White sand. Aquamarine waves. Blotches of dark green seaweed. Tourism still seems to be in its infancy, there. The half-dozen beachfront hotels, including our beautiful Blue Oyster Hotel, exist alongside village women gathering seaweed at low tide and men fishing in small dhows at high. The children running home from madrassa are still quite taken aback at the site of four white people walking from the daladala to their hotel.
It was in this juxtaposed setting that we enjoyed some wonderful conversation with our new German friends over a few meals and beers.
One morning at dawn, Birger, Konstantin, and I set off with "Captain Zapi" and his first mate for a three-hour (fishing) tour.
I was mocked slightly by the Captain for overdressing, but as the Indian Ocean weather worsened, he conceded that maybe I had had the right idea. Despite the meagre catch of two small fish, the whole experience was loads of fun and we were back in time for a (fishless) breakfast.
Jambiani was gorgeous.