Zanzibar day 7 dolphins, monkeys, and crabs.

Thursday- the trip I'd been waiting for. Swimming with wild dolphins, and a tour through Jozani forest to see red colobus monkeys. On a scale of 1-10 I was about a 18 on the excitement scale, hence why I've given this day a whole blog entry to itself. I've always loved dolphins, super intelligent, full of life, they epitomise grace and beauty in the water,and can soften the hardest of hearts. I've swam with captive dolphins before in Cancun a few times, which was great because you get to interact with them close up, feel the cool rubbery texture of their skin, and feel the power in their tails as they propel you through the water. This was going to be different- wild dolphins, who know no "tricks" and can come and go as they please. I wasn't even sure that I would see any dolphins... But Salum assured me that the 3 schools that live in the area we were going to were almost guaranteed to be around. I was expecting to go with a group, in a catamaran or large speedboat, but surprisingly, Salum introduced me to our "guide" who was going to take us in a small, single motored boat, and I was the only passenger. I was starting to get used to this personalised trip malarkey!! The water was so shallow, the boat guy had to push the boat out for a good 15 minutes before being able to drop the motor and scoot off. Salum explained that we could have gone out on a traditional dhow (wooden boat with a sail) but this way was much quicker. Who was I to argue? The first thing I noticed was how crystal clear the water was. Even going out where the depths were up to 20 metres, you could still see the corals on the sea bed. All of a sudden, the guide shouted "There!!" just as a pod of around 15 dolphins breached the surface for air about 5 metres alongside our boat. Camera at the ready, I started snapping like a madwoman. (I'm always after that money shot!!) There were already 3 or 4 boats around, and people were jumping in the water with their snorkel gear on, desperate to experience this once in a lifetime opportunity. So it worked like this: you jumped in, snorkel in, and swam as close to the dolphins as they would allow. When they moved too far off (it's not like dolphins can sit and chill with you) the boat would swing by, pick you up and slowly catch up to the pod again, before dropping you back in the water. The boats kept a respectful distance, and always killed the motors when the dolphins were close. So I took my first jump in. Wow. Looking down, about 4 or 5 metres below me were about 30 bottlenose dolphins. Paddling above them, I watched as they swam in formation, the babies inside the group or under the adults. One calf started to do a roll, and stopped "upside down" swimming along casting his beady little eye on me as we went. After about 3 minutes, the pod was away, and I had a mouthful of seawater. The bloody snorkel had a leak, and I didn't have a spare. It was also at this point I discovered I had the upper body strength of a 5 year old. The boat guy slapped the tiniest bit of ladder (2 rungs) over the side of the boat for me to climb up. No frame to pull myself up with, just the side of the boat. 2 exhausting minutes later, I needed help getting up. Emotional was not the word. Anyway, I was too exhilarated to care at this point, I wanted another swim! This time, the guide took us in front of the pod so they would swim past me, and this time, they had come up for air. I literally swam alongside the dolphins for what felt like 5 minutes but could only have been 1 or 2 at the most. One dolphin swam with me side by side, while the rest slowly went past. So close I could almost touch him. I moved out my right hand slowly, and just when I thought he would let me, he rolled downwards, out of my reach. I think that was his way of saying "Hey, you can look but you can't touch, ok?" What a rush! Oh wait... I had to get in the bloody boat again. This time I was a little more tired, so getting in the boat required more of an effort. Skinned my knees, conked my shins. For those of you that know me, that won't be a surprise. On the 3rd drop, I gave up on the snorkel and decided that holding my breath would be easier than swallowing half the ocean whilst trying to breathe at the same time. Swimming behind the pod, I took in the differences between the individual dolphins. Some had notches in their tail fins, others scars. Some were darker in colour than others, and the calves had very white undersides. And then, they started "talking" to each other. Even with my head under the water, I could hear the clicks, cackles and whistles as they sent each other messages (probably "are you guys bored of these tourists yet?") Jokes aside, it's one thing to hear dolphins communicating at a captive dolphin show, and another to actually hear them out in the wild. Such an amazing experience. So this time, getting out of the water and into the damned boat was a mission. I was knackered from continually holding my breath, and swimming, and climbing into the boat, so ended up needing both Salum and the boat guy to haul my ass out like a dead fish. Ah well, it's not like anyone else actually saw me floundering....... A this point I realised that there were about 6 boats and maybe 30 people in the immediate area, and I started to feel a bit guilty about what we were doing. Was it right to be following these dolphins around trying to get close enough to touch them, or see them up close? If it had been a school of sharks, would anyone have been as keen? I decided I had seen as much as I needed to from the water, and wanted to spend the next 15-20 minutes taking pictures before heading back. I explained to the boat guy I had a decent zoom on my camera so didn't need to be too close. Watching up to 10 people jump in the water, and swim right in the middle of the pod made me feel incredibly guilty all of a sudden. What right did we have to intrude on these animals in such a way? The boat guy explained that the dolphins are friendly and if they are not in the mood to be with people, they disappear pretty quickly. I don't know if that eased my conscience or not. It was an exhilarating, magical experience that I will never, ever forget, but I would have to think very carefully before doing it again. So we headed back to shore, and back into the car before heading off to Jozani forest to find monkeys. The geek stuff: Jozani forest has 2 distinct Eco systems. A coral rock forest, where huge red mahogany trees and other plantlife grow. They can't grow deep roots due to the coral rock found very close to the surface of the ground, so instead have wide, far reaching shallow roots. The mangrove forest, on the other hand, has a sea water river running through it, so although plants and trees and grow deep roots, its only specialised plantlife like the mangrove trees that survive due to the saltwater. There is a clear line where one finishes and the other starts, visible by the clear, distinct change in trees and plants. My guide showed me at least 6 different palm trees in the coral rock forest, each of which has a different use for local villagers, down to what was made from the leaves. Some were used for fishing baskets, others were used for raffia mats, and others used for roofing. Almost every plant on Zanizibar has its own use- medicinal, functional or for cooking. All of a sudden, I heard strange, squeaky chattery noises. I looked up, and a small troop of about 6 or 7 red colobus monkeys were sat in the trees eating almond leaves (apparently their favourite). With their black leathery faces and big brown eyes, you could almost be forgiven for thinking they were primates. A couple of them had young who played and jumped around. One was clutching at its mother, too young to let go. Red colobus monkeys are only found on the island of Zanzibar, nowhere else naturally in the world. As a result, they are classified as endangered, with less than 2500 left in the wild. It was great to watch them in their rightful environment, free to do what they want. They do however, have their own "monkey crossings" - rope bridges strung between trees on opposite sides of the road that goes through the forest. This stops them from getting hit by cars or taxis. The monkeys learned to use their crossing very quickly!! In amongst the colobus monkeys, a couple of blue monkeys sat, watching us warily. The guide explained that they were a lot more fearful of people as they were not a protected species like the red colobus monkeys. The reds had no fear as they had no predators on the island. Zanzibar leopards had been made extinct decades ago, and its illegal to hunt or capture them, so in turn, they were curious, inquisitive and brave. Sure enough, I only managed to get a couple of photos of the blue monkeys before they shot off chattering in disapproval. Moving off to the Mangroves, it was like going from a scene from Lost, to a scene from Star Wars. I almost expected to see Luke hanging upside down with a little Yoda saying "try harder, you must!" on one of the banks. Instead, I saw crabs. Loads of them. No really..... Too many to count. In and out of the mangrove roots they scuttled, doing whatever crabs do in such a hurry. Green ones, red ones, large and small. Some with one huge claw, others with two tiny ones. I don't think I have ever seen such a huge variety of crabs in one place (enter your double entendre of choice here___________) One geeky fact I learned: no mosquitos in these mangrove swamps. Apparently they don't like saltwater much, and the river here was a very salty one. Hurrah! Must remember to live nearer to saltwater next time I move. I got back to my hotel a very happy bunny. Crossed a couple of things off my ever increasing bucket list, knowing that I'd taken at least one "once in a lifetime" opportunity. Now for 2 days of sunbathing and people watching...... L xxx

Zanzibar days 5+6. A husband called Moo.

Day 5 was mega chilled. Really didn't do much else other than sunbathe- although I have discovered some cool new bars and restaurants to wander off to at lunchtime.

The only problem with wandering is the "Beach Boys" aka the "Looky Looky" men. These are the guys who pester you to sign up for excursions, or snorkelling trips, or watersports. And they are Hardcore here!!! If you take a walk on the beach they follow you, trying to get you to part with your cash. I don't bother taking a purse now, and stuff any cash in my camera case. That way the "sorry I have no money" ploy works a treat....
Until Moo. Whilst going down to the sea for a swim, this guy collared me, asking if I wanted to go scuba diving or some such trip. I explained I was off for a swim, and legged it into the ocean thinking I was safe.
Wrong.
While floating away blissfully, thinking how calm and warm it was compared to Durban's surfing beaches, I heard "hello lady!!! Jambo!!!" (Jambo is hello in Swahili) I flipped myself upright only to see the Beach guy paddling out to me on a canoe. Yes really.
"Jambo!! I come to visit you!!" dammit... Was nowhere safe?
So he introduced himself as Moo (nope, i didnt mishear him, he really is called Moo) And he wanted to know if I would go out for dinner with him. When I told him about my (imaginary) boyfriend, Moo quipped "but he is not here....Hakuna matata!!! No worries, I will be your secret Zanzibar boyfriend"
It took a good 10 minutes to convince Moo that no, I was not going to be his girlfriend, and no, I couldn't and wouldn't lie to my "boyfriend"
Poor Moo. His friends laughed when he handed the canoe back empty handed.

The rest of the day passed pretty uneventfully. Oh, I did pay the crazy massage lady to give me a pedi and a foot henna. That's clearly where her forte is... Although lying down whilst having a pedi really hurts your back!! I had to sit back up after 5 mins and explain.

Day 6 and I was supposed to be going on a dolphin swim, and to Jozani forest. Unfortunately I woke up with crazy stomach cramps and had to postpone for a day. Thanks malaria tablets, you're brilliant.
So instead, I went for a walk on the beach this morning. The tide was so far out that to go for a swim you'd have to walk at least half a mile out to sea to get water deep enough! It was such a difference to the first morning I woke up here where the sea was under the restaurant stilts.
The were dozens of local women out with buckets and sticks, so took a few pictures. A young lad called Ali walked with me and explained that the women were catching octopus in the shallow waters. They would poke their stick under a rock, the octopus would wrap its tentacles around the stick, and voila!! Octopus lollipops.
The women would then keep some to feed their families and sell the rest on the markets, along with small sardines that hadn't made it out to deeper waters.
I couldn't get my head around how far out you could walk and still only be ankle or knee deep, when yesterday you'd be in waters at least 10 feet deep at the same spot.
Apparently when the moon is half full, the tide goes out far, and when it's full, it's so deep there is no beach to walk on.
Found a couple of huge starfish in the shallow waters too. Not little ones like you get for aquariums.... Starfish bigger than the palms of your hand, with the most amazing red colours. Took a few more pics and put them back into deeper waters,

Spent the rest of the day people watching, which I love!!
Some of the other guests at this hotel are:
The couple that don't communicate: in their twenties, she babbles a million miles an hour at him, and he pretty much ignores her. I've yet to see him smile, frown, or show any form of emotion whatsoever, and they've been here 3 days. I've heard him speak once to say "ok" to his wife. Breakfast, at the beach and dinner is the same. She waffles, he ignores.
The Aryans: these 2 couples are like extras from Raiders of the Lost Ark. One fit, blonde blue eyed serious looking couple that could be the real baddies, and one slightly pudgy blonde blue eyed couple. He reminds me of the "stupid baddie" and she reminds me of the "baddie with a heart" who is likely to convince her beau not to end the human race. Oh, and did I mention they were German too?
The Yanks: a family of 4- him all testosterone, showing off how much better he is than everyone else because he's American (cue loud voices) wearing all white like a reject from Miami Vice. His wife (who really wears the trousers) and their 2 perfectly turned out kids. God forbid if they actually got sand on themselves. One squealed when she dipped her toe in the water and got a bit of seaweed on her foot.
Shirley Valentine: she has just rocked up today with her "local boyfriend". In her late 50's, with limited English, her holiday lover is no older than 30 and speaks just as little English as she does. Interestingly, the hotel staff are not happy with this dude.... If looks could kill, he'd be a dead man. Fair play to her, I just wish she'd learn to kiss without making sucky, smacky, schloppy noises- its putting me off my ice cream.
The ex-wives club. 4 women in their late 30's turned up today. I guessed totally wrong... One had a tiny tattoo on the back of her shoulder, 2 had patchy sunburn where they hadn't applied lotion properly, and the last got really squeaky and squealed getting into the "cold" sea. I had them pegged as Brits.... And then they started babbling in German.
The lovely old lot: a man and his wife, and her sister, all in their late 60s, early 70s. The wifey told me all about how she got pricked by a sea urchin this morning and was saved by a man and a papaya. Apparently unripe papaya juice takes the sting out of the sting as it were. Who knew? The lady advised me to make sure I wear slippers when I walk on the beach (her English wasn't great either, bless her!)
The Knobhead- last but not least, a white, slim, tall guy in his 30's has literally just walked into the restaurant with his hair in 2" plaits with beads on the end. I kid you not. The man has what I'm sure he thinks are really cool little dreds.....why?? Why would anyone want to do that?? Ok, so his gf is Tanzanian.... He's italian I think. Oh and it's their first date based in the really awkward stilted conversation and the fact she won't actually look at him. "do you like Indian food? No? Oh...." silence...... One of his plaits is sticking out of his head like an antennae. Must look away now.

That's enough for now, before people realise I am gawking and writing about them!!

Tomorrow, dolphins and monkeys.

L xx

Zanzibar days 3+4- married off again.....

After the first couple of days of mortification, today was my first excursion. A trip to the spice farms, a trip to Stone Town, and a trip to Prison Island. All in all a full on day.
Salum arrived at 9am to pick me up in a space wagon, and explained the spice Farms would our first stop.
The Omani people were the first to bring spices over to Zanzibar to farm, after they ousted the Portugese from the country. There are words in the Swahili language which have been fused from Portugese, showing how close those ties were.

So we arrive at a government Spice Farm, over 10 hectares. It wasn't what I expected- looking more like a lush overgrown forest than organised, structured farmland, it was full of tall trees, small shrubs, bushes, flowers and grasses.
Half way down the dirt road, Salum stops and lets a man into the car. A small alarm started ringing off in the back of my head.....
"This is our spice guide. He will be showing us spices to smell, or to taste" he says. Oooookaaaaay...........
Still on the same dirt road, we stop next to another guy, who hands over a box-cutter style knife to the Spice Man.
That small alarm has turned into a full blow foghorn. What the hell am I doing?? I'm in a car, in some random farmy forest, with 2 guys I don't know, one of whom has a knife!!!!
I watch too many movies for my own good. About a dozen scenes from various serial killer movies or tv shows ran through my head in a heartbeat.
Meanwhile, Salum is chatting away about the history of the Spice Farms, and reality filters back into my dizzy head. I'm on a tour, and it's going to be fun. That is all.

The spice farm was actually very cool. My Spice Man cut small pieces of spice from the plants they grow from. Coffee grows on a huge tree? Cardamom grows from the seeds of a flower that grows out the roots, not the stalks of the plant? Iodine is the sap of a tree? Who knew!!!
Cinnamon bark regrows if you slice it off, which is more cost effective than cutting the whole three down- and even the leaves have a cinnamon smell.
I ate a Jack Fruit. It has to be the weirdest fruit I have ever had. It looks like a huge, knobbly rugby ball. Opened, it looks like a cross between a pineapple, and a pawpaw. It has seeds the size of the tip of my thumb, encased in kernels of flesh- a little like sweet corn. And it tastes like a cross between a banana and a pineapple.
My head couldn't work it out, so my taste buds struggled too. Did I like it? I don't know.... It was too different!

The biggest eye opener was cloves. The clove trees are HUGE, and some poor guy has to climb the tree tout the cloves off. Clove smuggling is apparently big business in Tanzania. Yep, you heard. Clove smuggling.
As the most expensive spice grown on the island, you face 30 years in prison if caught with illegal cloves. 30 years????? I don't think you get 30 years for smuggling rhino horn!!! Crazy....

And so onto Stone Town, which was named a World Heritage site back in the 90's.
Narrow alleyways in between 3 or 4 story buildings, Stone Town is bustling. A huge food market was the first thing we saw.... But the smells of the meat and the fish in the 38 degree heat was too much for me, so we swerved around it.
Going through the alleyways, there was such an incredible abundance of colour against the stone walls. Women and children in brightly coloured scarves and robes. Paintings being sold on every corner, and street hawkers selling cd's of "local" music (um..... Bob Marley, local in Zanzibar? Really? That guy gets everywhere!)

One of the stops in Zanzibar was the last standing slave market. Zanzibar abolished slavery in the late 1800's after a plea by David Livingstone and the British government.
Illegal slave trading continued until the early 1920's and "freed" slaves were still mistreated until the revolution in 1964. Only 40 odd years ago. Makes you think, doesn't it?

The British Missionaries turned the slave auction site into an Anglican church after 1894, and kept the stump of the whipping post in the floor of the church in memory of the men, women and children who were whipped, sometimes to death, at this site.
Under the slave market building are 2 slave chambers. Not enough room to stand in, with 2 narrow "windows" for light. This is where the Omani slave traders kept their slaves. Measuring maybe 15 feet by 30 feet, they would keep up to 75 women and children in one, and 50 men in another. A 3 foot channel dug into the stone showed where the slaves had to use the toilet until the tide came in and washed the waste away every day.

It was a really sobering moment, looking around that room and trying to imagine how anyone had the will, or the strength to survive in such conditions, and one I don't think I will ever forget.

After that, Prison Island was a welcome relief. Travelling on a little boat for 20 mins, we arrived on the island. Prison Island never did become a prison, but the original building is being built into...... You guessed it, a hotel! Is anything scared anymore? Watch- some idiot will try and make Stonehenge a hotel at some point.
Anyhoooooo I digress. Prison island is interesting to walk around, but I struggle to see how you can make a half or full day tour out of it. They do have a tortoise sanctuary, with some tortoises over 100 years old, but still.... How many tortoises do you want to look at over an hour, let alone 5 or 8 hours???
They used to let you feed the tortoises until one idiot decided to sit on one (hello, does it look like a pony to you???) and another decided to let their child feed its fingers to one of the larger, more cantankerous ones. Now it's strictly "look but don't touch" which I get. At the end of the day, it's still a wild animal even if it is incredibly slow and ancient.

Am I right in thinking today passed virtually shame free? Hurrah!! Oh wait.... There were about 6 incidents where Salum had comments thrown at him about leaving Tanzania with his new "wife".... That would be me again then. Married off twice in 3 days? Not bad going.......


Day 4 was über lazy. Sunbathed in factor 15 lotion.... Yes, factor 15.... That's BIG for me, who normally wears a factor 2 or on a crazy hot day, factor 6.
I have also come to the realisation than Europeans are way too wary for their own good. I have smiled at loads of couples staying here over the last 3 days in an attempt to open a conversation, only to be shut down hard. When I mean smile, I'm not talking about my "work smile" (people who have worked with me understand) I a talking about a genuine, happy smile. After all, I am on holiday.
Maybe the guys think I'm a crackpot. Maybe the women think I'm a black widow, after their men. Balls to the lot of you, I just wanted to say hello!!!
South Africans are definitely more friendly, and more trusting.
Eventually, I asked a girl where she went snorkelling. We then did strike up a conversation, and it turns out she had her own funny stories, as her "husband" was actually her brother and for 3 weeks it's been easier to go with the flow than try and explain.
They did Kili last week, in 3 days, which made me wish I hadn't busted my back and ankle.
But that's a different story!

Watched the sun set.... Which is meant to be incredible. In a way it is, but it's not as amazing as the sun setting out in the bush. As Salum would say "I a being totally honest with you"



Sill love it here though......

Live, love, laugh....

L xx

Zanzibar days 1 and 2: A Comedy of Errors

I've landed!!! (elated grin) It's pissing down with rain!!!! (smile deflates) The following thoughts run through my head at breakneck speed: How long has it been raining for? When will it end?! Is this going to be a repeat of Mauritius where I didn't see the sun?!! Am I going to go back whiter than when I left?!!! Oh god!!!! I'm going to go back whiter than I left!!!! Wait- is that the airport? That has to be the smallest airport in the world!!!!! So with a slight sense of defeat, I disembarked and headed into what really is the smallest international airport I have ever set foot on.... And walked into disorganised chaos. Even with my visa already pre-purchased, there was a lot of faffing around with the immigration guy who obviously hadn't heard the huge airplane land 500 metres from his desk, and hadn't switched his PC on. Fingerprints, retina scan, check. Visa stamp? Check. I was through to luggage collection... Or was it the exit? Um..... Ok wait. There's a guy manually taking cases off a flatbed and putting them on a cleared floor area. That must be baggage collection. Half an hour later, I had my case. People who had not got their visa beforehand we still trying to get through immigration. Next stop- a guy in uniform checking that I hadn't sneaked through without my visa. All in order? Great! No.......? And then the dreaded "where is your husband?" Me: "No husband, I'm on my own" Uniform: "Why?" Me: "I like it" Uniform: "I will be your husband" followed by a cackle of laughter..... Me: "Great idea! Can I go now?" I slip past my future ex-husband to be greeted by the usual crazy airport exit scene- a load of travel agent types waving placards, a heap of dodgy taxi drivers trying to get your attention, and street hawkers selling tourist tat at exorbitant prices. Fortunately, I found my transfer pretty quickly. Salum escorted me to the car, apologised for the rain and explained that due to the conditions of the road, and the rain, the trip to the airport would be around 90 mins. It was a fairly easy 90 mins, Salum talked a lot about the history of Zanzibar, from the days of the Sultans reign, the slave trade, British sovereign and more. I've now booked Salum to be my tour guide for the rest of this trip.... Got to the hotel, and it is lovely!!! There's only one drawback for me..... The rooms don't have numbers on them. Yes, you heard correctly. No room numbers. Or names. Or anything that would tell me which room I'm in. My room looks exactly the same as the room next door, down to patio furniture. 3 times now I have tried to get into the wrong room (sober, not drunk) which would be bad enough except for the last time, last night, I got: "wrong room...... again" from the guy behind the door I was trying to break into. Mortified much?? Ooh yes. So now I have resorted to putting some of my stuff on the patio table so I can't get confused. I might as well have a sign on the door saying "helllooooooooo!!! Yes dummy, YOU!!! Over here!" And then there was the incident on my first morning.... Day 2 in Zanzibar. I woke up,all excited because I was on holiday, the sun was shining and it was super hot outside. And then I found a gift bag on the door step! Hurrah!! Love gifts- who doesn't? Peeked in the bag and found a sarong, a tangerine and some lovely little pastries..... sat down on the porch, ate the pastries and decided to see what the sarong was like. The first inkling I had that something wasn't right was when I pulled the sarong out..... "it's not a sarong? It's a robe.... " I said to myself. "and what are these keys at the bottom of the bag all about??" It was about this point that reality came crashing down in a spectacular display of mortification. Oh my god..... I had just eaten the maid's lunch!!!!! Her bloody packed lunch!!!!! I have never scooted out of my room so quick in all my life. I pegged it down to the restaurant in the hope there would be something equivalent there. No joy. I then racked my brains trying to think of a master plan that was clearly never going to come. So what is a suitable tip for someone whose food you've eaten/stolen? Revenge came by the way of my masseuse lady. Why is it people will complain about everything and anything except a rough massage? This woman had thumbs of titanium. I'm sure she was related to Wolverine. She was kneading away on the backs of my arms, and the backs of my thighs like she was battering out a steak. I flinched, squeaked, grimaced, clenched my fists, the works. Not once did I say "sorry, that's too hard, would you mind going a bit softer" or "Woman!!! You're killing me here!!!" I lay there for an hour and let her gouge flesh from my skin. Why? I didn't want her to feel bad. Stupid? Oh yes..... And you know what's even more stupid? I tipped her!!! So that was the first 2 days- a comedy of errors. Here's to days 3 and 4... Surely I've made enough faux-pas for one trip?? L xx

Lone Female Traveller

I'm sat at Johannesburg airport waiting for my flight to Zanzibar, and I thought I would share this strange phenomenon I have recently discovered.

It started something like this......

I go to the check in at 1Time desk, hand over my passport and when asked my destination, I reply smiling, "Zanzibar" (bearing in mind it was 5am, the fact she got a smile out of me was pretty remarkable.)

Her own, equally dazzling smile slowly fizzled out into a frown, followed by a look of total confusion.
"You're travelling alone..???"
"Yes I am"

She looked at me with a slight tilt to her head, and then...... "But why?"

So I laughed- I knew I was going to get asked, I just didn't realise it would be so early....

"Because I wanted to"

Now, don't get me wrong, I am no "Eat Love Pray" character. I have no desire to find myself, I know who I am, andI am not rebelling against anything.

I simply wanted to go to Zanzibar and lie on the beach with a few good books for a while.

So why is it people always look at me like I'm mental?

Case #1: Dubai.
I went to Dubai to visit a friend who I hadn't seen in years.
The check in was fine, but the minute I hit Dubai airport, men and women equally stared as I walked around un-chaperoned by a husband or mother.
I discovered there was a separate taxi rank for lone female travellers, and even the buses have "women only" seats up front by the driver, I'm assuming for safety reasons.
I put it all down to cultural differences and thought nothing of it.

Case #2: Mauritius.
On the way back to South Africa from Dubai, I decided it would be quite neat to stop off in Mauritius and soak up the sun. I'd heard the we stunning beaches there, and it was about as idyllic as you could ask for.
Checking into my boutique hotel, my first question asked was "will your husband be joining you?"
Cue me explaining I was on my own.

From there, every restaurant I went to (book in hand) not only was I asked where my husband/boyfriend was, it was always followed up with "are you ok" and a look of uncomfortable pity.

I know I chose a honeymoon destination, but really!!! What did they think? That my betrothed was killed in a heartbreakingly tragic accident that meant I had to come on my honeymoon alone? That maybe I was jilted at the alter and in a gesture of defiance I came on my honeymoon alone??

It's a simple as this.

I enjoy my own company.
I like to go to different countries.
Sometimes my friends can't take leave from work, or don't have the budget to come with me.
If I don't go to these amazing countries, what exactly am I working for?
At 36, I am old enough and brave enough to venture out on my own.

So.... Zanzibar.
Another romantic destination.
Let's see how strangely people look at me.
Maybe I should make up a tragic story about a fictional husband...... Just in case......


Update to follow


Lakota

Live Love Laugh

Xx


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:O R Thambo Airport Rd,Kempton Park,South Africa