Zanzibar Part II - Kendwa

And now for Kendwa: beachside paradise, coconut wood bungalows on the sand, too many hammocks to inhabit, beds and lounge chairs on the beach overlooking the ocean. The water is as blue as a Scandinavian's eyes, with a sky to match. It is a tropical paradise, and although I always seem to think that I'm going to write and read at the beach, I never seem to accomplish it. Vegging just seems MUCH more appealing. Or reading. Or swimming. Or chatting. It's the rainy season in Zanzibar now, so there were a few sprinkles here and there, but the clouds were often a welcome respite from the blazing sun, the sea cool enough to momentarily annihilate the sweat from your cleavage with just an ankle-grazing plunge, and if neither of those sufficiently cooled you, there were beds and boats-turned-beds under shaded thatched umbrellas. Our days were lazy and decadent; sleep-ins, breakfast, lounging, maybe a walk or a sunset cruise or a midnight swim to a wooden dhow (Tanzanian boat), drinking too early, seafood dinners and curries on African beach time (even slower than African city time), making headway on books (if you're lucky), and the like. At night we would often de-robe on the shadowy beach, impulsive and full of adrenaline, and run naked into the soft water of the Indian Ocean. I think of all that ocean has affected and witnessed, how it connects to another continent near and dear to my heart (Asia), how it allowed for both the passage and exploration of many a traveller eastward (starting with Vasco De Gama back in the day) and a simultaneous influx westward (from India and the Middle East), it's an area and an ocean that has been though a lot. Plus, who can ever tire of clear, turquoise waters and white sand beaches? Whoever claims to be "over" paradise clearly hasn't been to beaches in Mozambique or Zanzibar...

if only it weren't quite so true...

http://stuffexpataidworkerslike.com/

Zanzibar Part I - Stonetown

A traditional Zanzibar door. Apparently the spikes on it came from the Indians who would adorn doors with them to keep elephants at bay.

Travel and the beach make many things whirlwind out of control; keeping up with blogposts is one of them. Oh, poor beach traveler, I know, I know, but as much as I ridicule bloggers, I find myself strangely attached to maintaining my blog up-to-date, pertinent, and hopefully moderately thoughtful (I mean, I could be filling you in on some of our wild-and-crazy nights of dancing and debauchery, but I'll save those for recounting in person).

From May 1st until the 8th I voyaged with five fellow travellers to Zanzibar, off the coast of Tanzania. Arriving in Stonetown by ferry (instead of taking the short flight from Dar Es Salaam) was a brilliant decision - we were able to get a snapshot of the multitude of types of people making the trip to the renowned island, as well as able to take in the spectacular scenery, building caught between dilapidation and renovated modernity. Colonial influence and architecture inspired by Muslim, Indian, British and Zanzibari influences shaped it into a town unlike any other I've seen. Winding alleyways only several shoulder-spans wide open up onto small squares where men in fez-like hats sip hyper-caffeinated coffee (ask Jamie, he has a good story about that one...) and lounge shoeless, feet greyed by age and wearing open-toed shoes for too many years. Simultaneously, women in headscarves make chapati-like crepes or roast corn at the intersections of these alleyways, sometimes pausing to sit, to chat, or to observe these comparatively scantily-clad tourists. People zoom by on motorbikes (Vietnam-style) and regular bikes and I found myself pressed up against stone walls a number of times if not fearing for my life, then at least fearing for my toes. We got lost in the streets wandering and exploring. We hit up Forodani Gardens both nights, right on the water, alight all bright and fraylach (as Viv would say) and dined on cheap fish and seafood skewers from the ocean which we overlooked. Nutella and Elephant Banana crepes finished off the cornucopia.

Forodani Gardens

We ventured to the market, the freshest and brightest and biggest selection I've seen since SE Asia.

Heaven at the market...

Spices and scents assaulted the senses, as did colors of chitenges (the bright pieces of "African" cloth) and kangas (similar to chitenges) and kikoys (thicker, brightly colored multipurpose cloths). The Portuguese, the Arabs, the Indians and the Brits all found magic and some sort of home or refuge on Zanzibar, and with it's nearly perfect weather year-round, crystal blue waters, and ideal climate for sugarcane, fruit and spice growth, it's not hard to see why. Zanzibar is referred to as a spice island because so many different types of spices. We went on a comical spice tour (comical because our guide was a funky individual who mispronounced every other word) where they showed us how many of the spices grow: turmeric and ginger, peppercorns and cumin, cloves, cinnamon, vanilla, cardamom...it was fascinating to see how many of my favourite spices come to be in the form with which I am familiar.

Decked in gear made from palm leaves on the spice tour

Fresh nutmeg

After two days in Stonetown we were ready for some beach-ing...Kendwa details are coming...

Always a sensitive topic...Kristof sheds light yet again

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/05/12/opinion/12kristof.html?_r=1&hp