After getting our fix of the internet, Bhav and I headed off to Zanzibar. We were fleeced for our tickets but at least we got there without being sick; Bhav’s Indian sweets were a little too much on our empty stomachs.
At the ferry terminal on Zanzibar Bhav got talking to 2 men who promised to find us good accommodation. Normally we’d politely but firmly refuse (as they’d probably be out to rip us off or worse) but we decided it couldn’t hurt. First stop was Bottoms Up and the hotel managed by one of the 2 men. It’s a fairly typical hotel made out of what would have been flats or a big house and was essentially a brick skyscraper of 6 floors. The top floor was an open viewing platform where they served breakfast. The room on offer there was on the 4th floor and contained 2 traditional style beds. Having been conned for the ferry ticket we were keen to save some money, so even though the room was normally US$30 inc breakfast we were aiming for $20 but the best we could get out of him was $22. This prompted us to try another 2 hotels until, tail between our legs, we returned to Bottoms Up and told the manager who’d just started his shift that the previous guy had said $20 and we wanted to accept.
After all that there wasn’t much daylight left. Zanzibar is our first real taste this trip of the potential problems created by Ramadan. Approximately 95% of the population are Muslim and with such a high concentration it means food and drink opportunities are limited during the hours of daylight, and even if you can find it (which actually isn’t difficult) you’re not supposed to eat or drink in public otherwise the police might “get interested”. After sunset, marked by air raid sirens (seriously!) and the call to prayer the night market at the waterfront gardens were open.
Zanzibar being an island meant that the majority of the food on offer was seafood, not being a fan I went for amongst other things some barbecued chicken (the best I’ve ever tasted!). Food wasn’t the only thing we spent money on that night. We ended up buying some artwork too.
Our room at Bottoms Up
View over the roof tops of Stone Town from our Hotel
Another bus we had to sleep on and another poor nights sleep. I’d say never again, but I remember saying that the last time. After almost 18 hours sat on the same seat my bum was literally red raw!
Dar es Salaam (or Dar as I’m going to refer to it from now on) has to be my favourite city so far (outside of South Africa). It’s a very relaxed place and is a mixture of different cultures and peoples from around the world. It’s cosmopolitan nature and architecture make it a welcome change to the dust bowls of other cities.
After Bhav’s rather long trip to the police station we went to the National Museum and briefly walked around the botanical gardens (which have seen much better days). In the evening we decided to visit the Sikh Temple (or Gurdwara). I’ve never been to one and Bhav being a Sikh (at least in upbringing) herself meant I’d have the perfect guide. The chance of a free dinner at the end of all that culture also sounded good.
We were the first people to arrive for the evening prayers, so only the two men (one singing and playing a small organ like instrument and the other playing two drums) witnessed what could have been a faux pas if it wasn’t for Bhavneets briefing on how to bow and that I needed to tie a handkerchief to my head.
Dinner was good although basic by what Bhav’s seen. I certainly felt welcome and was invited in to one guys room to listen to him playing the sitar. I though I’d have a go but it’s definitely best left to the professionals. My brief twangs and listening to the guy play for what must have been 30 minutes made me want to buy a CD when I get back!
Our first impressions of Tanzania weren’t great. After being fleeced again for a visa (another US$50 for me and free for Bhav) we were fleeced for the minivan ride to Mbeya, from where we planned to catch the train or bus to Dar es Salaam. The “bus company employees” that hoarded around us at the bus station also tried to fleece us but it wasn’t until we took a minivan to the train station (a surprisingly attractive art deco building) that Bhav had her shoes stolen (she was wearing my Nepalese flip-flops) and someone tried to pickpocket my wallet. It was either that journey or the one back (having discovered that the train was delayed by over 24 hours) that Bhav had her mobile phone stolen from her bag.
In the end we decided to get to Dar by minibus. During the 3 hours we had to wait for it to fill up with customers I decided to get off and buy a drink for the journey. Upon returning to the bus I discovered it had dissapeared. Fortunately it returned less than 10 minutes laters but Bhav and I were no doubt the source of much amusement for our reactions to it driving off.