“Jambo!” a member of staff calls out as I stroll to breakfast one day, a Swahili salutation always accompanied by a smile. This is how every day should start, I realise, as it sparks immediate joy. That and being greeted by 30 or so chattering Red Colobus monkeys who hang out beside my villa, acting as an exotic dawn chorus.
It’s a typical morning at The Residence in Zanzibar, a beautiful villa-only resort in the fishing village of Kizimkazi on the southwest coast of the ‘Spice Island’. Away from the dusty streets that lead from the airport – with their corrugated shacks selling a cornucopia of household products and past death-defying mopeds balancing baskets, bricks and bovines – the 32-hectare beachside resort is a bucolic breath of fresh air – all swaying palm trees, powdery sands and lapping azure waters.
The island sits in the warm waters of the Indian Ocean, just off the coast of Tanzania, rich in African and Omani tales about spice merchants, sultans and Persian palaces. The resort honours the island’s tapestry of history through its interior design – beautiful heavy wooden furniture and four-poster beds; in its culinary roadmap, a melting pot of African and Omani flavours; and in its hospitality – where it’s always ‘service with a smile’.
It’s a ‘fly and flop’ kind of holiday for me, packing little more than beachwear and books, in search of some much-needed downtime. Wanting few interruptions, I stay in a Luxury Garden Pool Villa, where the enveloping greenery and towering coconut palms offer nothing but privacy.
Inside, it’s all rich dark woods, from living room to a four-poster bed to the light-filled bathroom with free-standing bath and outdoor shower. But throw open the wooden French doors onto the private terrace, with its sun loungers, parasols and swimming pool, and natural light floods the room, inviting the outside in.
Natural beauty is a recurring theme across the resort. The staff members are phenomenally kind and gracious, often accompanying me on my meandering walk to the restaurant, happily chatting away in Swahili, always with that lovely Zanzi smile.
The resort is big enough to enjoy privacy but small enough to walk around – or on my villa’s rickety, electric pink bicycle. I’m here for Eid al Adha in July, so the hotel is busy with guests – many from the UAE – hurrying away for a mini-break. There’s a happy ‘buzz’ in the Dining Room each meal, as guests feast on coconut bean soup, fried cassava and the most incredible exotic fruits, like guava, mangosteen and sweet passion fruit. Nights are often accompanied by live music and finished with starlit bonfires on the beach.
By day I do little more than lie by the main pool, so blue, so still it reflects the clouds and coconut palms; stroll around the resort spotting monkeys, gargantuan ants scurrying around on Herculean tasks, and wading birds who’ve mastered the art of musical statues. There are boules, beach football, kayaking, snorkelling and watersports too, but I eschew exertion in favour of more leisurely pursuits, such as sitting on the steps at The Jetty Bar at sunset, sipping a glass of bubbles and watching local fisherman cast their final nets of the day as the blazing sun edges ever closer to the water. I do make it to The Spa one day for a relaxing Ocean Oasis massage, and try my hand at local Zanzi cooking too, making a traditional Thakali Khana set.
I also venture Stone Town for the day, Zanzibar’s capital – and a UNESCO World Heritage Site – just a 40-minute drive away. It’s a sobering start, beginning the tour at Stone Town’s East African Slave Trade Exhibit, learning about the island’s role in the mid-nineteenth century slave trade before the abolition was decreed in 1873. My guide, Kelvin, is a walking, talking encyclopaedia on the topic, then whisking me through the white-washed alleys to the main market – where I buy spices and the world’s biggest avocado; to souvenir shops for gift purchasing; and on to Mercury House, a popular beach restaurant named after Freddie Mercury, the Queen frontman who was born on the island in 1946.
On the way back to the hotel, I stop at Jozani National Park and Biosphere in search of the 2,900 protected Colobus monkeys who call the park home, spending 10 minutes in their company, as they click, chatter and clamber their way through the canopy overhead. Just a few minutes down the road there’s also a Spice Farm offering olfactory tours to learn about Zanzi’s spice route history, and one of the island’s biggest exports today.
Back at the hotel it’s sundowner time, and there’s a stoop with my name on it. This time I share sunset by a cast of huge scuttling crabs and low-flying cranes casting reflections over the ebbing water. I’ve seen some sunsets in my time, but nothing prepares me for the fiery, scopious scenes here. With the air spliced with sea salt and frangipani, and the lucent shore lit with torches, it’s a soporific end to a day on Spice Island. Asante Sana.