I had been in Zanzibar for three days. I'd visited a spice farm, a dhow-building yard and an eerie cave next to the sea. My guide Ali and I had strolled the alleys of Stone Town and checked out Freddie Mercury's house. We had puttered across the bay to Prison Island to feed bananas to (surprisingly fast and strong) tortoises, fed lettuce to turtles in a "natural" aquarium, spotted colobus monkeys in the forests and paddled through a spooky mangrove swamp.He'd helped me track down the shop that sold paan (a local "narcotic" made of betel nut) and taken me to the "tourist" fish market where, sure enough, sunburnt tourists were exiting holding their noses.I wondered what Ali thought of me, this woman all alone, travelling up and down the island he called home - a tourist but not like other tourists. He must have thought I was very brave and adventurous, based on subsequent events.story_article_left1On the fourth day, Ali was to drive me to a beach resort and that would be the end of our time together. "Is there anything else I could do or see?" I asked. Yes, he said, I could swim with dolphins if I liked.We drove south and parked at a deserted beach, where he called some fishermen over. Yes, they would take me to the dolphins. I looked at the rickety boat and the overcast sky and steely grey sea. ''Is it safe to go? Where are these dolphins?"Ali assured me they were just down the coast and everything was fine.The water was choppy and the wind got stronger the further we headed out to sea. I looked around the boat. No radio, no life jackets, no flares, no tube to toss to anyone who fell overboard, not even some rope. I turned my face into the wind and tried to enjoy the trip."Dolphin!" said the skipper, stopping the little engine and pointing into the vast blue yonder. I could see no such thing. "Ah, yes, there they are! Two or three," said Ali, also pointing.I could vaguely see some dark shapes in the distance. "Will they come any closer?" I asked.The skipper said something to Ali. "He says they always come when people jump in."I looked at the skipper. He looked at me, grinned and gestured with his head - meaning I should jump in. His face said, "Come on, what are you waiting for?Now that we had stopped, the size of the swell became more apparent. The boat was rocking up and down fairly violently. I stared into the dark, inky water."Are you sure I can jump in? It seems a little wild to me." The weather was not improving, not by a long shot. A few more minutes of this rocking and I would throw up.story_article_right2Both men assured me it was perfectly fine and repeated that the dolphins would come if I was in the water.What races through one's mind at a time like this? "Hell no! Come on, you're being silly. How many people get to do this? That water looks very, very deep. Are there dangerous currents? Sharks? We're quite far from land - I could never swim that far. But how amazing would it be to swim with a dolphin? The dolphins would save me if I got into trouble, right .".I looked over the edge of the boat. It was, somehow, a long, long, long way down to the water. How would I get back into the boat? I couldn't see a ladder anywhere.My final question, I asked out loud: "Are you going to swim with me?"I looked at both men. They both looked at me. "Do you think we're crazy tourists?" they seemed to be thinking. "No way!"• Do you have a funny or quirky story about your travels to share with us? Send 600 words to travelmag@sundaytimes.co.za..