Onto Zanzibar and Saying Goodbye to George
Wednesday, September 7, 2005 
We are awakened this morning by the extended-mix version of the Muslim call to prayer.
The muezzin calling from the tinny speakers of a nearby minaret seemed to break off from the music prayer every few seconds to deliver what sounded like an excerpt from a jazzy radio talk-show. It was the most distinctive wake-up call I've ever had at five in the morning.
As I was awakened early and we didn't have to leave here till eight, I took a walk on the soft beach to watch the sunrise.
This morning in the thatched-roof bathroom here I saw a tail-less gecko scurrying around and mentioned to Jeff that the wound to its tail end looked very raw and fresh. It is, said Jeff. He told me it was probably the poor lizard that Helen thought she killed this morning by closing its tail in the door. Poor thing.
As we packed up our tents this morning and loaded them back onto the truck, we ended the camping phase of this holiday. We are saying goodbye to old George the Truck itself today as we head off to the spice island of Zanzibar.
Everybody either packed up their bags last night or is finishing emptying their lockers this morning.
Graham, Andy, and Simon all set up cameras to take some group photos which they promise to mail to us all later (which they do...thanks guys!).
We have one final ride on George to the port we arrived at yesterday and a short ferry ride again. It is very crowded in the truck as our backpacks form a huge pile up to the ceiling, taking up the front part of the truck we referred to as "first class".
We say a final goodbye to Pete at Wayne at the port. They are heading back to Arusha today to buy supplies and get the truck ready for the next group of travellers. It must be an exhausting way of life doing this job year round. This was one group of tour leaders that I felt really earned their tips. They are simply marvellous. If any executives at Exodus are reading this, please be sure to give Pete, Wayne, and Anne-Dorte a big raise.
Jeff and Heather and I take the first turn watching our big pile of luggage at the port while we wait for the ferry to Zanzibar. It is in a fairly safe enclosed area backing on to a coffee shop.
Later, when others are watching the bags, Jeff and I walk two blocks to a modern shopping mall. In a Shop-Rite store we bought some snacks to eat as lunch on the ferry, and also some hair-conditioner for me. It's a small thing, but I've been grateful to borrow some of Liz's a few times on this trip.
We notice quite a lot of uniformed police officers on the streets of Dar-es-Saalem.
At ten o'clock we carry our bags over to the ferry terminal and go through security. They use metal-detecting wands and search my purse.
Once on the ferry's deck, we heave our packs up onto high shelves at the front of the ferry which is called the Seastar II.
The crossing to Zanzibar is bumpy and lasts about two and a half hours. There is a television screen at the front of the passenger area with and picture and volume that fuzzes in and out constantly. I sleepily watch the movie "National Treasure" and the beginning of "Blade 3"(an odd choice for public transportation).
Along the way, a young Muslim family hands Anne-Dorte their video camera so she can film them with their new baby.
Disembarkment from the ferry is noisy and chaotic. Touts and porters wave their arms, wanting to carry our bags for a fee and sell us hotel rooms, but we zig and zag to avoid them as we trudge up the steep wooden ramp to shore and are hustled through immigration with Anne-Dorte in the lead. She had collected all our passports from us earlier.
Zanzibar is technically part of Tanzania but still requires a passport stamp. The British UN Trust Territory of Tanganjika became independent in 1961 and merged with the British protectorate of Zanzibar (independent since 1963) into Tanzania in 1964.
From the ferry port, we pile into three mini-vans that are waiting for us and zoom away to Stonetown.
We are awakened this morning by the extended-mix version of the Muslim call to prayer.
The muezzin calling from the tinny speakers of a nearby minaret seemed to break off from the music prayer every few seconds to deliver what sounded like an excerpt from a jazzy radio talk-show. It was the most distinctive wake-up call I've ever had at five in the morning.
As I was awakened early and we didn't have to leave here till eight, I took a walk on the soft beach to watch the sunrise.
This morning in the thatched-roof bathroom here I saw a tail-less gecko scurrying around and mentioned to Jeff that the wound to its tail end looked very raw and fresh. It is, said Jeff. He told me it was probably the poor lizard that Helen thought she killed this morning by closing its tail in the door. Poor thing.
As we packed up our tents this morning and loaded them back onto the truck, we ended the camping phase of this holiday. We are saying goodbye to old George the Truck itself today as we head off to the spice island of Zanzibar.
Everybody either packed up their bags last night or is finishing emptying their lockers this morning.
Graham, Andy, and Simon all set up cameras to take some group photos which they promise to mail to us all later (which they do...thanks guys!).
We have one final ride on George to the port we arrived at yesterday and a short ferry ride again. It is very crowded in the truck as our backpacks form a huge pile up to the ceiling, taking up the front part of the truck we referred to as "first class".
We say a final goodbye to Pete at Wayne at the port. They are heading back to Arusha today to buy supplies and get the truck ready for the next group of travellers. It must be an exhausting way of life doing this job year round. This was one group of tour leaders that I felt really earned their tips. They are simply marvellous. If any executives at Exodus are reading this, please be sure to give Pete, Wayne, and Anne-Dorte a big raise.
Jeff and Heather and I take the first turn watching our big pile of luggage at the port while we wait for the ferry to Zanzibar. It is in a fairly safe enclosed area backing on to a coffee shop.
Later, when others are watching the bags, Jeff and I walk two blocks to a modern shopping mall. In a Shop-Rite store we bought some snacks to eat as lunch on the ferry, and also some hair-conditioner for me. It's a small thing, but I've been grateful to borrow some of Liz's a few times on this trip.
We notice quite a lot of uniformed police officers on the streets of Dar-es-Saalem.
At ten o'clock we carry our bags over to the ferry terminal and go through security. They use metal-detecting wands and search my purse.
Once on the ferry's deck, we heave our packs up onto high shelves at the front of the ferry which is called the Seastar II.
The crossing to Zanzibar is bumpy and lasts about two and a half hours. There is a television screen at the front of the passenger area with and picture and volume that fuzzes in and out constantly. I sleepily watch the movie "National Treasure" and the beginning of "Blade 3"(an odd choice for public transportation).
Along the way, a young Muslim family hands Anne-Dorte their video camera so she can film them with their new baby.
Disembarkment from the ferry is noisy and chaotic. Touts and porters wave their arms, wanting to carry our bags for a fee and sell us hotel rooms, but we zig and zag to avoid them as we trudge up the steep wooden ramp to shore and are hustled through immigration with Anne-Dorte in the lead. She had collected all our passports from us earlier.
Zanzibar is technically part of Tanzania but still requires a passport stamp. The British UN Trust Territory of Tanganjika became independent in 1961 and merged with the British protectorate of Zanzibar (independent since 1963) into Tanzania in 1964.
From the ferry port, we pile into three mini-vans that are waiting for us and zoom away to Stonetown.
posted by Spider Girl | 10:08 AM
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