Travels with my Stethoscope .

Friday 1st march 2013
Due to a little bit of peer pressure (it didn't take much, to be honest), I am going back on my word and will continue to post a few times while I'm in Zanzibar. There's no nursing involved, but it's really beautiful here, and it deserves a mention.
True to my nature (I will clearly never learn) I spent my last night in Nairobi having dinner out with fellow volunteers, before going back to the house , and, very sensibly, considering I had to leave at 0500, staying up to the wee small hours, chatting with my room-mates. when Django (the owner of the house's son) came down and invited us to watch a horror film with him at about 0200.Of course, being all grown up and sensible, I agreed. This led to me waiting outside the gate to the compound at silly o'clock, not having slept a wink. Thank goodness for airport lounge passes. It really makes a whole world of difference to sit on comfortable sofas in what counts as a "VIP" lounge (when the airport is pretty awful) sipping  free G&T, eating a rather suspicious kebab, using free internet, while your fellow travellers are perched on iron seats in what appears to be a departure area based on a carousel, trying to unstick their feet from the carpet.
As we flew in to Zanzibar, we passed Mount Kilimanjaro on our right ( I had booked a seat on the left - grr!) and landed in the land of spice. Now normally I love that rush of humid air as you exit the plane, the feeling that you are really somewhere exotic, but in my sleepless state, all I felt was a bit faint and very very hot - Kenya is very dry heat, with the evenings cool, so I will need to acclimatise all over again...
Everything was made immediately brilliant though, the moment I arrived at my very posh, very expensive hotel. It is the most wonderful place, the rooms decked out in antique Zanzibarian artifacts ( I have a framed kimono on my wall that looks a bit like a dementor from Harry Potter), and run by a chap called Emerson ( hence " Emerson Spice Hotel") . Now as my internet is currently down, I have no idea if he really looks like Ernest Hemmingway, but in my imagination, he is the spitting image of Mr Hemmingway, down to the Fedora, the rheumy eyes, and the complete ease with which he greets all his patrons.
My room is the smallest, and called " Turandot", all the rooms being named after operas. My balcony however, is huge, and boasts an outside shower and bath, with curtains to pull across for modesty. There is, of course, an indoor bath and shower, the former the size of a small swimming pool. My goodness - it was heaven. After washing out of a bucket of cold water for a month, next to a "long drop" latrine (hole in the ground), I really couldn't have been any happier.I honestly do not feel I wasted my first day in Zanzibar, having a bath, ordering divine spicy fish cakes to be delivered to my room for lunch, and sleeping until five pm in my huge four poster bed with a mosquito net that reaches to the 20 foot ceiling
Today I wandered off for an explore . Now those of you that know me, will be well aware that I am not known for my sense of direction. In fact, I can hear some of you laughing now. Take that, coupled with tiny, winding streets, none of them going in a direction that makes any sense, and you will see how I spent several hours pleasantly lost. I'm not sure who said " You're never lost, you're just somewhere you've never been before", but he was clearly not in my shoes this afternoon. I was lost, good and proper, for hours. The heat being so oppressive, I never got much beyond an amble however, and turned corners that led to surprisingly beautiful courtyards that I never would have found had I had any idea where I was going. At one point I stumbled upon the fish market, no mzungos in sight, a mass of fishy shouting craziness, then to find myself surprisingly on the beach, with what should have been a beautiful view, had it not been marred by a huge crane on the docks. My direction detractors would have been very impressed with me though, I somehow found my way back to where I had started, hot, tired, and really very happy.
I passed women in hajibs, women in full purdah, and young girls in school uniform that made them look like little eggs - long black skirts and an almost nun-like head-dress that surrounds their face, and comes down to their elbows. Everyone, but everyone, once they see you're a mzungo, greets you with "Jambo" (Hi), and says " Karibu" (welcome) Everyone smiles. Big overweight men, lounging in doorways, ask you if you are lost, for no other reason that to help you with your directions. ( There is a lot of lolling about done during the day, mainly by men, who are uniformly polite). Of course there are the persistent touts, wanting your business, following you for a little way, trying to sell their trip/spices/hotel, but a firm, polite "No" just works. I wonder if India and places like it, harden you - I certainly have had to put my suspicions aside here more than I have ever done (although a healthy dose of street awareness stands you in good stead). Had a wonderful 5 course meal on the roof terrace this evening, where a very kind American lady, quite apologetically, asked me if I would like to join them, as her husband felt sorry for me being alone. She very quickly added that she didn't, and thought I looked quite happy - but I appreciated her kindness. I declined - I was having a lovely time.
Off back to basic living tomorrow, to a beach called Paje, where I will be living in a room with sand on the floor and a fan - lovely as this is, the people you meet in these nice hotels....well, I just don't have  great deal in common with them. Looking forward to diving, hammock time, and reading.

Goodnight all.