Backpacker no more

We were headed for Zanzibar to celebrate my flatmate Liz' 30. anniversary for a real adult holiday.







I had already suspected that the good old days were over when I packed my bags and was in no mood to get that big monster backpack out. But it really hit me when I was sitting at Stone Towns fresh seafood market at dusk trying to strike up a conversation with about the only other single on the island.

I asked him what he was doing and when he replied: history, I seriously said: ah, teaching? From the weird look on his face I could tell that I was on the wrong track but just as I assumed everybody else was a student back when I was, now I just suppose everbody is working just like me. So I finished my lobster kebab hurried down the Tusker beer and vanished to join the honeymooners and families for a drink on the shores of the Indian Ocean.

I should have been warned as practically everybody else we heard talking about Zanzibar in Kigali went there with their boy/girlfriends. But as I settled for my sundowner at the Africa House Hotel, as advised, I was taken a little by surprise by the crowd of couples and all inclusive kinda tourists with their cameras pulled out and waiting for the lonely fisherman to sail right into the setting sun. I personally think the bar had a deal with the boat's owner because the timing was incredible, every day.

Although the town is actually quite run down it does not take long to succumb to its charme with the mixed african, arabic and asian influences, the maize of narrow alleys, the scent of spices everywhere and the general laid-backness of an island. The only thing that disturbed me while enjoying the view from the roof top terrace at the Emerson&Green Hotel were the familiar looking concrete blocks. As it turned out they were a present from the GDR in the 1960s, most probably related to the fact that Zanzibar (before uniting with mainland Tanzania) was the first non-socialist country acknowledging the German Democratic Republic. Another intriguing connection between Zanzibar and Germany is a sultans daughter who married a German and moved to Hamburg where she wrote down her views on and experiences in the western world. A rare account as it was usually the other way around.

Swahili style, architecture and interior, like here at the Mediterraneo Club in Dar es Salaam, has definitly fascinating elements. It tells you of lazy afternoons in the sun with a light breeze. Although, that can turn out to be a quite annoying wind that makes you hide behind the backside of the bungalow as happened to me at the Eastcoast of Zanzibar where we stayed with Uschi and Erwin at their Evergreen Bungalows.



A more urban example is the above mentioned Emerson&Green hotel which is basically a Swahili antique shop. Liz ("30 and proud of it") treated us all to a night there on her birthday and the rooms were so lovely we hardly left them. Laura had about 5 baths trying out the variety of locally made body scrubs while I enjoyed a food massage with clove oil on the cannapé, immediatly followed by a back massage, because it was so nice. In the evening we had a 6 course dinner on the floor of the hotels roof top crammed once more with loads of honeymooners, although a trio of german gay guys saved us from being the only odds out.

As my two travelmates had to get back to Kigali I went on to Dar by boat and almost regretted it, as, beautiful as it was, my stomach did not quite cope and needed to be settled with emergency drugs.

I stayed at a colleagues house in the posh area of Oysterbay and for the first time, thought with fondness of the more manageable size of Kigali. Although, this was but a preparation for what was to come in Nairobi. And traffic and distances aside I enjoyed my short visit to Dar and the people I met but especially the food. After one week of straight seafood in Zanzibar this was all about excellent Indian cuisine.


I went to Kenya for two reasons (sorry Kai, now you know I only used you for transport and shelter): big city life in Nairobi and a little bit of what I call the Kenya Romanticism derived from films and images like "out of africa" (no offence, I love the movie) and all the women who felt they needed to write down their going-native experiences with wild Maasai warriors. And although the weather at lake Naivasha didn't quite allow for romantic views on the Rift Valley and acacia trees glimmering in the heat I had my share of colonial reminiscence and adventure.
We stayed in a place with a colonial style mansion and basket-chairs on the massive lawn, Hippos pratically wandering the grounds at night and loads of retired English people.
As we walked around the crater lake marvelling at the view and the flamingos on the water we heard a noise in front of us. For a split second I was waiting for the lion to brake out of the bushes...but it was only a pair of young giraffes grazing peacefully about 10m away from us. One turned her head around, stared for a while and then backed off. The other stayed on for a while allowing us to walk around and see her in full beauty. It really makes you wonder how nature came up with a creature like that. Apparently they have really high blood pressure to pump blood all the way up to their head. At that point I felt really sorry I couldnt have been bothered to turn around and get my camera in the morning. On the other hand, if I wanted a picture, I could always buy one and the real image is in my head anyway.

More pictures of beachbums and ballrooms once I got my camera (and sunglasses!!) sent from Nairobi.