Honkey on the Trail

Jambo folks...

Resting in bed after a long night in pitched battle with yet another of the local parasites. This being round three since my arrival, I've begun to feel the added strength found in this new crop of chest hairs earned during the last two bouts - soon I'll be able to drink the water.

Travels in Cuisine

Day before yesterday tagged along with the group as it was Ethiopean on the menu, to mark the return of Percy and Makhali from Paris. It was to be my first experience with Ethiopean so I was looking forward to it all day, even in the late morning when I awoke with the now familiar abdominal cramps - precursor to the liquid ride ahead. No matter, I thoroughly enjoyed the meal despite the knowledge that come morning, it was to be sprayed wastefully into a less appreciative toilet...Anyhoo, I'll take injira bread over cutlery anyday.

The Spice Islands

On the job front, the trail had gone cold. I knew that if I decided to board the next ship back to the new world, I couldn't leave without first trodding aimlessly around Zanzibar.

After four days of wandering Stone town, I jumped the Dala Dala to Nungwe, a village on the very northern tip of the island. Not that I needed, nor did I deserve, a beach holiday, but the coastline on the northern and eastern shores of Zanzibar are reputed to be quite striking. They were indeed. I've been fortunate to have had the chance to experience some stunning coastlines, such as in Florida and the Florida Keys, the Cote D'Azur and the Costa del Sol, and not least of which Nova Scotia and Prince Edward Island. But the colour of the water, which rings the island, is a brilliant turquoise, so brilliant as to appear radioactive. I had up to this point been traveling with Christine, a little Viking girl who had been on a tour of Africa in search of the best scuba-diving spots. She didn't have too much trouble convincing me to take the plunge. (Needless to say, Scandinavian women rarely encounter much resistance)

It could very well have been the most enjoyable experience of my life, and one would suppose, marked the onset of a new addiction for me. Trop cher I am well aware, but as long as it's not *&%*$! golf - my early impression of diving, is that it appears an endeavor/pastime that enriches ones life, as opposed to enveloping it.

Lunatic Rant

Though I am getting old and have lost a measure of my animation, it's still possible to evoke rage from my increasingly benign demeanor. Of course it's easier for those having narrow perceptions of things, music for example. Hip Hop being the oft-maligned and most convenient target. I readily concede some is predictable, but a blanket condemnation is superficial. In our generation we've been privileged to witness the birth of a new musical genre, born from intense beats and rhythm's, but also from desperate poverty - a common denominator in a great deal of relevant art, from Irish literature to Jamaican reggae.

Now I bring this up because I was at one point, riding in the Dala Dala south along the west coast back to Stone town, and was by chance, listening to a New York City rapper, Nas. (Whose father is a relatively well-known Jazz musician) Lyrically, he's awfully strong, but in this particular song, spoke of having the 'blood of a slave, and the heart of a king'. This framed in the context of Zanzibar, where in the early 19th century, upwards of 50,000 slaves were 'exported' annually, helps one to better understand the roots from which the music grows. Despite the birth of the information superhighway, the minds of many continue to narrow, and I find music is the easiest way to smoke them out.

Final Mindless Thoughts

Well, Zanzibar can easily be described as 'sensual', and has a noticeably different rhythm than the mainland. During the mid 1800s the Zanzibar archipelago had the largest crop of cloves in the world. Today the islands produce big hauls of a number of spices, from cinnamon and nutmeg, turmeric and ginger, to lemongrass and vanilla. Though in its infant stages, my passion for cooking sits front and center in my life, so touring the spice plantations within the interior of the island was a memorable treat for me.

Like many people, my memories are best recounted when interwoven with more than one sense, or perhaps experienced in concert with something else stimulating. Memories of the beachouse in Vero are reawoken at the mention of Keroac, as I read 'On The Road' with my feet buried in the sand a few feet in front of my doorstep.

On the same vein (pretentious turd that I am) as pairing the right wine to ones meal, music and books are a necessity for me when traveling. Travel condiments. My Morcheeba (British band) had been tucked away dormant, until my arrival in Zanzibar. For Whatever reason, Morcheeba's vibe seems to be on a similar frequency as Zan.

Just bought the Karen Blixen (Isak Denison) novel 'Out of Africa'. I have always wanted to read it, but can't imagine a more appropriate time to break the crease than my forthcoming (hopefully) bus ride up to Nairobi.

Ciao