After arriving back in Stone Town, I needed to catch a ferry to the mainland. I had scoped out the ferry times when I was first in Stone Town and there seemed to be a couple companies and a few options for departure times.
My flight back to Amsterdam left at midnight the following day and I wanted to spend more time in Stone Town since I heard Dar es Salaam is kinda shit (foreshadowing).
I read that Azam Marine is a reputable company, not sure what that makes the other companies, but I decided to go with them.
I wasn’t sure how busy the ferry would be nor how early I should buy my ticket. Someone who lived in Dar es Salaam said a couple hours early would be fine. You can also purchase tickets online for Azam Marine ferry, but I’ve heard some issues with online-purchased tickets not working/ scanning etc.
Locals will try to sell you cheap ferry tickets if you hang around the port, but they seemed sketch so I went inside the Azam ticket office 2 hours before departure and opted for the last departure time of 16:00 for $35.
I had 1.5 hours to kill/chill before departure.
Originally, I thought I’d lazily scroll the markets, grab a little tasty treat or perhaps make my way to the rooftop cafe at Zanzibar Coffee House.
Instead, I searched for cashews, couldn’t find any and then stood under various awnings reading for 55+ minutes while the universe decided to bless the rains down in Africa.
It poured.
mistakes were made
The ticket agent said to arrive 30 minutes beforehand at the ferry terminal, but I gave it 45 for kicks.
At this point, both my bags and myself were drenched so I just wanted some cover and to be close to the terminal to avoid any nasty surprises.
I headed to where it says Zanzibar Ferry Terminal on Google Maps and eventually noticed a small entrance gate.
Someone approached me asking if I had a ticket and I said yes. I’m not sure if he worked there, but he walked with me to a booth inside the terminal where my paper boarding pass got stamped and I had to show my ID. The to-the-max-customer-service-man then walked with me a few steps to a baggage scanner, he then walked me from the other side of the scanner to a person standing near a desk in a packed undercover waiting area with lots of seats. My paper boarding card was ripped in half, I had to show my ID again.
I said thanks to the rando and then sat down.
It’s a free-for-all when they announce boarding 30 minutes prior to what soon will be referred to as a nightmare deluxe.
There are no assigned seats, we are separated by economy or business class. Economy boards to the front- for a hot second, I thought, look at me now sitting in the front of the transport all fancy. Unlike planes, sitting at the front of the ferry is not something to be excited about. The front of boats always gets more choppy/ wavy. Being in the back, closer to the engine gives you a smoother ride (foreshadowing).
I didn’t get a window seat because some people used elbows and shoves to get them. On principle (yes, I had to think principal is from a school because they want to be your pal), I don’t get elbows out unless food is involved.
I was on the aisle of the middle area, but I made sure to get a clear view out the window- since seeing what’s in the distance/ coming in hot helps with preventing the nausea. I’m so funny.
Keep in mind- I basically get motion sickness from walking.
To start, I read.
This is an accomplishment. I can’t read on many transport types. Just out of the Zanzibar port, it was calm, waveless, smooth- but it turns out the sea was angry that day my friends.
Once we left sight of Zanzibar, that’s when things went from lemon herb spice to loose bowels spicy.
When we hit open ocean, waves furiously smacked our vessel as if I personally did something to offend them. There was so much rain that the people who were sitting outside had to come inside and stand in the alleyways.
Naturally, they had to stand because there weren’t enough seats for them.
Side note: I feared that where I was sitting in economy would become a Titanic situation (where would we be if we didn’t have this one reference?). Not sure how it was in first class, but we poor saps were taking the brunt of the wave anger.
As the ferry worker came around, passing out sick bags like they were flyers to a raging nightclub, I clenched one tight, hoping I wouldn’t be attending the party.
That’s when the crying babies started.
I will not go into detail, but the guy 2 seats down from me was belting out a tune, right into one of those sick bags.
He was a Spotify playlist for the rest of the journey. Song after song after song.
His wife (I looked later once we pulled into the harbour because if I even glanced away from that window, I would have been joining him) was on her phone, seemingly unbothered by the exclusive situation we were in.
People were trying to move away from the noise, but had nowhere to go.
I kept locking eyes with this creepy woman who sat at the window I was having a staring contest with. It was not encouraging.
I began to chant in my head please, please, please, let this be over– hoping the universe would calm the waters just for me or show me a glimpse of land so I knew the journey would be over soon.
At this point, I was staring so intensely out the window that the creepy woman probably thought I was the creepy one.
Finally, I saw tanker ships in the distance, which meant we were close-ish to land. Right? Right? Am I right?
The ocean began to calm until at last salvation when we docked at 17:45.
When I checked into the hotel, I was told the evening/ late ferry is always horrendously wavy.
I would have to agree.
nothing to do dar es salaam
I had a few things marked on My Maps around Dar es Salaam.
I think it was opposite day at the botanical garden because the few plants were crispy rather than lush and plentiful- I walked in and back out within 3 minutes.
I walked past KKKT Azania-Front-Cathedral.
National Museum and House of Culture more like National Museum and House of Corruption. I walked through a gate where there was a security officer who asked me to fill out my name, number and country. I then went inside the museum to the front desk to pay.
I had a certain amount of cash left on me and had planned it out so I wouldn’t be left with Shillings. I saw online it was 15 000. I hand it to the guy and he says no, it’s 16 500. I argue, he writes it down, I begrudgingly give him that amount. Then he goes you owe a fee because with credit cards they always take a fee and because I didn’t use a credit card, I had to pay a fee.
Translate to he was pocketing it for himself.
I told him that it made no sense. I paid cash to avoid the credit card fee and now I have to pay it anyways. I’m not paying it. He said I had to. So I told him to give me back my money and I left.
I went to the fish market, which was mayhem. At one point I couldn’t find the exit and thought I’d be trapped there for the rest of my life (trauma flashbacks to the ferry ride) so I better learn how to fillet a fish.
I went to Chef’s pride for lunch. It was good local food for a reasonable price. I paid 23 000 for a big meal and 2 fresh juices. Usually when I go to a restaurant it kills a lot of time, but I think everyone knew I was trying to kill time so they decided to give me extra quick service.
Kariakoo Market is one of the largest indoor markets in all of Africa (I think) and I couldn’t find the entrance to it. I walked around the entire building, which was lined with street markets- so I assumed this was the market, but later my hotel told me it was inside the building.
Dar es Salaam is one of those places where I’d rather head to the airport 10 hours early than hang out and explore.
I ended up at the airport 8 hours early and went to Twiga Lounge. I think it was $35, which was all the cash I had left so I’m actually glad the guy tried to scam me at the corrupt museum because I wouldn’t have enough cash for the lounge.
The universe is such a funny bunny.
