Lingerie shopping in Zanzibar

Now who'd have ever though that this would happen in Zanzibar. Lauren, in all her ripped jeans and old t-shirt glory, strolling through the very muddy streets of Darajani, holding up panties and bra's in search of vaguely matching black nickers and bra. The reason? Well, I am not allowed to tell yet, it is a surprise. In a few weeks time the reason for such a shopping expedition will be revealed. It is nothing saucy or down right gross. But I just can't tell you right now.

So back to the topic at hand. Underwear shopping.

It is not like an experience anywhere else.

Issue 1: all shops, wait, correction, most shops on the island are owned/managed my men. All underwear shops are owned/managed, it seems, by men... sigh...

Issue 2: there is one thing lacking in Zanzibar. Manners. Of men. Towards foreign women.

Please pause for a rant. No matter what you wear, whether you expose your shoulder and knees, or cover them up, young men on the island still treat you like a common whore. So now I pretty much wear what I want. Modestly. But I do still cover up a lot of the time, in solidarity with the women who need to cope with the heat, while covering in many layers. End of rant.

Issue 3: The stalls are in the open.

Now most of you know that I am not a shy person. While it is a bit disconcerting to have to flash around lacy nickers in the public (conservative) eye, it really can be done.

Except every time I walked up to a stall (except one owned by a dear old man), the silly hormonal and rude men would saunter up and begin helping your to choose your own underwear. Ai...

I told most to **** off (not the F word, but similar sentiments). Suffice to say I was hot and bothered by the time I left the swarming muddy mess that is Darajani (after a hard rain storm). And I had no undies (there are no black bras in Zanzibar...)

Two funny anecdotes:

At one stall, while browsing through the black nicker options, the owner brought out this (granny pantie style) beige one, signally that this was my skin colour, not black. The more I insisted I wanted black, the more he insisted that I was wrong that I needed (frilly, embroidered, thick-as-hell) beige high waisted nickers...

The second, at another stall, the owner asked if I wanted "bikini". So if the nickers were high waited (this is for the men reading this blog), as women, we know that bikini is low cut. 20 seconds later out he swung bright red and green and black THONGS, waving them in front of me, asking if the size is right, if I want smaller. And no matter how much I waved me hand and said "Hapana, hapana" (no, no), he still insisted, "another colour...??"

You gotta love Zanzibar... Ai, but the men.... This is for another post...

So keep glued to this amazing, Spectacular Spectacular blog. And the reason for the Lingerie shopping will be shown.

Baadaye