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The Most Handsome man in the world

Jeffsus

TRIBE Member
click this:
Arvo Part - "Spiegel im Spiegel' - YouTube

then read.

There was a time when I sat on an airplane for 8 hours with a cage of chickens. That was the last 8 hours of a 48 hour journey.

Lots of people go to Dar es Salaam, but I know the ratio of tourists to others is quite low. Kenya is better for tourists, I suppose.

There is a boat that will take you to Zanzibar, the greatest island in the world. I partied there with two women in Stone Town. The kind of partying and touring you can only do when you are twenty something. Before you have bills, and kids, and spouses, and other chains.

In the morning, we found a truck. The driver, his name long forgotten, had a deeply worn face. Pocketed. Black as coal. A bright smile -- aha he was an entrepreneur. We were standing in the middle of a large market, a bizarre, and he came to us and offered to drive to the north east corner of Zanzibar.

Well, while he was on a spice run and driving there anyway, we were tourists and planning to also go there anyway. So this was a good match.

Zanzibar is the home of exotic spices like cloves, vanilla, cardamom. It's a mix of muslim and south Indian.

And so the gentleman drove us through the jungle and spice fields. I, the two American women, sat in the back bed of the truck. The truck could not travel very fast on occasion of the road condition, which was potted and dusty. We traveled past many farm workers -- presumably harvesting spices. Sadly most of the spices we eat in Canada are chemically conjured and have no natural origin -- though they taste the same.

The sun in Zanzibar is very hot. It shines straight down on your head for most of the day. Maybe this is why humans still have hair on their head?

We used a "lonely planet" guide, which were popular in those days, to get to a place to rest. Not surprisingly, in hindsight, the destination no longer existed. The spice truck driver left us. So there we were. On a dirt road.

Ah, and I could inhale. The smell of a dusty road and salty ocean filled my face. No bills, no problems, no responsibility. Just the smell of dusty ocean under the same hot sun.

Well there was a resort, of sorts, so we walked to the reception area.

Now, this wasn't a hotel in the usual sense. It was rather a beautiful collection of small huts on the Zanzibari beach. The greatest beach in the world so far that I've seen. I encourage the reader to look up Zanzibar's beaches on the Indian ocean side.

receptionist> "We're not really open right now, but... Do you have American dollars?"

She was white and spoke with a Manchester accent.

me> "Well, yes, we need a place to stay, it's getting late. How much per person?"
receptionist> "Well it's $30 per person per night but if you stay three nights and watch over the place I'll only charge you for one."
me> "Sorry?"
receptionist> "Well my husband and I planned to go to Stone Town as business is really slow, so, just watch over the place while we're away, right?"
me & american ladies > "OK!"

So, there was a caretaker on the place. Mashauri. His job was to clean and serve drinks and basically do everything that a small resort needs. A resort without tourists.

We went to the beach and I became horribly sunburned and I drank their beer for free and went to our hut with the americans and reminisced about things that don't matter.

In the morning, a strange thing happened. Mashauri came to our hut and woke me.

Mashauri> "Mr. Jeff, there is a gentleman at the gate."
me> confused, sleepy
Mashauri> "Mr. Jeff, you need to receive him."
me> "Receive... what?"

So anyhow I was still wearing my clothes from the drunk night before and followed Mashauri down the bleached sand path. He was barefoot. I was stinky.

And so he brought me to the hut that is adjunct to the road. The owners of this resort were not returned. But there, all alone, was the most beautiful man in the world.

Unkempt blond hair, cropped short, tanned skin which made his blue eyes shine against the salted water.

me> "Hey..."
Swedish boyman> "Can I register?"
Mashauri> fussling with books and paper
me> "Yeah. Yeah of course."

Of course I had not idea how to check this guy in. Mashauri sort of took over at this point.

me> "So, where are you from?"
Swedish boyman> "I'm from Sweden."
me> "I guess I meant more, why are you here?"
Swedish boyman> "I'm here to study accounting."
me> long pause "I mean, why are you at this resort."
Swedish boyman> "I came here to study accounting."
Swedish boyman> points to his bag of books.

I hadn't seen a handsome white man in months and months so I was a bit starstruck.

I had to hang with the american women on the beach for some time after that. There was a person surfing on the crystal sapphire waves. I was getting sunburned again. And then Mashauri called us to dinner.

I, the american women, and this Swedish manboy sat in the hot shade and were served some delicate Swahili dish. Coconut, lamb, vanilla, rice, and the strangest of hot peppers.

me> "Is that a calculus text you have?"
Swedish manboy>" Yes."
me> you are the best thing that's happened to me in a year

-jM
A&D
 
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