In Tanzania, there is actually a holiday dedicated to Zanzibar, complete with the full trimmings like Veteran's Day or Martin Luther King Day: a Monday holiday (this January 12, no less) that gives its workers a full day off, if desired, although I have often found many don't, due to the loss of income this might entail.
At any rate, we decide to travel to Zanzibar for the weekend.
To travel to Zanzibar from the mainland, you can go by air or by boat, of which we choose the latter. The flight, as we have already seen, is a quick hop that takes less than a half hour on a small puddle jumper. Like the plane, the ferry also requires a booking in advance. So be it, that's what we have travel agencies for, although I can do without their tiring service charges at times.
There are three classes you can book: economy, first class, and VIP. The difference in price is hardly substantial. Economy goes for about 14 bucks one way, first class 17, and VIP about 20. Okay, then. Let's make it count, I am thinking, and let's go VIP, although I don't have the slightest idea what I am paying the extra bucks for.
All right, so the old routine. Liebi packs, I call a cab to get us to the ferry: ironically, the ride to the ferry within Dar is more expensive than the trip to Zanzibar itself, although I am fairly sure we got taken on that one. We pick up the kids from school early, and we are ready to go. Bash, in particular, for some reason seems all keyed up about going to Zanzibar.
So the cab drops us off at the ferry, right away we are surrounded by authorized personnel for baggage handling, one guy grabs my big backpack, and we are guided toward the queue. Like at an airport, there are body scanners, although Liebi and I wonder: isn't this still Tanzania we are traveling to, technically? Okay. Off goes the belt, and out come the spare change and keys.
The VIP lounge, if you want to call it that, is an area cordoned off from the common area by little more than a rope, and is little more than rows of tattered plastic tables and chairs served by various vendors. The place looks like it received the royal treatment from a tsunami, and there's trash scattered everywhere. I order an Azam cola. Never heard of it in my life, but it's quite good. More than anything, I am relieved that the whole passenger area is covered-by cheap tin roofing, but that will more than do. The last thing I need is for the mzungu family to char in the sun for hours while waiting for our departure.
Finally, we are ready to board, and people push and shove to get to the ticket controllers. Man, I am thinking, the things people could achieve if they learned how to stand in line. I have a distinct advantage due to size and height, so Liebi and the kids fall in behind me. Our tickets are checked, we proceed up a few stairs, and we are finally on board the Kilimanjaro 3, a super fast catamaran that will take us to Zanzibar for the weekend.
The ferries are all numbered, like Kilimanjaro I, II, III and IV or the like, and there's an advertisement for the new Kilimanjaro V, a new super fast catamaran with 32 knots of speed that can hold 550 passengers, although knowing how developing countries work, will probably try and cram six or seven hundred onto it.
On board the Kilimanjaro III, we finally find out what we paid the extra six bucks for: super comfy chairs that you would expect in the business class section of a plane. Plenty of room for all of us. Rock on, let the trip begin.
Ferries, and in particular catamarans, are certainly enticing on paper, at least until you are actually reminded that they are quicker than you think. Unfortunately, this also means sea sickness. Axl is the worst off for it and needs his momma to hold him throughout the trip. I struggle but eventually catch my sea legs, while Bash doesn't seem to mind it at all.
We watch a bad Sylvester Stallone movie on LCD flat screen TV's until we finally hear the announcement through the PR. Welcome to Zanzibar. In other words, Land ho!
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