Stonetown

It’s Saturday evening, about 6:45 p.m. (This, of course, won’t post for several days, but I'll post according to the dates these occur.)) It’s the first evening on Zanzibar. I’m sitting on the balcony area of our room, feeling the nice breeze blow across the tops of nearby buildings. (and I mean very nearby.) I just was listening to some prayer chants that drifted across the town. A siren sounded earlier, and I suspect it was meant to notify people that sunset was upon us.

See, Zanzibar is predominantly Muslim. Everything here is very Arabic--many of the people, several Islamic schools, and the general feel. Most of the women we see, of course, are all covered, and many of the men have the wonderful small flat hats and shirt-dress wear.

We checked into our hotel about 2:30 p.m. We’re on what is called the third floor, but the ceilings are almost double in height, so it feels more like the fifth floor. The stairs, I must say, felt more like I was climbing into an attic versus up stairs they were so steep, especially the second leg of each flight after you turn directions! Looking up through the courtyard from our floor, notice how steep the stairs are to the top left of the picture.

The hotel is old, and the room is set up a bit odd, but I must say, it does have soul. Sitting here on this balcony, I know I’m nowhere else I’ve ever been before, I would not recommend the place, exactly, and certainly not for any sort of extended stay. But I think it is costing us about $50 total for the both of us for the night. The room is fine, and the sheets seem clean. I'm not afraid of the bathroom, necessarily, but I'm not sure how many times the towels have been used. (Mimi says the smell clean. I don't say that, but I can say they don't smell bad.) But if I am ever back again in Stonetown, I will try out the Clove Hotel or Dhow Palace--two places we tried, but that were full.

After putting our few things up (from our carry-on bags (and yes, I packed all my necessary medication in my carry-on bag) (and obviously, my computer too)), we ventured to find the sea.

Stonetown is a very old city. Most of the streets are much too small for any car although you must be careful to move out of the way when you here the ting ting of a bicyclist (or beep beep of a scooter) approaching from behind.

The buildings are all white stone. Many of the doors are huge heavy doors with intricate carvings around the outside. All over the face of the door are huge spikes—four across with four rows at least. The legend is that these spikes were originally used to prevent elephants from crashing into the doors. Some disbelieve, as no elephants are currently on Zanzibar. But many people say some evidence exists in places to say that long ago, elephants were indeed here. Regardless, they are quite impressing. Some also say that the authentic doors can be distinguished from later ones based on the outer carvings. The authentic doors have chains worked into the carving; these chains represent the slave trade that was a big part of Zanzibar’s history.

As we wove our way toward the direction of the sea, I at first felt a bit uneasy. The buildings are so close together, and no signs marked which street or path we were on. But Mimi had been here before, and she didn’t feel unsafe or unsure at all. She said that yes, we might experience some begging, but really, that would be it. We didn’t even have troubles with that while out today.

We walked for a ways, and finally, feeling we’d never get there, asked. The men we asked smiled, said to turn one more corner, and indeed, we were there! Blue blue blue water. Ahhhhhh. The ocean.

We turned right and headed to Mercury’s—a bar and restaurant right on the water. (the bar was named for Freddy Mercury, of the band Queen; Freddy Mercury was born on Zanzibar.) We settled in to some chairs at a table right by the railing, ordered two Safari beers, and took in the view: several dhow boats on the horizon, white sand below us, and waves gently lapping up to the sand. This is what I’ve been wanting to see.


After the beers, we wondered around more, just walking around the city. We found the Stonetown location of the dive operation that I’ll be diving with on Wednesday, and I checked in and bought the requisite t-shirts. After all, during another dive one day, I’ll wear my Zanzibar dive shirt while out on that dive—sort of as a badge of other places I’ve been. (Mimi didn’t understand it; I told her it was a dive thing.) Then we wondered on some more.

Walking around Stonetown is so very different from Kampala. First, of course, it’s a much smaller city. But also, the buildings here prevent you from really knowing where you are. Of course, Stonetown is essentially at the tip point of a part of the island, so in three directions, if you walk far enough (which is not too far), you hit water. In the other direction, you’d also in not too much time come upon the main road. So really, other than going in circles, there’s not a huge fear of becoming hopelessly lost. Besides, everyone is wonderfully friendly.


I did a bit of shopping as we walked. (And we found a place to buy some small sizes of soap, toothpaste, and shampoo.) I’d like to buy more spices, but being here for such a short time, there’s not that much time to browse. Still, I’m happy with the things I did get.

As we walked, we were constantly greeted with “Jambo!”—the Kiswahili greeting for hello. With a place like this, people are outside. They know each other. Children are safe and playing outside. Neighbors are on their steps, sharing, talking, laughing. Shop owners, of course, welcome us inside. The common saying from them, as we walk by, is, “You are welcome,” which is their way of saying, “You are welcomed to come into my shop and look.”

It was getting a bit late, so we decided to head back tot the hotel. We stopped along the way at the Zanzibar Coffee House where we both enjoyed a very cold Fanta drink. Then we had the interesting task of trying to use our direction sense to get back to the hotel. We did fairly well, but eventually, we knew that although we were close, we just were not close enough. We asked one man, who told us to go one way. We did, but that led us to a path that turned what we knew was the wrong direction. (although most everyone speaks English, not always, and not always does communication happen effectively.) We then asked another very nice man who said something in Kiswahili to a young boy who led us back to the hotel. We kept asking the boy, “Left here?” and he would smile, shake his head, and say, “No” very patiently. Finally—a left turn, then around the corner, and there was home for the night.


The prayer time has ended, from the sound of no chanting, and I’m getting hungry. Time to go wake Mimi from her “lie down” and find dinner. I smell some wonderful aromas drifting up to where I sit, so we’re going to go find a source of that, or at least something similar.