10 Days in Zanzibar: Kilimani Kwetu

Day 3, Friday

Note: the toilet paper is not perforated, something I'm starting to think is an unnecessary practice in the US. Nate asked me to write down that he disagrees. Strongly.

Nate and I watched the sunrise through the window from bed this morning. I think I must be the luckiest person in the world.

We took our time having a leisurely breakfast and reading/writing on the pool deck before going for what would be a very long walk.

Breakfast:
More crepes with papaya jam, a slightly different kind of andazi that was sugared and very greasy - this one crescent shaped instead of round like yesterday's - at least four cups of the nutty coffee wih milk, and this time I attempted a savory crepe with tomatoes, onion, green peppers, and chilli sauce (though I think the chilli sauce was just ketchup w/ tabasco in it)

We sunscreened up and headed south along the beach, having quickly reviewed a few restaurants in our guide book. I wore my skimpiest black string bikini but covered up with a pink linen button down shirt and a sheer white and yellow sarong. The ocean was unbelievably calm. I've never seen anything like it.

We walked for (we think) about two hours taking our time to stop and snap photos, pick up shells, and just check out the scenery. The beach was pretty deserted for most of the walk, with the exception of one strip where an all-inclusive resort has been established. We read that this resort imports everything, even food, from outside of Tanzania and does very little to contribute to the local economy. We also passed several resorts that were completely closed until August, when more Europeans take their vacations. One long stretch of beach was especially deserted and pretty littered with seaweed, ocean detritus, and garbage. We thought there must be a village nearby. There were a couple of places where a path appeared from the edge of the beach disappearing into the woods beyond, including one rather ominous one where two huge sea turtle shells were lying in the sand among some cast-off fishing baskets and other garbage.



durian shells and seaweed

We finally stopped at a place called Kilimani Kwetu, which was right on the beach and had several lounge chairs with tables under umbrellas. The place was also a resort, though it didn't seem to have many customers - in fact only one woman was sleeping in a lounge chair nearby. Otherwise we were the only westerners there.

not a bad view! oh, and the ocean's nice, too.

Lunch:
Nate ordered what I wish I had: fish masala with rice. I ordered a banana pancake and an omelet in hopes that it would be the fried potato omelet I've heard is common locally. Unfortunately it was just a plain fried egg with some sliced tomatoes on top, and they were out of bananas so they made a mango pancake instead. We both drank Kilimanjaro's.

Kilimani Kwetu

The walk back was much much faster b/c
a) we were walking with the wind
b) I had my fill of seashells (almost), and
c) we were sunburned and needed to hurry!

We found a shady spot back at the hotel and spent a little time in the pool before grabbing coffee and tea. During tea we met a German family who was staying in Dongwe for a few days following a safari.

Side note: as friendly as the locals are, the other tourists tend to be pretty keep-to-themselves. The only reason we met the Germans is because when they asked if a chair next to us was free and we said yes, the mother thanked me and I responded "bitta." This started what turned out to be a very nice and lengthy conversation. They and Blake were the only other guests to introduce themselves to us or even do more than nod in our direction during our entire stay.

We showered and dressed for supper, which was to be a buffet. I felt like dressing up a little for our last night in Dongwe, so I wore a full length strapless brown and pink cotton dress and gold strappy sandals.

Supper:
Beef kebabs, spinach cooked in coconut milk, mango (not pictured), banana, cucumber salad, lamb curry w/ rice, bread, penne w/ marinara, Kilimanjaro beer

Tomorrow: Fumba!

10 Days in Zanzibar: Urchin!

Day 2, Thursday

I woke up around 6:30 and went for a 45-minute run on the beach. What a great way to explore! I kept stopping to snap pictures and look at the gorgeous sunrise or an interesting sea creature. The beach north of the pier narrows and becomes pretty rocky with incredible overhangs where the sea has eroded the rock. I passed a few villagers, mostly men but a few women, working or fishing.

Breakfast:
Crepes w/ papaya jam (went back for seconds), my first andazi which is like a plain donut, slices of papaya and watermelon, and a really nutty coffee with milk. We tried a small taste of a juice that looked like lemonade, Nate thought was pineapple, but turned out to be orange juice.

I decided to wear a bathing suit with the same strapless yellow cover-up I wore yesterday, no top shirt this time, and black flip-flops. Clothing at the resort is clearly western.

After breakfast we rented $5 bikes and rode down to Paje, about a 45-minute ride. Since the tide was high, we were advised to take the inland road instead of the beach.

The bikes were rusty despite looking relatively new - I'm guessing the sea air contributes to this? Riding from the hotel gate through the sand to the road was tremendously difficult. Fortunately it was only about a 2-minute ride! Once on the road I was able to switch gears easily. Nate wasn't as lucky. His gears were rusted out so he had to make due with only the low gears. I think low gears are easy in sand, but they are aren't so easy to use on the road!

Riding to Paje took us past several other resorts and beach hotels, with shouts of "Jambo!" from locals all along the way. I regretted my decision not to bring something to cover my arms, but none of the locals seemed overtly offended. We passed several villiages and streetside shops, including one bearing a sign that read "Hair Styling Saloon." We also passed a large soccer field that was clearly very well maintained and used, though it was vacant at the time. Our destination, Paradise Beach Bungalows, was on the near side of the town. We had read in our guide book that they sometimes offer a cooking class, and when we asked the bartender he said he would call to arrange a 10 o'clock lesson for us "in town." He asked us to wait and said someone would come pick us up.

While we waited, I took a quick tour of the facilities. They are Japanese and very beautifully landscaped, featuring a cluster of bungalows, each w/ its own waterfront hut w/ a hammock and chairs and a table. Water is delivered to the bungalows each day, and there is a little trough built into the slab porches for washing sand off your feet. Several turkeys, chickens, roosters, dogs, and a cat populate the property. A central open air hut similar to the one at our hotel appears to be the main dining facility. A group of Japanese tourists was waiting there for a taxi, having apparently just checked out.

Soon a stout man in a taqiyah (the Muslim cap I mentioned in yesterday's post - it's also called a kufi by most westerners) appeared and asked if we were interested in the cooking lesson. When we responded that we were he exclaimed "Oh, I have seen you already on the bicycles!" Nate recognized him, too, saying "Ah, yeah, we just passed him." So we all hopped back on our bikes and headed into town. What happened next was completely unexpected.

We followed the capped man, who was missing his 4 front teeth, back out to the main road. We stopped at a streetwise fruit stand to buy coconuts. A family of four was sitting under an awning nearby. The two children caught sight of us and called out "Jambo!" when I replied and waved, the boy began showing off a little. He picked up a thin wooden sign of about a square foot in size and threw it, wizzing the father's ear. The father began scolding the boy, wagging his finger at him - I guess that gesture is universal across all languages!

After the capped man paid for the coconuts, we continued on our bikes into what appeared to be a schoolyard. Children clambored from inside, and occasionally one would catch sight of usand point or wave. We continued past the school buildings until I realized we were in a village. Children played in the paths between the small concrete buildings. Soon we arrived at a home where the man dismounted his bike and gestured for us to follow him inside. I had assumed we would be taking our cooking lesson in a hotel kitchen with a group of other white tourists. Turns out we were to be treated to a home cooked meal for just the two of us.

We were introduced to two women in a small courtyard space which housed a large basin with a running water faucet and clothes lines overhead. The home was U-shaped with a wall at one end to enclose the courtyard.

There were no doors save a front door, which was a nicely carved wooden door with a metal latch and lock that looked new. The few other doorways featured worn curbs or curtains.

The women offered each of us a kind of stool that is only a few inches off the floor. We sat and the women quickly began gathering various vegetables and a few other supplies from the cupboard. A few crude stoves resembling camp stoves sat on the floor across from us. Two were already burning and one had what looked like a cast iron pot on it (it was soon revealed to be cooking red beans). Various pots and cooking tools hung from a rack on the wall above the stoves. A variety of pans were used to serve as lids for the other pots, though none were originally made to serve in that capacity. The ceiling above the stoves was charred from years of smoke.

Soon there was a flat bottomed metal pan containing three coconuts, a small red onion, a few small potatoes, an eggplant, and two green vegetables we didn't recognize. None of these were bigger than my fist. The women gave us the names of each vegetable in English. I asked the Swahili names and tried to repeat each one. Then they set the coconuts aside and peeled everything else, including the tomato, and put it in a pot to boil.

One woman pulled out a kind of wooden folding stool that had a metal device on one end, unfolded it, and sat down. She took a coconut and began pulling the fibres off of the husk. I asked if I could help and was handed a coconut. It was more difficult than I thought it would be! Next she held the coconut over a metal mixing bowl and whacked it with a wooden dowel until it split cleanly into two sections. It split against the grain, which surprised me. I've always assumed coconuts were split with a machete when I saw the clean cut, but apparently that happens naturally. She pulled the two halves apart, being careful to try to keep much of the coconut water in the shell. He then sipped some from one half and offered the other to Nate and me. We drank, then the woman passed both halves around to the man and to a few children who were in the kitchen with us.

Next she turned the stool so she was straddling it with the metal bit in front of her. She placed a plastic bowl beneath the metal and began using it to grate coconut from the shell. We soon learned that this stool is called an mbuzi, which is the word for goat. After she finished a couple of coconuts, she offered to let me try (they made the same offer to Nate, too, but he declined). It was difficult at first but then I got the hang of it. I got coconut all over the floor, though! There were also a few pieces of coconut shell in the bowl by the time I finished.

My tetanus shot was a good idea: I grated a bit of my hand. One of the women spread a little coconut on the wound.

At some point several pieces of fish were placed in a pot of water and left to simmer. I do not know what type of fish it was, but it must have been a sizable one based on the cuts and the bone.

The women chatted with each other while they cooked. I asked if they were sisters and was told that they were. I wondered if they were blood sisters or plural wife sisters. A young girl, age 4 or 5 I would guess, occasionally helped with the work, mostly removing potato peels or pans that needed washing. I noticed that the women had taken their head scaves and wrapped them around their waists - I'm guessing they only wear them on their heads when they leave the house.

One woman filled a flat wide basket with rice and sifter through it, picking out the brown grains and tossing them to the floor next to the stove's flame. I thought they were going to burn them but they just swept them up later with the rest of the kitchen mess.

Once the coconut was all grated (3 total), one woman poured water over it and then squeezed handfuls over a strainer into a large metal pot. She repeated this process three or four times and then asked me to do it (again Nate declined). Once the bowl was full of the coconut water (this is actually what we call coconut milk), she poured a little of it into the pot with the vegetables, a little of it into the uncooked rice to soak, and then put the pot on the fire. It soon came to a boil. This was a relief bc I was worried we were going to be asked to drink tepid coconut water. Phew! The coconut itself was put to the side. We were later told that they dry it and sell it in Stone Town.

Next one woman took a large wooden pestle from the top of a cabinet and put garlic and tomato into it. She mashed them with a mortar and added this mixture to the beans.

The rice was added to the boiling coconut milk to cook. While it was cooking the woman in the red and gold took one more coconut, grated it on the goat, squeezed it and poured the milk into the beans.

We all sat and chatted while the rice finished cooking. Just when we thought it was finished, the woman with the henna took it from the fire and carefully placed a lid on it, removed it from the fire, and covered the lid with coals. The rice then baked for another 30 minutes or so.

Throughout the cooking process, people were coming and going at the house. It was a lively place! Half a dozen or so children arrived after school ended (around noon), coming in to change out of their school uniforms and then quickly leaving again. An elderly woman came and joined us not long after the schoolchildren. She was very chatty with the sisters but did not greet us. Soon a young woman stopped by with an infant in her arms. She and the infant were both heavily made up with eye makeup and penciled eyebrows. Apparently there is a custom to go from neighbor to neighbor showing off new babies a few weeks after they are born.

After about 2 and a half hours, lunch was ready! The two women prepared a platter with the four dishes (baked rice, curried vegetables, red beans with coconut milk, and fish - with the curry sauce from the vegetables poured over it - along w some fresh mini bananas) and invited us into an adjacent room where a mat had been spread across the floor.

Lunch:
Stewed white fish of an unknown species in a curry sauce, red beans with coconut milk, plain white rice (best meal yet!)

Nate and I ate alone, although we tried to invite our hosts to join us. Several children gathered to watch us eat. When I took a photo of Nate, the children got excited to see the camera, so I invited them to play with it, showing them how the camera flipped so they could see themselves.

After lunch we thanked our host and hostesses and headed back out of he village across a soccer field that also appeared to serve as a kind of town square. We rode back to Dongwe, returned the bikes, and sat by the pool until tea time. There was coffee this time, yay! We placed our supper orders (the hotel asks you to order in advance so they can shop accordingly) and decided to go for a swim in the ocean. We both wore our water shoes although that made it very difficult to swim b/c the sand grips the shoes and makes it hard to move. I charged ahead and soon felt like a real jerk b/c Nate fell and filled himself with urchin spines. One of the staff rushed out to help him while I worked my way back to him on the shore. The staffer, who happened to be from Kenya rather than Tanzania, pecked lightly at the flesh of a papaya, causing it to weep a milky liquid that he dripped onto Nate's pricked hand, knee, ankle, and foot. He then pulled out the spines that could be grabbed easily and told us to leave the papaya on until supper. We went to the restaurant to see what the papaya would do. While we waited we watched a group of locals play a pickup soccer game on the beach.

Back in the room we were able to remove a few more spines with tweezers, although there were several that we had to leave in place b/c they were broken too close to the skin to pull out. One in particular, in Nate's hand right where the pinky meets the palm, was especially quarrelsome.

I put some ointment on Nate's wounds and on my hand where I cut myself on the goat. We stayed in the room until supper. I wore a slinky black dress with ... well ... flip-flops. Hey, it's the beach.

Supper:
Nate and I split supper, which consisted of a small vegetable salad, stewed lamb with rice and steamed vegetables, and a plate of orange, mango, and papaya slices. I had white wine and finished with a cup of coffee and a shot of Afrikoko, a coffee and coconut liquor.

During supper we met one of the other guests - another American (we're not the only ones after all!), a Georgetown student from Ashville NC who had been on the mainland for a couple of months living with a family in a remote village while teaching. He worked for an NGO called One Heart Source. He was only in Dongwe for two nights and was then planning to head to Bweejuu to teach for a day before heading to South Africa for four weeks.

10 Days in Zanzibar: Hello Zanzibar!

our pretty little room at the Hotel Slipway

Day 1, Wednesday

We spent our first night in a cute hotel in Dar Es Salaam, which is on the Tanzanian mainland. We're scheduled to catch a ferry to Zanzibar at about 9. I woke up early - too excited to sleep which is surprising considering how little I've had in the last several days. I could hear the call to prayer well before daylight. I played with my photo editor until the sun came up, showered and packed for Zanzibar!

Deciding what to wear while here is going to be interesting. Since this is a predominantly Muslim country, we've been advised to dress "conservatively," which means covering my arms and legs. We're told this doesn't necessarily apply at the beach but I intend to play that by ear. Outfit choice for today: full length yellow cotton dress with black flip-flops, a long-sleeved sheer white button down (unbuttoned but tied at the waist), and gold hoop earrings. I decided to leave my wedding ring in the US, so while I'm here I'm wearing a silver ring my godmother Kathryn gave me years ago.

Breakfast:
Fish cakes (delicious!), vegetable samosas, small banana (looked green but was perfectly ripe), potato salad w/ turkey (I think) bacon, 1 slice of salami, watermelon juice, strawberry yogurt, coffee w/ (warm!) milk, some kind of yummy fried dough with mango jam (which tasted like marmalade to me). I had seconds on the fish cakes.

 

We grabbed a cab to the ferry. Nate made a ferry reservation ahead of time, which apparently was a smart move because no less than three different people asked if he had tickets already. I'm not sure why it's a concern (do tickets sell out? Do they close the ticket office randomly?). We had no trouble picking up our tickets, though we did get a little harassment from men trying to carry our bags for tips. We watched an American family get confused by them, give them their bags, and then immediately try to take them back.

The ferry is a couple of hours. A young boy wearing a Park City, UT, tshirt was sitting behind us. He asked Nate how much longer to the island and was surprised by Nate's answer. Apparently he thought it was a 30-minute ride! He turned out to be from Charlotte and was here alone on a trip he gave himself to celebrate having completed his MBA at NYU. He would be in Zanzibar for 1 night and was then heading to climb Kilimanjaro.

Nate had reserved first class tickets - $40 each - which granted us access to an air conditioned mid-level cabin and the covered open air roof deck. Overhead televisions were showing The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. It was already about 30 minutes into the film when we boarded 30 minutes prior to shove off, which I thought was odd. We went to the cabin first but quickly decided to go upstairs instead. I'm glad we did. The breeze was lovely and there was plenty of shade, and of course the view was much better. We sat at first but then spent most of the ride standing at the back of the boat enjoying shade and the breeze.


cool shoes on the ferry

There was a great variety of cultures on the ferry. A few other Americans, three Europeans (all German, I think), lots of Arabs wearing various forms of traditional and contemporary clothing, certainly mostly locals in all manner of clothing from basic trousers and button downs to tunics and the caps often worn by Muslim men - kind of like a pill cap but deeper. Must find out the proper term...

A family sitting near us - parents and two teenage girls, American I think - must have just come from safari or somewhere similar b/c their arms and legs were all covered with giant red whelps that I can only assume were bites of some sort.

Watching the porters unload luggage from the ferry was comical. It's a cross between a fire brigade and a deli counter at lunchtime: some porters trying simply to unload in an orderly fashion while others were responding to the requests of individual passengers.

 

ferry porters

We were stopped before the exit gate and asked to fill out some paperwork. The customs agent was jovial, teasing us a little and asking us to tell Barack Obama about him when we returned to the US. While we were being processed, several men approached us to offer taxi service.

We needed to get cash before heading across the island to Dongwe, and we found ourselves navigating the sea of touts at the port and along our entire 10-minute quest for the bank. Of course our luggage and backpacks made us particularly strong targets since most of them were offering to serve as either porters or taxi drivers. I am hoping they will not bother us as much when we're without carriage. We found only an ATM and decided it would have to suffice. We also decided to skip trying to find an outlet converter (having discovered last night that none of the ones we brought will work here) in hopes that we can borrow one at the hotel. We found a tourism office and asked about dala dala rides to Dongwe or to the nearest town. They convinced us to hire a driver instead. At first I was disappointed bc I was looking forward to the adventure of figuring out the dala dala system, but the ride turned out to be fascinating. Along the way we saw monkeys, roosters, cows, and a few close calls with oncoming traffic and bicyclers. I noticed that they don't lay on their horns like I've experienced in other trafficky cities. Just an occasional friendly tap when passing, sometimes not even that.

Nate was very impressed to spy a spear fisherman carrying his long spear over his shoulder while driving a moped.

 

School was just letting out for the day (we learned that they quit at lunchtime) so there were lots and lots of children walking home. The girls wear a uniform that consists of an ankle length dress and a headpiece, each in contrasting colors. Most of the ones we saw were royal blue with a pale yellow-beige headpiece, though not all. All were dark on the bottom and light on top. The headpiece is long enough to cover the arms to about the elbows and resembles a nun's habit.

Adult women wear scarves, usually printed, wrapped around their heads and crossed at the shoulder. Below that they were a printed dress, often in the same material as the scarf, or a black dress with sleeves and a slit up the front revealing a colorful printed skirt beneath.

Men wear mostly jeans or trousers, sometimes Capri length but rarely shorts, and tshirts, polo shirts, or button downs. Occasionally a man can be seen wearing a full-length tunic or a tunic and skirt combination.

Traffic and streetside activity began to thin as we crept further north along the peninsula. I began to recognize town names from the guide book: Paje, Bweejuu. We soon arrived at Dongwe Ocean View. As we turned off the paved road onto a sandy driveway to the resort (side note: thus far the infrastructure has been in very good shape), our driver joked "The road is rough, so now you will have a massage."

A Masai tribesman in traditional clothing opened a large gate for us and our driver pulled into the courtyard. A young receptionist with a shy friendly smile greeted us, shaking our hands and introducing himself as Muhammed. He took our bags as we paid the driver (who worked very hard to try to prearrange picking us up again in 4 days - we'll see). Then Muhammed escorted us to a kind of veranda with sofas and hanging basket chairs where we were asked to fill out some paperwork. When we finished Muhammed briefly explained the hotel mean schedule, which includes tea at 4:30 daily, and told us about some other hotel services and features ranging from bike rentals to boat outings to "plastic shoes" available for sale ($5) if we wanted to walk in the ocean - sea urchins are plentiful. After orientation, Muhammed and a porter took us to our room.

Dongwe Ocean View is a perfectly lovely little cluster of buildings focused on a central beachside swimming pool and a thatch-roofed bar & lounge. The buildings are built with concrete block finished with stucco and painted white. There are two 4-story buildings that house guest rooms of various sizes, each with a balcony facing the ocean. Our room is on the third floor of the northernmost of the two. It has a king sized canopy bed with mosquito netting and a huge wicker bench at the foot. When we arrived the bed and side tables were adorned with bougainvillea and a hand towel fashioned into the shape of a swan. The floors are tiled and the walls are painted white stucco. The bathroom is simple and sparse except for a band of flesh-colored decorative tile about chest high. There is a dual flush toilet and a complicated shower head with multiple dials and settings.

Multiple sections of steps lead from the blue glass-tiled swimming pool to the beach. Local fisherman keep a variety of boats moored in the water in front of the resort, and there is a large pier just to the north.

 

We changed into our bathing suits and I swapped the long yellow dress for a short one, keeping the white button down in case I feel like I need to cover up further.

Lunch:
My first Kilimanjaro beer (reminded me of Saporo), Octopus salad which consisted of boiled chunks of octopus meat over green pepper, red onion, a very little bit of lettuce, tomato, and carrot with vinegar and a significant amount of oil.

After lunch at the resort, Nate and I went for a walk along the beach. We headed north toward the pier. The sand is light yellow-beige and is incredibly fine. Brown seaweed lies in swaths and we're told the locals collect it, though for what purpose I'm not sure.

 

seaweed on the beach

We collected shells as we walked, as well as a dead urchin and a bone about the size of a femur. I'm hoping it was a cow bone! Back at the resort we had tea and biscuits before heading to the room to get ready for supper.

Muhammed made arrangements for a taxi to pick us up at 6 and take us to supper. We told him we wanted to eat at 8, but he suggested 6 which was a good thing since the sun sets by 6:30 here. Who knew?! Our reservation was at The Rock, which is a restaurant perched atop an outcropping in the water. We had to walk through ankle deep water to get there and waist deep to get back home. I thought it was strange that Muhammed suggested we wear bathing suits to dinner. Good thing I listened! The dining room does not have electrical lights, so we watched the sunset and ate by candlelight. We were the only patrons in the restaurant.

Supper:
The largest pieces of calimari I've ever seen, cut into three fist-sized pieces, scored and grilled with a mustard sauce, side salad and french fries; white wine (not dry but not sweet)

Our taxi returned to pick us up after supper and it was all I could do to stay awake for the ride home. To get to the restaurant you have to pass through a tiny village that is populated mostly by fisherman. Their construction techniques are quite different from anything else I have seen here, employing a kind of gabion wall assembly combined with some kind of mortar. I wasn't able to get a photo - must try to research it.

the wife and I thank you very much

We did it! Thank you thank you thank you SO MUCH to all of our friends and family for making our wedding everything we hoped it would be. We hope you had as much fun as we did!

We'll be posting plenty of photos and stories, so please check back here for updates.

Our wedding website is still up and running, too. We plan to transfer most of the content to this blog eventually, but for now it has most of the photos worth seeing.

Honeymoon blogs will be first. Hope to see you soon!

n+s