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