Zanzibar is a pretty crazy place. As far as tropical island paradises go, it has it all: warm crystalline water, rustling coconut palms and ridiculously overpriced drinking resorts lining every conceivable inch of white sandy beach that hasn’t been claimed by sea-urchins or seaweed farming. Save for the rainy season, it’s overrun by tourists whole year round. Russians, Polish, French and Germans swarm about the place in colourful wife-beaters and boardshorts like sluggish Day-Glo ants, either too drunk or sunstruck to mind paying $6 for a beer or $200 per night for a room without air conditioning.