Should I stay or Should I go now? - Weds 29/10/25

It's a little wet but not enough to deter more wandering , the girls are north bound to play with sealife stuff through our ever loyal tour guide, it's not really my bag to swim alongside flipper so for the first time this week we are on alternate schedule. We didn't think to much of it in terms of contingency which looking back was a combination of naievty and luck, we've travel a lot and adhere to our own rules between us which involve you have your own passport, money and ticket/schedule so if one doesn't show then you still proceed. Some of our friends are horrified at this but it works for us...

I'm trying to get over to Dar Es Salaam on the mainland but am being repeatdily told not to, In my eyes that's even more reason to do it. I've been sold a ferry ticket online for this morning but can see the boats have not moved out of the harbour since last night which doesn't bode well so it's plan B which is short flight of 30 mins and whatever chaos before and after landing, looks fun and at $21 each way a bargain. In chatting to a few locals who are concerned that I would make this trip unless essential and a whole array of head shaking is happening until the 'boss man' says you may get there but you may not get back for a while. So with a rare moment of common sense I abandon what later turned out to be the Lions Den and it's Plan C.

I now have a new set of friends a could form a band now of Nigel and the Head Shakers but all are more than happy to take me around some of the local places in Zanzibar and away from the Airport. Not far from the road between Stone Town and Bububu, under fig trees and fragments of sun, lie the ruins of Zanzibar’s first royal palace. Mtoni is not grand. It is quiet. A crumbling labyrinth of coral stone and mango roots, where sultans once slept and spice-scented breezes moved through courtyards laced with carved teak. The last Sultan could have been called the Sultan of Swing with three wifes and 33 other close female friends but was referred locally to as Mr Big Jiggy Jiggy and died quite young - I had no words but got the general idea.

We then moved on to Zanzibar's own Kilamanjaro - at the great height of 120 Metres compared to the real one on the mainland standing somewhat taller at 5,895m. We are now in the centre of the island and it's very green and wet, a tad ironic as we're visiting Kidichi Persian Baths although still impressive but perhaps not the safest of place to visit, it's decribed as open to visitors, but the site is not well-maintained and has signs of areas of large deterioration. It didn't disappoint and walls crumbling with some floor areas none existant but you could still imagine how grand it once was.

We stop a final time at another palace hsas been reclaimed mostly buy nature and a short walk down to a working harbour although scattered with abandoned boats which had seen better days but lovely people to say hallo to and exchange views on the English Premiership Football which is a common ice breaker.

It's time to reconvene with the girls an trade stories, the miltary type presence is ever increasing on the streets so we opt for dinner at a guarded hotel over looking the bay in a bubble of peace and safety but all too aware things are going wrong and likely to get worse.