I took a weekend trip to Zanzibar, the beautiful archipelago off the coast of Tanzania, for some R 'n R. The ferry loading was chaotic with people pushing through the "line" in the already sweltering heat at 6:45 in the morning. I couldn't help but think of how smoothly the Washington State ferry system runs in comparison. The Dar-Zanzibar ferry was crowded and the thought of sitting inside without air conditioning for a couple of hours made me nauseous, so I went straight up to the top and found that several other people had the same idea. There weren't any seats left on the deck, so I put my backpack down and sat on top of it and stretched out my legs. Within a few minutes, a family with a dozen children (I couldn't keep track of which kids belonged to which parent or aunt or uncle) joined me and I had close company for the rest of the trip, with an occasional poke in the side by one of the kids' elbows or feet as they tried to get comfortable on the deck. We passed the fish market as we left the Dar harbor - a chaotic, colorful display of people in boats handing buckets of the morning's catch to people on dry land.
As we approached the archipelago, I spotted atolls - patches of turquoise water and white sand that stood out from the surrounding deep blue of the Indian Ocean - with dive boats nearby, and then the main island of Zanzibar took shape. It was a clear day and Stone Town was awesome to view from the ferry with the red rooftops and old, historic buildings.
Upon leaving the gates between the ferry terminal and the street, I was swarmed by guys ("ticks" they're called) asking if I wanted a taxi, a guide, needed a hotel, etc. It was completely overwhelming, even after being warned to expect such harrassment, but I made my way through the crowd and to my hotel on my own.
I stayed in a quaint family-run hotel called the Abuso Inn and had a view of the ocean from my room. The owner let me choose which room I wanted to stay in, then I dropped off my bag, changed into some clean clothes, and set out to wander. Stone Town is well-known for its artistic, beautifully detailed, carved wooden doors. I had a field day getting lost wandering the narrow streets and snapping photos of the doors that I stumbled upon and people who lived in the buildings.
I ate lunch at a cafe by the water that someone in Dar had recommended and enjoyed sitting there, in the shade with the ocean breeze, that after lunch I ordered a fresh fruit smoothie just because I needed something else to help me cool off. It was a mix of pineapple, papaya, mango, and lemon ... in a word, heavenly. I jotted some thoughts in my journal and watched the dhows sail by, some with fishermen, others with tourists.
I walked off lunch in search of the church which was built on the site of the early slave trade, since there is a memorial and small museum there. I couldn't find it despite consulting an updated map, and felt like I was circling near the area for an hour or two. I didn't really mind, though, it was kind of fun to walk around with no agenda or timeline other than wanting to be back at the hotel before dark. I suddenly came across a crown of people and then my nose caught up - whiffs of spices, fish, meat, vegetables all emanating from the same place.
I had landed in the huge marketplace and was hassled by more ticks asking if I wanted a taxi or a tour, but managed to buy some spices a couple of pieces of fruit. I later read in Lonely Planet that the market is best visited "early in the morning, when everything is fresh and before the crowds appear and the heat of the day" - so it was typical that I found it around 3 in the afternoon, the hottest time of day, with circus-like crowds. I managed to find the slave trade site shortly after, following people walking down narrow streets towards activity.
The memorial wasn't much because it's now a church, but there's a sculpture garden and the guide was informative. The underground site where slaves were kept was visible on the tour and made me sick to think of 70 people kept in cramped cement blocks underground with no windows.
The next morning I checked out of the hotel and took a shuttle from Stone Town to Matemwe Beach Village on the northeast coast of Zanzibar. I rode in the minibus with a friendly couple of Zurich who were on holiday and when we arrive, as I had expected, it was a laid-back resort perfect for honeymooners. Of course, I had to chuckle that I was on a solo vacation amidst couples and felt self-conscious for about 2 minutes before I got over that and parked myself on the powdery white sand. It felt like I was walking through flour, the sand was so fine and light. The water was too inviting to stay on the beach, so I went swimming and the water felt like a bathtub. It was awesome. I've never seen such clear water, or such gorgeous combinations of turquoise, greens, and blues. I picked up a couple of interesting shells along the shore and soon had a handful of delicate shells. I left them on the table outside my room (a little bungalow which had a short sandy path to the beach) and enjoyed a thoroughly lazy day: swimming, reading, napping, sauntering the beach.
I got up early the next morning and went for a run on the beach and passed men riding bicyles on the sand to the mosque and watched the fishermen in the water. I took the later shuttle back to Stone Town and found a fantastic Indian restaurant to duck into for lunch just as the dark clouds in the sky opened up with a soaking downpour. I had wanted to take a tour of the spice plantations in the morning but feared that if I stayed another day longer, it would be cutting it short for my flight to London the following day... I just didn't want to push my luck on Africa time. But the meal was a flavorful combination of spices and I had a few bags of spices to take home with me. Besides, I was having a wonderful time, and it's not a bad thing to leave while the party's good, right?
This past Wednesday, we started the sensory trials, where we feed children the fortified cereal and assess whether or not they like it. It's a full morning at the study site, a clinic downtown. The coordinator and I drive from our neighborhood (Yoff) at 7 am down the Corniche to Medina and meet the local study staff from the University Cheikh Anta Diop of Dakar (UCAD) at the clinic, where we set up and anticipate mother-infant pairs arriving anytime after 8 am. I'm in charge of portioning out the cereals and making sure they're correctly randomized (one is high zinc, one if low zinc) for each subject. We spend the morning filming mothers mixing the cereal and feeding it to the infants and it's pretty funny to watch some of the kids' faces. There are some absolutely adorable ones, too. Given the energy of the children, the quick pace of tasks to be done while mothers are present, and all conversation in French (or Wolof, but I have only learned the equivalent of "Hi, how are you?"), there's never a dull moment.
I have yet to tire of seeing the ocean. I don't think I ever will. I pinch myself that I get to see it everyday here, and listen to the waves every morning and evening. I can eat breakfast on the patio that overlooks the ocean and watch the swells. There's a surf school down the road, but I have my doubts about swimming in this water since certain areas have sewage draining directly into the ocean, such a shame. This past week, I've walked along dirt roads in the neighborhood where I'm staying and have glimpses of the ocean between homes, and I often just stop and stare. There's a fish factory at the end of a driveway and I can't help but think what a gorgeous bit of property on which it sits.
There's also a beautiful highway - the Corniche, it's called here - that connects the northern and southern parts of the city. The road runs parallel to the ocean and passes by a lighthouse that sits atop a hill, a mosque, embassies, and beaches where every morning groups of men are exercising. 
My first day at work was anything but the typical orientation day that I've had at other jobs. I jumped right into the study-in-progress and drove with the project coordinator to Les Grands Moulins (LGM), the largest flour miller in Dakar to fortify a small batch of cereal with zinc for the study. LGM produces flour for 70% of Senegal and it's an enormous operation. There's a baking school upstairs from where we were working that morning, and I learned how to scratch the tops of the baguettes before they went into the oven - cutting lines into the tops of the dough using a knife - and I got a kick out of it, simply because there's clearly a technique to it that separates the professionals from someone like me. We hung around a bit, hoping that the bread would be finished before we had to leave, but no dice that day.
Dakar is one of the prettiest places, dotted with hibiscus flowers and bougainvillea, the Atlantic Ocean surrounding the city, and views of the water peeking out from unlikely places behind construction sites. It's the western-most point in Africa and sunny practically every day, although surprisingly chilly and very windy this time of year. I actually feel a bit unprepared for this kind of weather, since all I can remember is how uncomfortably hot I felt for most of the fall. But now it's like the perfect weather in coastal California - minus the wind - pleasant by day and cool enough at night to warrant an extra layer. The wind is an element of its own, especially in a place as dusty and sandy as Dakar, with largely unpaved roads that end up as mini dust storms when the wind picks up. 
I laugh at myself naively thinking that I wouldn't need help with housekeeping and laundry, but after seeing how quickly clothing and everything becomes filthy after walking along dirt roads I've reconsidered. Most expats here and mid- and upper-class Senegalese families hire day maids and cooks to create jobs. One guard at the house even said to me, "When you find your own apartment, if you need cleaning, my cousin is available," which shows how much people depend on such income.
I'm rather amazed, too, but how much easier it's been to return to a place that I've visited before, in comparison to the first time I touched down in Africa, in Dar es Salaam, when everything was utterly overwhelming - the heat, the chaos of traffic, the sheer number of people everywhere. Not that it's easy, but it's not the shock of everything being new.
I took a weekend trip to Zanzibar, the beautiful archipelago off the coast of Tanzania, for some R 'n R. The ferry loading was chaotic with people pushing through the "line" in the already sweltering heat at 6:45 in the morning. I couldn't help but think of how smoothly the Washington State ferry system runs in comparison. The Dar-Zanzibar ferry was crowded and the thought of sitting inside without air conditioning for a couple of hours made me nauseous, so I went straight up to the top and found that several other people had the same idea. There weren't any seats left on the deck, so I put my backpack down and sat on top of it and stretched out my legs. Within a few minutes, a family with a dozen children (I couldn't keep track of which kids belonged to which parent or aunt or uncle) joined me and I had close company for the rest of the trip, with an occasional poke in the side by one of the kids' elbows or feet as they tried to get comfortable on the deck. We passed the fish market as we left the Dar harbor - a chaotic, colorful display of people in boats handing buckets of the morning's catch to people on dry land.
I had landed in the huge marketplace and was hassled by more ticks asking if I wanted a taxi or a tour, but managed to buy some spices a couple of pieces of fruit. I later read in Lonely Planet that the market is best visited "early in the morning, when everything is fresh and before the crowds appear and the heat of the day" - so it was typical that I found it around 3 in the afternoon, the hottest time of day, with circus-like crowds. I managed to find the slave trade site shortly after, following people walking down narrow streets towards activity. 
The memorial wasn't much because it's now a church, but there's a sculpture garden and the guide was informative. The underground site where slaves were kept was visible on the tour and made me sick to think of 70 people kept in cramped cement blocks underground with no windows.
