Matemwe Beach Arrival

Our final destination was Matemwe Beach Village. After the boat ride back to Zanzibar early on Tuesday morning, Juma, our original driver from the airport, met us back at the Mbweni Ruins Hotel. (We had arranged the time with him when he dropped us there on Sunday.) Arriving to the shore of Zanzibar, I took one last look toward Chumbe, and the sight in view simply whispered, in ultra clarity, relaxation.


We drove back into Stonetown, made a stop at the ATM, then headed off across the island. We drove to the far east side, not too far from the northern tip. After trying to find the Matemwe Beach Village once, but failing, our second try got us there. Ah—finally, the place where I will dive.

The first person who greeted us was at the pool area and had on a One Ocean shirt, indicating he was with the dive shop located there at the hotel. I told him who I was, that I had two dives booked the next day and a refresher in the pool booked for that afternoon; it was about 11:30 a.m. when we arrived. And so came the abrupt change from the laid-back African culture I’ve grown accustomed to here. (and that, by the way, I relish while here)

This man all but outright scolded me for arriving “late,” saying it was too late for the refresher and I should have been there earlier. I, trying not to be too visibly irritated at this abrupt change in attitude (from Chumbe—all about service with a smile and “Is no problem”—to this “shame on you for doing what we told you to do”), tried very politely to explain that the booking agent, Generose (who turned out to be the sister of an employee at Chumbe (Niva)) had told me everything was fine with my booking, that my refresher would be the afternoon of the 11th, and that I’d even confirmed everything on the 9th with Max at the Stonetown Once Ocean office. The gentleman, whose name I never learned, irritated with me, took me to the office area of One Ocean where I met Frank. I explained the situation to Frank, and he disappeared, then finally, Xavier came from the back area, this time, smiling.

In the meantime, I sent Mimi to go ahead and find where to check in for our room, so we could relive Juma, our driver, of our bags.

Xavier gave me the option of completing my refresher right then or later in the afternoon, seeming most accommodating. I’d like to be generous here and assume the first gentleman was simply having a bad day, but I learned later that people at Matemwe Beach either “get” guest services or they don’t. And no, that guy just didn’t. Fortunately, though, Xavier, originally from Barcelona, did.

Having straightened that all out (and opting for a later refresher), I found Mimi checking us in. Between her and the gentleman at the desk, though, I felt quite overwhelmed and rushed. My traveling companion, perhaps it’s being from the East Coast, has quite a habit of saying “yeah, yeah, yeah” when you are talking. I find it very frustrating (but not, for only a two-week trip, frustrating enough to create any sort of discussion over it). And this man at the desk was also rapidly listing out details of our stay. He would begin to explain something, she’d say, “Yeah, yeah,” and he, thinking, I’m sure, she must already know all of this, would abruptly discuss the next item. Later, she complained that he was going over things too quickly. I tried, gently of course, to explain that her concurrence in everything he said—given even before he’d completely discussed the details, probably hurried him along too. She denied this. (Don’t we all deny, too much, the things we do in conversing with others? Those things that cause such frustration to our conversation partners—one-upping their story, not listening and breaking in too rapidly (when I recently told someone I had a bad cold, as soon as I said it, I then found myself immediately listening to how that person had suffered a cold—two weeks ago, never actually asking how I felt or how I was doing, when I was the one who brought it up. Sigh.), getting distracted (I admit, I’m quite bad about this one), etc? (No, I’m by far not perfect, either.))

Anyway, we got booked a ride on a sailing boat, booked massages, and got our room key. The room was nothing spectacular, but here, we were certainly not paying resort prices.

The place’s motto is “No shoes; no news”—ah, yes. Take off your shoes and leave your news behind. All the paths between the buildings were sandy and soft, and they were even swept each morning—removing the cahsewy tree seed pots that were quite uncomfortable to step on.

And finally, we went and booked Mimi for snorkeling; she would go out on the same boat as I would for my dives, but she and two other people would just snorkel.



With all of that settled, finally, we found the large lounging area, looking out to the oh-so-blue water, and ordered some cold drinks. Ice, of course, is not easy to come by. And on this trip, my cool drink of choice became Fanta Orange. Perfectly refreshing, even if a bit too sweet.


This place too had wonderful areas to kick back, listen to the water, and, yes, relax.