Sights and Sounds

The main hall of the Egypt Museum. Tourists aren’t supposed to bring in cameras… But they let me bring in my iPhone. This was one of 3 must-do activities for my brief stay in Cairo. It was cool, with an abundance of interesting antiquities, but it was kind of disappointing. Unlike the main hall, most spaces were dark and dingy. Many of the pieces were poorly labled, if they had any labels or signage at all. In some places, pieces were simply piled on each other in a dark corner. Worst of all, the museum admission was 60 Egyptian Pounds, but then they were charging another 100 to go to the royal mummies section. Lame.

Distractions From The Perfect Lunch

I’ve finally found it, the holy Grail of midday bourgeois gastronomy, the star-crossed pursuit of many a bygone gourmond, the perfect lunch. The secret? Location, location, location. I’ve had better food, but the subtle comination of wind rustling through palm trees, distant surf crashing over a barrier reef, sunshine glinting off the bright blue waters of the nearby pool and green waters of the flats stretching out nearly to the horizon, together these factors take a burger that is merely good—albeit long-awaited—and elevate it to the level of the sublime.

The brightness and brilliance of this, my moment of perfection in consumption and leisure, is enough even to distract me from the sad, searching gazes of the beach boys (the impoverished locals who will try desperately, aggressively to sell you anything and everything from a joint or a nigt with an “African Mama” to a woodcarving or a snorkeling expedition) standing just on the other side of the fence that separates this outpost of luxury and affluence from their threadbare, impoverished existence. It’s only after the meal is over, the last bite savored, that the spell is broken and I am once again aware of the sad reminder of the vast gulf that separates my fortunes from those of the locals.

Dhow

After spending the past two afternoons sailing a conventional catamaran (Dart 18), today I opted for a more traditional Zanzibarian sailing experience, a dhow. Julius, the captain whose boat I chartered, had been after me the past two days; every time I came down to the beach he beseeched me to come out on his “high technology dhow”. After looking at the above picture you might ask exactly what about this dhow is “high technology”? I have no clue. I’m tempted to say it’s just a marketing/branding tacttic, since the most advanced tech on board appears to be the scavenged ropes, but I think it’s pretty generous to assume that Julius knows what “marketing” and “branding” are. Of course, the irony is that if he’s trying to promote his boat to me or most other wazungu by claiming “high-tech” credentials, he’s actually undermining himself since we would want to sail a dhow because it’s old and traditional.

Julius’ dhow, which I christened the RZS (Republic of Zanzibar Sailboat) Dauntless, is more than 5 years old, but with proper care and maintainence he claims it will last more than 20 years. Other than the piece of bamboo supporting the sail and the various scavenged lines, the entire boat—hull, outriggers, tiller, rudder, etc.—is made from the wood of a mango tree. I don’t think there was a single piece of metal involved, everything is either cut to fit together, or lashed together with ropes. Before he went into the mzungu charter business 3 years ago, Julius used the Dauntless as a fishing vessel, doing some deep sea fishing but mostly spearfishing around the reef and in the flats. Unfortunately, the years of diving took a tool on his ears and now he can’t go more than about 2 meters deep without excruciating pain, so now he makes his money taking people like me on short cruises. He’ll also take you out deep sea fishing if the conditions are right (he claims to have caught everyhing from tuna to sailfish to marlin from his dhow), but it’s not the high season for any big game fish and I didn’t want to pay anything more than 40,000Tsh, so I opted for just a 2-hour cruise inside the reef.

Apparently there is more than one type of dhow, some of which can be easily sailed with a single person, but the Dauntless requires a two-man crew, one to skipper and the other to work the sail. When we began, Julius was working the sail and his assistant Barack (I think that 30% of the locals have recently renamed themselves “Barack” for some odd reason, I really can’t imagine why) was skippering. I made myself useful by pestering Julius with a barrage of questions about himself, his boat, and the local attractions. After we sailed a few kilometers north along the beach, Barack jibed—one doesn’t tack in a dhow… maybe it’s technically possible, but it isn’t the done thing—and I took over the tiller as we headed out towardsthe reef. Turning the Dauntless is an intricate manuver, which requires the 2nd crew mber to untie the main sheet as well as another line securing the bamboo boom (though I’m not sure “boom” is the right term since it’s on top of the sail, like on a Sunfish) to the mast and then pulling the sail and main sheet all the way around the front of the boom and retting the main sheet and the supporting line. Julius had the supporting line smartly rigged up so that he could keep a bowline tied on the end and basically cleat the line to either side without undoing the knot, but even so it was a lengthy and cumbersome process—hence the need for a 2nd crew member.

I skippered the Dauntless for another hour or so, out to the reef and then back south along the reef before returning to the resort. It was fun, and it’s cool to be able to say that I’ve sailed a dhow on the Indian Ocean, but I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t take a Dart, or a Hobie, or most any other modern sailboat over the Dauntless any day of the week. I’m glad to have had such a uniquely Zanzibarian experience, but weather permitting I’ll be back on the Dart 18 tomorrow.

Leopard. From my safari on the Serengeti.

Palm Trees in the Zanzibar Moonlight

Late Afternoon Sky Over Zanzibar, through Palm Trees 

Dinner, poolside. The food here is disturbingly good and all-you-can-eat—an unfortunate combination. Fresh veggies and seafood galore. I had some kind of grilled shellfish with dinner that was like a jumbo shrimp, crossed with a fish, in a lobster shell. It was tasty. Pretty sure i ate too much. At least I skipped desert?

Beautiful Zanzibarian sunset.

Dalla-Dalla

This is a Dalla-Dalla, the preferred form of public transport among the urban and rural poor of Tanzania. To my American eyes it looks like something that might comfortably seat 10 or maybe sqeeze in 15, so I was shocked when I first saw one with people packed into literally every cubic inch of space behind the driver and even a few hanging off the side. They can and will put 25+ people into one of these things, so don’t plan on taking the Dalla-Dalla unless you’ve overcome your need for personal space.

Sailing!

Spent the late afternoon sailing a small catamaran off this beach, in the Indian Ocean.