Arrival in Stone Town: A Step into History
I arrived in Zanzibar the way budget travelers often do – by ferry across the turquoise waters of the Indian Ocean. As the boat approached Stone Town’s harbor, the city’s patchwork of old coral-stone buildings, mosques, and dhows bobbing in the water came into view.
Stepping ashore into the warm, clove-scented air, I felt I had stepped back in time. In the maze of Stone Town’s narrow alleys, centuries of Swahili, Arab, and Indian influences mingled. Carved wooden doors with brass studs lined the crooked streets, and the sound of a muezzin’s call to prayer echoed above the bustle of street life.
Finding a place to stay was my first mission. Luckily, Stone Town has several backpacker-friendly hostels tucked in its winding lanes. I checked into a simple dorm at Lost & Found Hostel, a spot famed for its social vibe and $15 per night beds (source: trainsplanesandtuktuks.com).
It wasn’t luxurious – just a bunk and a fan – but it included breakfast and all I needed was a safe place to stash my backpack. Many budget guesthouses in town offer private rooms for only a little more shillings, but I was happy to save money. Besides, I didn’t plan to spend much time indoors. Zanzibar was waiting outside.
Almost immediately I was swept up by Stone Town’s unique rhythm. In a shaded square known as Jaws Corner, local men sipped tiny cups of strong black coffee and played dominoes on battered wooden tables (source: lisaandpol.com).
I joined them for a cup – just 500 Tanzanian shillings (about $0.20) for some of the strongest coffee I’ve ever tasted. Language was no barrier; a friendly nod and a few words of Swahili (“Jambo! Habari?” – Hello! How are you?) earned me warm smiles.
Locals go on with their lives here, unfazed by travelers – women in colorful kanga cloths bargaining for produce, children kicking around a makeshift soccer ball, and an old man snoozing by his shop’s spice sacks. Stone Town may be touristy, but it’s undeniably alive. As one travel duo aptly put it, its sinuous streets and everyday rhythm are unmatched.
Savoring Stone Town’s Street Eats
By sunset, my senses were pulling me toward the waterfront. Each evening, the public park at Forodhani Gardens transforms into a bustling night food market. I wandered past dozens of makeshift stalls illuminated by hurricane lamps, each one displaying a spread of Zanzibar’s best street eats.
The smoky aroma of grilled seafood skewers and the sweet scent of frying dough filled the air (source: notwithoutmypassport.com). Local families, backpackers, and off-duty tour guides all converged here, stomachs growling.
At one popular stall with a hand-painted sign reading “Master Pizza,” I watched a cook expertly assemble a Zanzibar pizza. Despite the name, it’s nothing like an Italian pie. He piled a thin dough round with chopped veggies, an egg, cheese, and beef, folded it into a packet and fried it on a griddle.
In minutes, I was biting into a crispy, savory pancake, somewhere between a crepe and a chapati, stuffed with meat and egg and drizzled with chili sauce. It was unbelievably delicious – and cost only 5,000 Tsh (about $2). I couldn’t resist a second “pizza” for dessert, filled with banana and Nutella, of course.
I washed it down with a cup of freshly pressed sugarcane juice, mixed with a squeeze of lime and a hint of ginger. The vendor cranked the press by hand, and out came a neon-green sweet juice over ice.
It was the perfect refreshment after a hot day, and at about 1,000 Tsh ($0.40) a cup, it beat paying for an expensive cocktail. In Stone Town, I learned quickly that eating like a local not only saved my wallet, it gave me a deeper taste of Zanzibari culture.
For a more substantial dinner, I followed the advice of locals and headed to Lukmaan Restaurant, a legendary no-frills eatery near the old slave market. The place was bustling, a mix of residents and a few travelers, all lining up cafeteria-style to point at what they wanted from the day’s pots. For just 7,000 Tsh (~$3), I indulged in a generous plate of pilau rice, tangy spinach, and tender fish coconut curry, with a glass of fresh tamarind juice on the side.
The flavors were rich with spices – cardamom and clove in the pilau, turmeric in the curry – a reminder of Zanzibar’s nickname: the Spice Island. It was easily 30-40% cheaper than eating at a tourist-oriented restaurant, yet more satisfying.
I ate shoulder-to-shoulder with Zanzibaris at shared tables, using my hand to scoop up the food in the traditional way. Every bite felt like an authentic connection to the island.
Before leaving Stone Town, I also made sure to try a bowl of Zanzibar Mix (locally called urojo) from a street vendor near Darajani Market. This famed local bowl is a curried soup loaded with crispy fritters, potato chunks, boiled egg, and cassava chips – a bizarre combination that somehow works. It was only 1,500 Tsh (about $0.60) for a hearty portion.
Slurping it down while standing elbow-to-elbow with customers at a street stall, I felt like I’d unlocked a true backpacker secret: the best meals in Zanzibar are found on the street, cost pocket change, and come with new friends.
Dala-Dala Days: Getting Around like a Local
After a couple days soaking up Stone Town’s history and food, I was ready to explore beyond the city – to Zanzibar’s famed beaches and villages. The easiest (but most expensive) way to get around the island is by taxi or private shuttle, but that wouldn’t be the shoestring way.
Instead, I opted for the adventure of the dala-dala – Zanzibar’s open-air minibuses that serve as the main public transport (source: thepartyingtraveler.com). It’s the quintessential local experience and costs only 2,500 Tsh (about $1) for most routes.
Early one morning, I shouldered my backpack and walked to the dalla dalla stand at Kwerekwe on the outskirts of Stone Town. The scene was mildly chaotic: conductors shouting destinations, passengers squeezing in next to sacks of rice and the odd chicken.
I found the bus heading toward Jambiani (a village on the southeast coast), heeding a tip I’d picked up – look for the vehicles painted with their end point, in this case “PAJE/JAMBIANI” on the front. Soon I was crammed into the back of a truck-converted-bus alongside friendly locals. We took off with a roar of the engine and a chorus of Tanzanian Bongo Flava music crackling from the radio.
The dala-dala ride was slow and utterly enjoyable. At every stop, more people hopped on, and I shuffled closer to my neighbor to make room. With every bump in the road, those of us on the hard bench seats bounced in unison, laughing at the jolt. A woman across from me insisted I try a piece of the fresh mango she’d bought at the market, handing it over with a smile and a “Karibu” (welcome). The generosity was humbling.
Through the open sides of the bus, I watched the landscape change from urban bustle to lush coconut palms and red-dirt villages. Kids along the roadside waved furiously as we passed. Even though the dala-dala took a couple of hours – far longer than a direct taxi – I only paid a “very reasonable” fare for the journey. Riding with locals was not just transport, it was cultural immersion.
One word of advice for future dala-dala riders: know the usual price and carry small bills. Tourists sometimes get quoted inflated prices – I encountered a cheeky conductor who tried to charge me 10,000 Tsh for a 2,500 Tsh ride by claiming a bogus fee for my backpack.
I politely but firmly handed him the correct fare, and he relented with a shrug. Haggling is part of daily life here; as a traveler you learn to haggle with a smile, never forgetting that a few extra shillings means more to the vendor than to you.
Overall, the dala-dala was an entertaining, ultra-budget way to traverse the island, and I’d take its noisy, convivial charm over an air-conditioned taxi any day – it sure beats being “robbed of the timeless experience” that comes with riding local.
Jambiani: Life in the Slow Lane
Sun-scorched and a bit windblown, I hopped off the dala-dala in Jambiani. This fishing village on Zanzibar’s southeast coast immediately captivated me with its laid-back atmosphere.
All the guesthouses and simple beach bungalows here sit just steps from the sand, so I didn’t even need directions to find my lodging – I just walked toward the brilliant blue ocean. I had booked a bed at New Teddy’s on the Beach, a well-known backpacker hostel that turned out to be a slice of paradise.
For around $25 a night I got a dorm bed in a thatched-roof banda, complete with a mosquito net and the sound of the waves as my bedtime lullaby (source: trainsplanesandtuktuks.com). The price included a big breakfast – pancakes, fresh fruit, and strong spiced coffee – worth every penny since I could load up for a day of exploring.
Jambiani felt wonderfully untouristy. As I strolled the stretch of powder-white sand, I saw as many locals as foreigners. Women in vibrant dresses walked along the shore at low tide, collecting seaweed (which I learned they sell to make cosmetics and soaps), and fishermen in dugout canoes were returning with the morning’s catch.
I even joined a group of giggling kids in an impromptu game of football on the beach, using two flip-flops as goalposts. Here, locals haven’t been pushed away from the shore by large resorts – village life happens right on the beachfront, giving the place an authentic community vibe.
Afternoons in Jambiani moved at “pole pole” pace (Swahili for “slowly, slowly”). I spent lazy hours reading under a palm tree and watching the tide roll out almost a kilometer, exposing a shallow lagoon dotted with seaweed farms. When hunger struck, I skipped the upscale tourist cafes and looked for local cafés and stalls.
At a humble eatery called Yellow Card Cafe, I joined other backpackers and locals for a plate of octopus curry with chapati – it was rich, spicy, and cost maybe 10,000 Tsh ($4) for a huge serving. Another day I found Fadhil Restaurant, essentially a few plastic tables at a family’s house, where I enjoyed a bowl of beans and rice with a side of fried fish so fresh I likely saw it come off a boat that morning.
The meal set me back only a couple of dollars. With each bite, I thanked myself for choosing authenticity over luxury; these family-run places offered warm hospitality and home-cooked flavor no resort could match.
In the evenings, Jambiani stays quiet and dark. Without bars and big hotels blaring music, the stars dominate the sky. One night, a local friend I’d made – a guy who worked at the hostel – invited me to his home for dinner. I sat on a mat on the floor with his family, eating a fragrant pilau rice and grilled fish with our hands, bonding over stories despite my beginner Swahili.
Moments like that don’t show up in guidebooks; they are earned with time and openness. It was the kind of genuine cultural encounter that makes budget travel so rewarding.
On my third day in Jambiani, I decided to walk up the coast to Paje, the next beach town north. It’s about an hour’s walk along the uninterrupted shoreline, and it doubled as both exercise and sightseeing. I passed by playful children splashing in tidal pools and Maasai jewelry sellers setting up its stands, eventually noticing the landscape transitioning – more guesthouses, kite-surfing shops, and clusters of tourists appeared as I reached Paje.
Paje: Kitesurfers and Backpacker Buzz
If Jambiani is a tranquil village, Paje is its more energetic sibling. Famed for steady winds and a flat lagoon, Paje is Zanzibar’s kite-surfing capital – and sure enough, the sky was dotted with colorful kites dancing in the air.
The town has a definite backpacker buzz: beach bars with reggae tunes, smoothie shops, and a smattering of budget hostels where young travelers swap stories of safaris and scuba dives.
After the quiet of Jambiani, I found Paje’s liveliness refreshing. I rewarded myself with a cold drink at Mr. Kahawa, a beachfront café where one can lounge on cushions all day for the price of a coffee (as many do). With the Indian Ocean stretching out in shades of teal, I understood why some travelers end up lingering here for weeks.
Even on a shoestring, I discovered there’s plenty to do. I struck up a conversation with a group of fellow backpackers at my hostel (Drifters, known for its party vibe and $8 dorm beds). By sunset, we pooled our cash to hire a local dhow sailboat for a cruise. It cost us only $12 each for a three-hour sunset cruise – a price I almost couldn’t believe.
Soon we were out on the water in a wooden dhow, its triangular sail catching the evening breeze. As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky orange and pink, we took turns jumping into the warm sea and cheering.
The boat captain even sang Swahili songs, and we clapped along while sipping on sodas we’d brought aboard. Floating back to shore under a twilight sky, I realized experiences like this prove that in Zanzibar, paradise is possible on a budget.
Paje has a bit of nightlife – that night, I checked out a beach bonfire party at a bar popular with travelers. The music was pumping and the mood festive, but I kept an eye on my spending. It’s easy to blow your budget on $5 cocktails and imported beers.
In fact, I recalled a cautionary tale from another backpacker: she racked up a $200 bar tab in four days without realizing it! Alcohol is available in Paje’s tourist spots, but it’s pricey, so I mostly stuck to simpler pleasures. A local Safari Lager beer or two (around $2 each) under the stars was enough for me. Plus, I knew tomorrow I wanted an early start for a special adventure.
Spice Farms and Forests: Off the Beaten Path
No trip to the Spice Island would be complete without visiting a spice farm, and as a budget traveler I knew I could arrange one cheaply. The next morning, I set off on a scooter to find one. Paje has several places renting motorbikes, and I managed to snag a deal for $10 for a day’s rental (low-season special).
The rental shop arranged the necessary local driving permit for me for a small fee – a must, since police can stop foreign riders to check for this document. With a helmet on and permit in hand, I felt ready to explore with total freedom.
The road conditions were decent enough if you dodged the potholes, and fuel was cheap. Soon I was cruising at my own pace, wind in my hair, en route to the rural heart of Zanzibar.
Following hand-painted signs off the main road, I arrived at a small family-run spice plantation about 40 minutes from Paje. For $15 (roughly 37,000 Tsh), a local guide walked me through groves of cinnamon, clove, vanilla, and pepper vines. I crushed leaves between my fingers, inhaling the sweet aroma of lemongrass and the sharp scent of ginger root.
The guide climbed a coconut tree with monkey-like agility to fetch me a young coconut, chopping it open so I could drink the fresh juice. We then sat down on a woven mat where his aunties had prepared a simple lunch of pilau rice and spiced vegetable curry – all ingredients they grow right there.
This wasn’t a glossy commercial tour, but a humble, authentic encounter. I even got to sample an array of exotic fruits and spices, from biting into a raw cacao seed to tasting jackfruit for my first time.
Many spice tours closer to Stone Town cost under $20 as well, especially if you show up and negotiate on the spot or join other travelers. I learned that group trips booked via hostels can be great for saving money on popular activities.
On my ride back, I took a detour through Jozani Forest, a national park known for the rare red colobus monkeys. Instead of paying for an organized tour, I simply stopped by the park gate myself. For a small entry fee (about $10), a park ranger led me on a walk under the dense canopy, where I soon spotted a family of red colobus monkeys leaping through the trees.
One even came down to eye-level, checking me out with curious expressions. The ranger explained these monkeys are found only in Zanzibar – a real treat to see. Jozani is roughly halfway between Paje and Stone Town, making it an easy stop if you’re transiting that route (some travelers even do it on the way to the airport).
In my case, having the scooter made it a breezy side trip. Between the spice farm and Jozani, it was a day full of discoveries for less than $30 total, including fuel – not bad at all.
For those interested in truly off-the-grid experiences, Zanzibar has gems like ZALA Park, a community-run conservation project some distance to the south. I heard about it from a couple of backpackers who raved about the experience. It’s essentially a small local zoo and environmental education center where a schoolteacher named Mohammed shows visitors around.
They said he even took them canoeing through mangroves and offered a home-cooked meal from his garden, all for a nominal donation. I didn’t have time to go that far off the usual circuit, but it’s on my list for next time. Places like that prove that Zanzibar still holds secrets beyond the tourist brochure highlights.
Nungwi: Northern Beaches and Sunsets
After nearly a week on the east coast, I looped back through Stone Town (to return the scooter and catch up with a friend) and then headed north to Nungwi, a village at Zanzibar’s northern tip. This time I teamed up with two travelers I’d met, and together we hired a shared shuttle van called the Zanzibus.
It cost us about $6 each to go from Stone Town to Nungwi – a bit more than the dala-dala, but faster and still cheap. By mid-afternoon, we were walking onto Nungwi’s postcard-perfect beach.
Nungwi turned out to be my favorite beach town on the island. The vibe here was relaxed and low-key. Yes, there are hotels and tourists, but it felt far less hustle-y than I expected. With fewer visitors around (we were there in the shoulder season of late May, so things were relatively quiet), the local vendors weren’t too pushy. I could actually stroll along the powdery sand without being constantly solicited – a nice change from busier spots.
I checked into Makofi Guesthouse, a beautifully designed yet budget-friendly spot just a minute’s walk from the beach. Makofi is something of a backpacker legend – not only are the dorms as cheap as $8 a night including breakfast, but the staff will help you arrange all sorts of activities at cut-rate prices.
True to reputation, as soon as we arrived the receptionist handed us a flyer of tours they organize: snorkeling at Mnemba Atoll for $22, a full-day group trip island-hopping for $25, a sunset cruise for $12 – deals that beat anything I’d seen online.
It pays (literally) to book tours locally and in groups, rather than online in advance, where prices tend to be higher for private trips. By gathering fellow travelers and bargaining in person, we unlocked serious savings.
Nungwi days were filled with a nice balance of activity and relaxation. One morning, a bunch of us from the guesthouse went snorkeling at a reef near Mnemba Island. A rickety dhow took us out; the snorkeling gear was well-loved but functional. We swam among colorful fish for a couple of hours and soaked up the sun on the boat’s deck, all for a fraction of what a fancy resort would charge.
Another day, I decided to simply beach-bum it – no plan, no expenses. I found a spot under a palm tree and watched life unfold: local boys kicking around a soccer ball in the sand, fishermen tending to their nets, masai vendors strolling by with handcrafted jewelry (somehow still in their full traditional attire under the tropical sun).
When I got hot, I took a dip in Nungwi’s crystal-clear water. Sunsets in Nungwi are legendary, and that evening I witnessed why – the sun melted into the Indian Ocean, turning the sky tangerine and lavender. The best part? Sunsets are always free.
Of course, we couldn’t leave Nungwi without doing a proper sunset dhow cruise. Despite having done one in Paje, I was up for another – the setting here on the west-facing coast was ideal. We arranged it through Makofi Guesthouse again and set sail just before dusk.
This time, the crew consisted of a couple of witty Zanzibari sailors who told us stories of growing up by the sea. We shared the boat with a few other travelers, and at $12 per person it felt like a steal for what became an unforgettable two hours.
The wooden dhow glided gently as we all sat on cushions, watching the sun descend. Just when I thought it couldn’t get more magical, one of the crew produced a ngoma drum and began to play. We all clapped to the beat, the sound of laughter carrying across the water. Moments like that, surrounded by new friends and the beauty of Zanzibar, are worth far more than any five-star resort price tag.
On our last full day in Nungwi, a few of us made the short trip to Kendwa Beach, a neighboring stretch of sand known for its Full Moon parties and slightly more upscale resorts.
The vibe in Kendwa was indeed more polished – there were beach loungers and a fancy bar or two – but to our surprise, we discovered a secret budget tip: Kendwa Rocks, a famous beach resort, has an unadvertised dormitory for backpackers at about $20 a night.
We weren’t staying there this time, but it’s great intel for anyone wanting to experience Kendwa’s scene without paying resort rates. We treated ourselves to a cheap lunch from a local Kendwa takeaway (grilled chicken and chips for a few dollars) and lazed on the sand. By now, I had a healthy tan, a thinner wallet, and a heart full of memories.
Farewell, Zanzibar – Until Next Time
All too soon, my Zanzibar adventure had to come to an end. Being a budget traveler, I opted for a creative (if slightly intrepid) way to get back to the mainland: the overnight ferry.
Many visitors fly out or take the fast ferries, but I learned from other backpackers about a local night ferry that runs between Zanzibar and Dar es Salaam. On my final evening, I headed to the port, paid $15 for a ticket – less than half the daytime ferry price – and boarded a large old vessel alongside local commuters and traders.
The ferry departed at 10 PM, chugging slowly into the darkness. I found a spot on deck to lay my travel mat. Under a sky full of stars, with the warm ocean breeze, I drifted in and out of sleep to the gentle rock of the boat. It wasn’t the most luxurious journey (earplugs helped dampen the engine noise and chatter), but it saved me a night’s accommodation cost and I felt a quiet thrill being one of the few foreigners on board.
As dawn broke, I watched the lights of Dar es Salaam grow brighter on the horizon, my mind replaying the greatest hits of the past weeks.
Leaving Zanzibar, I felt a deep contentment. I had explored pristine beaches, savored spicy street food, navigated the island on crowded buses and rickety boats, and most importantly, connected with the people who call this place home. And I had done it all without breaking the bank.
Zanzibar may have a reputation as a luxury honeymoon haven, but I can attest that it’s hugely rewarding for backpackers and solo travelers seeking authenticity over luxury. With a bit of flexibility and an open mind, it’s possible to experience the rich culture and natural beauty of this “spice island” on a typical backpacker budget (around $30–$50 a day).
Travel tips learned: Embrace the local ways – eat where locals eat, ride the dala-dalas, learn a few Swahili phrases – and you’ll not only save money but also gain experiences no guidebook can plan for you.
Remember that bargaining is normal for everything from souvenirs to taxi rides, and keeping a friendly attitude will get you far. Carry a reusable water bottle with a filter to save on buying bottled water (and reduce plastic waste).
Dress modestly in villages and Stone Town out of respect for the predominantly Muslim culture (bikinis are fine on tourist beaches, but shawls and longer shorts are better when walking through town).
Above all, go slow and soak it in. Zanzibar rewards the traveler who takes the time to chat with a chai vendor, to watch the dawn over the Indian Ocean, or to listen to the old tales of a spice farmer.