I couldn’t go all the way to Tanzania without making a side trip to Zanzibar, an archipelago boasting white sugar-sand beaches, lush forests, and turquoise water.
So after I summited Mount Kilimanjaro, I made the quick hop from mainland Arusha to Unguja Island, Zanzibar, a zippy flight that took about 90 minutes.
Zanzibar instantly did something to me. You know the sensation of wearing tightly tied hiking boots for a long time — and them taking them off? The loosened laces, the heaviness falling away, the blood rushing back. That’s what landing in Zanzibar felt like. An unbinding.
On arrival
I wasn’t interested in staying at a party hostel or bustling town, which why my first stop was Pongwe Bay Resort, perched along a shimmery teal bay near sleepy fishing villages and seaweed farms. My goal here was to unwind, which I find difficult to do when I travel. I’m usually the person who will try every activity a hotel offers, wander the area for miles, and have a long list to sights to see.
This trip, however, I knew I needed rest and recovery. The steep descent on Kilimanjaro left my feet battered and bruised. My bones ached from sleeping on the mountain. I had been cold for days; a mere 48 hours earlier, my tears were frozen to my cheeks. What I needed was comfort and quiet.
Pongwe promised nothing but sunshine, flowers, gentle ocean waves. The most popular sightseeing spot is a small, fine-dining restaurant located on its own teensy island. It sounded perfect.
I had been so focused on Kili, though, that I was ill-prepared for the Zanzibar part of my trip. I hadn’t packed any beachwear or footwear beyond hiking boots. And while I assumed I could pick up some budget-friendly flip flops and sundresses along the way, I didn’t have a chance to stop anywhere between the airport and hotel.
Was I going to be miserable?
So this is heaven
When I saw the remote location of the resort, I imagined myself clunking around a tropical paradise in my stinky boots. Then the proprietor of the place intervened.
“Just so you know, this is a no-shoes resort,” said the owner, a handsome Italian man. “All of our paths are made of soft sand or cool stone, so please do not wear shoes anywhere.”
As if that wasn’t amazing enough, I arrived at 9 a.m., well before the 3 p.m. check-in. However, my room was already ready.
“Unless you want breakfast …?” the owner said.
I did want breakfast, because I had to leave my other hotel at 4 a.m. and hadn’t had time to eat. But I don’t like spending money on a hotel breakfast, which tends to be overpriced and underwhelming.
“You know you booked a room that includes food, right?” the owner said. My stomach rumbled in response. He gestured to a room adjacent to the dining area, filled with buffet tables covered with luscious fruits and homemade dishes.
I was already about to weep with joy when he added, “We’re running a special right now on massages. Seventy-five minutes for $40. Let me know if you’d like to book anything.”
Yes. Yes, I would be booking something.
The owner confirmed that I was only staying one night and asked what time I’d be checking out.
“Checkout is usually at 10, but nobody has the room booked after you, so you can stay as long as you’d like,” he smiled. I thanked the man profusely, and I apologized that I’d only booked one night.
He shrugged, “So you must live this one day to the very fullest.”
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