Hakuna Matata. Part 14. Through thorns. stone town
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Day 13. March 12
The biggest question of the day is to get the test results. Preferably negative. And my doubts begin to disassemble, despite the fact that my husband is already completely healthy. The course of the disease is different. Many are even asymptomatic.
So, right after breakfast, we go to the hospital.
And the breakfast is good! The buffet is quite plentiful, we have not seen such an abundance in Zanzibar. Even at Mangrove Lodge, and there we were also surprised at the sumptuous breakfast. But not all-inclusive, if you know what I mean. Abundance strictly within Zanzibar. Modest charm of the bourgeoisie)
I'm sorry, but I didn't take a picture of breakfast. And I remember what I was filming. This happens to me on every trip. I shoot something, and then it's gone. How so? )
I dumped all the videos on my husband's computer, I need to look for him, maybe I shot the video.
We leave the suitcases at the hotel, and we go to pick up the tests ourselves.
In the hospital, somehow everything changed in four days. There is not a large crowd to change and even the queue to receive is quite short. Only at the entrance, in a white tent, the human sea is agitated. A local comes up to us with an offer to help. It looks like he's trying to sell us test results.
We say that we don’t need it yet, but we remember it, and we’re going to calmly get our test.
We don't stay long, they are already looking for our results.
And so it began.
– You didn't order the result.
- No matter how they ordered, we fly today, what the hell, well, here's the receipt.
- Your results are not in the computer. Go to the white tent, order the results online.
I'm trying to figure out exactly where we should go now. The girl looks out the next window, confidently showing with her hand "where should we go. " Of course, where there are the most people.
There, the mob storms a guy who tells everyone to scan a barcode. I try unsuccessfully to get through to him. The crowd is leaning in from behind and I'm starting to lose my temper:
- Help me, please!
Everyone somehow calmed down at once.
Ve fly home today! Help me! My test! Zysys check! – I poke a piece of paper at the guy.
At first the guy tries to shove me a barcode and I even fall for it, but without understanding it, I start waving the receipt and yelling even louder:
- Today Wi-Fly! Vera may test???
At the same time, the husband does not shine at all. There is really a crowd here, and he can’t go to Beldyazhki we still don’t know the main thing about him.
Some guy sneaks up to me and says that he will help me (maybe even the one we brushed off at the entrance) and leads us to another tent, khaki, in a different place, not at all where we were sent (! ).
Everything here is dignified and noble. There are several tables, there are folders with tests on them, a guy and a girl give them out perky. There is a quiet queue, I join the tail.
“Our” guy says something to the person who distributes the tests, he brushes it off, they say, see how many people I have. But "our" insists, and they take my paper in their hands, passing it to each other
There are no tests in our folders!
Here's everything, but we don't.
Well, that's it, they sailed, - I think it's sad. They are probably positive, which is why they are not here.
The guy who was handing out the tests leaves the queue, takes our receipt and stands there, figuring out some other question. I quietly start:
– We fly home today…
He nods, walks with our paper inside the building. The queue resignedly flows to the girl. My husband and I sit on the chairs.
Half an hour later, my husband asks if I'm sure that now we will be given tests without a receipt at all.
Another five minutes later, a guy comes out of the building, comes up to me and asks for our passports. Overwrites all data. He goes back.
Well, that's all for now, - I think - now an ambulance with orderlies will drive right into the territory, they will take us under white arms and take us away to be burned in an oven. There is no coronavirus in Zanzibar. Not until we arrived.
As you can imagine, this was our most extreme day on the island.
And here he is, holding something in his hands. Oh, are these tests? Our? ? With trembling hands, I smooth out the papers, running feverishly with my eyes.
Negative! Me too! Hooray!
I look at my watch. We were here for 2 hours and 10 minutes. The plane would have already closed the landing if we came for tests after lunch.
And so we have plenty of time! And none of us are contagious!
Let's go to dinner.
It is impossible to enter the street where we parked last time, all entrances are blocked. We put the car in a parking lot by the road. It's not far to go here.
There are a lot of people in Lukmaan. We are looking for a free place, go up, go down again. The whole cafe is made of rags and sticks) It's so… unkempt. And there are crowds of people.
The food is so delicious in the end! Especially delicious for my husband)
Four Arabs sit down at our table (yes, there are large tables). They don't even ask us anything. Apparently, this is how it is done here.
Well, we are already non-infectious, let them sit. If they are also non-infectious. And they are definitely not contagious, otherwise they simply would not have survived to this day. I draw these conclusions when I see how they eat with their hands, they calculate with the same hands and continue to eat. And if you saw Zanzibar money, you would understand what I'm talking about. Money looks worse than this cafe and Zanzibar in general. All microbes and viruses in the world live on this money and do not grieve.
I'm curious to watch them. Apparently, this is a father and three sons. Father is a real horseman, proud, his back is even, calm, he looks at the world indifferently, with laziness. And the sons are hot, smoke from the ears, sparks from the eyes, but they keep their tempers with their father. I can’t stand it, I start a conversation.
Where are you from?
From Zanzibar.
Is Zanzibar? Riley?
We talk to the best of my English. I ask permission to photograph them.
Probably these are the descendants of the sultans who once ruled Zanzibar)
When we arrive at the parking lot, we see that our car has been locked. Yeah! Right on time. The husband got behind the wheel and honked. Nobody responds.
There is very little time left, and our suitcases are still at the hotel.
Do you know why we didn't pick up the suitcases? I really wanted to walk around the hotel, shoot a little, otherwise there was no time for this before)
In general, I look, several men are sitting in the shade, I go to them. They vying with each other offer taxi services. I ask who is the driver of this car. Everyone is silent.
I ask one, the most lively one:
Are you a driver?
- Pick up the car, we need to go.
– Field-field, Hakuna Matata.
Hakuna matata? ? We are late for the plane. Take the car! Wright naw!
I see out of the corner of my eye that my husband is getting out of the car. And my husband is... big. It takes about five small Zanzibaris to be able to resist him.
The expression on his face is… It can be seen that he is ready to get upset. And to us there fly. We have no time to be upset here)
The driver also sees her husband and immediately he has a desire to remove his car.
Let's go for things, I even have time to shoot a little.
The hotel is simply amazing!
If I hadn't run saiga around Stone Town, then this hotel would have been something to do for three days, I guess. Just walk and shoot.
Our fourth floor is especially interesting.
Someone rarely goes up here, but there is something to see here.
Exit to a nice courtyard, another attic room. I think I also saw him in "Eagle and Tails".
The rooftop terrace offers a magnificent view.
Well, goodbye Zanzibar. We are unlikely to ever return here.
The finish line. The road to the airport is fast, we sit a little in the car, a little on the bench. We leave the money and keys in the glove compartment, and go to the landing.
The airport is crowded, there are a lot of people, they huddle at the table where they check the test results - two women sit and check the numbers on the computers, put prints on our results. Here I was a little worried. The strange morning adventure nevertheless prompted different thoughts. Who knows where they found our tests. . .
Then the crowd is evenly distributed into thin streams of long queues for registration and smoothly flows into the waiting room, simultaneously filling out a bunch of some papers at all stages.
Periodically, shouts are heard in the queue:
– Do you need a test?
Indeed, the rules change so quickly in this crazy world that it's hard to keep track of it.
Three days later, the Qataris canceled the test requirements for boarding the plane.
And we, after serving a 9-hour night connection at Doha airport, flew home and passed the tests at home.
The results were stunning - my husband was negative, I was positive. At the same time, the husband again became snotty and lost his scent, and I was like a cucumber. For almost a day I was sad, waiting for the arrival, then I passed a second test - negative. Then another one - negative.
This epic ended, we safely went to work. I didn’t get sick and we don’t have antibodies, both of them.
It's scary to think how I would survive a positive test in Zanzibar)
I wish you all good health! Negative tests and positive adventures! )
Hakuna Matata!
