A Forest Without a Spirit, a Beach Without Water

Our driver, Dennis, was ready for us at 8am. The owner of the agency came with him and wished us a pleasant journey and also asking that we spread the word. His agency needs business, tourism is really down. They are all struggling for work. As most of our excusions have borne out, the scenery leaving the city is interesting, but not beautiful. With every mile, you are confronted repeatedly with the poverty that abounds, yet the people all look content. As I look at the roadside businesses created in shacks, huts, and tin buildings, I cannot help but wonder how they raised the money to even stock a store. Most of the areas look desolate, not buyers in sight, so it boggles my mind how they can stay in business. Yet, the Coca-Cola delivery man is everywhere as well as their logos.

Driving for close to 2 hours, we finally reached our first destination, the forest. Dennis led us to the office to buy our tickets from the Kenya Forestry Service. At $20 per person, we were official to hike the trails, but if we wanted to drive them, it would cost more. We had thought we were heading for a 'kaya', a spiritual place where we could only be led into by a holy person from the reigning tribe of the particular kaya. Instead, we met Jonathon, our guide for our hike. Jonathon was quick to respond to our questions about this being a kaya, saying it was only part of the National Forestry Service and not associated with any kayas. Our first disappointment in the day's adventures.

I was set to have a spiritual experience, but I was destined to have trees identified for me, butterflies named, and bird watching here and there. Jonathon also found some elephant shrew, but neither of us could spot where he was pointing, so we missed them. The longer we walked the hotter it became. At the end of an hour, Jonathon said, "Wow, is it hot!" My response was that if he thought it was hot, then imagine how we felt. He said the temperature was hovering around 98 degrees and the storm clouds above proved that the humidity was just as high. We walked to the elephant trail, passing through an electric fence to keep the elephants in their own area. Part of the forest is a sand quarry where they mine the sand for making glass. It is the finest, silkiest sand I have ever felt. He took us to a tree house for a look-out point. It was too high for my taste, so I stayed behind, not having an appreciation of heights. Ron climbed up, but did not return with exaltations, so I guess I did not miss much. It turned out Jonathon was in a hurry to leave early today to attend a friend's wedding. We told him we saw enough trees, so we could return to the office. There were a splendid assortment of butterflies, but as their nature is, they do not stay still long enough to pose for a picture. I did not take a single photo during this forestry venture. There were also no spiritual experiences to be had either.

The next stop was a special beach with a boardwalk. However, when we arrived, we found that there was an 800 shilling (8 euro) admission charge per person, so we decided to forgo it and moved on. It was deserted, so I think the entrance fee was dissuading visitors. The final stop was a premier beach in Mombasa. It was littered with vendors selling drinks. Each had about 20 bottles of soda or water to offer, the extent of their stock. The beach was empty, but the sand went for a mile before reaching ocean. Seaweed was decorating the sandy beach brought in during high tide and left there. Some seashells were interspersed with the green leaves, but nothing is allowed to be removed from shores, leaving me helpless as a collector.

Ron decided he needed to dip his feet in the water, so I waited with Dennis. Ron had a long walk ahead of him, but finally reached his thighs. Dennis said that at 4pm, the beach would be filled, because this is when the water returns. All those that were arriving early with their inner tubes and water toys were in for a disappointment for a few hours to come.

With the beach half way back to the hotel, the ride to return was shorter, but once we reached the hotel at 1:30pm, there was not much to do.  It was too hot to explore Fort Jesus again, so we stayed in the room and read or wandered down to the patio for a cup of tea. With non-stop air conditioning, the hotel is a welcomed refuge, unlike Zanzibar, where the electric goes off and on. There are often entertainers on the patio also, usually a trio playing all of the golden oldies of the American music. One singer joined in for some time and sounded like Louie Armstrong.

One thing that I cannot fault anyone for in our experience is the service we have received. Everywhere we have been the service has been excellent from top to bottom. A couple of times, we have walked in on the maid cleaning our room. Each day, the furniture is polished, the sheets are changed, and the floors are mopped, in addition to all of the usual cleaning duties one would expect.   

Behind the hotel is a Chinese-Malaysian restaurant. We gave it a try for dinner. The food was great, but it was curious to see an all Black staff in a Chinese restaurant.

To read more about a Kaya forest, go here.

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Zanzibar, Tanzania > TanzAir > Mobasa, Kenya

It is a good thing we set the alarm; our wake-up call never came Having showered last night, we only needed to jump into clothes. Ron called for someone to come for our bags, but then we had to wait in the lobby for the taxi scheduled for 5am. It was only 4:40am. When the taxi called to say it was there, the security men carried our bags out to the car. The ride to the airport was only twenty minutes, but then it became surreal. At this hour of the morning, it is still dark out. When the driver pulled into the parking lot and shut off the engine, we did not know where we were. For all we knew, we were kidnapped and were waiting for ransome notes to go out for our collection. Our flight was scheduled for 6:30am, the ticket states you must be checked-in an hour before and gates closed fifteen minutes prior to the flight. It was not until the driver offered to go see what was happening since there were no lights on in the termimal, we didn't realize we really were at the airport.

When the driver returned, he said the only people there were security and nothing was open  yet. He was kind enough to allow us to stay in the car. What was especially strange was not not one car joined us for the next twenty minutes. Surely, there had to be other tourists flying this morning who believed the hour rule was enforceable. By 6:00, we ventured out and took in front of the TanzAir check-in desk; the next desk Excel Air had a Muslim woman agent working by oil  lamp and on her mobile phone. At 6:20am, an agent came to check us in. After receiving boading passes, we had to accompany our luggage when the put it through the scanners. I guess if it were suspect, they wanted to cut down on the time it would take them to hunt us down in the miniscule airport and do an immediate incarceration.

When our luggage passed inspection, we were given a card to fill out for leaving the country. Seeing how the rest of the infrastructure works, I am sure these cards a dumped into some pile somewhere never to be referred to again. Their sole purpose is intimidation of the passenger. We were immediately passed through Customs, and then sent to security, followed by the boarding area, a room the total size of our apartment. There is a departure tax payable, but TanzAir includes it in their fares, so we were able to pass just by showing our boarding passes. It was now 6:45am and no signs of boarding.

Finally, we were called and told to follow a security person who walked us to the plane, a Cessna. It was so tiny, they loaded our luggage into the wings. The ceiling was so low, I thought Ron and I were going to have to crawl in on hands and knees to get to a seat. With only 5 passengers on the plane, we had our choice of seats amongst the ten available. There was no barrier between the pilot and seating, but with only one pilot who was getting on in years and overweight, I thought I should watch every move he made just in case one of us was called on to land the plane if he had a heart attack. Just like in the movies, I was waiting to be the hero of the day. After we were in the air my confidence in his last heath report must have kicked in, because I fell asleep.

Landing, we ended our journey far, far away from the real planes or in reality jets. It was like we were in a toy plane and landed at the toy airport, but real people were able to go to the real airport. Hustled into a van, a worker took us through the lines. She tried getting us through Customs faster by speaking to the supervisor, but the 5 passengers held passports from 3 countries. He sent us to the African Nationals line, which was pretty quick. I had fears of having  to buy another Visa since we did not have a multiple entry Visa, but it was a non-issue.  While we were wating our little airport helper asked me what I presents I brought her from Zanzibar. When I lied about not buying anything, she suggested I could give her a token of appreciation for all she has done for us. It was worth a few bucks for her help in getting from Toy Town to Big People's Land, so she received $3. The radar signals must have gone out at that point. Another one in security gear came over to help us find a taxi, which he negotiated in Swahili. I think we paid extra to include his commission from the driver. 

We arrived at the Castle Royal Hotel Mombasa by 10am, never expecting to be able to check-in so early, but we were able to after all. This is our downgrading in service, now at a three star hotel. It is nice, but not lavish as we have come to be used to. Our first room was smallish with twin beds, not a problem, but it did have a minor musty smell. There is supposed to be wireless Internet in the rooms, but I could not connect. They sent us an IT guy, but he could not get the signal either. We walked the halls with the computer on, but no luck. The decision was made to change our room. This is much larger with a double and twin bed, a large balcony, and it sits at the top of the stairs on the first floor. This is the first hotel we have been in that has an elevator, now that we don't need it. This is also the first hotel that has not had mosquito nets over the beds.  

A nap was in order. I picked up a cold from Zanzibar with the hotel turning on off the electricity during the night. First we were cool with the fan going, then dying of the heat when it went off, then freezing again when it went back on. That combined with fumes really did a number on my sinuses, so I was not feeling too well by the time we arrived. 


After some sleep, we were able to walk to the Holy Ghost Catholic Cathedral, Fort Jesus, and Old Town. Being Saturday, there was not much open, except the fort, but the heat was a deciding factor for climbing to the top another day. We wound up taking a tuk-tuk back and had dinner at the hotel. The salad was the best I have had on this trip and the four cheese sauce over penne pasta was delicious, steaming hot, and overly generous.

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Happy 2010

We made our last trek up the mountain of stairs for breakfast today. We leave at 5am tomorrow morning for Mombasa, Kenya. Zanzibar was nice, but we overstayed. Seven nights is too long. As romantic as the name sounds, there is not a lot to do and those who come expecting beautiful beaches are gravely disappointed. Add in the electric and banking issues and it can make it extremely challenging.

Honestly, over two weeks into this trip, we planned it the way we usually plan trips, but we goofed this time around. Normally, what we do is pick the time we want to be away and then fill in what we want to do, where we want to stay, and what we want to see within that range. Up to this trip, this method has worked well for us. As I said, in retrospect, 7 days on Zanzibar is too long. Four days would have been plenty. We could have done the turtle tour to spend another day doing something, but we had the feeling there were would be as many turtles as there were dolphins, making it a waste of money. 

The beaches in Stonetown are not swimming beaches, they are for the fishing boats and tourist dhows, though there is not much of a beach anyway. The better beaches are a taxi ride away. We are not beach people anyway, but those we know who have come for the beaches swore they made a mistake. The sights on the island are limited. Today, we did go to the old palace of the Sultan. It was interesting, but in dire need of repair in every inch of the place. 

We saw the fort last night when we went to dinner, we did the spice, dolphin, and monkey tour. We toured every touristy souvenir shop innumerable times and they all have basically the same merchandise.

We have seen more of the hotel room here than we ever have on any vacation. Part of this is that the heat and humidity wipes us out, but there really is not much to persuade us to stay out for. Been there, done that. We could have cut it short, but live and learn. According to the owner of the 236 Hurumzi Hotel, Stonetown is the largest city on the island and there is not much else on the rest of the island. Even if there were, we would need to taxi there, the public transportation consists of trucks with lengthwise benches in the back. When they are filled up, they go to the destination. After arriving someone, we may never be seen again, not knowing how to return again.

A stop at Mercury's for a drink took some time today. Later, we went to another restaurant we had drinks at previously, but this time Ron had a pizza. One last trip through the shops was just to waste some time until the fan and air conditioning at the hotel were turned on again. For dinner, we went to Monsoon Restaurant, but almost didn't. We wanted to have a drink on the terrace and dinner inside. They refused to allow us a drink outside, but would serve us dinner inside. Not understanding their reasoning, we questioned it again when the manager, a German woman overheard us. She came to the rescue and said it was fine. Inside, you leave your shoes at the door and sit on mats on the floor. Dinner was good, but my chicken curry was a leg and thigh only. Ron had prawns and a healthy serving of them too.

We did our last stop at Kilude Cafe, said good-bye to Esther, our favorite waitress and went to bed for a 4:30 am wake-up call.

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Dolphins to Monkeys

Being punctual, we were sitting outside waiting for our tour guide to show up at 8am as they told us he would, but at 8:2o, he finally showed, and took us to the van. There 2 Norwegian young woman were being roasted alive waiting for us. After he had us captive, the guide took off again by foot into the streets once again, leaving all four of us to prematurely experience what hell must be like. Getting out of the van was not a option; there was no shade to hide under. The driver returned alone, drove off and picked up 2 others at yet another hotel, followed by 2 more from where we started. I wonder if they were not ready when he went initially to get them, so we had to make a return trip.

Along the route to the beach, our guide and driver stopped at the outdoor market, at a car parts place, and some roadside stands, all for unknown reasons. We all suspected he was doing his weekly shopping or running errands for extra money. We didn't get to the beach where our boat was waiting until 10:30. For those of us who were going snorkeling, they fitted them with fins and a mask. I had no intention of going in the water. Little did I realize at the time I had no choice.

All of the dhows, the boats they use, looked lovely as they floated out at sea during low tide; however, I had no idea how they were going to get us out to one of them. Thankfully, I did not wear jeans today, because we had to walk to the boat. Yes, we walked about the length of six blocks wading through the water to the frick'in boat. The other nugget we had not been warned about was that you cannot go barefoot through the water due to sea urchins and coral that will slice your feet open. I had on my Crocs sandals, Ron his Birkenstocks (is water good for leather?), but the others were not all so lucky. The couple from Uganda actually did go barefoot rather than ruin their good footwear. It took them twice the time to reach the boat as the rest of us. Mountainous lumps of coral, hardened over the ages were treacherous to walk over, causing each couple to work as a team in stabilizing each other to make it safely, or  cameras were going to become floaters. By the time we reached the boat, the water was up to my knees, approaching my thighs. Since I am taller than most of the others, they were practically wading.
 

Basically, the Lonely Planet book had it correct, Frommer's forgive me. A number of dhows chase after the dolphins and stalk them like suspects in a murder mystery. Really, I felt like we were on a wet version of a fox hunt. Dolphins were the foxes, dhows were the dogs chasing them down, and those of us diving in after them were the hunters. Dolphins being intelligent, love this game of hide and seek and can dive deep and reemerge a distance away. The way the next 2 hours went were like this. Dolphins were spotted, never more than 4 and probably the same 4 the entire time, what would we know? All boats would rush over to where they were swimming, all divers would jump in the water to catch a glimpse, the dolphins would freak out, and swim away. Divers would climb back in the boat. Repeat scenerio. Repeat scenerio. Repeat scenerio. 

At the last attempt to witness dolphin majesty, the 2 Norwegian, the 2 Brits, and Ron started feeling something strange. Jellyfish were stinging them. Each of them had burning little red bumps, Ron the least, but he did pull out a bit of a barb from one. No one became ill, just uncomfortable for an hour or so. That was the end of the good will hunting for dolphins.

Back to shore, the tide came in a bit, so the water was higher, meaning the boat could get 2 blocks closer to shore then when we went out. Soaking wet, we went to a lunch spot on the site, included in the fee. Ah, the fee for the tour was a topic of conversation. The Uganda couple paid $30 each for theirs, the Brits paid $50 each, the Norwegian and we paid $40 each. The Brits fee did not even include the Jungle tour, which ours did. The Ugandans thought they were paid up for seeing the monkeys and the Norwegians were clueless about the second part of the tour.

When the guide came and said "Are we ready to see the monkeys?" everyone said sure, thinking we were all going to get this extra. When we arrived, he announced we were the only ones paid up and the others would have to pay 10,000 shilling a piece to go forth. The Brits joined up, the rest stayed behind. We were issued umbrellas being the rain forest, following the local guide, a sweet young man, like little ducklings. He pointed out red mahogony, regular mahogony, different plants, insects, and even a fresh water crab. We were all hot, humid, sticky from traipsing through the Indian Ocean twice getting to and from our boat, all we wanted was to see the famous Red Colabus monkeys. This is the only place in the world where they exist. Our guide was reciting things like he had learned them for the school play, so we felt horrible when we pushed him along. One question lead to detailed responses, prolonging the experience. We all learned not to ask more questions. Finally, we had to say "Just show us the monnnkey." At that, he walked us back to our van. We thought we missed out for bad behavior; no monkeys for us. Instead, we had to walk down the dirt road we drove in on and to the forest across the street. This is where it gets fun.

Ron being the eternal social worker, tells the two Norwegian girls to follow us across the street, since we have left the paid area. The guide, the two Brits, and I are up ahead and almost to the monkey habitat. The guide turns around and sees two intruders and asks them where their tickets are, when Ron pipes up "They are with me" like that should hold some authority. Unless they could produce tickets, the guide refused to take another step, so no one was going to see the monkeys. I told Ron more than once when I was a kid, I loved reading Ann Landers, the advice columnist. My favorite answer she would provide to writers is M.Y.O.B. Mind Your Own Business. He just refuses to follow the advice. You get him on a van with 6 others and he is trying to orchestrate everyone's life. He thinks he is a combination of social worker, cruise director, entertainment director, and guest relations all in one. Finally, finally, we were able to see the monkeys. Adorable! Now, I can say I saw the monkeys that only exist in Zanzibar. My life is complete now.

When we reached the hotel, I literally showered with my cotton safari pants on. It was the best way to get them washed and get the salt water out of them at the same time. Then, I soaked them in more laundry detergent along with my t-shirt and showered myself yet again. 

Later this evening, we went to The Spice Road Restaurant for dinner. We went first to the Archipelago Restaurant, but it is Halal (Muslim law), so no alcohol is served, including beer. Ron suggested I go over to the Monsoon Restaurant, buy a couple of beers and meet him at the Archiplago Restaurant, but when the waiter wanted to know why I did not want the bottles opened, he refused to sell them to me. Aside from the beer, the menu was not inviting for me since it was mostly fish, making the beer a moot issue.

When we went into The Spice Road Restaurant, there was 1 other diner in the whole place. Hoping this was not a sign, we allowed ourselves to be seated. By the time we left, they were turning people away, not free tables.

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Mercury Rising

At breakfast, the clouds flirted with us, teasing that they just may drench us with rain to clear the air. If we showered with our clothes on, we could not be any wetter than we were. Oh, how I do love watching others struggle up those stairs to the breakfast rooftop patio. It does my heart good that it is not just me who finds this a sadistic morning challenge.

Concerned about shopping before the holidays, not knowing if that means a thing here, we went to the ATM machine. Now that we know the locations of five machines both working and none, we can make the trek to the farthest away in twenty minutes. The good old Barclays was not working again today, but there is no bank behind it to reason this out.  A security guard outside was kind enough tell us it had moved to the big market area. What is he  is securing without a bank is in question as is why they keep a small lobby air conditioned when the machine is non-functional. Another banking trick for keeping rates artificially high, perhaps.

The real Barclays accepted my euro account card without a hiccup and spit out lots of bills with multitudes of zeros on them. I could feel my shopping gene vibrate and twitter. Ron had other ideas, though. We stopped at the Anglican cathedral. It stands of the land that the last slave market was maintained. The altar is where the last slave auction took place before it was declared illegal. In the back is a heart wrenching art piece of slaves chained together with only their upper bodies fully sculpted. One of the people significant in the end of slavery was Dr. David Livingstone. In the church is a crucifix made of the wood from the tree that he died under here in Zanzibar. His heart was buried here, but the rest of his body was sent elsewhere for burial.

After a cold drink, we did make it shopping to buy the lounging pants I wanted, a t-shirt and two scarves as gifts. It was oppressively hot, so we were in slow, slow motion stopping yet again at the Serena Hotel for another cold drink before heading back to the room. The skies finally gave way and released its pent up tears, flooding the streets in a matter of twenty minutes. We allowed ourselves to get soaked briefly, but shop hopped the rest of the time. Then it dried up and became Finnish sauna steamy once again.

When we returned, Ron was looking at our reservation for this hotel and they have us down for a 'week', but checking out on January 1st, not the 2nd when our flight is. The reservations person will not be in until tomorrow, but we have another tour booked leaving at 8am. Something new to worry about.

For dinner, we went to Mercury's Restaurant named after Freddie Mercury of Queen fame. He was born here in Zanzibar, though the restaurant's only relation to him is his name. It sits on the beach with a marvelous view of the boats coming in, the children swimming and the young men doing acrobatics. We arrived at 6pm, but dinner service did not start until 7pm, but we were pleasantly entertained by the scenery on the beach in the meanwhile. The peddlers come by the railing selling their goods. Each has a more dramatic story than the last and I am certain parts of the stories are true. Who wants to set themselves up for rejection time and again, day after day if they had a choice. There has to be a limit of what you can buy though, so Tough Love has to set in.

To work off dinner, we walked through the park. It was mobbed with people eating. Knowing the salaries, I can only wonder how they can afford to live, let alone eat out.

One disjointed observation is about the children. It is not uncommon to see 3-5 year olds walking the streets alone or playing somewhere without an adult anywhere in sight. Often, we have seen children I would guess to be about 7-9 years old, holding other smaller children walking the streets or standing on the roadsides. 

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Add Spice to Your Life

Image via Wikipedia

The only gratification I get from mountain climbing up to breakfast is that once there, I can witness those younger than I huff and puff up the last flight of stairs. The view of the seashore is a pleasurable event, though the clouds always look ominous. A quick turn brings the towers of mosques, the steeples of churches, and the dome of the Hindu temple. Any more turns and all there is on offer is are the tin roofs of buildings and homes, with some weather worn block housing in the distance.

By 9am, we were waiting patiently for our Spice Tour guide to pick us up. The 3 Swedish people joined us by fifteen after the hour, but the guide did not show for yet another fifteen minutes. There were so many for the tour, they had 2 vans full, both with air conditioning, so no riots broke out. At $15. per person, it is a popular tour. After filling our van, we drove for about twenty minutes to a spice plantation where we were turned over to another guide with very good English.

I started taking pictures of the different things, but soon realized that when I went back to look at the pictures, I would not remember one from the other, realized it was pointless and quit. What was of interest was that many of the spices are not indigenous to the island or the country. Some came from then Persia, others from Mexico, and Thailand. Which can from where? I cannot tell you now. I told you I would forget.

What was interesting was that vanilla is grown on a vine and has to be grown under trees to protect it from the sun. Vines we saw were strung from tree to tree like a clothesline. The long pods were not ripe yet; green they do not smell vanillay yet. The flowers have to be hand pollinated, resulting in the high cost of vanilla beans. We were treated to some jackfruit right off of the tree. We have eaten this is in Thailand and Malaysia, but it was fun to try again. What we did not know were oversized seeds are edible if boiled first, though we did not get to try them that way. There was also the duran, which has a smell like rotting flesh with the saying "Smells like hell, tastes like heaven". Some parts of countries ban the growing or even the sale of it due to the odor it emits. Other fruits we tried were fresh litchi and rambutan. The guide explained that some people think they are the same fruit, but actually they are two different fruits. One has a spiky out layer, the other is smoother.

Fewer spices were displayed due to the season, but we did get to see nutmeg. Once the pod is opened, the red outer layer is called mace. When the mace is removed, the nutmeg is the inner spice. Cloves grow like just like they look in the bottle, but green and need to be dried once picked. Cardamon was another. Cinnamon is the bark of the tree, when cut in a proper fashion, the tree will heal itself; the bark is renewed and the tree is unhurt. The curled sticks of cinnamon are from smaller branches of the tree. Cinnamon that is ground comes from the larger trunks of the tree.

Walking in the brush, underbrush, and between trees, I walked into a large root sticking up out of the ground and hit my left foot sending me to the heavens to view the stars, even when the sun was blazing. After I recovered, it did not seem too bad, but later my two smallest toes turned lovely shades of purple and swelled like the little piggies where one went to the market and the one who stayed home.

Lunch was included, so we were transported to a village where people were building their home of tree branches and roof of reeds. We were directed to a large open room, a roof, but no walls, where mats were placed on the floor and asked to find a place on the mats. Removing our shoes before the mats, we complied by grouping in fives. Lunch was a yellow lentil dish very Indian looking, spiced rice with cinnamon, and spinach (OH, NO!). Although it was never mentioned, I suspected the meal was prepared with a number of spices we had seen. I found the flavors delectably outstanding.

After lunch, we visited the obligatory stand where we could buy some spices. I had thought they said the vanilla beans were 2,000 shillings a bag, so picked up 7 bags. When the guy started counting, he counted individual beans, so I took back 5 bags and put them back. As he gave me the running total, I added a bag, not wanting to spend more than 15,000. In the end, I had 7 bags of vanilla beans, one bag of cardamon tea and one of Marsala tea. He must have been so confused by the end of the whole transaction, he did not know what had happened. Actually, neither did I until I got back on the van and counted what I had received, more than I had anticipated to start.

The rest of the tour was a trip to the beach. How this relates to spices, is beyond me, but they were going to spend 2 hours there before returning to town. A whole group of us said we did not want to be crispy critters on the beach causing them to fill one van to return us to downtown again.

For dinner, we went to the park to find our friend from last night. He recognized us immediately and worked his charms. When so many things look different or you have not had it spiced in just such a way, eyes take over where the stomach should have control. On our plates were chicken kebabs, falafel, sweet potato, plantain, coconut bread, and salad. Everywhere we have had chicken either here or in Kenya, the way they cut it up is so foreign to us, plus, no chicken dish is served boned. Even the kebabs had bones, so when you are eating on the cement wall in a park on a paper plate, it does get to be challenging. Managing as best we could, we put away a good portion of the meal, but we did order too much. If we do it again, we need to order one thing at a time. As good as the sweet potato was, it would have been delicious with butter. Plain, it is too dry to swallow after the first bite without something to drink and our friend did not sell drinks.

Now that we have the territory down pat, it is nothing to walk around in the dark at night. Dozens of Islamic women in their religious dress are out on the streets as well. I have often wondered if those who keep their faces covered are ever able to eat out. It would make it difficult when only your eyes are showing through.

Back at the hotel, we stoppeed for a cup of tea at the cafe. We were speaking to one of the young waiters there about his job. He convinced us he loved it. He works six days a week and earns 100,000 shillings a month (140,000 is $100). From this, he is saving to go to college to...are you ready for this? to become a waiter. At first, we thought we had misunderstood him, but he said it again. They teach how to properly set a table, how to offer excellent customer service, how to present the meals and so on. What they do after those 2 hours is beyond my imagination. As I was ready to probe further the owner walked in, started talking to us, so I never was able to ask anymore.

Only 40% of the population of the island works in salaried positions. This explains why so many are selling cashews, DVDs, and scarves on the streets. But then again, when you have to pay for an education starting with primary school, only the lucky get to get ahead.

On a different note, we found that Zanzibar is semi-autonomous from Tanzania. Zanzibar has its own parliament and president, but Tanzania is still the overseer as a national government. They do send members to the Tanzania parliament and vote in the Tanzanian presidential elections.

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Boxing Day, Where is My Box?

Happy Boxing Day!

This is our last day with Anwar and the last of the safaris for a little over a week. Last night I overindulged with the spinach on the buffet. Spinach  and pumpkin will always get me for second helpings, but this is not a good thing. Spinach treats me the same way as eating two bowls of stewed prunes does others. I am paying for it this morning, but knowing I made trouble for myself, I set the alarm for an hour earlier than need be.

This will be a short safari drive in Lake Manyara Reserve, because we have to catch a flight to Zanzibar at 2pm. They have the whole assortment of animals in this reserve, but almost immediately, we came across a bull elephant just lazily strolling down the road. Anwar had to stop as the animals have the right of way. He was explaining to us that one time he was caught blocking an animals thoroughfare and was fined $200 general fine and an additional fine of $5o for each person in the jeep.

As the elephant walked by us within petting distance, I just wanted to reach out and cuddle him. When I started cooing at him, Anwar shut me up explaining that could agitate the bull into doing something destructive to the car. Okay, cute, but dangerous still. I get it. There ia a large hippo pond with numerous hippos; two started fighting, but it happened and ended so fast, I could not get it on camera. We were only able to stand at a railing to view them, which was fine, we had seen a number of hippos. This reserve is know for its bird varieties. We saw numerous birds we had not seen before. Baboons ran rampant and should try practiciing birth control. There were more of them than I had ever seen anywhere. Some were doing the nasty on the road, while others were doing the nasty to themselves on the road or on the side of it. Oh, tourists, let's put on our show.

The hotel packed us a picnic lunch, surprising since we checked out long before a normal lunchtime. We had a 2 hour drive to the Arusha airport for our TanzAir flight to Zanzibar. Being the travelers we are, we thought we should be there 2 hours ahead of time for security and all that hubbub, but when we arrived at 12:15, we found the check-in did not begin until 1:00pm. Anwar's boss showed up with our tickets. He received so many kudos on Anwar's performance, he grinned from ear to ear. Anwar told us over lunch, he did not work at all in November. Promising to do our best to send clients his way, we gave him his tip and said good-bye. Living only 20 minutes away, he was going to spend the rest of the day having Christmas with his family and neighbors, though he is Muslim. His wife was a Christian, but converted to Muslim along with his three kids.

At an airport this small, it is a comedy act, but actually they are well organized. All flights on all of the airlines check in at one counter with one man doing the check-in and one weighing and labeling the luggage. Although there was a horde of people, we checked in and received boarding passes relatively quickly. Next was move to the  loading area, where everyone is allowed, those flying and those saying good-bye or hello to an incoming flight.

Without warning, we had a downpour. Being we were flying on a 30 seat Cessna, we had to wait out the rain. This turned out to be a good thing. I had to acquaint myself with the men's room three times before we finally boarded. I kept thinking as long as they have my luggage, they will not leave without me, but in reality, the plane is so small, they could have dumped my luggage in a heartbeat. There were no seat assignments, just grab a seat filling up the front first. Being 2nd and 3rd, we sat right behing the pilots and could have given them back massages along the way. However, it was so hot in the plane for this hour and twenty-minute flight, we fell asleep.

At the Zanzibar "International" Airport, hardly a bite bigger than the one we left, the luggage was off-loaded by hand onto a rack, not a conveyor belt. Everyone had told us that finding an ATM machine in Tanzania was going to be difficult, but while on the safari, we had all meals included, so had no need for cash. Now, it was an issue and the airport we left behind had no ATM machine. Fortunately, the Zanzibar airport had a row of money changers, so we converted euros to get by, especially for the taxi ride to the hotel. Warned to use the authorized taxis regardless of offers by others, we did and had a set rate of 13,000 T shillings. When the driver pulled up next to a mosque and said this was as far as he could go, we were nervous, but he continued that the roads to the hotel were too narrow for cars. Instead, he walked us to the hotel, 236 Hurumzi.

What an amazing hotel it is, called 236 Hurumzi, the address where it sits. Originally, the building was built by the Omani Arabs. The front section was built by Tharia Tiipto who was principal financial advisor to Sultan Bargash. Tipton also served as Head of Customs. In 1863, when the slave trade was officially ended, the British made it a law that all slaves were to be freed. Those who had made investments in their slaves refused to relinquish the money spent, so the British  government reimbursed them for their losses. It was in this building that these transactions were handled. Hurumzi is derived from the Swahili Uhuru-mzee which means "Free the men". Tom Green, an American from Kansas, bought the first property and restored it. Now including the properties at 236, there is also 240, 234, and 235 creating 24 spacious and luxurious rooms. All rooms are decorated in a mixture of Persian, Indian, and Arab elements. As he restored each part, locals offered to sell him bits and pieces from destroyed buildings. It is truly unique. Our tub is the size of a wading pool. All of the furniture throughout the hotel is antique.

All of this goodness is not without a down side. The island of Zanzibar receives its electricity from the mainland. On December 10th, the government decided to refurbish the underwater cable. In light of this, there has not been any electricity since December 10th. The hotel has a tremendously large generator that runs 18 hours a day. However, smaller businesses and restaurants who are not as fortunate can only stay open if they have their own generator or during daylight hours for stores. Commerce aside, the average citizen has no electricity, no running water as the pumps are electric, so they are stuck. The hotel has its own wells, so water is not an issue here.

So, we finally are settled into our room by 4:30 and want to explore, but first we want to put our credit cards, the computer, and other cash in the room's safe. We follow the instructions, but it does not work. Multiple attempts later, we call downstairs for aid. A young man comes up with a bit of a smirk like he is going to solve our problems. He lost his smirk mighty quickly. He could not get it to work either. Believing that if he went for the printed instructions, it would help, but when he returned with them in hand, it was useless. Finally, they decided that the battery needed replacing, but the manager would not be back until 7pm. Wifi is supposed to be available, but I could not connect. When I asked reception, she told me to use the lobby and gave me the password. It did not work. We tried the password every which way, but no deal. She finally suggested I go upstairs to the office, where a password is not needed. It worked, but then I had to sort through 657 e-mails to get rid of the spam while uploading my little YouTube videos to include in earlier postings.

By this time, it was 8:00, they had just finished replacing the batteries in the safe, it worked again, and we were ready to go out and explore. Problem...the city had no electricity, so all of the alleys and byways were black as a witches stereotypical cat, so we couuld not see a thing. Next door to the hotel is a cafe that is part of the hotel, so we ate there, came back and went to bed.

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