rachelplukas

Sometimes things don’t live up to your expectations. You had an image in your mind that was slightly embellished. Like a picture that has been photo-shopped so much that when you see the real thing, it’s a big disappointment. You don’t complain about it or anything because its still pretty good, just not as good as you thought. Actually, in my experience, pretty much EVERYTHING fails to live up to my expectations, the curse of being optimistic I suppose. Because of this, it’s best to try to keep ones perceptions in check. However, if you are ever planning on going to Zanzibar, let your imaginations run wild!
This place is awesome, and I mean that in the original sense of the word, not the modern butchering-of-the-English-language, “dude,-that-shirt-is-Awesome”, sense of the word. Zanzibar is awesome… full of awe. There can be no overstating the beauty and mystery which defines this island. The pictures and write-ups only get close, at best, at representing their subject. Unfortunately, Zanzibar is not the worlds most accessible place, the flight alone is probably over a thousand bucks. Its better that way though, the beaches and towns would be ruined by crowds of tourists. But the lucky few who do get to visit Zanzibar know immediately that they are in a special place. Actually, it starts BEFORE you arrive.

I was not in a good mood. Steph and I had just spent a difficult 12 hours in Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania’s’ largest city. Its huge, dirty, and dangerous. We arrived in the late afternoon, and had to fight off the dozens of hustlers trying to get a commission off of you. We took a dalla-dalla to “Posta”, near the harbor to get our tickets for the ferry the next day. Seems easy I know, but there was another huge group of guys trying to sell us ferry tickets, the majority of them being fraudulent. Luckily, we managed to get to an office and buy tickets without being ripped off or getting arrested for assaulting a hustler. We found a hostel for cheep enough, but were welcomed by messages posted by guests on a wall reading,
“There are thieves in front of the post office who will slice the bottom of your purse or bag. This happened to me today! Be aware of who is bumping into you and why!” “Exactly the same thing happened to me on 29th Sept.! They cut my bag, wallet, and even clothes with a razor blade while following me at Posta and pushing me from behind. Be careful!”
Welcome to Dar Es Salaam! This was definitely the dominant vibe of the neighborhood we were staying in, and you can imagine how that might effect someone’s attitude, especially in 100 degree weather. So, at 12 pm, sitting on the “flying horse” ferry, hungry, tired and hot, I was (again), not in a good mood. I was almost so flustered that I almost failed to appreciate the fact that I was on a boat on the Indian Ocean, going to Zanzibar…almost. We left the harbor and started passing picturesque palm-lined sand banks and fishing boats (dhows). I appreciated the beauty surrounding me, but I still wasn’t in the most cheerful of moods. This mood lasted for an hour or two, until I took a walk to the bow of the ferry. We were out on the open water, and you could see Zanzibar faintly in the distance. It was pretty wonderful, and I stood there for a long time, leaning up against the right side of the boat, looking out at the water.
I caught something out of the corner of my eye, something moving in the water. When I looked over, I saw that it was a pod of dolphins, about 50 yards in front to the boat. First, I could just see their dorsal fins, slowly cresting the surface of the water. Then, they must have seen the boat and decided to play, because in a matter of seconds, 4 of them were swimming along the right side of the boat, twisting and ducking just below the surface. Its almost like the sneaky little buggers knew exactly where the moody white girl was standing because they chose to swim directly beneath me…fantastic. Wild dolphins, right there! There were 3 local kids standing with me watching, but I’ll never know if they were more entertained by the dolphins of the crazy “mzungu” shouting and jumping up and down with excitement. How could I stay fussy with such a great sight? I knew it was an omen of a good vacation, and as the week went by, I cheerfully attributed any lucky circumstances to “the dolphins”.
Once this little episode was concluded, I looked up and remembered that I was on my way to an ancient, tropical island. Zanzibar was becoming clearer in the distance, and the realization of this dream-vacation snapped into focus. I wondered what circumstances had brought me to this point. Not too long ago, if you had asked me if I thought I would ever be in a place like this, I would have laughed. And suddenly, I was there...how? Did I even deserve this? How many people do I know that would give a small fortune to be where I was? But pshaw! What kind of thinking is that? Hadn’t I just done a TON of work for a difficult research study, in a country where I don’t speak the language? For that matter, hadn’t I just spent 18 months of blood sweat and tears on that exact same study? Hadn’t I worked my ass off to even be able to DO said study? Yes, this trip was an appropriate reward, and wondering if I was worthy of it was a waste of energy. Anyhow, the “trust-fund-baby, supermodel-honeymooners” that typified the make-up of 90% of the visitors to the island eventually put to rest any feelings of “unworthiness”.
Back on the ferry, we were docking in Stonetown harbor. The locals were shuffling around, getting their stuff together while Steph, me, and the few other tourists on the boat sized up the town. This is where that “things living up to their expectations” idea came from. I was shocked by the “realness” of Stonetown. It looked exactly like I thought it would. Exactly like they SAID it would, which, (like I said), never happens. The water really was that greenish blue that you see on postcards. There really were dhows dotting the coastline. The place reeked of the past and people were just wandering through it, like they didn’t know they were a part of an idyllic picture. But Zanzibar isn’t just the past, it’s that and everything that has ever happened there, all at once. Clothes hung out to dry from two hundred year old windows. Mopeds buzzed past buildings that once served as Arab merchants’ palaces. And the dhows that define the Zanzibar “look” were dwarfed in comparison to the surrounding oil tankers and passenger ferries. “I‘m going to like it here”, I thought, as I got my bag, hustled to the door, and stepped onto the dock.
…to be continued.