If you want to compare Zanzibar to anywhere else, the Caribbean can be a good starting point. This is definitely what my friend found herself doing after her recent visit to Saint Kitts and Nevis with her boyfriend; She concluded that her boyfriend was a poor imitation of the African island we fell in love with as backpackers 17 years ago.
“The beaches were trash compared to Zanzibar,” she announced loudly, loud enough for the entire cafe and her boyfriend to hear. “The sand wasn’t even white.”
It’s pretty funny how anyone can go to the Caribbean and complain about the view, but Zanzibar’s beaches are pretty second to none, covered in seas so blue they look like they’ve been washed in antifreeze over snow.
But while the African archipelago is more striking than many of its Caribbean rivals, has less trash than, say, Bali or Thailand, and has more culture and history than its Indian Ocean neighbors (Zanzibar’s capital is like a mini Marrakesh), there’s something . Actually, it isn’t – and it’s a wild party scene.
That’s why recent media reports describing Zanzibar as the “new Magaluf” have caused great excitement among my friends living in the semi-autonomous region of Tanzania. I have visited Zanzibar five times, and like the foreigners and locals I befriended during these trips, I was struck by how anyone could compare their sleepy equatorial home to the Majorcan resort beloved by oversexed teenagers and drunk single men. hen parties.
Yes, beer can be cheap, as reports correctly state; some locally owned bars sell for as little as £1 per bottle. But no one is going to fly all that way and spend more than £450 on plane tickets to save a few shillings on drinks.
The two places couldn’t be more different. There’s only one obnoxiously loud bar in Zanzibar that blasts dance music into the star-bleached skies (and drives its neighbors crazy). And although there are plenty of lounges and even some bijou clubs, the atmosphere here is more “cocktails on the sand” and “sunset drinks overlooking the ocean” rather than vodka shots, band t-shirts, and everything else you associate with it. with a discount-priced Mediterranean twister.
Even the famous full moon party on Kendwa beach couldn’t be less “Magaluf”, where African DJs belted out Swahili hip-hop to a mixed post-safari crowd of locals, expats and 30-somethings. unsuccessful.
“Anyone looking for Magaluf will be disappointed,” explained Sally, who moved to the island from England during the lockdown. “I went to Magaluf when I was 17 and once was enough. I wouldn’t want to live in a place like this.
“There are certain parts of Zanzibar where people party. But it’s very controlled. Not the whole of Paje or Nungwi, maybe just a few bars.”
This is a sentiment echoed by former MTV Africa presenter Fikile “Fix” Moeti, who also DJs at Kendwa.
He added that a large number of “DJs, club promoters and advertisers” of Spanish and Middle Eastern descent were flying into Zanzibar, which created some excitement in places like Paje, but it was by no means a rowdy thing. The atmosphere you can find in Magaluf.
The South African, who moved to the island two years ago, runs a fitness studio-bar in the east coast village of Kiwengwa, where he occasionally rotates the deck. Yoga Bar on the Beach (yogabarzanzibar.com) is a pretty typical hangout of the sort you’ll find yourself during a holiday in Zanzibar – relaxed, low-key and extremely friendly, with guests chatting over their shoulders with other holidaymakers at tables half sunk in the sand.
The great thing about the dozen or so fishing villages around which Zanzibar’s tourism industry is based, such as Kiwengwa and Paje, is that they blend so easily.
They’re not filled with soulless, residents-only resorts like you find on other Indian Ocean (or Caribbean) islands. They’re also extremely safe, so instead of being cooped up in your hotel, you’ll happily spend your days (and nights) cruising the white coral sands, frequenting small, independently owned bars and hotels. A few drinks and a dip in the pool.
Local people were also not displaced by tourism; This means that even in more developed villages like Paje, you’ll find boatbuilders repairing sailboats near your lunchtime haunt and see schoolchildren enjoying a 25-a sunset game. – at Seaside.
That’s quite an achievement, considering how much the popularity of resorts like Paje has soared since 2020, when Tanzania’s late president, who held a chemistry doctorate, rejected quarantines and other restrictions, sparking a surge in visitor interest and investment.
Wherever you look, among the coral stone houses and banana plantations in places like Paje, Nungwi and Kiwengwa, you come across new hostels, holiday homes and kitesurfing schools.
But although tourist numbers have risen, jumping from around half a million a year pre-Covid to just under 640,000 last year, numbers are still relatively low given the size of the island and the fact that tourists are so widely dispersed. It is around the northern and eastern coasts.
In fact, you only have to look at the statistics for Mallorca (16.5 million visitors, 900,000 locals) or Saint Kitts and Nevis (540,000 visitors, 47,000 locals) to understand why many of Zanzibar’s 1.8 million residents are still taking advantage of this program twice. the appearance of a pale mzungu (stranger).
This is especially true on the northern island of Pemba, where you’ll find a handful of eco-resorts, backpackers, and the occasional luxury hotel, such as The Manta Resort (themantaresort.com), famous for its underwater room where tropical fish swim. I passed the window.
But even on Zanzibar’s main island, tourism has made little impact, away from the beaches and the labyrinthine old capital Stone Town; Few tourists take the opportunity to hike through the rainforest or visit ruined Arab palaces, harems and slave dungeons. . This is something the authorities are trying to fix.
But it won’t be easy. It’s incredibly difficult to tear yourself away from Zanzibar’s beaches, and it’s no wonder everything from diving and dolphins to the best kitesurfing conditions on the planet leaves such a lasting impression.