You can almost smell the spice when you say the word ‘Zanzibar’. It’s not just that the island has supplied the world with cloves, cinnamon, nutmeg and pepper since the late 1600s. It’s that the whole atmosphere of the island is infused with a laid-back, exotic spiciness that just compels you to forget your troubles, roll out a grass mat and relax under the sun with a cocktail.
There’s no point resisting – so I didn’t. After all, I needed a break after the trauma of actually getting there.
Zanzibar is only about 30km from the capital of Dar es Salaam on the mainland of Tanzania and is linked by a fast ferry, so getting there should have been easy compared to the rigours of overland travel.
When I arrived at the port, however, it appeared that half the city was crowded into the space between me and the ticket booth and they were all either offering to carry my bag (some demonstrating their eagerness by virtually wresting it from my back), flapping me towards an alternative ferry company or trying to sell me everything from boiled eggs to plastic water pistols.
Having managed to battle our way through and acquire a ticket (I later discovered you can avoid all this chaos by buying one from a travel agent in town), the crossing was rough, and my unfortunate companion was violently ill.
So by the time we arrived into the cool haven of our cheap and clean guest house, we were very much travel stained and weary. It was time for a well deserved break.
This is where Zanzibar excels. It’s impossible to feel hurried. We were staying in Stone Town on Unguja Island (usually referred to as Zanzibar Island), where the ferry docks and it is probably the busiest part of the islands; but already, total relaxation had set in.
On the harbour front, we strolled lazily past the grand Arabian houses with their huge carved and brass studded wooden doors into a wonderful labyrinth of alleys, mosques, shops, squares and local homes.
We couldn’t resist looking into the House of Wonder just for the name.
The main gate is large enough to allow entry for the former Sultan on his elephant and it was the first house to have electric lights; the perfect symmetry of the courtyard and the beautiful inscriptions on the doors were presumably worth illuminating.
We spent around an hour or so exploring before we emerged back onto the seafront.
In the intervening period, dozens of food stalls had appeared in the Forodhani Gardens, cooking the best of Zanzibar’s seafood on hot grills which sent gusts of divine-smelling smoke into the air.
We were soon sitting on a park bench and devouring squid and chapati for next to nothing.
Friendly stall holders were also selling some really great pieces of art including the traditional wood- and brass-carved chests that come complete with their own secret drawer.
Although the harbour was the perfect place for some relaxed shopping, we encountered some vicious haggling from stingy tourists over price differences which were minute to them, but important for the stall holders. Zanzibar remains a poor state.
It’s virtually obligatory to do a spice tour on the Spice Island. Ours took us into the centre of the island to see the plantations and was a great opportunity to find out about Zanzibar’s long and chequered history as a slave and trading port.
We tried a variety of fruits, including the spectacularly repulsive durian fruit. Perhaps, like Marmite, this is an acquired taste because if you can get past its pungent smell of rotting flesh, it is reputed to taste of strawberries and bananas. I failed to get this far and luckily, delicious, spiced fruit drinks were swiftly on hand to waft the smell away.
The wildlife on Zanzibar is also pretty special. Red colubus monkeys live in the Jozani Forest here and nowhere else on earth. The population is threatened by development and agricultural intensification, but numbers are finally increasing. The troop move around a wide range but our guide managed to spot them for us, scrambling through the branches.
They make unfeasibly huge leaps between trees and the long black and white hair on their arms streams out behind them as they jump, one after the other, then vanish into the distance over the treetops.
The Zanzibar Natural History Museum holds a sad reminder about how tentative a species’ grasp on survival can be on small islands. The Zanzibar leopard came into increasing conflict with people due to alleged predation of livestock. It was demonised and effective efforts were made to exterminate it; the last animal was officially seen in the 1980s.
One individual can be seen in a case in the museum, its sad, stuffed body an emblem of regret.
Rumours regularly abound that the leopard has been seen again, but these have never been backed up by any hard evidence and it’s safe to say that this unique leopard whose markings had evolved from rosettes to real spots, has gone the way of the dodo, never to return.
After all the spice, food and wildlife, the beach was calling. The local boys delight in flinging themselves repeatedly off the harbour wall into the sea, but within walking distance of Stone Town, we found plenty of more sedate beach options to kick off our shoes and relax.
By late afternoon, we retreated to the nearby Africa House Hotel, a study in gorgeous Arabic architecture, all whitewashed walls and wooden shutters. Here we sat with the tourist herd in opulent luxury, watching the sun go down over the Indian Ocean and the shooting stars come out.
The cocktails were so stuffed with fruit, flowers and umbrellas that it was difficult to navigate the alcohol into our mouths. This improved with practice.
With our time and cash constraints, the lure of the main island’s history and culture proved too strong and we didn’t make it to the neighbouring island of Pemba. If what you want is beaches, however, that’s the place to go.
Fellow travellers reported that the more remote beaches are virtually deserted and there are acres of white sand to walk on, surrounded by coral reefs. It remains in my mind a more virgin island than Unguja, steeped in witchcraft and more traditional practices.
Given the chance, I’d be back like a shot.