Kites, Spice and Everything Nice (Zanzibar)

The final stop was spending a couple days adjusting to being around civilization again. I save this for the end because it makes going home not feel as bad.

Zanzibar, nicknamed Spice Island, grows every spice and fruit imaginable. Perfectly nestled on the Indian Ocean off the African coast, once upon a time it was an independent powerful kingdom trading with the Middle East and Asian empires. Then the Europeans came, and we all know what happens. Finally, some 40-odd years ago, Tanganyka (what was then called the mainland) got its independence from the British Empire, and merged forces with Zanzibar, to give the new country the new name, Tanzania.

I saw a coconut tree climber and tried to imitate. Didn't make it but three feet, but I’d like to think it was a solid effort.

The island also has the perfect conditions for kite surfers to work on their party tricks. Waist deep water, unbelievably warm, and a constant breeze.

I thought the kite surfers looked so skilled, using giant kites to glide across the water. The more advanced surfers leapt in the air, flying.

Well monkey see, monkey do. I enrolled in kite surfing school so I could look as cool as those guys. Turns out its actually a two for one deal - learn how to surf and in the process thoroughly cleanse your sinuses with ocean water.

Here’s how the training goes.

The first 2 hours is just kite control on land. We start with a baby kite and graduate to the large kite. The trick is to keep it stable - you have to constantly make mini adjustments so the kite stays in the vicinity of the 12-2pm direction. Let it get to 4pm and the wind will pick it up, and since you’re permanently attached to this thing you will be taken for a ride too. Let it get too close to the horizon and the kite will come crashing down. It’s very finicky, sensitive to the slightest changes in the breeze, and of course the wind is always changing.

However hand-eye coordination is not a problem for me, so I get the hang of the kite pretty quickly. I think I’m gonna be great at this.

Then we add two variables to the equation. Water and a surfboard.

Hand-FOOT-eye coordination - now I'm out of my element. As you’re keeping one eye on the kite and making constant adjustments, you’re somehow supposed to sit in the water and put the surfboard on your feet. Then in a controlled fashion you drop the kite down to that 4pm angle. The wind picks it up, you stand up on the board, and voila! You’re surfing. The challenge is keeping the kite stable - not too fast and not too slow. It’s dangerous to lose control, so if you feel like you’re going too fast, you use the "brakes".

While there are more graceful methods of braking which don’t involve starting the whole process over, my favorite way of braking quickly became letting go of the reigns and letting the kite crash into the water, rather than getting blown away to India and missing my flight home. This was how the Indian Ocean became the neti pot for my sinuses.

Thanks to an instructor with infinite patience, by hour 4 I was up and riding in my favorite gear: T for turtle. And that suited me just fine.

Once my sinuses had enough of the water, the beach entertaiment was equally captivating - local boys practicing their party tricks. This one I did not try to do. My health insurance could never.