The receptionist slowly wrote down our names in the register and for once I was happy about the extra line in my passport: spouse of and then my husband’s name. What more proof that we were a married couple.

“They prevent elephants from barging in,” the receptionist explained when I asked him why the front door was covered in sharp spikes.

We climbed the five flights of creaky, wooden stairs. Our room was right at the top, windows on all sides and splendid views. The ocean and Prison Island, the clock tower of the House of Wonders, the Catholic Cathedral, the spire of the Anglican cathedral, the minaret of the mosque. And in the distance the dismal apartment blocks in the residential area, built in Neyere’s time after Soviet Union fashion: square, grey concrete blocks.

Pride of place was taken up by two Zanzibar style beds: four posters with painted headboards. There was a chest of drawers but the drawers didn’t open, a television with a wide selection of channels, most of which had a good reception. The room was not particularly clean, but it definitely had atmosphere.

Breakfast was served in a half-open veranda on the second floor. While we were having breakfast, two big, black crows were waiting. The moment we left they took possession of our table looking for crumbs.

We paid $30. You can pay in dollars or Tanzanian shillings. To make things easy, the going rate was $1 equals Tsh 100.

When I opened my suitcase at our next destination we had transported one cockroack, be it a small one.