I have 15 minutes to get to the ferry office to change the date of our crossing to Dar es Salaam.

With a vague set of directions and an inherent sense of where the ocean lies, I eventually emerge from the walled city onto the dock, just in time to convince the ticket man that our departure date needs changing. Sorted. The city awaits.

Exploring takes many forms. In Stonetown, curio-seekers will have no shortage of outlets, and tours to historical sights are in abundance.

In the limited time we have in the town, our first priority is to find out where the locals eat. This proves easy. Soon we are at the night food market, seafood nirvana. Tables laden with skewers of every fish imaginable, Tanzanian pizza - which look more like pancakes - and fresh juice squeezed from sugar cane, ginger and lime. We find a base and take turns venturing into the market to return with a plate of different treats, each trying to outdo the last. While sitting there in the square we meet the defining character of our time in Stonetown - "Mimi of Zanzibar".

From the start, it's evident that Mimi is an operator. This is mostly informed by his smooth one liners and opening remarks to our female travelling companions.

"I want to give you each a Zanzibari name," he coos. "Yours will be Kipepeo," he says to Leila, "Swahili for Butterfly." Leila seems to quite taken with this insight.

I ask Mimi if I get a name as well.

"You? You're Soldier Boy," he states bluntly. I take what I can get.

Whether it's the promise of broadening our cultural understanding or Kipepeo's eyes, Mimi takes us on a tour of Stonetown, starting at his local drinking spot, Bowani. Along the way there's mention of a swimming pool and disco, but nothing prepares us for Bowani. It's a time capsule of a '70s Bond villain's lair. The deep pool is empty and rusty beach umbrellas add to the eerie atmosphere. But the beers are cold. Later, Mimi suggests we visit the disco. His game is precise: girls get in free, men for the price of two beers. We send the girls in first to scout it out. It's as empty as the pool, so we bid Mimi good night.

Our next guide is Ali, who seems genuinely interested in showing us around Stonetown. Whether it's his age or the fact that he hasn't tried naming the girls after exotic animals, I sense that this isn't an elaborate romantic ploy.

Ali takes us on a complicated route through the streets, past the spice vendors and to "Jaws Corner", the true heart of Stonetown. A modest square that most people would ignore, the space is the cultural and political meeting point for Stonetown's residents.

Ali hands us freshly brewed coffee in small porcelain cups. The man brewing the coffee spends his days making it on a tiny coal stove and by his weathered appearance, he has been doing so for a long time. There is a crackling television set mounted in a corner. This tiny TV, barely receiving a signal, is the catalyst to Jaws Corner. If the set isn't broadcasting parliamentary sessions, it's showing the latest soccer match.

In this small square friends are made and lost. The soapbox is the table in the centre, which doubles as the domino arena, and surrounding benches are the stadium.

Running through the now more familiar streets to catch our ferry, we bump into Mimi who offers us a fond farewell. "Poa Safari!" he says.

In a town largely inhabited by passing tourists, I get the feeling Mimi is used to this routine. - Scher is a freelance writer from Cape Town