Christmas in Nungwi

We left Paje a few days before Christmas and went up north to Nungwi, a village at the very northern tip of Zanzibar – slightly more touristy, slightly more of a party scene. Bri and I found a beautiful (by our standards, anyway) cheap bungalow, literally on the beach. The water was equally stunning, the sand a little less soft, and the beach bars definitely busy. The piña coladas are actually made with fresh cut pineapple, and the seafood was literally just pulled from the sea. Lunch consisted of fresh mango, pineapple and coconut, straight from the tree. Since only locals seem to possess the skill to crack open a coconut, I was forced to bargain for my fruit, which seemed absurd considering the thousands of coconuts scattered everywhere. So it goes.

On the day of Christmas Eve, our neighbors, two Swedish girls and an Austrian guy, convinced us to go deep sea fishing. It was expensive, but sounded awesome – what the hell is deep sea fishing anyway? – so at 6am we got on a boat and headed out nearly two hours into the “deep sea.” Absolute torture – I have never experienced seasickness before, but being on a small boat, hours from shore, it feels like the waves and churning and bouncing will never end. I spent the next four hours seasick, miserable, and clenching the side of the boat, contemplating jumping in just for relief. Forget fishing; I couldn’t even turn around to look whenever the line caught. Like the true friend she is, Bri got sick too, and we eventually convinced them to turn back. One of the Swedish girls put two anti-nauseous pills in my hand, which I swallowed without a second thought. I later found out you’re only supposed to take half, and when we got back to shore, I immediately passed out, and spent the next twenty four hours completely high and/or dazed.

Christmas Eve was wonderful nonetheless. Our boat caught an impressive ten fish – including a barracuda – and the local restaurant set out a table on the beach, and prepared for us a wonderful feast with the fish we had caught. So, a table of relative strangers – two New Yorkers, a Canadian, a French couple, two Swedish girls, an Austrian guy and his father, and a German guy – enjoyed Christmas Eve dinner on the beach. Later that night, we wandered down the beach to Kendwa, a nearby village, to a Full Moon party held annually by one of the hotels. Bizarre to spend Christmas partying on a tropical island, but also a fairly incredible way to spend the holidays.

It is somewhat startling to wander into the villages that lay just behind the beach, away from the tourist trap and into the real Zanzibar. Walking through, Bri and I encountered a different world of stone huts, young kids playing soccer with balls made of plastic bags, and women selling bread, weaving clothes, gossiping and laughing. The local men on the beach are overtly friendly, trying to get our attention and sell us something, and the very few Muslim women who enter the tourist areas are there only to sell massages and henna. The rest of the women stay within the village, and are almost all covered from head to foot, many revealing only their eyes – a stark contrast from the nearly-naked tourists lounging on the beaches. I’ve gotten used to being stared at, but with these women, it was different. It is hard to tell if they are disdainful toward us as non-Muslim women, if they feel threatened by our presence, or if they simply don't speak English, and it's especially hard to perceive sentiment when all you can see is their eyes. Either way, Zanzibar is becoming increasingly touristy, and there is a distinct contrast between beach life and life just inland. The clear line reminded me somewhat of parts of South Africa.