It was with mixed feelings that I headed away from
An hour and a half along a miraculously un-potholed road brought us to Kendwa. Our bus dropped off each tourist at their destination resort. My choice, Kendwa Rocks, seemed to be a good one, based on the others I had the opportunity to peak at. I was led down to the beach where my wooden bungalow was perched in the sand. The location was prime although the deep mahogany wood washed the room in depressing darkness. No matter though, 95% of my time was spent on the most beautiful beach I’ve ever laid eyes on. Thirty steps from my bungalow’s hammock positioned me on th
e shores of the
I bathed myself in sunscreen, fluttered my towel down in the waves of sand and listened to the water lick the shore and return in lulling repetition. The hours before and after lunch were spent in blissful relaxation, tanning, reading, and the piece de résistance, swimming. Never before have I experienced the euphoria of dipping into water like this. My feet, dusted in white sand, met the w
arm milky foam at the sea’s shore. The sun’s reflection danced across the water, whose calm turquoise colour washed peace over my mind. I moved through as if descending stairs into a ballroom, drinking in the infinite water touched only by the sun’s rays. The temperature barely cool enough to refresh my skin, the slightest breeze kicking off the water to moisten my face. I dove through the water, floated lazily on its surface. Swam out far enough to discover an unending expanse of clean, shallow water with nothing but white sand below. I felt as if I could happily swim forever. I ate my meals book in hand, permanently barefoot, toes beneath the sand. I delighted in fresh tuna steak, crab salad, octopus curry, all washed down with a cold Kilimanjaro beer, or a frothy tropical shake.
A few days later it was time to move to 
half drive and I arrived at Sunrise Hotel; several beach-facing bungalows connected by decorative walkways and a grand open-air restaurant and pool. Very picturesque, with Zanzibari antiques on each brightly painted wall, and a beautiful pond flowing around the grounds. The guidebook mentioned
On the third day on the East coast I moved down the beach to a quaint little place called Robinson’s. Nestled amoung the trees, this 5-room retreat owned by a lovely Zanzibari-German couple was backpacker-friendly and much less resort-y. I stayed in the bottom floor of a tree house! I spent the days reading and feverishly trying to remember to r
e-apply sunscreen every hour. This equatorial sun burns like nothing I’ve ever experienced. Dinner, served by the Zanzibari owner on a communal blanketed floor, was an entire ‘robbot’ fish, rice with coconut vegetable stew and a friend sweet banana. The company included a reflective Englishman and his take-charge girlfriend, a lone German woman straight out of the steroid drama and Danish honeymooners who wouldn’t have felt out of place had the dinner been at Paris Hilton’s house, such was their choice of conversation topics, their dress, and their mastery of MTV colloquialisms.
The Danish woman, a 25-year-old self-professed ‘Bollywood’ look-a-like took half the night describing her newly purchased “cutestpuppyohmygod” and her husband felt it appropriate to share his “African” story about a drinking contest in a ritzy South African safari lodge that involved shoving toilet paper ‘where the sun don’t shine’ and lighting it on fire. Both husband and wife continued to refer to Africans as ‘the black people’ and spouted such gems as “I wonder how black people get married?” as if it would be some barbaric naked dancing-under-the-moon ceremony. To be fair, they were equally prejudiced to people in their own part of the world, mentioning how ever since the European Union expanded its membership, “dirty Polish, Romanian and gypsy thieves and beggars” had “infiltrated the clean streets of
This couple reminded me once again of the many shades of ‘Muzungu’ who visit
Before I go and offend half the people reading this, please know that I do not dare present this as fact, but simply as something I’ve noted in my personal observations, having lived in Uganda for 6 months. Of course not everyone who visits the continent falls neatly into a category. This is just a different way of expressing my experiences thus far. I’ve been witness to disrespect, disinterest, disregard, and even outright racism, but have of course also seen humble, selfless, truly altruistic and entirely respectful visitors as well. Unfortunately, as is usually the case, the bad tends to outshine the good.
I don’t have to pull my foot too far out of my mouth. I stand by my original statement, the Danish couple remain the ditsy-est Europeans I’ve ever encountered and when they claimed to be thirty I almost asked if I could see their passports. I do, however, confess that some of the other fellow guests, namely the British couple, turned out to be very decent people.
Steven and Debbie invited my to join them for dinner at a seafood bar down the beach on my second night on the East coast. The meal was a delicious medley of octopus, prawns, and marlin, washed down with armarula and fresh coconut. I was grateful for the company. Being a single traveler can really wear on a person. It’s wonderful for short periods of time; you make your own decisions, don’t need to take anyone else into consideration; you can go anywhere, do anything. You have ample time to think, reflect, contemplate; you can write, read, daydream to you heart’s content. You can walk slowly through your day, soaking up all the sights and sounds with no distractions. Unless you’re extroverted, however, this silence can become deafening. No one to bounce ideas off of, no one around for advice, no one to express you thoughts to. No one to notice what you’re noticing. Things become a little monotonous, a little mundane, they seem to lose their vibrancy. Food tastes good, but may have been better if you had someone to share a bite with. The sunset would have been up in my top 5 ever experienced, if there had been someone sitting next to me. I might have been a little braver bargaining with a friend by my side. You begin to realize how much you appreciate your friends and how you often take their presence for granted. I consider myself extremely lucky to have the group of close friends that I do, and am fully aware now that they added so much meaning and vibrancy to my life.
My final days in 
almost out of cash, so I paid a visit to the bank, which refused to accept my ATM card. It dawned on me that I had enough money to last me one more day, yet I wasn’t booked to fly home for four. The next 24 hours were spent begging for a free flight change, attempting to redeem my previous experience at the Fish Market by getting a towering plate of seafood for 2000Tsh, whose sustenance had to last for a day and a half and soaking up the free sunset. My last bills were spent on the ride to the Airport, leaving me to beg forgiveness for having no cash for the $30 Airport tax. Upon arriving in
Arriving at home I was at once reminded about what I had been missing. My boda-driver friends drove up to welcome me home, the woman I buy my phone minutes from came running up to give me a hug, everyone was all smiles, genuinely welcoming. Of course my reunion with the boys was euphoric. My trip allowed me to realize how blessed I am to have such an amazing family here in
~Nicole
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