It was not a good night's sleep and Charlie's investigation of rustling in the early hours of the morning was rewarded by a monster rat which joined him on a trip to the bathroom. How he kept this a secret from Hattie I don't know but needless to say it was decided that we were moving on before Moreno announced that we had to pay extra for breakfast.

After stealing the nextdoor hotel's wifi to inform the Italian owners of our dissatisfaction and to research where we could move to, Charlie and I walked through the rundown village and up to the main rd to find a taxi. Having topped up the phone we let Moreno know of our intentions to move on after only one night of the four we had booked and he realised that something brown and squishy was about to hit the painfully slowly rotating ceiling fan. He appeared at the house at the same time as our taxi arrived at the house of horrors to collect the bags. He was full of apologies and assured us of a full refund but all we wanted to do was to get out of there and we headed north to Nungwi. Refunds could be arranged when we were in better moods.

We had a strange sense of déjà vu as our rude boy taxi driver piloted us down the backstreets of Nungwi in search of the B&B which had stood out during our research. What we found did not tick any boxes (except possibly the 'no-rodents' box) but a nice Swedish lady did point us in the right direction and one of her friends gave us a lift to the beach front where we booked into a pair of very reasonable and beautifully clean rooms just off the beach, with the sound of the waves very much present.

We spent the rest of the day on the beach dodging the local 'ticks,' insistent on selling us excursions, instead finding an upmarket dive centre who after a bit of small talk offered us 2 free dives in return for examining their friends dog. Sadly the poorly pooch proved elusive but encouraged by the incentive we booked in to dive on Wednesday with the hope that we could track down the dog before then to make it significantly more affordable!

We ascertained that kitesurfing was going to be difficult to organise and focused on our new pastime, Jiggalo spotting. There were several suspect couples in circulation and in particular one beach boy had bitten off a significant challenge acting plaything for a German Ten Ton Tesse. We never saw him again and assume he was either suffocated or eaten.

Charlie and I made some new friends playing beach volleyball and ended up getting very sweaty and sandy as the sun dropped into the ocean. We confirmed, over a cold beer looking over the orange glow, that this was an excellent place to be and suddenly the sleeping with the rats seemed like a very long time ago. When our bottles of Serengetti were drained we followed the girls through the showers and ate seafood on the beach in the dark, experimenting with rock lobsters, octopi and squid as the waves lapped our chair legs.