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Published: July 14th 2016
Hello All,
I'm currently writing this from a very noisy hotel room in Dar es Salaam, the commercial capital of Tanzania, having arrived back from an incredible week in Zanzibar. Having flown into Zanzibar from Kilimanjaro, yesterday I got the ferry back to the Tanzanian mainland. The journey was so rough that at some points it seemed as though 'Yellow Submarine' would have been a more appropriate Beatles song to name this blog entry but luckily my stomach and the boat's hull managed to hold out.
My time in Zanzibar was truly the start of my solo travels, as I was surrounded by so many people during my Maasai volunteering stint that I was never really alone. What I've discovered is Africa can be a very unforgiving place to be a solo traveller, even in the tourist areas, and you sometimes need to work harder to find the joyous moments without reaching to far into your wallet. I'll explain my point further throughout this entry because I honestly loved Zanzibar, thanks to a group of Canadians and a few Cambridge medical students, and I wouldn't want to put anyone off a solo trip there.
I arrived in Zanzibar
on the evening of the first day of Eid, the Islamic festival that celebrates the end of the fasting month of Ramadan. Thanks to Zanzibar's 99% Muslim population, my visit was therefore impeccably timed. As I was driven to my hostel through the dark roads of Zanzibar in a taxi, everyone around us was preparing for 4 days of gluttonous celebrations. It is testament to Africa as a whole that after only a very short plane journey, I had gone from the mild, windy hills of the Christian Maasai in Ngorongoro, to the sweltering Arab and Indian streets and beaches of Zanzibar - and I hadn't left Tanzania! It's like a Round-the-World trip all crammed into one place, which is one of the reasons why I chose to come here.
My hostel, the Sagando Hostel, was on the opposite side of the island to the airport and the hustle and bustle of Stone Town. It was a beautiful little corner of paradise which was made up of several small beach huts, surrounding a bar and a a social area dotted with hammocks and hanging beds. In the evenings they had fire's burning in sand pits and reggae playing through
Incredible Sunset
Never got bored of this view.the bar speakers. I couldn't have imagined it better myself, although I found the hot water wasn't working in my own hut but that now seemed a distant luxury. My problem was that when I arrived, the only other guests were either families or couples on a romantic getaway (the anti-Christ to solo travelling). The person that I spent my evening talking with was the hostel's "fixer", whose job was to arrange the various excursions and activities around Zanzibar for all the guests. He seemed a nice enough fellow but he only introduced himself as "Jack Sparrow"; I should have known there and then to be wary of a man who aspires to be a fictional pirate.
On my first full day, I decided to get up and explore the surrounding area. I found my way onto the beach about 300 metres from the hostel which was a stunning stretch of coastline. Lined with palm trees, the sand was fine and white, and the sea was a gleaming blue. It was picture perfect. However, it left me saddened that none of my friends or family were there to share it with me. Like any like-minded Brit, it didn't take
me long to find my way into one of the few beach bars along said coastline. There I found Jack Sparrow and tried to discuss the price of doing a Spice Farm Tour and a snorkelling trip, but I was soon disheartened to learn that everything was very expensive if I did them alone, mainly due to taxi fares as I was son far from anywhere. Captain Jack did offer me a lifeline though; that night France and Germany were playing in the semi-final of the Euros and there was a beach bar in the next village along that was showing it. Watching the match was good fun as there was a nice mix of French and German supporters there. A couple of French guys even stood up at the start and sang the national anthem along with the players on TV. They did well enough to earn themselves a round of applause from the rest of the bar. Once the game was over and I had had a few beers down me, Jack Sparrow persuaded me to party on as well as buy him a few beers. When we got to the next place, we were charged entry, and
it didn't take me long to figure out I had wasted my time and money. The place was just another hostel bar and was pretty much empty but for a few guests that were there and a smattering of locals that were stupid enough to pay entry. I had a few more beers (and bought Captain Jack some as well) before I gave up and said I was going home. He seemed desperate to keep me out and even stopped the taxi at another bar on the way home to buy more alcohol; I just stayed in the taxi and refused to give him more money.
The next morning my relationship with Jack Sparrow was rather more strained than it had been when I arrived. I also felt irritated that I was going to have to fork out a lot of money to be able to afford to see the rest of Zanzibar; unfortunately, I am not the sort of person that takes pleasure in sitting on a beach for a week. It's just never really been my idea of a holiday. There I said it. My salvation came in the form of a group of 4 Canadians that
had just moved into the Sagando Hostel for the weekend. This time last year, I honestly can't remember having ever met a Canadian, now they seem to be entering my life at every opportunity! They were in Zanzibar for a weekend vacation away from their respective work placements in Malawi, Kenya, and Tanzania. The best thing about meeting people as a solo traveller in Africa is that there is never a dull story; no one comes to Africa because they "just fancied a holiday", they always have an interesting reason for being here. My Canadian saviours were again stereotypically polite and were more than happy to have a "tag-along Brit" for the rest of their vacation.
Wasting no time at all, the next day we went on a snorkelling trip, joined also by another group of 4 that had just checked in; 3 English Cambridge medical students who had also acquired they're own "tag-along American" girl. It was great fun to swim with all the fish from Finding Nemo, although the reef wasn't as colourful as the pictures I had seen in books as a child. Isn't that the perfect metaphor for reaching adulthood? I also kept having issues
with my mask which was forever filling with water. Maybe it was the salt in my eyes that was draining the colour from my vision. Nonetheless, it was a fantastic experience to be surrounded by an underwater world which had seemed so far away in the hills of Ngorongoro.
That night we went for dinner at a restaurant called The Rock, named because it is built literally on top of a rock just off the coast, and is only accessible by a boat pulled along a length of rope. The food was astonishing, the highlight being a dish of potato gnocchi and prawns, flavoured with Zanzibar vanilla. After my rough start, I was beginning to see why solo travelling was such a great thing to do. Having the best meal of my life, on top of a rock which felt like top of the world, surrounded by people I had just met and may never see again, chatting and laughing as if we were life long friends, is an experience which will live long in the memory.
I had not yet visited Zanzibar's Stone Town, which is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. My first visit was with the
Canadians on their last day. We explored the labyrinth of narrow streets which were lined with incredible stone buildings of Arabic, Persian, and Indian inspired architecture. It was also the last day of Did and celebrations were in full swing by the seafront where hundreds of people were feasting on food from the many stalls that were cooking up some great tasting delicacies, most notably the 'Zanzibar Pizza'. These were meat and vegetable mixtures thinly encased by dumpling pastry. There also banana and nutella ones on offer for dessert! I couldn't help but think if Los Churros Amigos fancied setting up an African franchise. After filling our faces with food and having a round of drinks over a political discussion (because we didn't want to have too much of a good time), we then made our way into the Old Fort in Stone Town where Zanzibar was currently hosting an International Film Festival. We watched a German film called Fiddlesticks, which was a sweet movie exploring the relationship between children and their controlling parents, and their liberating grandparents. There was no time to dissect themes for too long though, as immediately afterwards they started playing the Euro 2016 final on
Calm Sea
The Dhow just missed the sunset and the perfect photo opportunity. the big screen. Cue the beer and arguing with half the Canadians why football is valid as a sport. For some reason they only understand a sport if it involves a layer of ice on the ground. Each to their own! That night, I bid them all a fond farewell as they stayed in Stone Town to get the morning ferry and I made my way back to Sagando. They helped me to fall in love with solo travelling again and re-enthused me for the rest of my trip, so if any of them are reading this; Thank You.
My time in Zanzibar was not quite over and after another day on the beach, I returned to Stone Town with a couple of the remaining medical students who had moved there for a few nights. I wasn't feeling great as the night before I had been headfirst in a toilet bowl for some food-related reason. After all the weird food I ate with the Maasai, it was the tourist destination which poisoned me. The ferry ride back to the mainland that afternoon wasn't going to make me feel any better either. However, I was determined to have a good
last day, and after having a guided walking tour around Stone Town which took us into the fly-infested fish markets, and the house where Freddie Mercury was born, I got my wish and visited one of the nearby spice farms. As well as being an interesting lesson into where some of our favourite flavours come from, it also showed me another aspect of Africa which is becoming all too apparent; the exploitation. The cocoa beans that are grown in this farm are exported to Switzerland where they are turned into chocolate and then sold back to Tanzania. This is by all means not the only example, China have used a similar tactic for manufacturing a lot of African goods using African materials in exchange for building half the transport infrastructure such as railroads and highways.
Speaking of which, tomorrow I will be getting the Chinese-built TAZARA railway into Zambia where I hope to reach Victoria Falls by Tuesday. I will update you then. Thanks Zanzibar, and thank you Tanzania, you've been an incredible country to explore for the past 5 weeks, full of the most welcoming people imaginable and I hope to be back again. To Zambia!
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Frank Headington
non-member comment
Your travelogue
Hello James - another epic has unfolded as I read on the edge of the chair. In a few months you are cramming a few years in the University of Life and it will influence your attitude to work and lifestyle for the future. Brilliant that you keep your wits about you and make judgements about the nefarious and the good ones you are meeting. Very proud also of you ability to express yourself as a wordsmith which will always stand you in good stead and I don't patronise. Back here we are obsessed with the changing political scene and by the time you get back it will still be boiling. Your jungle skills will enable you to focus better than we are able at present ! Safe journeys on though even watch your back in SA. I have wonderful memories of Jb, PE, Durban and Capetown though bit dated from 1944. Lots of love for now Grandad X