Karibuni Zanzibar!

I had a sudden urge to blog as I sat outside a small café, steps away from my hotel in stone town, Zanzibar, as I listened to the Muslim call to prayer (as my friends drink zanzabari tea and I obviously eat NOT JUST ONE, but TWO brownies.). I WAS writing my academic journal (in this ridiculously humid weather) which is due tomorrow at midnight my time, but I couldn’t let a moment like this go by because the only way to immortalize this incredible moment of cultural immersion is in writing.

I'm in Zanzibar, an island just off the coast of Tanzania. For a long time, Zanzibar was its own country or was fighting to be its own country . When Tanganika merged with Zanzibar, the name of the country changed to include both and hence we now have TanZANia. This place is full of winding roads. It is so incredibly easy to enter into this maze, even with a map and get completely lost. I speak from personal experience. I have gotten completely and utterly lost over 3 times here with a MAP IN HAND (although that doesn't say much because I am definitely not one to be good with directions). But really - it's hard to find your way around. 

It’s a good thing that the ppl here are so friendly and always saying “jambo”  and “karibu (welcome)”. I literally can not walk down the street without receiving ten “Karibu Tanzania” from randos on the side of the road. Yesterday I went on a hunt to the Aga Khan Mosque because I was told (before I left) that I HAD to go see it and I HAD to buy some pakoras from “the lady frying them on the street around the corner from the mosque”. (thanks andi).

So I went with my friends: Katie and Natalie and we happily put on our scarves, thinking we would definitely be able to get into the mosque, only to get completely lost and then guided to the door of the mosque by a group of giggling women, at which point we were rejected entry. Which was ok. I could have maybe pretended to be ismaili? But since I was with a crew of white kids, that probably wouldn’t have worked out too well. Despite that setback, we enjoyed the beautiful doors of the mosque and the professional photographer that happened to be passing by. He got some great shots of us at the doors with my camera. Unfortunately I didn’t get to go to the pakora lady because I was pretty focused on finding my way back home, after we couldn’t get in.

Anyways. The streets have become busy and bustling again (now that prayer time is over). And I need to get back to getting my academic thoughts down on paper :).