My Serengeti Guide left me at the Impala Hotel in Arusha, to sleep in a circular bed. The next morning he transported me to Arusha's airport, were I and 10 other over-sized tourists stuffed into a 12 seat-coastal aviation plan. I could watch the pilot, co-pilot and all the controls. I arrived in Zanzibar, to find my "welcome committee" not there to welcome me. After fumbling to the tourist office, I call my hotel. They send a taxi for me. I wait. The taxi arrives. Someone demands a tip for bringing my taxi to me. I tell him, "I'm sorry, but no." My taxi driver is stopped by the police and runs out of gas before we arrive at the hotel. I am not pleased.
Zanzibar disappointment number two. I already know I was not in the hotel I had wanted (the Tempo Hotel). They'd put me up in the Chavda, which had mixed reviews. As I sampled three different rooms, during my three night stay, I can see why. The first two rooms brought back childhood memories...the smell of my grandmother's musty basement. While grandma's basement does have fond associations, I wasn't quite keen on a dank, dark hotel room with mice turds, nestled allong the trim and holes in the mosquito nets.
I started in Stone Town, exploring streets, spices and Prison Island.
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