The Clove Hotel

December 16 – Stone Town, The Old Fort

5:00am. Call to prayer. We can hear the recitation sounding over Stone Town from a nearby Mosque. Most of the people of Zanzibar are Muslim. This will be our ‘wake up’ every morning we’ve been told. Will and I find our nightlights and read. We are wide-awake. Brian gets up and seems recovered. Yeah! I knew it. Breakfast of fresh fruit and local jam and bread on the terrace. Will and Bill head for scuba lessons. Kristin, Brian and I hit the streets. We gaze at doors. Stone Town is famous for them. Huge, elaborately carved wooden doors, some with spikes to keep elephants (which don’t live on Zanzibar) from ramming them. We learn that these doors were inspired by Indian designs. The square doors are Zanzibari. Children are playing soccer with a worn out ball in the narrow street. A young boy (age 10?) runs into me, looks up and smiles. I smile back and pat his shoulder. Touching Africa. It’s becoming real. We stroll down different streets from yesterday. Narrow and winding in all directions. I keep trying to remember the casual greeting Bill and Kristin taught us but my brain scrambles and I keep deferring to ‘Jambo’ (which we’ve learned is only used for tourists). Everyone says it to us as we go past. I marvel at Kristin as she chats people up in Swahili. People respond to us differently when they realize we are not all ignorant of their language. We work our way back toward city centre. Kristin and I recognize a street from yesterday. We lunch again at Old Fort. Lobster. At last! My sorrow from yesterday’s loss is relieved. My lobster is large and succulent and delicious. Grilled with a light curry sauce. Brian likes the painting we bought yesterday. The artist, Jabar, is painting another perspective. I ask more about his Japanese teacher. She was a volunteer who came to Zanzibar for only a short while to teach young people a marketable art. Jabar had been interested in drawing since childhood. He was born on Zanzibar to parents from the mainland who are no longer living. He doesn’t know where they came from precisely as they never were able to take him back to their villages. He signs his paintings ‘Jabar Nice’. We again watch him paint. He takes our canvas off the frame for us and rolls it in a cardboard tube now that it’s dry. We bargain for batiks from another shop and pick out a Tinga Tinga for Patty. The artist produces more small square ones so we have choices. Kristin describes in Swahili what we are looking for. We pick out one that is bright and not too complicated like the original Tinga Tinga’s (he was the artist that started this style of painting). Kristin and I admire a woman’s fabrics and I try on a dress. It is too small. I pick out material and the dressmaker leaves to make a dress for me and one for Kristin. TSH13,000 (about $12.00). I feel like I should give her more but Kristin says it’s fair. I could have a dress made in Kigoma for less. We walk to One Ocean and watch Bill and Will dive in the pool for the 1st time. Their faces intent. Brows knit in concentration. Looking related. We meet back at The Clove Hotel later. Will falls asleep so we leave him there. The four of us walk down the street to KiKude, the restaurant where Bill and Kristin celebrated their 1st anniversary. We relive the day for each other. I order prawns and am served a huge pile. A glass of South African wine. Not too shabby! I order another. I sleep well.

December 15 – Zanzibar, Stone Town

We board a prop plane and 20 minutes later land on the island of Zanzibar. We are all smiles (except poor Brian who has fallen victim to stomach woos). Our passports are stamped and I look for a ‘Brian Hyslop’ sign. I’d arranged to have the hotel send a cab to meet us. I’ve always wanted to do that! There he is! We load our piles of luggage (between us all there are at least a dozen pieces). The drive into our hotel amazes me. We come inches from hitting cyclists. After yesterday, I’m not as shocked by the driving but definitely notice. The road is flooded at one point fulfilling the classic stereotyped image I have of what roads must be like in developing countries. This is for real.



There is an ox pulling a cart. People carry baskets on their heads. Colorful clothes. I feel like I’m watching a documentary. The Clove Hotel. Lisette is there. I have been communicating with her for months over the Internet making these arrangements. Now I’m really here. We wait on the terrace until our rooms are prepared. It’s only 8:45 in the morning. Brian must stay behind as we head out for the first time to walk the streets of Stone Town. I’m sad for him. I assure everyone that though he seems miserable now, he will bounce back quickly and be raring to go soon.
Out on the street. As we turn the corner behind our hotel we immediately enter a narrow alley of shops – vendors at the doors ushering us in. Will and I gaze around like the wide-eyed tourists that we are. We spend hours in an antique shop. The proprietors are from India. It should be a museum. Will finds a Masaai bow and arrow that is 150 years old. He looks at me with, ‘I want that” eyes. The look on his face is one of disbelief. There are spears, voodoo fetishes and carved wooden headdresses. All look very old. Will buys the bow and is assured it can be wrapped for transport. We’ll come get it later.
We walk on. We find the Tinga Tinga artists inside ‘Old Fort’ (which is truly an old stone fort in the middle of town). We eat lunch outside and chat with shop owners. I find a painting I like but want to wait for Brian before committing. The artist paints the animals in small square panels like Patty likes. We are invited into another shop (more like a tiny room with stone walls and tall ceiling).
A man is painting a street scene using a metal blade. The painting appeals to me. The depth he attains and the blending of the subtle colors, various yellows, browns, and oranges impress me. He tells us about himself. His name is Jabar. A Japanese art instructor taught him how to compose. He creates two people on the ‘street’ as we chat. The painting is almost finished. He signs it. Will and I agree that we’d like it. Bill and Kristin have decided the same thing. Well. They graciously defer and we agree that we will buy it and check with Brian, if he doesn’t like it as much as we do, Bill and Kristin will buy it from us. We are so good to each other. We hand over $100.00. Some of the vendors here take US dollars and we haven’t yet gotten any shillings.
Bill and Will head to the dive shop for their first lesson. Getting their PADI’s. Kristin and I continue to wander the streets. We watch a ferryboat’s cargo hold being unloaded by hand. It’s a big boat. Hard work in tropical heat. I feel conspicuously privileged as we drink cold beer in the cool bar next door. We talk about Gombe National Park where Bill and Kristin live and about Wallauer perceived invincibility (‘refusing’ to be sick). There is talk of the chimp, Gaia, being alive, months after Bill and Kristin mourned her announced death. Concern for the future of the park. Deforestation. Poachers. We stroll through a street market showcasing every seafood I know displayed on long outdoor tables. Kristin suggests I not eat any of it. ‘What?!” Cathy torture. She is right, of course, and I am momentarily depressed. One man told us he’s been there since early morning. His lobsters look lovely reflecting in the late afternoon sun. No lobster for me today! We find a day/night teller and I withdraw TSH 700,000 (Tanzanian Shillings) all in 5,000 shilling notes (only about $300.00 US!). I walk out of the bank with my pockets bulging. Feeling conspicuous. Brian is still prone when we return home around 6:00. We are all tired and go to bed. Jet lag finally wins!

December 14 – Addis Ababa, Ethiopia

Awakened by the call to prayer (sometime around sunrise) this is definitely not Oregon! Then a courtesy call at 6:30am. Our van will arrive shortly to transport us back to the airport. Breakfast first, then off again. We comment quietly about the driving (erratic, without recognizable rules), the streets (crowded and potholed), the people (everywhere, colorful). We are not in Kansas. 3 hours to Dar over Mt. Kilimanjaro though we can’t see it. We have landed in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania! We follow the signs to get our Visa’s. We are here and can hardly believe it. We have learned to SLOW DOWN and be thoughtful about navigating VISA/transit lines. We are all doing well. Now we’re even better…. My brother, Bill, has found us! Hugs and smiles. “Our flight was uneventful’ ultimately sums it up. “I am impressed with how nice everyone has been. People stop you just to chat, to offer directions or ask about you and where you’re from. The plane was often loud with cheerful chatter. The children so well behaved….” Bill seems pleased that our impressions are all good. Hugs for his wife, Kristin, and into our waiting taxi. Bill knows everyone here. The Courtyard Hotel. A dip in the pool and we’re off to the travel agent to get our tickets for Zanzibar tomorrow and later to Kigoma. It takes hours but we notice even less than Bill and Kristin. We’re just happy to be here. Our cab driver drives down the sidewalk to avoid a one-way street and once back on the street, honks at a car in the intersection as HE blatantly races through a red light! Nervous laughter from the three of us.
Our 1st real Tanzanian meal at an outdoor café with Kilimanjaro Beer and roasted goat, “OH, Yeah!” We’ve all been awake for hours yet that night I hardly sleep. My body is still convinced it’s in Oregon.

December 13 – Rome to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia

Still flying. Land in Rome in the early morning. 45 minutes to refuel – smell the air through open doors. Italy. For a moment I ponder sneaking off the plane. Too late, we’re off again. We try to stretch and walk around. I wait for the bathroom line to get long before joining it so I can stand for a while. The food is yummy. We land in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. My concern about lodging is quickly relieved as we are helped through lines, given a hotel and meal voucher and transported across town with some fellow travelers. All gratis. Our first glimpse of Africa through the van windows. Like watching a movie; it seems unreal. We are really here. Our hotel, The Queen of Sheba, is old, clean and perfect. Dinner is served to us despite the fact that it is 11:00pm here. We sleep hard for 6 hours.

December 12, 2007 – A Day in the Air

We drive ourselves to the airport. My husband, Brian, my son, Will, and me. We have to be there at 5:40am. Dad, mom and sister Patty will pick up the car later. Brief panic at check in. “Where is Will’s passport?” Slow down. It’s right here. My heart is pounding. Tomorrow we’ll be in Ethiopia. There is lack of clarity around where we will sleep when we get there. I’m trusting a blog about the ease of hotel arrangements. ‘..everything in English…follow the signs….’. We board our flight, seated together, and all try to go back to sleep. Will is successful. Five hours later we land in DC. A five hour layover. Again, Will sleeps, stretched out on sheets I sewed for such a purpose. Brian and I walk around inside the terminal. Circulation feels good. Our flight posts: 3 1/2 hours to go. We find our gate. The line has already formed so we join it. Our African experience has begun. Our fellow passengers speak unrecognizable languages but greet us in English. We are the only Caucasians. The line doesn’t seem to move. The ‘pace’ has ground to a screeching halt. It takes an hour to process the family in front of us. Others around us roll their eyes and smile but the only people who seem openly concerned are the 4 other Caucasians who have joined the line. It takes work to be this patient. An hour late. We’re off!

None of us are in our assigned seats as several parties, including us, negotiated to sit with family. Brian, Will and I are all now seated together. Will has drawn the attention of a two year old, Martha, cruising the aisles under her mom’s watchful eye. Will and Martha quickly have a repertoire of games – pointing to each other, ‘up’ (Will picks her up and sets her down), peek-a-boo (self-explanatory) and looking at each other from funny angles. Her mom smiles and looks relieved. Will is impressively interactive. Overnight. Snatches of sleep.

December 11, 2007- Oregon City Goodbye

A feast is waiting for us when we arrive in Oregon City that evening. We are packed and ready. We share last thoughts and plans. We pass around our passports for everyone to see. Goodnight and Merry Christmas. We will miss you….