Act I: Zanzibar

I've wanted to go to Zanzibar since discovering such a place exists, three dramatic syllables of unfathomable exoticness.Then I found out that Zanzibar (unlike, say, Synecdoche, NY) can back up its intriguing name with an old Stone Town (now a World Heritage site), endless stretches of white sand beaches, the sharp scent of spice trees swaying in the breeze and the ultramarine warmth of the Indian Ocean. Since it's only a 5.5 hour flight from Abu Dhabi, this summer was the perfect time for a trip that already felt more like a pilgrimage than a vacation. I had no idea when K and I left Abu Dhabi in late July how profound that feeling would become as the weeks went by.

Because of my longstanding fascination with the island, the Tanzanian mainland initially took a backseat to the visit to Zanzibar. As in: let's go to Zanzibar and, of course, since we're in the area, we'd better see Mt Kilimanjaro and the famous wildlife parks, too. What ended up happening was that the experience of visiting Ngorongoro Crater and the Serengeti so blew away anything I had ever thought was true about the word "safari" that Zanzibar receded into the background (stay tuned for more on the zen of wildlife viewing...). What it really means, however, is that Tanzania contains a whole world's worth of natural beauty, compelling history and breathtaking sights. It's not as if Zanzibar is eclipsed, but it's one of several amazing places, when in any other country it'd be the only show in town.

And it's quite a show. A maritime crossroads a mere 90 km off the coast, Africans, Europeans, Indians, Persians and Arabs have all vied for control of its lush soil, relatively malaria-free beaches and safe harbors. Oman held sway during Zanzibar's heyday from thousands of nautical miles away, and the Arab influence is most visible in elaborately carved doors in old Stone Town, which reminded me of Muscat and the old forts of Nizwa more than anything I saw on the African mainland. Stone Town itself is a little like Venice, in that the real stars of the show are winding, narrow passageways and the kind of decorative decay that can only exist on a historic seacoast. Unlike Venice, however, Stone Town doesn't have access to the kind of funding needed to shore up the crumbling facades, and UNESCO regulations make conservation too expensive for most building owners. So, the place is safe from development but not from the elements. That doesn't mean it's a ghost town. Tourists and locals crowd its narrow streets, the locals to buzz around on motorbikes and shop at the many markets; the tourists to gawk at the Anglican Cathedral (built on the site of the old slave market), visit the museums, wander the alleyways and visit the childhood home of Freddie Mercury, lead singer of Queen and Zanzibar native.

My first emotion upon seeing the Zanzibar of my dreams was one of profound relief. After an early morning flight from the UAE via Qatar, we landed in Dar es Salaam and made for the harbor, hoping to make the last ferry of the day. We caught the ferry without a problem, but the experience of rough late-afternoon seas after a full day of travel was unmitigated hell for someone who avoids boats in the best of circumstances. By the time the lights of Stone Town came into view, it was full dark, and I was hoping I wouldn't lose my lunch all over the nice Zanzibarian man kindly pointing out landmarks as we chugged into the harbor.


Everything was made better after we got to our guest house, a laid-back haven on Paje Beach, which is wrongly pooh-pooh'ed by Lonely Planet as strictly average because one can't swim all the time. Whatever. The beach itself is an ever-changing strip of white sand that is almost completely consumed at high tide (ideal for swimming), and dotted with seaweed and tidepools at low tide (ideal for exploring). The guest house, run by South African woman with magenta hair and her constantly barefoot grown son, could not have been a better choice, in that there was ample time to do nothing but walk on the beach, read, eat and walk on the beach some more, collecting shells or peeking at starfish and hermit crabs in the tidepools.


We managed to tear ourselves away from the water one day to take a spice tour from the chipper Mr. Spice, owner of a demonstration planation of the many tropical wonders that grow on Zanzibar. We sampled breadfruit, jackfruit, rambutan and custard apple (misshapened and spiky on the outside, creamy and tart on the inside). At one point Mr. Spice's go-to guy hitched himself up a palm tree, singing at the top of his lungs and dropped down enough heavy fresh coconuts for us all to share. I sampled coconut juice for the first time, clear, sweet and filling. After visiting cocoa, coffee, nutmeg and pepper trees, not to mention vanilla bean vines and various spice plants, we settled down to a lunch prepared with most of the above.

We started our trip in Zanzibar, with the warmth of the beach and the scent of spices. When we sadly boarded the ferry back to Dar (with another tight connection to a bus up to Moshi, the town at the base of Kilimanjaro) we didn't know the trip to Tanzania would be a journey in three distinct acts. The relaxed tropical opening scenes were ending, and the rest of the adventure was about to begin...