Delicately positioned off the coast of East Africa, surrounded by a protective reef and clear blue seas, sits the island of Zanzibar, filled with a history of sultans, slaves, and spices. Today, this exotic haven is a sensual paradise to those who venture to her shores.
A stream of workers flows up and down the gangplanks to the dhows, carrying a myriad of spices to be shipped to far off shores. Touts hustle for trade, enticing tourists to their respective hotels. But, with guidebook in hand, I reject them all and head towards my hotel, hidden somewhere within the streets of the Stone Town.
The Stone Town is the original city. Arab traders built their architectural masterpieces here as they set up an outpost for trading of spices, ivory and slaves to the east. Portuguese influence and a touch of the British also had its effect in the town's buildings. But these castles and mosques, houses and shops, were all built for a town without cars giving it an almost surreal appearance.
Giant carved doorways and tremendous fortresses are crammed into tiny spaces with little alleyways between them, just big enough for the few bicycles that pass by and the bustle of foot traffic. It looked to me like some giant-handed being had grabbed the entire town and carefully squashed it together.
I stepped off the waterfront past an ancient fortress, with only a vague idea of where I was heading. Tiny family stores spread their beautiful cloths and produce into the alleys. Young lads and old women stand near wooden wheelbarrows, selling their wares. Diminutive squares contain stalls filled with exotic fruits, sweet-smelling and at the peak of ripeness. I didn't care that it took me an hour to find my hotel.
It is not that the Stone Town is particularly big. Sooner or later you always come out of it, either onto the waterfront, or into a more modern area of town. But if you lose your concentration for even a moment your sense of direction is gone, and you will find yourself going round in circles like I did.
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