After our rooftop breakfast overlooking the docks, and listening to the call to prayer roll around the city, we walked along the front into town. Ramadan was in its final days so Bob covered up despite the expected heat and we were soon winding our way through the narrow maze of passages which made up the heart of the old spice town. Intriguing alleyways ended in huge, ornate Persian doors embossed with intricate carvings and opulent ironwork, the most impressive being the house of the high profile slaver Tippu Tip. There were endless stalls and markets selling all sorts of things, and one, when we got to the back of it, had a whole room of dusty brass astrological and nautical eccentricities which completed the aladdins cave feel. We took a break and ascended another grandly ancient town house, finding ourselves settling into an explosion of floor cushions on a rooftop bar, drinking excellent coffee and looking out over the minaret studded skyscape.

We left our Eagles nest of cushions and headed to the site of the historic slave markets which had a strangely strong fascination for us both. Our charismatic guide, Christopher, explained the intricacies of the Slave trade and its missionary lead abolition to us sat on the pews of the cathedral which were arranged outside due to the cathedrals refurbishment. Our visit to the slave pits in the basement was harrowing and it is hard to believe that anyone could condone such suffering and disregard for human life.

We had lunch on the front and wrote our final batch of postcards before returning through the streets to pack. Our final supper was excellent and we bid the city an early goodnight ready for our 3am taxi...