I won't cook your favourite meal, but I'll order it from ZANZIBAR!

Luis, a friend with whom I did an MSc in Economics at UCL and had moved to Zanzibar with the Overseas Development Institute, had generously offered to let me stay at his in Stonetown. We met for some Masala tea then lunch with only an hour between - working life is relaxed in Zanzibar. I spent the intermittent hour furiously searching for the few people that had decided not to join the organised spice tour. Though I'm interested in learning about the slave trade, how spices are made and other history of Zanzibar...I was tired of being hurried around, Zanzibar was to be my opportunity to break away from the institutionalisation of the group (by which I mean, not being able to function without it, like Brook the old man in Shawshank redemption ... and we all remember how that ended) and recharge my batteries.

Fortunately I met up with the few remaining from the Masai Mara tour, a group with whom i have really bonded: Luke and Robyn (the modern Bohemian couple that are enticed by the tribal way of life and are sadly leaving London to return to Australia), Mark and Christina (a charming couple of teachers from Essex that exude a feeling of couples of an older British generation, though they themselves are quite young) and Charlotte (a travel consultant with the voice of an angel and a blossoming self-confidence).

Our snorkelling trip can only be summed up with one word: Uhuru. It means freedom in Swahili. To be able to do what we want, when we want and in our own time was incredible.

Unfortunately I got stung by some jellyfish - don't worry, they're only small things that look like floating unravelled condoms, they barely prickle.

We stopped on prison island to see the tortoises. I had no pre-conception about what I was to see, so I was so excited, like a little boy in a sweet shop, when I saw scores of collossal tortoises walking around us in this small park. We fed them lettuce, watched them chomp, stroked them, played with them, watch them walk around all excited, we even heard them fart! They are utterly incredible animals. One was 185 years old. It was like being in a nursing home for dinosaurs. For those of you that have seen Land Before Time (a cartoon adventure by Steven Spielberg that I loved as a kid), they are exactly like the baby stegosaurus that used to eat and eat and eat and eat, but never say anything.
 
We eventually headed back to the Stonetown, showered up and went out for dinner. The central fish market was an assault on the senses. Every stall had a medley of octopus, calamari, lobster, shark and other fish. After walking around to take in the smells and taste, we loaded up a plate that the stall operators proceeded to barbeque for you in a central barbeque. We then went on to a bar.

I had expected to stay for maybe a drink or two, unfortunately, Luke hitting the threshold of two drinks beyond which he descends on the slippery slope to loud insobriety, had got his mojo going, so that egged me on a little bit. Luis joined us with some friends. He had told me that since he was doing a scuba course the next day, he would have to be in bed early - I couldn't have heard sweeter words. Unfortunately that's not how the night unravelled. We ended up in the 'biggest' club in Zanzibar which wasn't bigger than a prison cell. The music was mostly western....poker face, empire state of mind, etc...but often the speakers would be overcome with a wave of static as if a low flying aircraft was disturbing the radio waves. A television, precariously taped to the wall, was showing MTV, though the horizontal lines of static fuzz moving up and down, suggested that a VHS recorder was on a loop in a backroom somewhere. Supposedly women of the night joined us on the dancefloor and a guys stood in the back wearing t-shirts that said "whorecore' or "England" on them - barbarians. This is true, but it was completely safe and quite fun. Plenty of attracting young people, white, black and mixed, being merry.

I finally got to bed after having my skeleton thoroughly shaken at 3h00. I had been up for 23 hours straight after 5 nights of 4 hours of sleep a night. The proverbial candle had no ends left to burn.

Unfortunately I was rudely awoken by an obnoxious bird skworking (?) outside my wind. After getting my attention, he proceeded to throw up or laugh, whatever it was, it was not funny.

I raced to town to meet Charlotte for a whirlwind spice tour of our own, then we all jumped on a bus north to Nungyi, a beach town. This is where I am now and will stay until Tuesday, to finally recharge my batteries.

We went for dinner along the beach last night. When we arrived, I saw a few guitars up on stage and was itching for tinkering, but too nervous to ask. Well as soon as I had finished dinner, I had found myself reluctantly volunteering to play bass for the band for the entire night. I was up on stage following the rhythm guitarist play simple chords progressions while my adoring fans shouted all my names and nicknames. Though nervously excited, I lacked energy and it was noticeable. Overall the band were pretty crap, though those watching said otherwise, it didn't sound pretty from where I was sitting, at least at first - it did get better as the night went on. We played Jammin' by Bob Marley, some Bob Dylan, Eagle Eye Cherry, Oasis, Zombie, classic songs I had never learnt.

In the intermission, I grabbed the electro-acoustic guitar and set myself up in front of a mic. I invited a friend to come up and sit beside me, I told her I was to perform her a song. I think her maternal instincts had sussed it was more support in overcoming nerves and just messing around than a romantic jesture of any kind. I played 'Hey Ya' by Outkast, but it didn't really take as I wasn't singing loud enough. I tried playing some blink 182, as my mind went blank. Having heard 'what's my age again' a good looking surfer dude came to grab the bass. The boy could slap a bass with the best of them.

We played 'Sitting, waiting, wishing' by Jack Johnson while a large crowd sung along. I then asked him if he knew 'drive' by Incubus. He looked at me as if to say sarcastically then excitedly 'Do I KNOW drive?! Hell yeh, I know drive!'. The whole crowd sung along. It was awesome. Personally, that was quite rewarding. The band came back on and were ok but lacklustre. Though I had had a nap during the day, the hangover was starting to creep back and at times I prayed that everytime I heard "this is the last song!" it didn't hold the same lack of truth that the night before had held when I was told "this is the last beer!".

Hannah, the welsh girl, having started drinking after we had checked in was three sheets to the wind by the time the band packed up. She asked me to take her back to the hotel, so that she wouldn't end up doing anything stupid, as the others were heading out to a club. The road we had come on was closed, as we had walked through a private residence, so we had to take the long way. Unlit, dirt tracks roads, with ominous dark figures moving around was not tempting, especially with the onset of fatigue. We decided to turn back when two vans started coming towards us, headlights blazing. We stood to the side, hoping this wasn't last chance Sunday.

Fortunately for us, it was the others getting a taxi to the club. 12 of them in a truck, we piled in and they dropped us off at the hotel. And finally I was able to rest...