Overlanding is done, and gone are the days of pre-dawn running squad outings, and 'Africa' by Toto (our truck's theme song) blaring as we made our way across the African countryside.
I've just returned from a 5-day sojourn in Mombasa, the sea-side city southeast of Nairobi. Like Zanzibar, Mombasa was another major slave-trading post for the Arabian Sultans in the late 1500s. The trip to Mombasa was another exciting "only in Africa" adventure, and I was incredibly relieved to have two lovely ladies by my side throughout.
The three of us- Jackie, the tour leader from my overland trip, and Judy, a nurse from the UK, and myself grabbed a cab in the early evening on July 11th to head into the city centre of Nairobi to catch our overnight bus to Mombasa. The route into Nairobi was stressful and hectic, and all we had to do was sit in the back of the cab. The Friday night traffic was horrendous. We sat behind piles of cars for 20 minutes at a time. Whether or not you advanced depended on how aggressive the lead car was feeling that day. Coach busses routinely blocked both directions of traffic as if it as nothing. The good samaritans stood in the middle of the mess attempting to direct traffic- but since their instructions contradicted one another, their efforts were fruitless. The 20 minute drive took nearly 1.5hours, but we wise travelers accounted for African time and left plenty early.
We laughed when the bus ticket salesman tried to tell us that, since we were foreigners, our passports must be shown in order to purchase tickets. Nairobi city planners were on the top of their game when they allowed the major bus offices to schedule departures from one of the most dangerous parts of the city, so we made a point of leaving these valuable documents tucked away. He settled for our names and passport numbers (fake ones, of course), when we threatened to take our business elsewhere. Turns out we should have...
We had some time to kill before our 9:45pm departure so we found the nearest pub and passed the time with a drink- to help ease our nerves in an incredibly intimidating part of town. We figured we were safer sitting inside at a table as paying customers than as three white travelers looking lost on a dingy street corner. Since we didn't trust that the buses would be equipped with toilets we ventured into the ones at this bar. By far the most disgusting toilet I will see in my lifetime. I wouldn't even call it a toilet. It was a full-on pile of.... well... I'm sure you imagine. We managed to find a slightly better 'toilet' in the dingy back hallway of a grease joint across the street... that one was the most disgusting toilet I will ever use in my lifetime.
Jackie and Judy- passing the time in a sketchy Nairobi bar
Despite recommendations from three different people, we were sorely disappointed with the 'luxury' bus ride we had been expecting. I suppose we had only set ourselves up for disappointment when we thought 'luxury' and 'public transport' could fall into the same sentence in Africa. The seats were broken, in every sense of the word, the bus stunk of urine and sweat, and I counted about 10 earwigs in my vicinity alone. Suffice to say none of us slept much that night.
We arrived in humid, sticky Mombasa around 7am the next day and were greeted by Danny, our arranged taxi man for the trip. Danny was all smiles, and incredibly helpful in leading us to some great local vendors to pick up fresh fruits and veggies for the next 5 days, before delivering us to the comforts of our self-catering cottage in Diani Beach, about 30 minutes south of Mombasa.
The next few days were filled with lots of reading and relaxing- exactly what we all needed after weeks of camping and early mornings. We were treated like gold by the three staff of the cottage- Citron, our outstanding chef, Miriam, the housekeeper, and Geoffrey, the gardener.
Geoffrey, Miriam, and Citron- Geoffrey surprised us with the beautiful heart wreath of fresh flowers
Citron preparing the dinner table on our front porch
Jackie, me, and Judy, relaxing with a glass of red before venturing to a nearby beach bar
I managed to get in touch with a local kiteschool, run a German couple- Chip, who was born in Kenya and raised in the area until she was 14, moved to Germany and studied sociology, and Jhan, a doctor who is born and raised German. Both left their city lives in Europe to travel the world for a year kitesurfing, before returning to Diani Beach to open and run a kite village. I made sure to get the names of some of the exotic places they visited while kiting around the world....
I had two days of good wind and had a fantastic time out in the warm Indian Ocean. No more wetsuit and numb toes- I was in boardies the whole time and loving it. My adventures to the beach took me to the end of our laneway, where I turned left, following the path until I reached the baobob tree, then turned right, along the public beach access pathway, through long grass and bushes, to where the trees opened up to the pristine white beach on turquoise blue waters.
After a day kiting on Diani Beach
Kenyaways Kite Village
The rest did wonders for all of us- although Judy did wake with a mysterious swollen eyelid one morning. Jackie, recalling a similar experience from her childhood in Zimbabwe, suggested that it may have been a blister beetle. I couldn't believe it, but apparently blister beetles pee as a defense mechanism, and their pee causes the skin to blister. Gross. We were lucky enough to find an eye clinic just outside of Diani Beach, and it turns out it was just a run-of-the-mill eye infection, easily treated with antibacterial drops.
We left Diani Beach around noon yesterday to explore Fort Jesus and the old town of Mombasa before catching our return bus to Nairobi last night. We asked around for more input on the bus company of choice for our return journey to Nairobi, and took the advice of Chip and Jan. The seats were functional, and slightly more cushy, but we went through an entire bottle of purel disinfecting our armrest and window frames before we managed to catch a few hours of light sleep as smells of stinking feet, samosas and sweat lingered in the air.
I'm safely back in Nairobi now, taking it easy for the day as I prepare for my Kilimanjaro climb. I leave early tomorrow morning and will be trekking for 6 days. I doubt I'll have internet access until my layover in London on my way to Morocco on July 25th, so hopefully my next post will tell of the thrills of summiting Africa's highest peak.
