shouting and spluttering. After what seemed an hour of this I asked the good looking gentlemen next to me what the hell was going on. Bradley explained that they were his friends and that Keith was teaching Seelan to FLOAT. Could have fooled me. Maybe foolishly I told Seelan that if he expelled all the air from his lungs he would do fine. He promptly sank. I left.
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Seelan got his revenge however. I was tottering back to my room after a pleasant evening on the free wine and beer, only to be accosted at the bar by the guys. I had mistakenly told them I was 75 which amazed them (presumably they thought I was 80 or more), and they took this as a challenge to see how pissed they could get an innocent old Englishman who had made the mistake of trying to drown Mr Red-Eye. They succeeded where my drowning ploy had failed. Great guys, great evening, great hangover.