Sunset in Stone Town, and on the ancient city’s public beach the crowds are massing. Muscular young men run up and down the shoreline in football strips while others practise yoga. Children jump in and out of the water or play football, while teenage boys line up to perform long chains of backflips, and spectators film them on smartphones. One, two, three – sometimes eight backflips are linked, and a dynamic pose is struck upon landing. They have all the athleticism of professional gymnasts.
Zanzibar, it seems, is the ideal place for a fitness holiday. I’ve signed up with Wildfitness, a UK-based company dedicated to natural movement combined with paleo-style eating. My week-long retreat will take place in Paje, on the east coast, but irregular flights mean I’ve got a day to spare. I’m staying at the new Park Hyatt Zanzibar, a Dubai-owned hotel, one of Stone Town’s grand old restored and newly constructed seaside mansions. The best things about the hotel are that it has only 67 rooms and a lovely, breezy and long beach-facing terrace, from where you can watch the daily procession in comfort.
I’m staying in one of the hotel’s four grand suites in the original building. They feature lots of space – mine is 100 square metres – furniture from Indonesia and India, and Persian rugs, but all the modern standards such as Wi-Fi and air con. There’s a four-poster bed and what seems like dozens of windows, which open to the sound of the waves. Even when they’re closed at night, the sound is so relaxing it imprints itself onto your day.
The property has an Anantara spa in the most attractive old part of the hotel, with stone walls almost a metre thick and domed ceilings dating from the 1800s. There are only three treatment rooms, and Unesco protection means there’s no steam room or sauna, but it’s all to the good as my local therapist seems to have all the time in the world and soon gets to work with an almond oil “spice massage” with a mixture of lavender, ginger, plai, clove and black pepper.
I float around the old town with a guide – necessary if you don’t want to get lost or are short on time. Simai Haji is quietly well-informed, speaking only when necessary, allowing me to soak in whatever views or thoughts I desire. He takes me to a selection of buildings, including the Hamamni Persian Baths, no longer in use, but open to the public for a small fee. The largest of their kind in Zanzibar, they were designed by Iranian architect Haji Gulamhussein for Sultan Barghash (son of Said bin Sultan, the first Omani ruler of Zanzibar) and built between 1870 and 1888. The largest, a hexagonal room, is still atmospheric, as are the adjacent hot-and-cold baths.
At midday, I’m collected at the Park Hyatt by a driver from Zanzibar White Sand Luxury Villas & Spa, who takes me and another fitness-holiday volunteer, Emma, who is in her 30s and works for the UK Foreign & Commonwealth Office, on the 90-minute drive to Paje, a small collection of beach hotels on the island’s scenic and windy east coast.
The new resort is beautiful, with only 11 villas, made mostly out of wood in a blend of the luxurious and rustic. Ours has five bedrooms, plus a big living room, kitchen, large garden and small private pool outdoors. It feels like theBig Brother house, as other guests arrive and introduce themselves. This is the first time Wildfitness has operated in Zanzibar – it pulled out of Watamu, Kenya, due to security reasons – so there’s an element of newness for all concerned.
We’re introduced to our trainers. There’s head coach Anne-Laure, a French-Italian woman who used to play basketball for France and whose tanned skin, sun-streaked hair and well-proportioned body seem to be the embodiment of Wildfitness principles. Then there’s Ivan, a stocky Kenyan fitness coach and safari guide based in Nairobi, who is the operations manager here, and Joshi, a swarthy Kenyan ex-athlete whom I met on a previous retreat five years ago.
Which brings me to why I’m here. Despite leaving that retreat in top form back in 2010, the intervening years have seen what athletes politely describe as “deconditioning”. Basically, thanks to a mostly sedentary lifestyle, my waistline had expanded and I had become very unfit. At the point where a few classes a week just won’t have enough of an impact is where these retreats come in. Three workouts a day, healthy food with no caffeine, fresh air and rest can work wonders – but it’s hard work. The compensation is that the accommodation is lovely. My room is huge, with expansive wood floors, a large shaded deck with sunbeds, a hammock and a view of the exotic trees, and an enormous bathroom. “Carrot and stick” is exactly what I need.
After a lunch of plain beefsteak, calamari and salad, it’s time for our assessments. I’m photographed in my bikini against a chart – as both shape and posture will be worked on – then we’re filmed – wearing the same clothes – jumping and throwing things. This will be repeated, and the results compared, at the end. Then there’s a “structural hygiene” session – and we’re shown how to use foam rollers, tennis balls and golf balls to alleviate the tension that our bodies will throw up over the week. As I roll back, my spine cracks in unexpected places. When I roll on my side, vertebrae seem to pop and crack. We also use wooden poles to increase joint mobility.
Then it’s down to the beach for our first session. The tide is out and the beach looks spectacular. There’s an indigo sky sliced in half by a white, sandy base encrusted with emerald. At low tide, the sea becomes a lagoon and is full of kitesurfers. The sand feels like flour. But there’s no time to stand around – working with partners, we mimic movements, race around each other in various formations and “wheelbarrow” each other through the sand. “Get used to the feel of your hands on the ground, taking your weight,” says Anne-Laure, as if it’s supposed to be enjoyable. All our sessions are done barefoot, which is harder than using trainers. Soon we’re gasping for breath, and it’s time to jump into the sea, followed by a shower and dinner.
At 6am the next morning, and every morning that week, my alarm goes off. There are no ifs, buts or self-scheduling – we’re all downstairs sipping ginger or lemongrass tea before an “animal circuit”, which involves, first, seated squats, then walking forwards and backwards in a low squat position, something like a duck. Although Anne-Laure does it easily, it’s agonising. I feel like my knees simply can’t take the strain and I can’t do more than a couple at once, though after a few strides, my legs feel alive. Then, on the beach – luckily before anyone else is awake to see us – we crawl around in positions such as crabs, bears and, finally, haul our bodies to the sea like fish. After a swim it’s time for breakfast – watered-down carrot and mango juice, ginger tea, yogurt with nuts, coconut pancakes and fruit. A waiter, who hasn’t been briefed about our restrictions, serves me coffee, but when I taste it, I feel strangely nauseous.
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