How on Earth AiF can afford this level of accommodation on the income they are getting from us travellers is beyond me; the room at The Safari Lodge, so unprepossessing from the outside, was splendidly spacious and appointed. Never has aircon been so welcome.
Breakfast is taken on the shaded rooftop terrace, and is neither particularly plentiful nor sophisticated. Nobody, however, gives a monkey's, as it is already far too hot to be eating a great lot. A simple omelette does the biz, and out into the maze we all go again. The plan is to do one's own thing until about 1400, when we reassemble back at the hotel, gather our goodies from communal storage in Room 101 (yes, really) and start the cattle drive for the 1530 ferry(ies) back to the mainland. Quelle surprise, it is hot. The breeze does a poor job of disguising it, and we all collapse like greasy spots into an under-sized minibus back to Sunset Beach Camp, where Gary, Michael and the truck have been waiting for us since we first set off for Zanzibar five days ago.
Michael could not get a certain je ne sais quoi for a menu he wanted to try, so we got to try his fish 'n chips instead, a pretty damn fine substitute. Especially as there were two varieties of fish, guacamole and lashings of his special coleslaw.
Another group bus was alongside us tonight, a frightful pink colour. We are told that 27 are aboard, and sleep in a sort of lateral sleeping tube either on the roof or inside across the daytime travelling section. HOW many?! We seven feel decidedly superior in Malaika, until we stick our heads inside our tents, which have spent the last five days and nights heating up toastily. Morpheus will clearly not be taking us until the early hours. There being no point in showering, only to start dripping again almost immediately once under canvas, I sleep in my filth. Scandalous.
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