always feel an impending sense of adventure whenever I set foot on the rickety ladder of a prop plane. Stooping down to settle into my cramped seat, I couldn't help but wonder if this simulacrum of an aircraft really could fly well enough to whisk its cargo of humans away from the Nairobi airport. I strapped myself in, said a little prayer, and hoped for the best ...
        The sight of fabled snowcapped Kilimanjaro, the highest peak in Africa, from my window absorbed my attention, distracting me from the turbulence. Soon after, the inviting blue of the Indian Ocean veered into view; the varied hues of turquoise, lapis, and sapphire were a tapestry of sea jewels. Minutes later we descended to Zanzibar.

The east room at emerson & green is filled with vibrant colors, antiques, and local history.

        Zanzibar? Before my trip I had to check a map to locate this 20-by-60-mile island in the Indian Ocean about twenty-five miles from Tanzania. (Tanganika and Zanzibar, hence the "Tan" and "zan" in Tanzania, became a confederation in 1964.) Located just six degrees south of the equator, it is hot and steaming. Unfortunately I picked the hottest time of year, February, to visit; from April to October it's quite comfortable.
        My seven comrades (brought together by Mango Safari, created by two American women wanting to share their love of Africa) filled a van and headed into Zanzibar Town. As the van was unable to navigate the narrow streets, we unloaded near a mosque and walked past a girls' school, around the corner where sugarcane juice was pressed, and along the bazaar, until we arrived at our oasis, the Emerson & Green Hotel.
        Located in the heart of the historic area known as Stone Town, the lovingly restored palace was once home to Tharia Thopam, one of the wealthiest sultans in the Swahili Empire. Re-creating the grandeur of the past, ornately carved doors, antique furnishings, and stone baths are featured throughout ten unique and airy rooms. Mine was the Zenana Suite, two adjoining rooms accented in purple and lavender, its beds exotically draped with mosquito netting. Fans and, thankfully, air-conditioning chilled the swelter.
        From the latticed balcony overhanging the street, I could discreetly watch the happenings below. The next day, I swung open the shutter and found myself looking into the window across the way. A woman kept to the shadows, but two small girls waved back. Later, I played them a few ditties on my flute, blew soap bubbles for them, and tossed them Starburst candies.
        Stone Town, the old section of Zanzibar Town, is a wanderer's delight. It was easy to become disoriented in its mazelike alleys, but helpful strangers set me back on track. So as to not miss the hidden highlights, I took a walking tour that began with a bit of history at the home of Zanzibar's sultans known as Beit el-Ajaib, the House of Wonders.

Stone town's outdoor market is alive with sounds, smells, and colors.

        For centuries Arabs sailed the monsoon winds from Oman to trade in ivory and slaves. Relatively small and easy to defend, the two main islands of the archipelago, Unguja (Zanzibar Island) and Pemba, provided ideal bases to control the mainland coast of Tanganika. Intermarriage between Arabs and Africans gave rise to a coastal community with distinctive features and a language, Swahili, derived in part from Arabic. (The name Swahili comes from the Arabic sawahil meaning "coast.") Zanzibar's 800,000 inhabitants are a mixture of Africans and Arabs. About 97 percent are Muslim, with the remainder Christian and Hindu.
        In 1832, Sultan Seyyid Said of the Busaid dynasty in Oman moved his sultanate from Muscat to Zanzibar, where he and his descendants ruled for over 130 years. Their wealth was legendary. In 1833, Sultan Barghash built the waterfront House of Wonders, which boasted electric lights. It also possessed the first elevator in East Africa--an Otis, no less. Sultans' portraits line its walls, and original period furniture evokes the evolving fashions of the times.
        A short stroll away behind the Omani Fort, built in the 1600s to protect islanders from mainland attackers, stands the Livingstone House, where the medical missionary Dr. David Livingstone planned his quest for the source of the Nile in 1866. Subsequently the explorer Henry Stanley stayed there in 1871 before setting out on his famous search for Livingstone that culminated in his legendary phrase, "Doctor Livingstone, I presume?" After the beloved doctor died in an Abucan village in 1873, his body was transported back to Zanzibar before sailing on to its resting place in Westminster Abbey. Livingstone's medicine chest and correspondence are on display in the National Museum in Dar Es Salaam, the capital of Tanzania on the mainland.

Mango capital

t's tough to resist the kaleidoscope of colors, smells, and sounds of an outdoor produce market, tidy piles of eggplants, carrots, lemons, tomatoes and watermelons all vying for attention. But we were after mangoes. Zanzibar is the mango capital of the world--dozens of varieties thrive here--so we'd decided to buy as many types as we could for a taste test the next morning at breakfast.
        Numerous merchants plied pungent seasonings, and I bought several prepackaged baskets--perfect presents for friends back home. Cloves, first introduced in 1818, flourished in the tropical climate. Over time other spices--cinnamon, cumin, ginger, pepper, and cardamom--were introduced, and Zanzibar became known as the Spice Island. (Although commerce in slaves had flourished on the coast for centuries, Zanzibar became the largest slave trading center in East Africa due to the large numbers needed for spice cultivation. In 1891, Zanzibar became a British protectorate, and the last remnants of slavery were finally eradicated in 1925.)

At sunset, boys of all ages gather on the harbor walls and jump into the sea to cool off.

        Not far from the produce market rises an Anglican cathedral erected over the former slave market to commemorate the end of the slave trade. After walking from the African interior to the coast of Tanganyika, captives were crammed into boats and sailed to Zanzibar. Survivors were stuffed into underground chambers; the weak were culled by disease, suffocation, or suicide. The remaining slaves were then cleaned up and paraded about the square for sale. Outside, a sobering sculpture of chained slaves in a pit is a memorial to their pain and suffering.
        The rest of the afternoon we were on our own to wander, take photos, and shop, with plans to regroup at sunset.
        What's a tropical island without a sundowner? Blue Restaurant, jutting into the water on a pier, is a popular spot where we watched hundreds of boisterous boys diving off the seawall. The soporific effects of the sultry heat, the lull of the waves, and Indian music made our normally chatty crew downright contemplative as we watched dhows skim by, returning to port for the night as the sun slipped into the sea.
        Here, I had a chance to talk about Mango Safari's travel philosophy. "We're a small company, which allows us to build a personal rapport with each client and design custom itineraries, as well as our group trips," explained Teresa, who is from Portland, Oregon. She or her business partner, Casey, escorts each trip. "Our adventures are designed to get your hands dirty enough to feel the thrill, while balanced with all the luxuries we can drum up." In 2003 Mango offered two photo safaris with Michael Lewis, renowned National Geographic photographer and photojournalist.
        Unlike in northern latitudes, where twilight lingers, darkness descended like a curtain, and suddenly we were hungry. Blue offers a fine menu of seafood, pizza, and pastas, but instead we walked back to Jamituri Park to sample the offerings. Every evening tourists and locals alike flock to the waterfront green where dozens of fires blaze in grills. For those who love seafood, this has got to be heaven. Amy, one of my fellow travelers, offered me what I assumed were french fries but turned out to be a heaping plate of fried calamari strips. I wandered the stalls, and decided to have a "Zanzibar pizza," thin dough, spread with a mixture of chopped meat, onions, and vegetables and topped by soft cheese and a scrambled egg.

Spice island

n the third day we stopped at a spice farm en route to Ras Nungwi, the premiere snorkeling and scuba diving coast of Zanzibar. The origins of those taken-for-granted powders in the spice rack are surprisingly interesting. Some, such as cinnamon bark, pepper berries, and clove flowers (Zanzibar is the world's leading producer) are easily guessed, but others are more obscure.
        Our guide led us through the varied trees and shrubs, stopping to pluck samples. He opened a spiky red pod, exposing a cluster of red seeds that stained his fingers: annatto, used in food coloring, cosmetics, and the crimson blush of tandoori chicken. He dug up turmeric, a rhizome similar to ginger, which is dried and powered. He opened a pod that emitted a pungent odor: nutmeg, which in Zanzibar is made into a concoction that mimics alcohol. Red tendrils wrapped around the seed, looking like some alien growth, were mace, used in cooking and self-defense sprays. And vanilla? Hand-pollinated with a toothpick, its flower pod elongates several months later into a ripe bean. It then ferments, and the heavenly scent emerges. As we sniffed and tasted the varied products, a man bestowed upon us necklaces, neckties, rings, and eyeshades cleverly created from dried plants.
        Further north we dropped in to visit an open-air school in Channi. Fifty teachers had their hands full with 2,300 students. When we entered an English class, the uniformed pupils burst into giggles, and shyly responded in halting English to our questions. We were feted with singing and were surprised to learn that the exuberant Swahili songs were about self-respect, sexual abstinence, and avoiding cholera.
        By the time we reached the beach at Ras Nungwi, I was definitely ready to run barefoot across the glorious sugar-white sands and jump in! The anticipated plunge was a bit disappointing as the water was almost bathtub warm. A dip in the swimming pool was more to my liking, followed by a deep-tissue massage under the rustling palms.

A girl at the channi school glances out the window as we pass by.

        The next morning Teresa, Michael, and I suited up in wet suits, fins and masks for scuba diving beyond the island's barrier reef. Ras Nungwi Beach Hotel operates a certified dive operation catering to all experience levels. Its motorized dhow was picturesque, if a little slow, but we were in no hurry. We passed fishermen and later Mnemba Island, a tiny haven with a luxury resort. The atoll around the island belongs to a marine preserve.
        After a bit of trouble with Teresa's mask, we eventually submerged into the blue water, where the visibility was excellent. Every time I dive, I'm struck anew with the amazing world I'm privy to. Snorkeling is great, but swimming among fish and corals is another experience entirely. Parrot fish munched on coral; orange, white, and black clown fish took refuge among the anemone tendrils. Our guide pointed out a moray eel poking out of its lair. Under a coral outcropping, two feathery red, white, and black striped lionfish hovered like flowers.
        And then we stumbled into prime sea turtle territory. At every turn another turtle chewed on weeds, peered out from under the coral, or glided past in a graceful ballet. I've seen numerous turtles around the world, but never so many in one place.
        The highlight of any excursion from Zanzibar is sighting a huge whale shark. This spotted shark is not harmful to humans, as it lives off small fish and plankton. We didn't score a whale shark, but as we passed Mnemba, we spotted a pod of dolphins. Drawing as near as possible, we slipped into the water. The twenty-five or so cetaceans were not keen on human intruders, and we were able to swim with them for only a minute or two. Nonetheless I surfaced with a giddy sense of joy, the usual response of humans who come into close contact with these sentient beings.The next morning, at low tide, I walked the beach toward the village of Ras Nungwi. Children wandered among the dhows stranded in the shallows poking for crabs and mussels. Walking between the village homes, I felt like a stranger. Ever the icebreaker, I pulled out my bubbles and began to blow them for a group of children. Soon, the neighboring children were also racing about, swatting at the pastel spheres.

Back in stone town

ate that afternoon we returned to Stone Town, where I said farewell to my companions who were flying back to the States. Instead of checking in again at Emerson & Green, I opted to try the more conventional Serena Hotel. The Serena's highlights are the inviting swimming pool and balconies overlooking the sea a mere fifty feet away; some corner rooms have huge balconies and hammocks.
        On my way to an Internet caf‚, I came upon a man painting a picture of a building streaked with sunlight. I knew immediately that it was John DaSilva, a local watercolor artist who has been featured on CNN and other networks. The next morning we arranged to meet at his home, where I admired his paintings and collection of historical postcards of Zanzibar.

An unrestored omani, or persian-style door, with an intricately carved semicircular panel.

        Some twenty-five years ago John's interest in the local architecture was piqued and he began chronicling the treasures of Zanzibar through his artwork. "While painting I began asking things like 'why is this long window here?' and 'why was that added there?' " Subsequently he's become an "amateur expert" on Stone Town's buildings, carved doors (see sidebar), and history. With advance notice and a modest fee he happily takes visitors on walking tours.
        The following night I was back at Emerson & Green Hotel; this time for dinner at its Tower Top Restaurant, which has the finest view in town. Dinner was accompanied by musicians. With its unmistakable underlying African beat provided by tabla drums, oud (lute), taishokoto (zither), and violins, taarab is the traditional music of Zanzibar. (Tariba means "moved and agitated" in Arabic.)
        Reclining on pillows around the low tables, satiated by the fine meal and lovely music, and refreshed by the breeze blowing through the rooftop pavilion, I experienced a perfect moment, a dream that I never wanted to forget.

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