Woolly says – We were up and out early again; the dawn was rising as our uber sped through the streets and it was lovely to see Dar es Salaam without the thousands that are usually on the roads.
Arriving at the ferry port and having shuffled, barged and waited in the queues we were finally on the ferry. Sadly, the crossing wasn’t great for me.
My small companion spent most of it with his trunk in a sick bag as we bounced across the Indian ocean.
Woolly says – I was incredibly glad to step back onto land again and even Jo hadn’t enjoyed the crossing, on slightly wobbly legs we found the nearest café and sat recovering over a coffee and some juice admiring the promenade of Zanzibar.
Zanzibar is an insular semi-autonomous region which united with Tanganyika in 1964 to form the United Republic of Tanzania. It is an archipelago in the Indian Ocean, 25 to 50 km (16 to 31 mi) off the coast of the African mainland and consists of many small islands and two large ones: Unguja (the main island, referred to informally as Zanzibar) and Pemba Island. The capital is Zanzibar City, located on the island of Unguja. Its historic centre, Stone Town, is a World Heritage Site.
We had decided to spend the day in Stonetown the old part of Zanzibar City and the former capital of the Zanzibar Sultanate, once the flourishing centre of the spice trade as well as the Indian Ocean slave trade in the 19th century, its now a huge tourist attraction.
Passing the Old Dispensary, also known as Ithnashiri Dispensary, it owes its name to the fact that it served as a dispensary in the first half of the 20th century. One of the most finely decorated buildings of Stone Town and a symbol of the multi-cultural architecture and heritage of the city with Its wooden carved balconies and stained glass decorations, which are of Indian influence. It was stunning.
Wandering on we realised that many of the buildings were equally beautiful.
We had planned to start our day looking at the Sultans Palace but didn’t have enough shillings to pay so decided to return later once an ATM had been located. Instead, we headed into the old fort which was free unless you had a guide which we refused.
The Old Fort also known as the Arab Fort is the oldest building in Zanzibar, built by Omani Arabs after expelling the Portuguese in 1699. It was used as a garrison and prison in the 19th century, and as a terminal of the Zanzibar railways between 1905 and 1928. A new guardhouse was built in 1947 and used as the ladies’ club, with an amphitheatre being added in the 1990s.
We peered into the modern amphitheatre
before heading into the courtyard area which contained some crumbling towers that we couldn’t access and a range of market traders that we didn’t need. Within minutes we were back outside.
Entering Stonetown through a passageway we stopped to admire more of the wonderful buildings, some rather shabby but they all gave off a very colonial mindset. Wonderful balaconeys and incredible doors seemed to be everywhere.
Within a few minutes we were at our second stop of the day, and it wasn’t even 9am! This however was the one place we didn’t want to miss.
Freddy Mercury’s former home and the place where he was born. Known now as Mercury House, the legend spent parts of his childhood within this house. He was born in Zanzibar, as his parents were living there so that his father, Bomi Bulsara, could continue working with the British Colonial Office as a cashier. He and his parents would regularly attend the nearby Zoroastrian temple. He left Zanzibar in 1964 to escape the Zanzibar Revolution, which overthrew the Sultan and killed thousands of Arabs and Indians and headed to London. There, he would go onto to join Queen and spend the rest of his years.
Having paid by card we entered the house to the strains of The Seven Seas of Rye which set my paws tapping straight away. The walls were lined with pictures of how Zanzibar would have looked in Freddies early days as well as plenty of family portraits.
A wall of handwritten notes left by the star led us into the area of photographs of Queen throughout his time in the band as well as a small area dedicated to the biggest concert that the world had ever seen, Live Aid.
Another wall of pictures which included Brian May’s trip to the town to see his bandmates former home.
A small area opened up with a large black piano and one of his most recognizable stage outfits.
Fifteen minutes and we had done everything, the museum was tiny. We entered the streets again and wandered along admiring more of the buildings before finding a small beach side café where we sipped on pineapple juice and watched the boats bobbing about on the sea.
Refreshed and re-sun creamed we headed onwards keeping our eyes peeled for an ATM and finding more and more doors that were just wonderful to look at.
With an ATM found and money received we set off into the rabbit warren of streets that Stonetown is famous for.
High above the roofs we would spot a church tower or minaret and navigate our way to them passing small souvenir shops at every corner.
The next destination on our list was the Hamamni Persian Baths, the Baths were built between 1870 and 1888 for sultan Barghash bin Said for use as public baths and maintained this function until 1920. They are referred to as “Persian” because their construction was commissioned to Shirazi architects. We were rather chuffed to have found it ourselves even if it had been by accident rather than design.
The door sign told us it was open but as the door was firmly padlocked that wasn’t the case, we popped into the shop opposite to ask about it only to be told that they were closed for renovation work, of course they were its us so we couldn’t expect anything else.
On we went through the small alleys enjoying the shade the narrowness offered and finding more stall holders selling their wares.
We managed to have found our way back to the seafront so headed to the Sultans Palace. The Palace is one of the main historical buildings of Stone Town and is a 3-story building with decorated white walls, although the walls were no longer white.
It stands on the site of the previous palace, called Bait As-Sahel, which was destroyed in the Anglo Zanzibar war of 1896 with the present palace being built in late 19th century to serve as a residence for the Sultan’s family. After the Zanzibar Revolution, in 1964 it was formally renamed the People’s Palace and used as a government seat. In 1994, it became a museum about the Zanzibari royal family and history.
We handed over our shillings and went into the beautifully cool interior of the museum area which had lots of information about the Sultans and the cemetery that was next door.
Having read as much as we could we returned into the heat and headed over to the burial area, which was very white, being split into two parts one where the first Sultan lies and the other where the other sultans and family members had been buried.
I was excited to see into the palace itself and we climbed the steps to the large door admiring the cannons only to find a gentleman blocking our way as he told us that the palace was closed due to renovation, of course it was.
Instead, he pointed us to a doorway into the garage area where a half covered blue car sat which had once been driven by the last Sultan and a very large black car which had been the former governor’s car lived. We peered into the ramshackle garden, and we had done it all. Sadly, not as impressive as we had hoped and annoying that the website had told us that the palace was open.
Having achieved everything on our list we crossed the road and walked along the seafront to find a place for lunch where we sat in the shade enjoying the view and trying to consume a huge amount of tuna skewers that would have fed both of us for a week.
With our ferry time approaching we joined the hordes of people all trying to get into the terminal and finally got spat out by the dockside to wait for our boat. With sweat coating my fur and Jo dripping away it was lovely to get on board and settle in with the cooling air con.
That sadly was as good as the crossing got, as we moved out of the port the waves started and my small companion spent it inside a sickbag on the floor and I sat trying to breathe through my need to also be sick. We weren’t alone as crew started carrying passengers outside onto the deck and the smell of vomit filled the air.
Woolly says – It was terrible, I have never felt so ill, dry land had never looked so good and finally leaving the vessel from hell our wobbly legs carried us to the nearest taxi where Jo didn’t even argue the price but just got us both in so we cold get back and lie down properly to recover.
Our planning meant that the next day was to be a rest day for which we were both grateful, so lots of doing nothing and catching our breath before we hit the city again.