We arrived safely in Mombasa after our first proper bus journey. I really enjoyed just watching the landscape pass by, spotting all the mad looking trees - Africa really does have some mad looking trees.
There's not much to see or do in Mombasa, and an afternoon pretty much covered it - Fort Jesus is pretty impressive though I suppose (and we did stumble across a really cool Swahili coffee house place). The main reason for travelling back through Mombasa though was the train journey back to Nairobi. Apparently it's one of the few great train journeys left in the world, although it's overnight, so you don't get to see much! In first class you get a two-berth cabin, which was cosy, and a full dinner and breakfast. I'm sure in it's day it was the height of luxury, but now it's all a bit tatty, with chipped china and lukewarm soup, but it was still a great experience to sit down to 'fine dining' on a train in Africa. In fact I had a fantastic night's sleep - I've been on a few sleeper trains in Europe and haven't slept well, but this train was lovely and quite (probably 'cos it was so slow).
So we arrived back in Nairobi nicely refreshed and headed to the railway museum.
Monday, June 25, 2007
Captain Ali and Abdullah Bob
So within 10 minutes of getting off the plane to Lamu we're on a simple ferry boat crossing to the main island (the airport is actually on Manda island). Of course we have the usual touts trying to be our new best friends, but due to it still being low season there are only a couple of them, and they're not too hard to ignore. But then one of them asks if we are the Irish couple Pat and Sarah, which takes us a little by surprise. He then tells us that our Dutch friends have been waiting for us and have even booked a room for us in their hotel. Naturally I'm skeptical, but we did make plans to meet up with the Maaike's again, so after we check out a couple of places in the main town we decide to follow the touts and get another boat 3km down the coast to Shela town. As we arrive we indeed meet one of the Maaike's on her balcony overlooking the sea - the touts were actually genuinely helpful!
After a bit of hard haggling we decide to stay in a different place (which I think turned out to be a good idea as I think it was a bit quiter) - where we met up with Max and Deborah (an Ozzie and Kiwi couple). We had this huge Swahili-style bed, which is kinda four poster in a really nice building with a very impressive roof terrace.
Basically we didn't do much for the following week. I was really disappointed to have missed (by a single day) a trip out to an island to actually watch baby turtles hatch and dash from the beach to the sea. Although, I actually think the guy who ran that trip was acting very illegally, as he would dig up a turtle nest and disturb the hatchlings, artificially encouraging them to 'awaken' - surely that would be frowned upon by the conversationalists.
The island of Lamu is really famous for it's beach though, which is 12km long and has basically no development along it at all. Unfortunately for me though, it also means it has almost no shade at all either, which with my rather delicate complexion was a tad worrisome. It was also the windy season, so Sarah had a bit of bother trying to sunbath due to the sand blowing all over her. So trips to the beach were fairly infrequent, although just walking along having practically the entire length of sandy beach to yourself was marvelous, just passing the odd Masai local or a train of heavily laden donkeys transporting bricks from one end of the beach to the other (there was quite a lot of development going on in Shela town).
Otherwise we just chilled out. One evening we had a Swahili banquet with a famous (i.e. mentioned in the Lonely Planet) local character named Ali Hippie. He had a great bit of camp banter, well practiced I think, but we all decided to fall it all the same (8 of us in total, including two Finnish girls we met from the cancelled Nairobi flight, Eva and Laura). The food was alright, but then Ali gathered around his entire musically gifted family for a traditional bit of 'entertainment'. It was a bit naff really (at one point I really was on the verge of breaking out into uncontrollable laughter at the naff-ness of it all - if Frankie Dunne had been there listening to Ali tinkering on his baby-korg Casio keyboard then there was no way I could have controlled it, and it would have all gotten quite embarrassing I think!). Still, it was an 'interesting' evening I suppose and all quite genuine I think, bless them!
The only other thing to do on Lamu is a dhow trip. This is a simple traditional sailing boat, and you just basically head out for the day pottering around. Each and every morning we'd fob off the touts with a 'not today, maybe tomorrow', until finally we decided to do a trip on our last day. We organised with the same guy the Maaike's had used, Captain Ali (it's a very common name), who initially gave me a bit of weird feeling. I didn't want to use him, preferring a guy we talked to each morning at breakfast, but Sarah did her usual of 'oh come on, lets just get this guy' because he was convenient, and so I did.
The next morning we're waiting for Captain Ali, and of course he's late - nothing unusual in that. But when he does arrive, it's with bad news - telling us he has had to cancel 'cos other people on the trip had fallen ill (probably a lie - he just hadn't managed to wrangle anyone else onto our boat, so it was uneconomical for him to run the trip with just us). Anyway, cancelling was no problem, we could easily have organised with another dhow captain, but the real problem was that Ali didn't have our money (we'd paid in full - which isn't too unusual). After a heated few minutes Ali swears he'll deliver the money that evening, and I have little choice but to wait it out.
Of course Ali never shows that evening (as the other dhow captains had predicted to us - there is a lot of rivalry between the guys from Lamu and the guys from Shela). Anyway I was feeling all strange about the whole situation. My initial feeling for this Ali character was quite negative, but we'd gone with him anyway. Now it seemed that negative intuition was correct, since Ali had now scammed us - but by this point my intuition was certain I'd get my money back, I just didn't know how.
So we started telling people about the situation (I was pretty mad at this point), and who do we happen to meet but Abdullah Bob (what a great name!), a member of the Shela Tourist Committee. He takes a great interest in our situation, as rogue dhow captains are a real problem in the area, and he starts ringing around a few people. He tells me exactly where to go the next morning and report the whole thing to the tourist police, who'd handle the whole thing.
We'd decided to leave Lamu and head to Mombasa that morning, but we told Abdullah Bob we'd consider staying to try and help nab Captain Ali. But the next morning I had such a strong feeling that I would get my money back (somehow), I decided to try and find Ali and get the money first, before reporting the whole thing to the tourist police.
So of course, the next morning we bump into a guy who knows Ali (it just always seems to be the case when you actually follow those niggly intuitive feelings...), and he knows where Ali lives. I explain the situation and offer him a small reward if he shows me where Ali lives and I get my money back. He agrees and we head off through the maze-like narrow back streets (I left Sarah with the bags beside the ferry). Now at this point the thought certainly did enter my head that I just might be a damn-fool tourist idiot that has already been ripped off and is now following an accomplice into the very the den of the original conman to be completely fleeced - but in fact I just knew that that wasn't going to happen - sometimes you just have trust that intuition.
Anyway, after much running around (Ali wasn't home) and asking around, and following person to person who'd 'just seen' Ali, we did actually find him. He was all smiles and really apologetic, and I was all nice and friendly (there was no point in getting aggressive). He says he only has half my money on him and he'll get me the rest later. Naturally this wasn't good enough, so I tell him I'm on my way to the police. This genuinely seemed to frighten him and after a good bit more jabbering he asks me to follow him and he'll try and get the rest of the money. After much more running through back-streets and alleys we end up at a friend of Ali's. He begs his mate for the money (quite humbling for him I have to say, as I was right there in front of him). His mate eventually, reluctantly relents, and then all five of us traipse off yet again to another place to finally get the money (at this point I'm seriously running out of time, as the ferry is due to leave in less than 10 minutes). But by this stage I'm actually having a really good laugh with Ali (he tells me he's sick of Lamu and wants to get away - it's too hard a life!), and now that I have my money back I ask Ali to come back to the ferry place so I can get a picture of the two of us. Poor Ali's vanity got the better of him I think as he happily follows me back to Sarah, our bags and the camera.
As we arrive I get the camera out and ask Sarah to take a picture as I put my arm around Ali - but Sarah refuses to take the picture, and then I suddenly realise that there are a couple of strange looking dudes beside me. Turns out they are the tourist police, and that Sarah had to tell them the whole story (the other dhow captains, the legitimate ones, had kinda pushed Sarah into doing it). So out come the handcuffs for poor Ali - I tried to tell the police that I'd gotten my money back, but they rightly said that he'd only do it again to someone else, and that anyway, he was supposed to have a license, which he didn't have.
I genuinely felt sorry for Ali - I think he was a good guy deep down, but he was just a petty thieve at the end of the day and he certainly got what he deserved. Pity we never got the photo of him being dragged off though - we literally jumped from beside the police onto the ferry and off away to Mombasa, with my money in my pocket, Ali on his way to the slammer and another case solved for the good of the people - hurrah!
After a bit of hard haggling we decide to stay in a different place (which I think turned out to be a good idea as I think it was a bit quiter) - where we met up with Max and Deborah (an Ozzie and Kiwi couple). We had this huge Swahili-style bed, which is kinda four poster in a really nice building with a very impressive roof terrace.
Basically we didn't do much for the following week. I was really disappointed to have missed (by a single day) a trip out to an island to actually watch baby turtles hatch and dash from the beach to the sea. Although, I actually think the guy who ran that trip was acting very illegally, as he would dig up a turtle nest and disturb the hatchlings, artificially encouraging them to 'awaken' - surely that would be frowned upon by the conversationalists.
The island of Lamu is really famous for it's beach though, which is 12km long and has basically no development along it at all. Unfortunately for me though, it also means it has almost no shade at all either, which with my rather delicate complexion was a tad worrisome. It was also the windy season, so Sarah had a bit of bother trying to sunbath due to the sand blowing all over her. So trips to the beach were fairly infrequent, although just walking along having practically the entire length of sandy beach to yourself was marvelous, just passing the odd Masai local or a train of heavily laden donkeys transporting bricks from one end of the beach to the other (there was quite a lot of development going on in Shela town).
Otherwise we just chilled out. One evening we had a Swahili banquet with a famous (i.e. mentioned in the Lonely Planet) local character named Ali Hippie. He had a great bit of camp banter, well practiced I think, but we all decided to fall it all the same (8 of us in total, including two Finnish girls we met from the cancelled Nairobi flight, Eva and Laura). The food was alright, but then Ali gathered around his entire musically gifted family for a traditional bit of 'entertainment'. It was a bit naff really (at one point I really was on the verge of breaking out into uncontrollable laughter at the naff-ness of it all - if Frankie Dunne had been there listening to Ali tinkering on his baby-korg Casio keyboard then there was no way I could have controlled it, and it would have all gotten quite embarrassing I think!). Still, it was an 'interesting' evening I suppose and all quite genuine I think, bless them!
The only other thing to do on Lamu is a dhow trip. This is a simple traditional sailing boat, and you just basically head out for the day pottering around. Each and every morning we'd fob off the touts with a 'not today, maybe tomorrow', until finally we decided to do a trip on our last day. We organised with the same guy the Maaike's had used, Captain Ali (it's a very common name), who initially gave me a bit of weird feeling. I didn't want to use him, preferring a guy we talked to each morning at breakfast, but Sarah did her usual of 'oh come on, lets just get this guy' because he was convenient, and so I did.
The next morning we're waiting for Captain Ali, and of course he's late - nothing unusual in that. But when he does arrive, it's with bad news - telling us he has had to cancel 'cos other people on the trip had fallen ill (probably a lie - he just hadn't managed to wrangle anyone else onto our boat, so it was uneconomical for him to run the trip with just us). Anyway, cancelling was no problem, we could easily have organised with another dhow captain, but the real problem was that Ali didn't have our money (we'd paid in full - which isn't too unusual). After a heated few minutes Ali swears he'll deliver the money that evening, and I have little choice but to wait it out.
Of course Ali never shows that evening (as the other dhow captains had predicted to us - there is a lot of rivalry between the guys from Lamu and the guys from Shela). Anyway I was feeling all strange about the whole situation. My initial feeling for this Ali character was quite negative, but we'd gone with him anyway. Now it seemed that negative intuition was correct, since Ali had now scammed us - but by this point my intuition was certain I'd get my money back, I just didn't know how.
So we started telling people about the situation (I was pretty mad at this point), and who do we happen to meet but Abdullah Bob (what a great name!), a member of the Shela Tourist Committee. He takes a great interest in our situation, as rogue dhow captains are a real problem in the area, and he starts ringing around a few people. He tells me exactly where to go the next morning and report the whole thing to the tourist police, who'd handle the whole thing.
We'd decided to leave Lamu and head to Mombasa that morning, but we told Abdullah Bob we'd consider staying to try and help nab Captain Ali. But the next morning I had such a strong feeling that I would get my money back (somehow), I decided to try and find Ali and get the money first, before reporting the whole thing to the tourist police.
So of course, the next morning we bump into a guy who knows Ali (it just always seems to be the case when you actually follow those niggly intuitive feelings...), and he knows where Ali lives. I explain the situation and offer him a small reward if he shows me where Ali lives and I get my money back. He agrees and we head off through the maze-like narrow back streets (I left Sarah with the bags beside the ferry). Now at this point the thought certainly did enter my head that I just might be a damn-fool tourist idiot that has already been ripped off and is now following an accomplice into the very the den of the original conman to be completely fleeced - but in fact I just knew that that wasn't going to happen - sometimes you just have trust that intuition.
Anyway, after much running around (Ali wasn't home) and asking around, and following person to person who'd 'just seen' Ali, we did actually find him. He was all smiles and really apologetic, and I was all nice and friendly (there was no point in getting aggressive). He says he only has half my money on him and he'll get me the rest later. Naturally this wasn't good enough, so I tell him I'm on my way to the police. This genuinely seemed to frighten him and after a good bit more jabbering he asks me to follow him and he'll try and get the rest of the money. After much more running through back-streets and alleys we end up at a friend of Ali's. He begs his mate for the money (quite humbling for him I have to say, as I was right there in front of him). His mate eventually, reluctantly relents, and then all five of us traipse off yet again to another place to finally get the money (at this point I'm seriously running out of time, as the ferry is due to leave in less than 10 minutes). But by this stage I'm actually having a really good laugh with Ali (he tells me he's sick of Lamu and wants to get away - it's too hard a life!), and now that I have my money back I ask Ali to come back to the ferry place so I can get a picture of the two of us. Poor Ali's vanity got the better of him I think as he happily follows me back to Sarah, our bags and the camera.
As we arrive I get the camera out and ask Sarah to take a picture as I put my arm around Ali - but Sarah refuses to take the picture, and then I suddenly realise that there are a couple of strange looking dudes beside me. Turns out they are the tourist police, and that Sarah had to tell them the whole story (the other dhow captains, the legitimate ones, had kinda pushed Sarah into doing it). So out come the handcuffs for poor Ali - I tried to tell the police that I'd gotten my money back, but they rightly said that he'd only do it again to someone else, and that anyway, he was supposed to have a license, which he didn't have.
I genuinely felt sorry for Ali - I think he was a good guy deep down, but he was just a petty thieve at the end of the day and he certainly got what he deserved. Pity we never got the photo of him being dragged off though - we literally jumped from beside the police onto the ferry and off away to Mombasa, with my money in my pocket, Ali on his way to the slammer and another case solved for the good of the people - hurrah!
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Some photos
Sarah put up some of the more exciting photos here - http://www.sarahandpat.shutterfly.com, so if your really bored...
How a blog works!
I've just added a number of new entries to the blog, so if your not familiar with how blogs work scroll down until you see an entry explaining it all!
Cheers,
Pat.
Cheers,
Pat.
Five star luxury (kinda)
So our next plan was to head to the coast and find a beach to relax for a week or so. We'd kinda made plans to try and meet up again with the Dutch Maaike's in Lamu, but weren't sure how we'd get there. All the info we had was that flights directly there were $150 each one-way, and I nearly booked tickets in a safari company place (Sarah wanted to book it there and then, but I had a niggly feeling about the guy, and just wasn't comfortable). So instead I decided to hold off and head to the Kenya Airways office to check details for flying to Uganda, which we planned on doing some time after we got back from the beach. While in the office what do I happen to spot but a promotional leaflet for direct flights to Lamu for only $50 each! Either this was a very new offer (nobody told us (even the guidebook) that this airline even flew to Lamu), or everyone was just trying to scam us into the more expensive options.
Anyway, I obviously jumped at the chance and booked flights straightaway. Man, was I happy that I'd listened to my intuition about the safari office guy - we'd just got flights for a third of the price.
So, the morning of our flight to Lamu turned out to be quite an eventful one. We had gotten up early (to burn photos onto CD) and were making our way down to the local bus stop for the bus to the airport (naturally, I'm no Epsilon Semi-Moron me). But traffic seemed very slow, and I couldn't find any sign of the bus. I asked a local guy and he said that yeah, we were in the right place but that there was some sort of trouble just down the road, as he pointed. We could see a biggish crowd gathering about 100 metres away and assumed it was a traffic accident or something. We also saw a truck full of army guys arriving just then too - but you see security guys all over Nairobi (and Kenya in general in fact), so I didn't think anything of it.
But it did seem obvious that the buses where going to be seriously messed up in this part of town, so I decided to walk past as much of the logjam as possible and then just flag down a dastardly taxi - I have my principles, but obviously there's a time and a place for everything.
On the way to the airport, the taxi guy tells us that the incident was actually a bomb, and it had gone off about 15 minutes before we arrived at the scene. Later it also transpired (although I think later this turned out to be false, not sure though), that the guys with the bomb had actually tried to board a number 34 bus, but that the bus was full and so they couldn't get on. They then walked over to a street hawker guy, handed him a briefcase, ran off and seconds later it exploded, killing the hawker guy (no-one else was killed or even seriously injured, so the police later called it a 'minor criminal incident'!). Guess where the number 34 bus goes - yep, that's right, the airport.
So anyway, having not gotten ourselves blown up, we arrived at the airport only to be told that our flight was cancelled due to technical problems with the plane. This didn't bother me in the slightest, as we're on a one-year trip so time is not a problem, and I knew that airlines had to take care of us in these situations. We did have to sit around though for a good while, as they tried to get us onto another flight with a different airline. We thought (since they thought) that they'd succeeded and we transferred to a different regional airport to pick up this different flight, only to be told half-an-hour after we arrive that in fact they couldn't take us at all.
So the airline put us up in a five-star hotel in downtown Nairobi, the Safari Club Hotel, while we attempted to catch the same flight the next day instead. I think this hotel used to be really nice, but it's a bit rundown and rough around the edges now, although all the rooms are actually two-room suites, and it had a nice swimming pool and stream room and sauna. Lunch, dinner and breakfast were also included of course, and these were actually fantastic - so all in all I had a ball for a whole day just lazing around, swimming, reading and eating.
The flight the next day went without a hitch, and was actually quite cool flying over the African plains, and flying over the turquoise waters around Lamu island was a beautiful sight. And so our beach time had started...
Anyway, I obviously jumped at the chance and booked flights straightaway. Man, was I happy that I'd listened to my intuition about the safari office guy - we'd just got flights for a third of the price.
So, the morning of our flight to Lamu turned out to be quite an eventful one. We had gotten up early (to burn photos onto CD) and were making our way down to the local bus stop for the bus to the airport (naturally, I'm no Epsilon Semi-Moron me). But traffic seemed very slow, and I couldn't find any sign of the bus. I asked a local guy and he said that yeah, we were in the right place but that there was some sort of trouble just down the road, as he pointed. We could see a biggish crowd gathering about 100 metres away and assumed it was a traffic accident or something. We also saw a truck full of army guys arriving just then too - but you see security guys all over Nairobi (and Kenya in general in fact), so I didn't think anything of it.
But it did seem obvious that the buses where going to be seriously messed up in this part of town, so I decided to walk past as much of the logjam as possible and then just flag down a dastardly taxi - I have my principles, but obviously there's a time and a place for everything.
On the way to the airport, the taxi guy tells us that the incident was actually a bomb, and it had gone off about 15 minutes before we arrived at the scene. Later it also transpired (although I think later this turned out to be false, not sure though), that the guys with the bomb had actually tried to board a number 34 bus, but that the bus was full and so they couldn't get on. They then walked over to a street hawker guy, handed him a briefcase, ran off and seconds later it exploded, killing the hawker guy (no-one else was killed or even seriously injured, so the police later called it a 'minor criminal incident'!). Guess where the number 34 bus goes - yep, that's right, the airport.
So anyway, having not gotten ourselves blown up, we arrived at the airport only to be told that our flight was cancelled due to technical problems with the plane. This didn't bother me in the slightest, as we're on a one-year trip so time is not a problem, and I knew that airlines had to take care of us in these situations. We did have to sit around though for a good while, as they tried to get us onto another flight with a different airline. We thought (since they thought) that they'd succeeded and we transferred to a different regional airport to pick up this different flight, only to be told half-an-hour after we arrive that in fact they couldn't take us at all.
So the airline put us up in a five-star hotel in downtown Nairobi, the Safari Club Hotel, while we attempted to catch the same flight the next day instead. I think this hotel used to be really nice, but it's a bit rundown and rough around the edges now, although all the rooms are actually two-room suites, and it had a nice swimming pool and stream room and sauna. Lunch, dinner and breakfast were also included of course, and these were actually fantastic - so all in all I had a ball for a whole day just lazing around, swimming, reading and eating.
The flight the next day went without a hitch, and was actually quite cool flying over the African plains, and flying over the turquoise waters around Lamu island was a beautiful sight. And so our beach time had started...
Best burger in the world!
This is just a short entry to give worthy praise to the Carnivore restaurant for what I reckon was the best burger I've ever tasted - the Cheesy Dribbler (stop giggling down the back). It was utterly beyond any worldly description, by which I mean it was huge, simple, cheesy, succulent and just plain delicious.
But we almost got duped into a bit of a con. We had no reservation, having just hopped off the local bus and walked up the long driveway, getting a strange stare from the security guard who wasn't too familiar with people 'walking' to such a famous and salubrious establishment (ha - we showed him!). So the front-desk guy consults his huge group-booking chart and then just walked us over to a really nice part of the restaurant and plonked us down. I think food would have just started arriving at our table if Sarah hadn't asked for a menu, but luckily she did, 'cos the waiter said there was no menu in this section, it was an all-you-can-eat buffet thing for a mighty hefty price. But he said if we didn't want that there was another part of the restaurant which was a la carte - so we high-tailed it over there pretty sharpish, since we were only there for lunch anyway.
It turned out to be a great decision, as this part of the restaurant had more life, was right beside the huge BBQ stations that are the centre-piece of the restaurant and the menu had that Cheesy Dribbler burger which we wouldn't have had at the poncy part. I was in gastronomic heaven from this point on, and so will always have a soft spot for Carnivore, even if Sarah did reckon it was a bit Disneyland. I actually liked it and thought the place had genuine character, but I could see what she meant alright.
Oh yeah, and the Karen Blixen house (she wrote the book 'Out of Africa' which was later made into a famous movie with Meryl Streep and Robert Redford I think) was an overpriced rip off (they've quadrupled the entrance price since our Lonely Planet was published), so we didn't bother paying in to see it. The bookshop had a book of photos of the interior anyway, and that book said that all the stuff on display wasn't even original, but that they were film props that had been donated by the movie studio after they shot much of the movie there! We did buy a copy of the book though, and the house and gardens are lovely to walk around, so it wasn't a wasted diversion or anything.
But we almost got duped into a bit of a con. We had no reservation, having just hopped off the local bus and walked up the long driveway, getting a strange stare from the security guard who wasn't too familiar with people 'walking' to such a famous and salubrious establishment (ha - we showed him!). So the front-desk guy consults his huge group-booking chart and then just walked us over to a really nice part of the restaurant and plonked us down. I think food would have just started arriving at our table if Sarah hadn't asked for a menu, but luckily she did, 'cos the waiter said there was no menu in this section, it was an all-you-can-eat buffet thing for a mighty hefty price. But he said if we didn't want that there was another part of the restaurant which was a la carte - so we high-tailed it over there pretty sharpish, since we were only there for lunch anyway.
It turned out to be a great decision, as this part of the restaurant had more life, was right beside the huge BBQ stations that are the centre-piece of the restaurant and the menu had that Cheesy Dribbler burger which we wouldn't have had at the poncy part. I was in gastronomic heaven from this point on, and so will always have a soft spot for Carnivore, even if Sarah did reckon it was a bit Disneyland. I actually liked it and thought the place had genuine character, but I could see what she meant alright.
Oh yeah, and the Karen Blixen house (she wrote the book 'Out of Africa' which was later made into a famous movie with Meryl Streep and Robert Redford I think) was an overpriced rip off (they've quadrupled the entrance price since our Lonely Planet was published), so we didn't bother paying in to see it. The bookshop had a book of photos of the interior anyway, and that book said that all the stuff on display wasn't even original, but that they were film props that had been donated by the movie studio after they shot much of the movie there! We did buy a copy of the book though, and the house and gardens are lovely to walk around, so it wasn't a wasted diversion or anything.
Karen and Carnivore
Embiggened as I was by getting the local bus from Nairobi airport, I decided to again get a local bus out to the Nairobi suburb of Karen. My main point of interest was the giraffe sanctuary there, but also the Karen Blixen house which the guidebook said was worth a visit.
I had a bit of trouble trying to figure out how on earth the local buses work here, as it's all a bit hectic and manic. But with the help of yet another friendly local we hopped on the right bus and headed off. Most people combine the giraffes and Blixen house on a half-day tour with one of the safari companies, but it all seemed to be quite straightforward to do it yourself, and we had a small map of Karen from the information office in the airport - but ominously it had no scale.
But the bus was nice and comfy and the friendly conductor guy said he'd tell us where to get off for the giraffe's, so I sat back and relaxed. As it turned out we passed right by the Karen Blixen place on the way, but I was more interested in the giraffe's anyway, and thought we could walk back afterwards, but it turned out that the scale of my little map was actually really small, and the giraffe's were miles away. Also, the conductor told us to get out at the wrong place, and we needed to continue walking for ages before we finally found it (more friendly locals needed to direct us).
But the place itself was brilliant. It's actually quite small, but very nicely built, all in natural woods and outdoorsie. They had 12 giraffes there and a few warthogs, which I can only assume were there to provide a startling degree of contrast to the gorgeously graceful giraffes - Jasus but those poor buggers surely must be the ugliest on gods green earth, he must have a lost a big bet with the devil or something the day he created them.
But the best thing is that you can feed the giraffes yourself, and hug them and pet them and just really interact with them. They seem to have eyes the size of tennis balls (googley reference there) and an amazingly relaxed, calm nature - I could have stayed there all day!
On the bus on the way back to Nairobi we passed a sign for the famous Carnivore restaurant. Again, this is something that more tourists do as part of a package, or else charter a taxi at extortionate rates - but here we were passing right past it on the number 24 bus which cost us 20 cent each. So right there was our plan for the following morning and afternoon - we'd get the same bus again, hop off at the Karen Blixen house for a gander, catch the next bus and hop off at Carnivore for lunch, and catch the bus again to get home. And that's exactly what we did... half-day package trips me arse.
I had a bit of trouble trying to figure out how on earth the local buses work here, as it's all a bit hectic and manic. But with the help of yet another friendly local we hopped on the right bus and headed off. Most people combine the giraffes and Blixen house on a half-day tour with one of the safari companies, but it all seemed to be quite straightforward to do it yourself, and we had a small map of Karen from the information office in the airport - but ominously it had no scale.
But the bus was nice and comfy and the friendly conductor guy said he'd tell us where to get off for the giraffe's, so I sat back and relaxed. As it turned out we passed right by the Karen Blixen place on the way, but I was more interested in the giraffe's anyway, and thought we could walk back afterwards, but it turned out that the scale of my little map was actually really small, and the giraffe's were miles away. Also, the conductor told us to get out at the wrong place, and we needed to continue walking for ages before we finally found it (more friendly locals needed to direct us).
But the place itself was brilliant. It's actually quite small, but very nicely built, all in natural woods and outdoorsie. They had 12 giraffes there and a few warthogs, which I can only assume were there to provide a startling degree of contrast to the gorgeously graceful giraffes - Jasus but those poor buggers surely must be the ugliest on gods green earth, he must have a lost a big bet with the devil or something the day he created them.
But the best thing is that you can feed the giraffes yourself, and hug them and pet them and just really interact with them. They seem to have eyes the size of tennis balls (googley reference there) and an amazingly relaxed, calm nature - I could have stayed there all day!
On the bus on the way back to Nairobi we passed a sign for the famous Carnivore restaurant. Again, this is something that more tourists do as part of a package, or else charter a taxi at extortionate rates - but here we were passing right past it on the number 24 bus which cost us 20 cent each. So right there was our plan for the following morning and afternoon - we'd get the same bus again, hop off at the Karen Blixen house for a gander, catch the next bus and hop off at Carnivore for lunch, and catch the bus again to get home. And that's exactly what we did... half-day package trips me arse.
Hell's Gate
So at Lake Naivasha we just relaxed at Fisherman's camp, a really nice camping place right on the lake with small rooms (bandas) and a biggish cottage. The bandas (all 4 four them) were all full and the cottage was too expensive (even after extensive haggling), so we decided to camp. At first they gave us a tiny tent with no room at all for our bags (and it was raining). It reminded me of my first camping expedition, cycling around Europe nearly 20 years ago. My tent then was labeled as a 'One-man tent, or two close friends', but even it still managed to 'comfortably' house myself, Frankie Dunne and Alan Pyne years later in West Cork - I suppose we must have been very close friends back then.
Anyway, this tent was ridiculous, so after a bit of arguing and pleading they upgraded us to a four-man tent. It was certainly better, and we could fit our bags in, but it was still a very uncomfortable night. Luckily the next day we got chatting to the English lady who ran the place, and she told us that she felt sorry for not offering us the cottage at a more reasonable rate the day before. So she relented and we moved into the cottage with the two Dutch girls. This was
a great relief, especially as our tent has leaked a good bit during the night and another night in there would have been a damp and miserable nightmare.
We spent most of that day cycling through the nearby, but small, national park of Hell's Gate. There was a gang of us Westeners (us, the Maaike's and English girl Sarah and her fella Henry) with a guide, George, and it was a great day out. The gorge was small but still very impressive and we even passed a poor Aardvark that had gotten caught in a flash flood and drowned the night before (he had bloody impressive claws, very Freddie Krugger!).
There wasn't much animal life in this park, but it was still a great feeling to cycle through it rather than sitting in a minivan - far more engaging and liberating. We also passed by a number of geo-thermal power stations in the hills too - good to know that they're harnessing the natural hot springs in the area (although there are none you can swim in or anything). Poor Sarah got a puncture towards the end, but luckily George gave her his bike and he got a lift back to the camp.
Next day we left for Nairobi (on more disastrous roads), where the Dutch girls got train tickets to Mombasa, enroute to the island of Lamu (we were hoping to fly directly to Lamu). After dinner in the expensive Tratorria, we bade the girls farewell and headed back to our base in Nairobi, the Terminal Hotel and the same room as before, number 207.
Anyway, this tent was ridiculous, so after a bit of arguing and pleading they upgraded us to a four-man tent. It was certainly better, and we could fit our bags in, but it was still a very uncomfortable night. Luckily the next day we got chatting to the English lady who ran the place, and she told us that she felt sorry for not offering us the cottage at a more reasonable rate the day before. So she relented and we moved into the cottage with the two Dutch girls. This was
a great relief, especially as our tent has leaked a good bit during the night and another night in there would have been a damp and miserable nightmare.
We spent most of that day cycling through the nearby, but small, national park of Hell's Gate. There was a gang of us Westeners (us, the Maaike's and English girl Sarah and her fella Henry) with a guide, George, and it was a great day out. The gorge was small but still very impressive and we even passed a poor Aardvark that had gotten caught in a flash flood and drowned the night before (he had bloody impressive claws, very Freddie Krugger!).
There wasn't much animal life in this park, but it was still a great feeling to cycle through it rather than sitting in a minivan - far more engaging and liberating. We also passed by a number of geo-thermal power stations in the hills too - good to know that they're harnessing the natural hot springs in the area (although there are none you can swim in or anything). Poor Sarah got a puncture towards the end, but luckily George gave her his bike and he got a lift back to the camp.
Next day we left for Nairobi (on more disastrous roads), where the Dutch girls got train tickets to Mombasa, enroute to the island of Lamu (we were hoping to fly directly to Lamu). After dinner in the expensive Tratorria, we bade the girls farewell and headed back to our base in Nairobi, the Terminal Hotel and the same room as before, number 207.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
How a blog works!
This is a note to people not familiar with blogs. Because it's taken me so long to get this blog started (too much running around, internet places that are too expensive, or close early, or don't open on time, or are too slow, etc. etc.) it means I've lots to write about. Rather than write one huge blog entry, which nobody would bother reading, I'll update it in smaller chunks, i.e. entries.
But a blog works in reverse chronological order, so the first entry you see is the most recent one. If there are a number of entries since you last read the blog you'll need to scroll down to the last one you read, and read up from there. For example, today I've just posted three entries (this one included), so you really scroll down to the end of the blog and read the 'last' entry you see - chronologically that one is actually the 'first' entry.
Hope that's clear. Anyway, I have to finish now, as Sarah's neck is pretty stiff and she wants to get out of this internet place (we've been here for hours now!). Should get to catch up on more of the blog tomorrow - and hopefully get to the bit about my substantial contribution to international crime-busting. I kid you not, yesterday I got a guy arrested, dragged off in hand-cuffs by the local tourist police - cool!
But a blog works in reverse chronological order, so the first entry you see is the most recent one. If there are a number of entries since you last read the blog you'll need to scroll down to the last one you read, and read up from there. For example, today I've just posted three entries (this one included), so you really scroll down to the end of the blog and read the 'last' entry you see - chronologically that one is actually the 'first' entry.
Hope that's clear. Anyway, I have to finish now, as Sarah's neck is pretty stiff and she wants to get out of this internet place (we've been here for hours now!). Should get to catch up on more of the blog tomorrow - and hopefully get to the bit about my substantial contribution to international crime-busting. I kid you not, yesterday I got a guy arrested, dragged off in hand-cuffs by the local tourist police - cool!
Safari
So, arriving in the city centre of Nairobi we walked to a couple of hotels to check them out. Naturally we were trailed by touts and 'helpers', but that's the same travelling everywhere, so we just pretty much ignored them, but in a nice way of course.
We ended up taking the first place we checked, which was recommended by the Lonely Planet (the Terminal Hotel), but the whole point of not booking somewhere in advance is that you can never trust someone else's opinion, not even the Lonely Planet (LP) authors. I like the LP and have always used it, but it's only a guide and can't be taken as gospel. It's often out of date, with places closed down or just really run-down, but it gives you a decent reference point from which you can start.
The only time I've booked ahead (apart from package holidays - yuk!) was on the Vietnam trip, and each time it was a disappointment. Even though I'd done extensive research and picked from amongst the best 5-star hotels, when we actually got to them they were soulless, characterless business hotels that could have been in any major city in the world - London, Paris or New York. When I actually walked around the streets I'd stumble across a gorgeous, genuine Vietnamese hotel, brimming with character and a tenth of the price, and I'd curse my naivety in having pandered to the Machine by booking ahead 'just in case we can't get anything!'.
So having checked-in, we strolled about the town. It's not the prettiest place, but not bad either. Not too many tourist sights to see, the best of them apparently is the National Museum, but it's currently closed for renovations. By the late afternoon we decided to call into one of the safari companies mentioned in the guidebook to get a feel for safari options and prices (the amount of forward planning for this trip really was minimal, and neither of us had much of a clue).
But we (i.e. me) ended up haggling like an age-old pro (once you've got it, you never lose it), and we ended up booking a four day safari for $310 each. It was three days in the Masai Mara reserve (apparently the best one in Kenya, and so I assume the world) and one day at Lake Nakuru. We could have left the very next day, but decided to wait a day and relax in Nairobi instead (there were less people on the trip we did too (5 as opposed to 7), which I knew would mean more room, and therefore comfort, in the safari vehicle).
The safari was brilliant I have to say. I won't bore you with the details, it was a safari and we saw lots and lots of critters, and managed four of the big five, only missing the leopard (but seeing a cheetah, which isn't one of the five). But I had a nice moment in the middle of it all, a strange but not unfamiliar realisation - that I've always known I'd do a safari. I don't mean that I always 'wanted to do' a safari, I've always known I would do a safari. And here I was, finally doing it. I've always had a strong draw to animals (and to nature and the outdoors in general I think, which is why cycling is such a passion for me), but the goal of doing a real African safari has been a dream since childhood. And as with all goals you achieve in life (this whole trip being another one for me), there's an extra special satisfaction when you can sit back, relax and enjoy the slow unfolding of that dream.
The last day of the trip was at a lake famous for its flamingos. At the height of their season they reckon there are 1.2 million of them on the shores of this one lake, but even for us the tens of thousands we saw were stunning. You can get out of the safari van and walk amongst them too, which was great. The lake has a stunning lookout point up a big hill too, where I could easily have spent the entire day just sitting and gazing down at the park and lake, and the flamingos taking off and landing in big groups. But the fact that we couldn't just stay there all day really summed up my only problem with the whole safari thing - the fact that you are on a tour, and it has to be 'packaged'. We all had to get back in our van and drive off to the next place on the itinerary, but that's a small quibble I suppose, and these parks really do have to be managed (although you can hire a car and do them yourself I think, so maybe when I come back in a few years time (with the kiddies!) I'll try that approach). (Ok, the other quibble would have to be the feeling that the animals are only really semi-wild, 'cos they're so familiar with humans and their safari vans, and the reserves are delimited with fences. For example, the lions routinely lie against the wheels of the van to get some shade, and although it's brilliant for photos opportunities, it takes something away from the wilderness vibe somewhat. The guidebook does recommend a walking safari as a nice alternative to the usual vehicle ones, so maybe I'll try that somewhere else to see.)
During the safari we met up with two cool Dutch girls, both of whom, conveniently, were named Maaike. They were a bit longer in the country (they were getting work experience as midwives in the Kenyan town of Eldoret) and were more clued up than us - they realised that our return trip to Nairobi took us past another lake (Naivasha) and so had arranged with the tour company to be dropped off there rather than continuing all the way back to the city. So we decided to do the same, which I suppose is just one of the great perks of truly independent travel...
We ended up taking the first place we checked, which was recommended by the Lonely Planet (the Terminal Hotel), but the whole point of not booking somewhere in advance is that you can never trust someone else's opinion, not even the Lonely Planet (LP) authors. I like the LP and have always used it, but it's only a guide and can't be taken as gospel. It's often out of date, with places closed down or just really run-down, but it gives you a decent reference point from which you can start.
The only time I've booked ahead (apart from package holidays - yuk!) was on the Vietnam trip, and each time it was a disappointment. Even though I'd done extensive research and picked from amongst the best 5-star hotels, when we actually got to them they were soulless, characterless business hotels that could have been in any major city in the world - London, Paris or New York. When I actually walked around the streets I'd stumble across a gorgeous, genuine Vietnamese hotel, brimming with character and a tenth of the price, and I'd curse my naivety in having pandered to the Machine by booking ahead 'just in case we can't get anything!'.
So having checked-in, we strolled about the town. It's not the prettiest place, but not bad either. Not too many tourist sights to see, the best of them apparently is the National Museum, but it's currently closed for renovations. By the late afternoon we decided to call into one of the safari companies mentioned in the guidebook to get a feel for safari options and prices (the amount of forward planning for this trip really was minimal, and neither of us had much of a clue).
But we (i.e. me) ended up haggling like an age-old pro (once you've got it, you never lose it), and we ended up booking a four day safari for $310 each. It was three days in the Masai Mara reserve (apparently the best one in Kenya, and so I assume the world) and one day at Lake Nakuru. We could have left the very next day, but decided to wait a day and relax in Nairobi instead (there were less people on the trip we did too (5 as opposed to 7), which I knew would mean more room, and therefore comfort, in the safari vehicle).
The safari was brilliant I have to say. I won't bore you with the details, it was a safari and we saw lots and lots of critters, and managed four of the big five, only missing the leopard (but seeing a cheetah, which isn't one of the five). But I had a nice moment in the middle of it all, a strange but not unfamiliar realisation - that I've always known I'd do a safari. I don't mean that I always 'wanted to do' a safari, I've always known I would do a safari. And here I was, finally doing it. I've always had a strong draw to animals (and to nature and the outdoors in general I think, which is why cycling is such a passion for me), but the goal of doing a real African safari has been a dream since childhood. And as with all goals you achieve in life (this whole trip being another one for me), there's an extra special satisfaction when you can sit back, relax and enjoy the slow unfolding of that dream.
The last day of the trip was at a lake famous for its flamingos. At the height of their season they reckon there are 1.2 million of them on the shores of this one lake, but even for us the tens of thousands we saw were stunning. You can get out of the safari van and walk amongst them too, which was great. The lake has a stunning lookout point up a big hill too, where I could easily have spent the entire day just sitting and gazing down at the park and lake, and the flamingos taking off and landing in big groups. But the fact that we couldn't just stay there all day really summed up my only problem with the whole safari thing - the fact that you are on a tour, and it has to be 'packaged'. We all had to get back in our van and drive off to the next place on the itinerary, but that's a small quibble I suppose, and these parks really do have to be managed (although you can hire a car and do them yourself I think, so maybe when I come back in a few years time (with the kiddies!) I'll try that approach). (Ok, the other quibble would have to be the feeling that the animals are only really semi-wild, 'cos they're so familiar with humans and their safari vans, and the reserves are delimited with fences. For example, the lions routinely lie against the wheels of the van to get some shade, and although it's brilliant for photos opportunities, it takes something away from the wilderness vibe somewhat. The guidebook does recommend a walking safari as a nice alternative to the usual vehicle ones, so maybe I'll try that somewhere else to see.)
During the safari we met up with two cool Dutch girls, both of whom, conveniently, were named Maaike. They were a bit longer in the country (they were getting work experience as midwives in the Kenyan town of Eldoret) and were more clued up than us - they realised that our return trip to Nairobi took us past another lake (Naivasha) and so had arranged with the tour company to be dropped off there rather than continuing all the way back to the city. So we decided to do the same, which I suppose is just one of the great perks of truly independent travel...
Wow, I love Africa!
Yep, I love this place already. How long did it take me to come to this conclusion - about an hour and a half.
With all the horror stories I was hearing about Africa (and Nairobi in particular) before we left (from the media, friends, friends of friends, the Interweb, our guide book even), I'd have forgiven myself for getting a tad nervous and actually using the internet to book some 'safe' place to stay for our first few nights. But then I remembered I've done all this before, and the worry-mongers out there are many and varied. I've always tried to live my life outside the confines of the 'machine', and so far I reckon it's worked out pretty well (for those who don't know what I mean by 'the machine', just read Aldous Huxleys 'Brave New World', or George Orwell's '1984' - the machine is alive and well, and doing quite nicely for itself in the 21st century, and we're all, myself included, to varying degrees, little worker ants keeping the machine's cogs a-turning, and the biggest cog in the whole machine has 'Fear' emblazoned across it...).
So, not heeding the doomsayers I decided not to book anything in advance and to begin the trip as I intended to continue it, on a wing and a prayer - or in other words, to go 'travelling'. (To be honest, I did organise things so that our flight arrived really early in the morning, giving us the whole day to sort something out. I also checked with http://www.hostelworld.com and all 20 or so accommodation places listed there had full availability for the days we arrived, which I knew to be low season. I also did enough research on Nairobi to know where a group of decent hotels were located close by one another. Finally, I also knew that the budget for this trip is far healthier than the last time I went travelling, so in a worse-case scenario we had plenty of money to stay in a really expensive place if need be. So, all in all, I knew full well we would have no problem finding something.)
Anyway, given all the above, poor Sarah was still swayed by the machinations of the machine (who is it that said 'Hell is: other people'?), so I actually relented and said she could book somewhere in advance. But in the rush of the last few days she never got a chance to do it, and we flew from Dublin with nothing organised at all - hurrah!
All the departures, connection, visas and luggage went perfectly, no delays, no crowds, no queuing (even Dublin security was empty and I think we were literally the only people in the newly opened Area 14 check-in area). So we arrived in Nairobi airport pretty relaxed and refreshed.
I was still half expecting a barrage of loud, aggressive touts to hit us once we got through customs (I'm certainly not immune to the machine's workings, not yet anyway!), but in fact there were very few of them, and they weren't anything like as persistent as I'd expected. After a few, 'No, we're fine, we're being collected by friends', they pretty much left us alone. I kinda liked the guys immediately in fact, since they weren't brash or pushy at all.
So, feeling much emboldened (embiggened might be a better word) by this first encounter I went looking for the local bus stop to get the local bus into town - taxis are for wimps, and I hate getting them anywhere, especially in Dublin. But when travelling, I always prefer public transport, whether it's a metro, tram or bus. You always get a better feel for the place, your interacting with the real locals (ok, only a little bit), and it always feels more genuine to me. The signposting isn't the best at the airport, but it didn't take much asking around to work it out, and within a half hour I'd gotten money from the ATM, water from the shop (so I could have small change for the bus) and we were sitting comfortably on the bus with loads of room and surrounded by locals - we were the only white people on the bus.
But as for the title of this blog entry ('Wow, I love Africa'), it really comes from the bus conductor guy. He was amazingly friendly and smiley, and made a bit of a joke about us having to pay extra because our rucksacks took up an extra seat (remember something similar in Poland Mullin's?). Anyway, he was just lovely, and it was at just this moment, after all the hype and the niggly worries from back home before we left, that I just sat back, relaxed and realised that this is going to be a great trip, and that I already loved these friendly, smiley people. Once you like the people in a place, you automatically love the place, and I just knew straight away, 'Wow, I love Africa'.
With all the horror stories I was hearing about Africa (and Nairobi in particular) before we left (from the media, friends, friends of friends, the Interweb, our guide book even), I'd have forgiven myself for getting a tad nervous and actually using the internet to book some 'safe' place to stay for our first few nights. But then I remembered I've done all this before, and the worry-mongers out there are many and varied. I've always tried to live my life outside the confines of the 'machine', and so far I reckon it's worked out pretty well (for those who don't know what I mean by 'the machine', just read Aldous Huxleys 'Brave New World', or George Orwell's '1984' - the machine is alive and well, and doing quite nicely for itself in the 21st century, and we're all, myself included, to varying degrees, little worker ants keeping the machine's cogs a-turning, and the biggest cog in the whole machine has 'Fear' emblazoned across it...).
So, not heeding the doomsayers I decided not to book anything in advance and to begin the trip as I intended to continue it, on a wing and a prayer - or in other words, to go 'travelling'. (To be honest, I did organise things so that our flight arrived really early in the morning, giving us the whole day to sort something out. I also checked with http://www.hostelworld.com and all 20 or so accommodation places listed there had full availability for the days we arrived, which I knew to be low season. I also did enough research on Nairobi to know where a group of decent hotels were located close by one another. Finally, I also knew that the budget for this trip is far healthier than the last time I went travelling, so in a worse-case scenario we had plenty of money to stay in a really expensive place if need be. So, all in all, I knew full well we would have no problem finding something.)
Anyway, given all the above, poor Sarah was still swayed by the machinations of the machine (who is it that said 'Hell is: other people'?), so I actually relented and said she could book somewhere in advance. But in the rush of the last few days she never got a chance to do it, and we flew from Dublin with nothing organised at all - hurrah!
All the departures, connection, visas and luggage went perfectly, no delays, no crowds, no queuing (even Dublin security was empty and I think we were literally the only people in the newly opened Area 14 check-in area). So we arrived in Nairobi airport pretty relaxed and refreshed.
I was still half expecting a barrage of loud, aggressive touts to hit us once we got through customs (I'm certainly not immune to the machine's workings, not yet anyway!), but in fact there were very few of them, and they weren't anything like as persistent as I'd expected. After a few, 'No, we're fine, we're being collected by friends', they pretty much left us alone. I kinda liked the guys immediately in fact, since they weren't brash or pushy at all.
So, feeling much emboldened (embiggened might be a better word) by this first encounter I went looking for the local bus stop to get the local bus into town - taxis are for wimps, and I hate getting them anywhere, especially in Dublin. But when travelling, I always prefer public transport, whether it's a metro, tram or bus. You always get a better feel for the place, your interacting with the real locals (ok, only a little bit), and it always feels more genuine to me. The signposting isn't the best at the airport, but it didn't take much asking around to work it out, and within a half hour I'd gotten money from the ATM, water from the shop (so I could have small change for the bus) and we were sitting comfortably on the bus with loads of room and surrounded by locals - we were the only white people on the bus.
But as for the title of this blog entry ('Wow, I love Africa'), it really comes from the bus conductor guy. He was amazingly friendly and smiley, and made a bit of a joke about us having to pay extra because our rucksacks took up an extra seat (remember something similar in Poland Mullin's?). Anyway, he was just lovely, and it was at just this moment, after all the hype and the niggly worries from back home before we left, that I just sat back, relaxed and realised that this is going to be a great trip, and that I already loved these friendly, smiley people. Once you like the people in a place, you automatically love the place, and I just knew straight away, 'Wow, I love Africa'.
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