Day 11: Stonetown, Zanzibar

Stonetown is an ancient but fascinating maze of narrow cobbled streets and alleys winding past shops, bazaars, mosques, palaces, and numerous old houses with massive brass studded doors in ornately carved frames. Men in fez hats ride antique bicycles or Vespa scooters while women in buibui robes walk or ride side-saddle on the back of scooters sometimes with a helmet squashed over their hijab head scarves. Occasionally we had to back against a wall to allow a Vespa or bicycle to pass by. Mom never really did get the hang of moving to the side when we heard a high-pitched horn or bell and I had to pull her out of harm’s way more than once. The atmosphere is one of tropical African decay. Whitewash walls are streaked with water stains and plaster crumbles from ornate Arab stonework. Far from a pristine museum for tourists, it's a bustling place of both poverty and vibrancy. The worst part are the "papaasi" (Swahili for flea) street hustlers who are constantly trying to sell you a tour or shirt or taxi or handicraft. They are annoying but there is so much poverty here - this is third world Africa - that it must be next to impossible to avoid viewing us as walking bags of money in their midst. At one point, a man tried to sell me a "handmade" hat. It looked like something Mary might like but upon closer inspection I noticed a wear label on the inside of the cap. This seemed odd on a handmade hat, particularly since, upon closer inspection, the wear label and the inside of the hat wear dirty from previous wear. Clearly the hat was used. He had probably stolen it or found it and was trying to sell it. As another guy told me later in the night, "life is hard in Africa."
Highlights of our stay in Stonetown included a visit to the Anglican Church which was built on the site of the old slave market. The altar is purportedly situated directly over the whipping post. Our guide also showed us the old slave holding cells under an adjoining building. Very grim. We also visited a nearby covered market but the smell from the fish stalls turned our group away. Once we were “touristed out” we headed to the beach for a couple of beers and a game of Farkle at Mercury's on the beach. Did you know Freddie Mercury was a native son of Zanzibar before attending boarding school in India and from there on to England?We dined tonight at Archipelago's, a Muslim-owned restaurant that, consequently, doesn't serve alcohol. We compensated for the lack of beer and wine by watching the house geckos catch bugs on the walls of the restaurant. It was actually more fun than it sounds.