Zanzibar: Tantalised by Tanzania's island hideaway - an incredible African melting pot

By GLENYS ROBERTS

Sail away: Fisherman, working in traditional dhows, can be seen off the coast of Zanzibar


Sheltering from the heat in the Roman Catholic cathedral, I came across a two-part choir, animated by a couple of highly energetic conductors, practising the Hallelujah chorus in Swahili.

It was the last thing I expected on the largely Muslim island of Zanzibar, but as I was told again and again on my all too brief visit, all manner of religions, including Buddhism and Hinduism, live peacefully here and often inter-marry.

I was exploring the capital, Stone Town, which, though 6,000 miles away from these shores, has played a colourful part in British history.

The great explorer Dr David Livingstone planned his last expedition to find the source of the Nile from a Stone Town house that still survives, and his mummified body was brought back to Zanzibar to be repatriated to England.

In the scarcely changed streets of modern Zanzibar, you can still sense the romance of this period when the exotic Sultans of Oman ceded power to the British, who banished the slave trade that had made them rich.

The grand palaces - once home to countless concubines - are now museums, the Anglican cathedral conceals the spot where their slaves were held in cramped underground chambers and the huge spreading tree, where the captives were auctioned, stands in the middle of a bustling market so vital you could spend many days getting lost in its depths.

Having set out immediately after breakfast, I was still trying to find my way through its little alleys at the height of midday.

I wilted under the tropical sun despite my very British Panama hat, while all around Stone Town, girls were apparently as cool as could be under their colourful cotton kangas (headscarves).

The locals weave a Swahili motto into the border, which include such words of wisdom as, 'He who relies on his relatives' property, dies poor', or my absolute favourite, 'Don't set sail using somebody else's star'.

The heat is so blistering in town that it is a blessed relief when you are deluged by the tropical rains that suddenly come out of nowhere and just as soon pass.

I took cover in the island's famous carved wooden doorways or ducked into the little shops and waited ten minutes until the sun was ready to shine again.

And that first day I flopped down in the Mercury Bar on the waterfront and consumed about a litre of freshly squeezed papaya juice while gazing at the Chinese junk-looking fishing boats. The bar is named in honour of Freddie Mercury, the lead singer of the pop group Queen, who was born on the island.

In Zanzibar, you lurch from history to the present day and back again, and come across the most unlikely references that make you feel you're in an exotic place one minute, at home the next.

And yet the pace of life has hardly changed in 100 years, which makes it a perfect destination for a relaxing holiday.


Broad appeal: Zanzibar has wonderful beaches and local culture galore


My setting off point was the perfectly located Serena Inn. Its swimming pool overlooks the Indian Ocean, dotted with ferries plying their way from the mainland, while its main front door opens onto a green square planted with huge flame trees, that in turn leads through narrow streets to Stone Town's most exotic shopping area.

No matter where you stay in town, you will want to come to the Serena to watch the sun going down on the terrace next to the swimming pool where, as often as not, there is a concert featuring the local Taarab musicians - a tuneful mixture of jazz, Indian and Arab rhythms, which tell you all you need to know about the island's multicultural history.

One evening I climbed the many steps of the bizarre 236 Hurumzi tower to eat hummus and curry - in Zanzibar the food is as eclectic as the music - entertained by African dancers in white face doing a very suggestive routine. The next I took a dhow out towards the setting sun while one of the Taarab musicians serenaded me with playful love songs on a violin.

Most people come to Zanzibar at the end of a safari and, after all those early mornings getting up with the animals, are only too glad to flop down in plush accommodation for a few days before boarding the long flight home.

I went to the East Coast to collapse on the proverbial palm-fringed beach, complete with white sand, clear waters and a coral reef that you can walk to at low tide.

Here a Swedish-Croatian couple, who met in the holiday business in Africa as young people, have opened a trio of memorable hotels. My first stop was Breezes which, with its individual houses ringed round a communal dining room, bars and watersports centre, is perfect accommodation for all the family.

Next door the same owners have built a six-room honeymoon hotel, the Palms, for the very rich and private, and next door to that is surely the most irresistible accommodation ever to grace a desert island.

My individual villa at the Baraza - the name means the stone bench peculiar to Zanzibar where everyone lounges and gossips - was the size of the average London family flat.

A vast four-poster bed screened by a mosquito net looked on to a marble floored sitting room with writing table, walk-in bar, day-bed in its own curtained annexe and even a television hidden away in a cabinet. I never turned it on once, which only goes to show how good a time I had, because normally I have to know what the latest headlines are.

It's easy to while the time away in Zanzibar. One of the nicest things to do on the island's seemingly endless stretches of sand is hire a bicycle.

With the wind at your back you can ride for miles, though beware just how far you go, because it is quite a slog to pedal into the wind on the return journey.

For the very athletic, there is kite-surfing on the lagoon or diving by the reef. I made excursions into the rainforest to see the protected four-fingered red Colobus monkeys, who lounge just above you, splayed out on the branches, languidly picking fresh almonds for their lunch

I took a boat to the local village through beautiful mangrove swamps where the water is as clear as a mirror and set off as far as I dared along the seashore without risking being cut off by the tide. On my return, imagine my surprise to find that a palm-fronded canopy had been erected right by the waves and beneath it a table laden with fresh fish, South African white wine, starched tablecloth and proper silverware. I felt like Queen Victoria.

When I arrived back in steamy Stone Town on my way home, it was as if I had only scratched the surface of Zanzibar. Once more the little capital, its narrow streets smelling surprisingly sweet from spices brought in from the many plantations, did not disappoint.

But the best thing about it was the always unpredictable quality of tropical life, which everyone takes with great humour. When I was there, the whole island had been cut off from mainland electricity for a couple of months and everyone relied on their personal generator.


Wonderful wildlife: Glenys spotted Colobus monkeys on her foray into the rainforest


Finally, the mains supply was reconnected, yet from time to time it still cut out. There was even a power cut while I was trying to check in at the airport on the way home in 40-degree heat.

The most remarkable feature was how happy everyone was - businessmen, holidaymakers, locals - in the face of what would have been considered unacceptable adversity back home in Heathrow's Terminal 5.

Even sitting around the departure lounge for five hours, when my plane to Nairobi was postponed, seemed entirely without stress.

The only downside was that it would now be dark before I would be flying into the Kenyan capital to get the plane to London, and so I would miss the spectacular sight which had greeted me on the trip out.

'If you look out of your righthand window now,' the captain had said, 'You will see Mount Kilimanjaro.'

No kidding. The gigantic snow-covered crater was so close that if the plane's windows had been open, you could have stretched out your arm and scooped up a snowball.

Travel Facts
Kuoni (01306 747008, www.kuoni.co.uk) offers seven nights in Zanzibar, staying two nights B&B at the Serena Inn, two nights half-board at Breezes Beach Club & Spa and three nights on all-inclusive at Baraza Resort & Spa, including flights with Kenya Airways and airport transfers in resort. Prices for November 2010 from £2,064 per person, based on two sharing.

Also, visit www.zanzibartourism.net.


source : dailymail

Drink, drugs and orgies on the beach: Is THIS what your teenager is up to on their gap year?

By LAURA TOPHAM

Popular: The Full Moon Party on Thailand’s Koh Phangan island is a must for all backpackers


Were it not for the waves of green, clinking beer bottles, you’d think the hundreds of inert bodies strewn along the shore had washed up dead.

Behind them, many more youngsters are slumped, their heads between their knees, vomiting into the sand.

Then there are the men urinating in the sea and an array of naked couples bobbing up and down in the water. The sordid scene is lit by a beautiful, white full moon. But then this is the Full Moon Party on Thailand’s Koh Phangan island — the most renowned and revered experience on every backpacker’s itinerary.

Every month, 10,000 youngsters gather here and many of them are British middle-class school leavers for whom a trip to Thailand — and the rich cultural experiences it has to offer — has become a rite of passage.

Well, that’s what their parents would hope as they wave their offspring off at the airport.

But the sad reality includes spectacles such as this on Haad Rin beach.

As the monthly event has grown, so too has the level of theft, violence and rape. Western youngsters regularly die here from drunken accidents.

So, with all these dangers, what exactly is the lure of this beach to teenagers who are, after all, meant to be Britain’s brightest?

I’m here for October’s Full Moon Party to find out.


Party: Every month over 10,000 youngsters descend on the beach


Privately-educated Mike Coe, 19, from Exeter, is the first reveller I encounter. ‘I’ve just come to Thailand for the party,’ he says, before adding sheepishly, ‘and a bit of culture, of course — although there’s none here.’

There is, however, plenty of what he and friend Roland Greenslade really want: sex and alcohol. ‘I’ve already slept with four girls this week,’ says Mike.

‘My friend had to sit outside on the step and wait.’ Roland, also 19, privately educated, and from Exeter, adds proudly: ‘I’ve had a threesome with two Aussie girls.’
So, what do their parents think? ‘They love the fact that I’m seeing the world,’ says Mike. ‘They don’t realise what it’s really like.

‘Mum thinks I’m sitting around having one glass of wine and a nice, healthy seafood dinner.’

Tonight, the two blond, bare-chested boys have, in fact, had a cheap curry, and are looking for girls. They have just drunk their first highly-potent and ubiquitous ‘bucket’ — a container holding a terrifying cocktail of spirits.

For if there’s one thing this party is about — and it is certainly not Thai culture or the stunning beach setting — it is these vats of alcohol.

Legendary among attendees, they contain a 35ml bottle of spirits such as vodka, whiskey or the local liqueur Samsong, along with a can of cola and a medicinal-looking bottle of super-strength Redbull.


Parents believe their children have gone looking for some culture in Thailand


The concoction is mixed in a plastic bucket, from which people drink through straws.
Containing seven large shots, they cost from just 200 baht (£4) and are sold at more than 50 stalls along the beach, all of which have obscene names such as ‘f*** my sex bucket’ or ‘Jesus f*** it’.

One female vendor even carries a sign saying ‘f*** me’.

This obscene word is ubiquitous; most signs contain swearwords and stalls sell T-shirts emblazoned with the words: ‘F*** you man’.

Hard drugs — illegal in Thailand — are also sold on the beach, both by Thai men, who approach offering ecstasy tablets for 500 baht (£10), and at Mellow Mountain and Kangaroo, two bars over looking the beach which sell ‘Happy Shakes’.

These cocktails contain a heavy dose of magic mushrooms and also cost around £10.
Amphetamines are sold at some of the pharmacies on the main street. Though the ‘speed’ I am offered — from a special drawer behind the counter — is actually Phentermine, a prescription-only weight-loss drug. Tablets are 120 baht each (about £2).

Sitting on a rock below Mellow Mountain is Jess Bainbridge, 20, from Windsor, a bubbly brunette with ‘I love Winkers’ written in pink paint down both arms.

‘It’s the local nightclub back home,’ she explains of the writing. ‘I want it in the photos for Facebook so my friends can see it.’


Cheap: The low prices of alcohol at the parties encourage binge drinking and partying to excess


After finishing her A-Levels, she worked for her local council to save for a gap year. After 12 days in Thailand, she’ll spend a year in Australia. ‘I just came here to go to the party and it’s brilliant,’ she declares. ‘Just like Malia and Magaluf.

I’ve only really met Brits and Aussies. Mum didn’t want me to come, as things can be dangerous, but I’m not worried.’

By midnight, the beach has filled with thousands of revellers dancing in the sand, on wooden benches and specially erected stages. There are around 20 permanent pubs, hotels and restaurants on the beachfront. Each place belts out hardcore dance music at ear-bleeding levels.

The full moon parties were started in the Eighties by Sutti Kuasurkul, owner of The Rock bar, at the end of Sunrise Beach.

Initially, he held a gathering as a send-off for some Australians after a prolonged stay at the resort. It was such a success that they became a regular occurrence — but they have developed beyond recognition, as has the resort.

Sitting alone overlooking the messy bay, Sutti looks miserable and will only say ‘It’s ok’ when I ask if he likes the party.

When further pressed, he simply turns his hand in an ambivalent gesture. It is clear he feels — as many locals do — that he can’t complain because he lives off the money the party brings in.

‘People from Europe are not like us — they are out of control,’ says bar worker Bo, 27. ‘They have boom boom (sex) on the beach and don’t care who sees them. They are crazy.’

With the burgeoning popularity of the parties comes further destruction to the resort, which now only attracts young drinkers, rather than discerning holidaymakers.

The main street is a cramped, smelly, shabby mess of neon signs and cheap, run-down restaurants. It’s no secret which nationality the resorts are aiming at: restaurants sell ‘pies, bangers and branston pickles’, pubs show films such as Sex And The City and live football from England.

Internet café computers automatically load Facebook when started.

Store after store sells fluorescent Full Moon Party vests with slogans such as ‘I not drunk’ or ‘drunk drink drunk’ and feature pictures of buckets with straws — one even shows a naked boy urinating into a bucket.


Passed out: How many backpackers' evenings end


Other businesses booming as a result of all this include doctors’ clinics (there are three on the beach) and pharmacies. After all, 10,000 drunken youngsters demand a great deal of medical assistance.

‘People can’t control themselves,’ says one of the local doctors, Kritsada Wonghianchai.

‘They suffer acute alcohol intoxication and serious dehydration. It’s mainly young backpackers, aged 18 to 22.’

Pharmacist Miss Leck often treats people who have been fighting or wounded by cut glass.

‘People hurl bottles and they break on the beach,’ she says. ‘Most people are barefoot. Others fall and hit their head. Some fall asleep then come round with awful sunburn.’
She adds sadly: ‘Fifty years ago, it was a beautiful place to see the full moon, but not now.’

There are also lots of accidents from drunken driving after the party. One 21-year-old from Manchester University is covered in bloody scabs from a motorcycle crash; the driver — her travelling partner — is still in a coma.

But if that all sounds quite dangerous enough, then what about the burning skipping ropes? Many people are treated for burns because they’ve been encouraged to jump over huge, petrol-doused ropes that have been set alight and swung from stands by organisers.


British teenagers travel to Thailand as part of their gap years after finishing school


Within a few swings, they trip and are lashed by flaming rope on their legs, chest or head; one man even has his clothes set on fire.


Later, a 2 ft wide ring is set alight and partygoers dive through it with varying success. The abundance of fire — even a slide that revellers speed down is alight — is astonishingly reckless given that I don’t meet a single sober person all night.

Another serious hazard is the sea, of course. Stories abound of drownings during intoxicated swims. On the shore at 1am, one man is unconscious in the shallow water, his head held in the air by his panicking friend. After a five-minute struggle, his friend finally lifts him from the water and carries him off. Around them, people are staggering out to taxi boats, occasionally falling over and being pulled out of the water by friends. The low safety level of this transport was highlighted in June, when 42 party-goers were injured, many seriously, after two boats collided. Five years ago, a boat sank, killing 18 people.

At 3am, thousands are still dancing, covered in fluorescent glow paint and wearing flashing devil horns. More and more are collapsing on the sand and remaining there.
One 19-year-old English girl on her gap year is lying on her back being comforted by a male friend. She has taken magic mushrooms and keeps covering her face with her hands and squealing with fear.

‘She’s not having a good time,’ says the boy. ‘Please keep away — she can’t handle being near people.’ Which might prove difficult in a party of 10,000.


A Full Moon Party at Koh Phangang in Thailand


Home time yet? Some struggle with the quantity of alcohol consumed


She isn’t the only girl suffering drug effects. Over in the ‘sleep’ section — a cordoned-off area now housing 12 inanimate bodies, plus one man sticking his fingers down his throat — a girl with a Union Jack painted on her leg is coiled in the foetal position, shaking and sobbing. ‘We only shared one Happy Shake between us,’ says her boyfriend. ‘I can’t believe how many mushrooms must have been in it.

‘They shouldn’t be selling something so strong, it’s not fair on travellers.’ He says she is suffering severe anxiety and depression, and the effects won’t wear off for hours.

Indeed, suicides after bad drug experiences here are common -—enough to warrant a warning in the Foreign Office advice.

According to the Rough Guide, two Westerners a month are hospitalised for psychiatric care after taking dodgy drugs here.

Despite pledges to crack down, little appears to have been done. ‘It’s too busy, too much work,’ says Sergeant Amon, head of police in Haad Rin. ‘Lots of theft and drugs and fighting.’

Despite which, he claims the 100 police drafted in from across the island for the parties usually make only five arrests.

By far the most sordid scene that I witness occurs at the waterside at 4am. Three couples are having sex in the sea.


Thousands drink until the sun comes up at 7am by which stage the beaches are littered with drunken bodies


One particularly indiscreet pairing attracts attention, and soon a crowd of more than 100 people surround them, taking photos and whooping — less than a metre away.

Undeterred, the couple continue. The spectacle lasts for more than ten minutes.

When at last the pair drag themselves out of the sea, I hear their well-spoken English accents. One can only imagine what their parents would think.

The beach is now difficult to navigate due to leering men with groping hands. In the dim light, it’s impossible not to step on people, though they don’t stir if you do.

Most have been decorated with buckets and bottles by passers-by. Party-goers who are still conscious pose, arms in air, next to those who aren’t: presumably to testify that they survived unscathed where thousands didn’t.

The stench is overwhelming; a nauseating blend of alcohol, sweat, urine and vomit.
Not that the revellers notice. When the sun finally rises at 7am, thousands are still drinking and dancing.

Among the litter, lost belongings and lost people, it’s hard to recognise the beautiful white-sand beach from yesterday.

But nobody here cares — after all, they didn’t come for the scenery.


source: dailymail

Swimming with dolphins and horses on the beach, Jamaica has an activity for everyone: Eat your heart out Bo Derek

By EMMA WILSON

Horseplay: Emma fulfils her dreams of riding in the surf


I’ve been diving with great white sharks off the South African Cape, herded alpacas on the Paramo in Ecuador and raced camels in the Australia Outback. But one pursuit has eluded me - riding a horse bareback in the waves, with the wind flowing through my hair.

After having had a baby last year, I thought my Ms Adventure days might be numbered. But an invitation to a four-day action-packed holiday in Jamaica meant I couldn't get to Gatwick fast enough.

Virgin flies directly to Montego Bay's Sangster International Airport. Minutes away is Half Moon, a resort that has something for everyone...say, my tricky mother, hyperactive friends, young children and watersport nuts. It even has its own stables.

The accommodation ranges from deluxe cottages to waterfront rooms to self-contained villas with your own housekeeper, cook, pool and golf cart for the 50 acres of grounds. I ran around the golf course in the mornings before the swingers were out, and used a beach bicycle for the rest of the day.

There is a fantastic menagerie area for the children and an expansive spa (that's my tricky mother gone for the day). Every member of my vast, dysfunctional family could be very happy being based here. We could just meet up in the evenings for an alfresco dinner.

So how would I keep them occupied? Well, there's horse-riding for a start. But to be able ride a horse in the surf you first have to take a docile trek in a large group up a mountain.

My steed, an antisocial palomino called Cherokee, is on automatic pilot, but hey, I'm in Jamaica, surrounded by gorgeous lush terrain and with a moving armchair taking me for a stroll.

Back down the mountain, the fun really begins. I change into my swimming costume and remount a pony with a waterproof saddle - Cherokee doesn't do water. The horses wade into the waves and start to swim.


Taken for a ride: Emma is helped along the water by two speedy dolphins


The less glamorous side is that you're in a 'chain-gang' single-file and the horse dung floats by as you circle back. But the incidental balls of poop are worth it. I was too busy thinking: 'Eat your heart out, Bo Derek.'

Next up are the dune buggies, a non-stop adrenaline rush. Chukka Caribbean Adventures brag about their buggies' eco-credentials and yet you feel you're crucifying the environment, tearing up a once placid mountain with your two-stroke engine. Never mind, my carbon footprint from the plane alone should send me to Hell.

Anyway, I love driving and a dune buggy is a go-kart with fat tyres and roller bars. Your 'door' is canvas strapping.

There are sharp corners, and you can create 'doughnuts' in the sand by going round and round, and no one scolds you. Not once, even when I floored it through the river - cue another cheesy grin and: 'Eat your heart out, Steve McQueen.'

Adrenaline fully pumped, the ultimate-girlie fantasy - swimming with dolphins - is not as frenetic, but just as exhilarating. At the resort's own Dolphin Cove, you can jump in with these delightful mammals who will perform and play with you.

The highlight is the 'Dorsel Pull' where you hold on tight and get a tow. Wow, and a kiss from a dolphin to round things off is pretty cute.


From adrenaline to utter relaxation: Half Moon's beaches are truly beautiful


For the truly fearless warriors, there is a chance to cuddle and feed sharks. I bagged the largest, the only female, nicknamed Snapper, and a whopping 8ft long.

Dolphins are bright, but it takes half the time to train a shark - around six months. Their job here is to lie on your lap and let you stroke their skin and drop a fish into their mouths. When you've tired of the heavy petting, on go the flippers and the chance to swim together.

It's actually a bit of an anticlimax, even with the theme from Jaws playing overhead.
The stingrays at Dolphin Cove are less intimidating. They're graceful creatures, happy to rest in your arms. Except this display opened on the day Steve Irwin had his fatal run-in with a wild stingray.

It isn't ideal for any creature to be in captivity, but those at Dolphin Cove are ambassadors for their species. Out in the wild, a shark is killed every four minutes. One type of dolphin is already extinct, and others are on the endangered list.

It would be nice to think the visitors take this to heart. Venturing out of the resort, next up was a tranquil 15-minute chairlift up Mystic Mountain, with incredible views of the sea and the town of Ocho Rios, while your ankles dangle above lush dense greenery.

At the top, you reach a pristine amusement centre. And with one swipe of your barcoded wristband, you're belted into a bobsled, and become the master of your own speed for three minutes of high-octane excitement. Personally, I think brakes are for woosies.

Once you've dodged the pushy T-shirt salesman, it's time to zip-line. I was fitted with an unglamorous helmet and harness - this isn't a sport for supermodels, their long legs would get tangled in the ropes.

Whether on the vertical descent or the suspension bridge, as long as you can drown out the screams from the other tourists, you're ready to create your own Indiana Jones scene, hurtling through the treetops.

Down from the mountain, our final thrill was going to be...dog sledding, synonymous with Jamaica, along with figure skating. Well, maybe not. But you have to hand it to the Jamaicans, when they set their minds on a sport they do it with aplomb.


Peaceful alternative: If you're not holidaying with a difficult family, you can indulge in some other, quieter resorts


The kennel has 30 dogs, strays and lost causes saved from the pound. Fifteen pull a large sled with two people in the back seat and one in the front. We 'mush' through mud and grass, along the cliff tops where Dustin Hoffman was filmed in Papillion.

Don't get me wrong, the Half Moon is a fabulous place to stay but if I was holidaying in Jamaica without my difficult family then I would head for the Jamaica Inn in Ocho Rios, a paradise with its own private soft sand beach.

The rooms here are colonial and classy, the ethos elegant and understated. This is a destination for lovers, a place for room service and breakfast on your balcony - and a sunset massage at the Kiyara Ocean Spa. I've celebrated two anniversaries here.

Next time, I frequently tell my current husband, this is where I'd like to honeymoon, in the White Suite, a favourite of Winston Churchill.

Jamaica Inn offers the romance you read about in books. I wouldn't blame you if you never leave the property for a second. When you feel the urge for activity, there are kayaks on the beach and a sailboat. I've capsized it twice.

You can also be collected from the water's edge for deep-sea fishing or for scuba diving. I love snorkelling below the balconies. There's a family of lobsters in residence and a cheeky little puffer fish that likes to scare the life out of me every time I think it isn't there.

The only downside of Jamaica Inn is checking out.

Travel Facts

Virgin Holidays (0844 557 3859, www.virginholidays.co.uk) offers a range of holidays to Jamaica. A ten-night break staying seven nights at the Half Moon, Montego Bay, and three nights at Jamaica Inn (www.jamaicainn.com) costs from £1,669 including return flights with Virgin Atlantic from Gatwick, accommodation and transfers.

It also features all six Sandals hotels (www.sandals.co.uk) on the island.

Choose from dogsledding, dune buggies, right, riding or swimming at Chukka Caribbean Adventures (www.chukkacaribbean.com). Swim with dolphins and pet a shark, at Dolphin Cove in Ocho Rios, (www.dolphincovejamaica.com). Jamaica bobsled and zip-line at Mystic Mountain in Ocho Rios, (www.rainforestbobsledjamaica.com). For more information, see www.attractions-jamaica.com.


source: dailymail