Zanzibar - Part II

Kendwa -

The next morning, just after breakfast, the four of us headed to Kendwa. Trevor and Wendy came along as they wanted to spend their last couple days on the beach and it just made sense that they benefit from our research and planning. We had made reservations at a place called Toits de Palme but when we arrived, we liked the neighbouring White Sands Beach Hotel much better as the rooms, the beach and the restaurant were much more appealing; plus I was able to haggle a bit and got us both air-conditioned rooms for less than we were going to pay for a room with a fan next door. One of the great things about low-season is prices are negotiable, especially when you pull the “Well, we already have a place next door so…” The normal price for the room we wanted was $80usd and at one point during the negotiations, I said to the manager, “I want to pay more like $50…” to which he responded with a sly smile, “You are a business women, yes?” Without words, I subtly tipped my head back and raised my eyebrows; a common Ugandan gesture used as “yes” or “I agree”, but in this case I feel I effectively translated a more straightforward, “damn right, I’ve been in Uganda for 7 months negotiating prices on a daily basis; don’t mess with me.” We paid $55.

We set down our stuff in our room, sweating profusely, and didn’t waste any time getting changed and finding a spot on two wood and thatch beach recliners underneath a square, four post thatch hut just a handful of feet from the shore. Another benefit to low season: quiet, no competition for chairs and shade and just the right amount of people so that you don’t feel quite alone.

The next couple of days were spent reading on the beach with classical music playing softly from my iPod with a good breeze blowing through, accented by the sound of gentle waves while locals wandered by selling wraps, jewellery and excursions and responding cordially with “Hakuna Matata” when we’d shake our heads to say we weren’t interested. The sand was soft and plenty, a beautiful shade of opal beige, clean but with plenty of shells to collect and wooden canoes in clusters near the water waiting for the best tides for fishing. The water was calm and ranged from light blue to a deep turquoise depending on the time of day and where you were standing.

Besides the peacefulness and the beauty of those two days, a couple highlights were dinner on the beach on small tables with candles and torches in the sand and snorkelling with Trevor. It was the one activity I was determined to do as I had never done it before. The second morning during breakfast, Trevor and Wendy walked by our table and Wendy mentioned that Trevor had wanted to go, but that she was too congested. Given that Laura also had a cold, had gone before and was also nursing a decent burn from the day before, she was only going to go for my sake so as we were finishing our meal, I approached them and asked my friend, Trevor (as I had begun to call him) if he would like to join me. We went just after breakfast that morning to catch the low tide and to avoid the hottest part of day. I was a little nervous because I didn’t know how I would handle the snorkel but it only took a few minutes to get over the “panic breathing” and then suddenly the ocean floor was mine to behold. It was nothing like I’d ever experienced before. The goggles didn’t fit great and I had to hold them to slow the water seeping in, but it was so incredibly freeing and peaceful as the level of buoyancy required no effort from me to stay afloat. The coral was beautiful and I set my eyes on many different fish including, but not limited to, angel fish, ones of similar size in the most amazing shade of blue and schools of smaller black and white stripped fish that were more inquisitive of me then fearful. At the end of the hour and a half, I was satisfied and quite content to head back as the goggles were bruising my face and I had rinsed out my nasal passages with plenty of salt water.

The other highlight was sunset when time just seemed to slow down as though the sand in the proverbial hour glass had been turned to honey. The temperature would become more tolerable and the water would take on the appearance of blinding white shattered glass when the reflection of the falling sun would lay across it. Though the usual sounds could hardly be considered intrusive, the sounds of the waves, distant music, the local boys playing soccer on the beach and conversations in languages I didn’t understand took on a particularly muted tone. As the breeze would pick up, we’d start pulling our chairs back, chasing the shade, and enjoy the feeling of the cool air on our sun-scorched skin; taking inventory of which parts of my body had been spared from the harsh effects of the sun and which parts I had failed to adequately protect. In those last moments, the sky and the sun would take on a deeper and deeper shade of orange and Laura and I would compete to see who could get the best photo of the traditional dhows, with their canvas sails silhouetted as they’d pass between the borders of the suns reflection. Those moments brought with them a particularly fantastic sense of contentment.

Trevor and Wendy headed back to Stone Town that second evening to catch an early morning flight back to the mainland and ultimately home to Australia, but we exchanged info and I was assured I’d be receiving a rather fantastic photo of me in my snorkel and flippers. We were sad to say goodbye to our surrogate Tanzanian/Australian parents and were grateful for the ways we were able to help each other out; not only did they insisted on buying us desert that first night for letting them tag along, but Wendy left me her sunscreen as my supply was greatly decreased by airport security. 

Those two days were, no doubt, amazing, but we were excited about the next day when we would be making our way down to Jambiani on the lower east coast of the island for some more of the incredible beauty that Zanzibar had to offer.


Part III to follow...with slideshow...