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| 22 September | Mandara Hut | 2700m |  |
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At 8:00, we shared a Land Rover to the park with Ori and Alezza, Israelis. There were a friendly, easygoing couple. They're doing the climb in 5 days, but we decided to improve our chances and take 6. McMillan, our guide, was waiting for us when we arrive at the park. Hm. He's certainly not like Chin, the girls' guide in Nepal. This guy is slick and opportunistic, with limited English. I distrusted him on site. But we don't have a choice at this point. We got to Marangu Gate (1800m) and checked in. "Mik" was telling the others that they should have a walking stick. I agreed, but then he told them that they cost US$5 to rent. Yeah, right. Lots of people were pushing ski poles at the others (and me until they spotted my lathi). They were asking US$5 sure enough. I told Dad to shoot for US$1, and he eventually got it for US$2. "$5 Mik?" Mik looked sour. A glance at the pole revealed why. It had "Mik" engraved all over it. The porters showed up, grabbed our bags, and we were off!
The first part was an easy walk along an old road, with dense forest on all sides. It was quiet and peaceful. Unlike Nepal, there were no villages on this mountain. Only wazungu (tourists) were crazy enough to want to climb this volcano. Some children gathering wood along the way yelled out Jambo! to us as we passed, doubtless chuckling under their breath at the silly white men... At one point, we stopped to talk with an old Czech guy on his way down. It had been his life dream to climb, and he made it! He said that it was very hard though... The first day's climb was shorter than we had been led to expect. It only took us only 2½ hours to complete at an easy walk. When we arrived at Mandara "hut", it was not at all what I was expecting. This is nice! Rather than the run-down dump I had read about elsewhere, we found a clean, well organized serious of triangular buildings. There were several dozen small, 4 bunk huts, in good shape, a large dining hall building, flush toilets (squat), and even (cold) showers. Not bad. We lay on the grass until our "guide" eventually showed up and checked us in. After tea and biscuits eaten on the front porch, Dad and I climbed to Maundi crater for a little more acclimatization. It was a nice walk through forests draped with moss, sort of like Spanish moss. The book said these trails were a muddy mess, but not now. We are walking along a narrow trail up to the crater. Then, "What's that?" A group of Black and White Colobus monkeys swung (or flew almost) across the trail right above us. Hey, all right, now this is Africa! The crater was nothing special, but there was a nice view out over the clouds. Back at the hut, we sat down to a delicious, but simple dinner prepared by our porters. Here is where you see the difference in what people paid for their trips. The meals most people ate were the same, but what made the difference was the frills that went along with it. Some groups (like Dad and I) had the basic treatment. Food brought out, placed on the bare table, and we were left to fend for ourselves. But others were given more of a royal treatment. Tablecloths, service during the meal, just an extra touch of luxury on the preparation. These people would bask in the jealous looks they received from others while their tablecloth was spread in front of them. In the mornings, they would pause just a moment as they picked up their bowl of hot water in front of their huts in the mornings to wash up. The rest of us would just tuck into our (usually enormous) meals and crack the ice on the faucets in the morning. We were sharing our hut with a German couple, both doctors. They just climbed Mt. Kenya last week. Now, they're attempting Kilimanjaro, with no porters. They are carrying all of their own gear and food, along with the mandatory guide. I was impressed. It was a cool night, my sleeping bag felt good... Snore. |
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| 23 September | Horombo Hut | 3720m | |
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After an huge breakfast, we started walking. Pole, pole. We emerged from the forest after a couple hours. The trees fell back and everything turned to moorlands. Tourists were making their mark on this mountain. In some places, the trail was eroded up to the levels of our knees. It was like walking up a giant chute. I'm sure if it rained, it would be like walking upstream in a river. We tried to go slowly, but we ended up ripping past everyone else, finishing in 4½ hours. The book described it as a hard climb, but I didn't think it was too bad. Horombo hut was similar to Mandara, but larger. Dad and I are staying here for two nights to better acclimatize. It was nice and warm when we first arrived. I was hiking in shorts and a T-shirt. But soon after, clouds poured in and the temperature turned downright bitter. This evening, it was time to take out the fleece jacket and hat, polypro and gloves. Once again, the porters prepared far too much food for us to finish, leaving us lazing at the table. The warm sleeping bag felt even better at night.
I started feeling the altitude this night. Nightmares and short breath. During the night, Dad tried to reach under my pillow to get my torch to use the toilet. I almost broke his nose, waking from a dream where I was being attacked. Lucky for him I was zipped up in my bag! |
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| 24 September | Horombo Hut | |
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The others continued onwards today, but we stayed another night. We awoke in time to wave them off. Out of maybe 40 people, only us and the German couple stayed behind. At this altitude, the clouds were beneath us. It looked like we were in an airplane drifting above the fluffy fields of white. The water was frozen in the pipes from last night, so it was impossible to clean up this morning.
Dad and I hiked up to Mawenzi lookout for an acclimatization climb. It was a tough 1½ hour climb, with both of us panting away due to the altitude. At the top, there was a brilliant view each way to Kibo and Mawenzi peaks. Kibo peak, our destination, was a smooth, gentle appearing mound hidden in the clouds. Mawenzi peak was far more violent looking. Harsh spikes of rock ripping the slate blue sky. After our climb, we relaxed for the rest of the day. The altitude isn't affecting me to badly so far. I'm sleeping well, good appetite, etc. But Dad's not so good. He's taking diamox to prevent altitude sickness but it interferes with his already poor sleep, so he is not sleeping at all. Poor guy. |
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| 25 September | Kibo Hut | 4703m | |
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Up for the next stage. We were both moving very slowly today. The water in the pipes was frozen again, so we are rather grubby by now. The hike today appeared deceptively easy. The terrain was gentle enough, the trail meandered along. But we were dying from the lack of O2. The winds were very strong, whipping up the fine volcanic ash until Dad's black shoes become grey and my dark hair turns white. It was so bad that sometimes, it was all we could do to just stand still. To relax would be to become a scrap of cloth blown high across the plain. We got to Kibo Hut in just under 5 hours. Along the way, we passed many of the others on their way back. The 27 Indian students from Dar es Salaam only made it to Gilman's Point. Toby (Brit) was extremely sick, but he made it to Uhuru before anyone else. Ben (French), only made it to Gilman's. And so on. It seems everyone was very sick, but a good percentage (maybe half?) got to at least Gilman's. Everyone else glumly trudged down the hill without meeting anyone else's eyes. That must be depressing after all this effort. Kibo Hut is much more primitive than the other camps. There were 12 bed dorm rooms, drop toilets, and no water. The feeling is grim. Everyone is nervous about the final ascent tomorrow. By far, the most frequently heard description is "Horrible". Um. I wanted to improve our chances as much as possible, so Dad and I did another acclimatization climb. We found bad scree. I also found a good stout stick I can use as a second walking stick, so that will help. No one had much of an appetite, but we did our best. After an early dinner (vegetable stew), everyone turned in. We weren't planning to start until 1:00, but the South African group is getting up at 11:00, so it looks like we'll be waking soon after, from the noise... |
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| 26 September | Horombo | |
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After tea and biscuits, Dad and I started walking at 12:45AM. He still hadn't slept and was not in top form, but at least he was not suffering much from the altitude. We "walked" extremely slowly. Mik set the pace at barely a shuffle. We walked. On and on forever, in the dark, with no clue where we are or how long we have been moving. The air was so thin, each step left my body drained and gasping for breath. My world shrank down until nothing existed except for the simple act of lifting each foot and placing it in front of the other. The torchlight of others above and below us took on a nightmarish, hideously silent quality. The only sound was of the wind and footsteps slithering in the loose scree. After what seemed all night, but turned out to be about 3 hours, we arrived at the "cave", an halfway mark. Many had turned around by this time, too sick to continue. I was starting to feel sick as well (nauseous and headache), but not too badly, so I decided to continue. Dad was only tired and out of breath. We walked.
Near dawn, we reached a boulder field. It was a tough scramble, especially with me feeling poor. But we got to Gilman's just as the sun came over the horizon. It was absolutely amazing. The sun rose behind harsh Mawenzi. Slowly the details of the land around us came into focus and colors filled the sky. We could see all the way to Mombassa.
After a long rest to recover, we both decided we felt like shit. But we were this close, we couldn't turn back now. We reached down inside and gathered up our energies, then continued to trudge on towards the peak. There was a beautiful glacier off to the right, dropping down into the crater below. What looked like a round peak here is actually a giant bowl. Gilman's Point was just at the rim of it. Around the rim of the bowl and above us, Uhuru Point beckons. It was OK in the sunlight, but bitterly cold when we were in the shade. I was dressed in hiking trousers, a T-shirt, a long sleeve poly pro shirt, a long sleeve cotton shirt, a fleece, a Goretex rain jacket, a hat, and glove liners and socks on my hands. Except for the long sleeve cotton shirt and the hat, these were the same clothes I've been wearing around Asia and the Middle East in 51° C heat. Brr. Just when I was about to give up, finally, there it was! We reached Uhuru peak, 5895m above sea level, the highest point in Africa! Another glacier rises on the outside of the bowl, surrounding us in ice and snow, except for the barren patch on which we stood. We took the mandatory pictures and entered our names in the book. Then I looked at Dad and he looked at me, yup, let's get the hell off this mountain! Starting back, Dad was stumbling a lot, but I wasn't much better. We shouldn't have pushed it so far, and I was having trouble staying on my feet on the narrow trail. Suddenly, I heard him mumbling behind me. "What?" "W-A-L-L-E-T, that spells wallet. They won't mind as long as the finances work out." Huh? I turned around to look at him. He was stumbling along, hunched almost to the ground, the walking stick dangling from his hand. Shit, he's in bad shape. I made him stop, take some diamox, and drink some of my water with the electrolyte powder in it. He was not doing well, his eyes were wandering, he couldn't even get his day pack off. Mik was useless, he simply sat back and lit a cigarette. The only help for Dad was to get him to a lower altitude. I was sick and exhausted, there was no way I could carry him, so the only thing to do was to walk. I grabbed his pack, constantly stopping to force more water on him, and we stumbled down to Gilman's Point, about 250m lower. He was mostly recovered by this time, and thinking clearly enough, but still feeling totally and completely exhausted. We collapsed at Gilman's, talking with some others. One South African guy proposed marriage to his girlfriend at the top, and she accepted. How romantic. After a rest, we continued down, painfully slowly. But once we got to the scree, we started to run, slipping and sliding on the loose rock. It was as if we were skiing down the slope. Mik took Dad's arm and together they left me literally in their dust. We made it down to Kibo from Gilman's in under 2 hours. Our shoes were full of dirt, our bodies and clothes covered in dust, we were both totally knackered. Dad didn't remember descending from Uhuru to Gilman's, he didn't realize how serious it was. He truly could have died if we had stayed just a little longer! Back at Kibo, Dad slept a couple hours to recover while I taped my feet up. The skiing down the scree gave me my first blisters of the climb. Next, we had a 2-3 hour trudge back down to Horombo. We both collapsed there after almost 12 hours of moving. At dinner, other climbers on their way up nervously approached us. "Is it as bad as they say?" I wearily nod, but it's worth it. |
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| 27 September | Arusha | |
Happy Birthday to me! 25 years old, I'm getting old here. I woke this morning after 12 hours of deep, blessed sleep. My body was sore, but not too bad. Not bad for an old-timer like myself that is. 
It was an easy descent to Mandara Hut from there, about 2½ hours. We rested and had a snack, then continued down to the gate. We checked back in, got our certificates, and that was it, we have climbed Kilimanjaro! Next, back to Arusha. I was looking forward to that shower! "Sorry sir, today, we have problem." There was no running water at the hotel. The pump was broken. What!? We had no choice but to take bucket showers, washing a few (filthy) clothes in what water was left. The water ran black down the drain, and we were still filthy afterwards. That evening, for my birthday, Dad took me to a very expensive dinner at the hotel. They added on a 25%ST (screw tax?) to the bill. That beer tasted very good though. There was no rest for the wicked, however. We needed to go haggle a trip to Ngorogoro crater for tomorrow. With limited time, we could only spend one day to get there, see the place, and return. This made it more expensive, especially since there was only the two of us. After doing our best, we managed to lower the rate to US$75 each for the day. |
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| 28 September | Arusha | |
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Today, we were on the road by 6:30. At first, the road was paved and we sped along. But then after about 100km, the "tourist road" begins. It was not even a dirt road. Dirt has the graciousness to just lie there and look dirty. This was a dust road. Our faces and bodies soon returned to their accustomed grey powdery look. The Land Rover we rode in looked like it had done several safaris too many. The windshield was cracked, the driver's window was missing, it was not in the best of shape. It did get us there, though a few times, we weren't sure we'd make it!
We pulled up to the crater rim. Wow. The crater was enormous. The distant cliffs were hazy and dim, appearing like a mountain ridge on the horizon. We could see the huge crater floor, but it looked barren and dead. "You sure this is it?" Yup. Some baboons turned up to answer that one. Soon we were rolling down into the crater along a treacherous winding road clinging to the edge. The first thing we saw was a massive herd of wildebeests and zebra. We climbed out while the driver raised the top. It was absolutely quiet, filled only with the sounds of the herd. Mumu! Pretty remarkable. This was no zoo, these are wild. I like the zebra - horses in pajamas!
Over the course of the day, we saw many hippos, Thompson gazelles, Grant gazelles, elephants, baboons, ostriches, flamingo, buffalo, a few hyena, a few warthogs, and many birds of all types. Wow. This place has been described as Noah's ark. Absolutely right! Pretty amazing. The driver was a cool guy too, spotting animals no matter how far off or how well concealed. Even with binoculars, I had trouble spotting ones he saw with his naked eye. As we were about to leave, we pulled into a rest stop area, one of the few places where we were allowed to get out of the car. A large group of vervets (monkeys) were there, with bright blue balls. After we got out, one jumped up onto the car, looking for food. We shouted at him and tried to chase him off, but he only bared his teeth and hissed at us. Whoa, OK, OK. It was a little thing, about the size of a cat, but with a great big attitude about him. We finally managed to drive him off with sticks, but he was not going willingly. Hiss! Now, to get home. Hm. The car, which had for the last few hours been doing OK, now decided to give us problems. The fuel injector was kaput. About every half hour, the driver had to get out and bang around at the engine. Once, he worked a long time, but couldn't get us moving again. After much more sweat (and a little blood), the engine roared back to life. Back home, this would be a little annoying. But here in Africa, in the dark, many, many kilometres from the nearest town, it was just a bit more scary... He managed to get us home. Dad and I tipped him well, then tottered off to our hotel anticipating a nice hot shower. "Sorry sir," No! "today we have problem." No. The pump is still not working. No. "We'll have buckets brought to your room." No! Sigh. OK. Thank you. Buckets of water managed to sluice most of the dust from our bodies, but we were still not clean. Snore! |
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| 29 September | Nairobi | US$1=55.4 Shillings |  |
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An easy shuttle ride gets us back to Nairobi. The souvenir sellers were still at it on the border. One remembered me from last time. "The one with the snake stick!" ?? OK. People around here really seem to like my lathi. The Masai all carry short walking sticks, mostly plain, but they seem to like my carved one.
Dad had said that I would really hate Nairobi, but I don't know. It's nothing special, but good enough. We have been spending a fortune due to Dad's tight schedule and his presence during haggling. Just his presence alone could add 50% to the price, compared to me, a shabby looking traveller. Ori and Alezza had told us about a company in Nairobi called Savuka. They said it was a great company for a Masai Mara safari, and cheap. Israelis are some of the toughest hagglers I know, so I asked what price they got. US$43.50 a day?! Wow. Let's see what I can do... Dad sat with the bags outside and I went on up to the office. I didn't do as well as the others, but I got it for US$45/day for me and my "friend". It looks like a decent setup. I had to haggle in Shillings to get this price, though, so I went across the street to Barclays Bank and took out a few hundred dollars (in Shillings) on my visa card. When we both walked in to sign up, Dad got a couple looks, but no problem. Next, a hotel. Dad had spent a fortune last time at the Parkside hotel, based on Samee's recommendation, and it wasn't even very nice. This time, we'll try the Embassy Hotel. 1000 for a clean double, very hot running water (yes!), it was a good place. We used half the hot water in the city cleaning our filthy bodies that day. We had to phone Mom to let her know we had survived Kilimanjaro. This was not too easy. At the Post Office, there was a Home Country Direct Phone, but no touch pad. You must speak your card number. A large group of Kenyans were hanging around nearby. As soon as Dad picked up the phone, I saw 5 pens flash into view. Uh, Dad... OK, we went next to the Telecom office in the Conference Center and made the call from there, 100 Shillings. Dad wanted a burger and a beer for dinner so we wandered the streets. He spotted the Angus Steak house, liked the name (like Black Angus at home), and in we went. A steak for him, chicken for me, a couple beers each, and a pricey tag afterwards. Not bad though. Kidogo, kidogo, little. |
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| 30 September | Masai Mara | |
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This morning, we were picked up at our hotel in a decent van. It wasn't a land rover this time, but one of those white vans all the companies seem to use. But it hummed along, so it was a great improvement. We had a full house. 2 Japanese, 2 Kiwis, 2 Germans, and ourselves. A long rough ride to the park.
The first "rest stop" of course was at a craft shop. Everyone was immediately descended on by the "artists". It was a Rift Valley lookout point, so much junk along those lines was being sold. One guy tried to sell me an ebony carving of the valley. On the reverse side, there were symbols with various Swahili words carved in it. "This is Jambo, hello. This is Karibu, welcome" Yeah, and this is Kwaheri, bye bye! The next stop was for lunch, but of course there was a craft shop there as well. The two Japanese with us were terrible. They don't know how to give up. At the last stop, Kirsten, the German girl, actually had to yell at them before they would leave. This time it was just as bad. As usual, everyone was very friendly, just like every other country I've been to. But as usual the invite to the shop occurs. Yuck. One guy actually tried to sell a sheep fleece to one of the Kiwis! Ha! Finally, after it was clear we were not shopping anymore (we all sat at a table and look bored) lunch appeared. It consisted of a pretty good cold spread. Enough for me. After lunch, the road really turned bad, yet another "tourist road". Along the way, we spotted all sorts of animal. Gnu, zebras, camels, gazelles. Nice. We finally pulled up to camp after a very long drive. Dad had been imagining how our setup would be like. He had seen a neighbor's pictures of her US$300/night safari and hoped our US$45/night setup would be similar, no matter how I tried to disillusion him. Well, it was similar all right. She had a tent with a toilet, shower, and a sink. We had a tent with the same. OK, so what's the problem? Well, she had carpeting, hot water, and a plush setup. Ours... There were holes in the window nets, a basic concrete block WC with only cold water, and concrete floors in the tent. It was fine for me, but I could tell he was disappointed. Get real Dad, for this price?! After settling in, we walked over to the mess hall, where tea was being served. Other groups who had arrived before us joined us in a social gathering until dinner time. I met Tom and __, Israelis. Cool guys. They both have traveled a lot and know the spots. Dinner was pretty good I thought. Good soup, bread, a beef stew, salad, tea, and coffee. Buffet style. Dad and I bought beers for 60S along with the others. Everyone was chatting away. Tom invited me to join his group after camp settled down. Once the others turn in, everyone (many Israelis, the two Germans, and myself) sit around the campfire. Good talk, especially with Dana, a lovely Israeli lass (but with a Canadian passport). Mellow evening... |
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| 1 October | Masai Mara | |
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Up early. After a decent brekkie, into the car. We gave a Masai guy a lift to the park and we were off! Ho hum... Not much happening. It rained last night, and it seemed that all the animals were hiding out. We finally started seeing a few here and there. We spotted (ha ha) some giraffe, warthogs, a cheetah, a few lions (including a male), many more gazelle, dik-diks, topi, hartebeests, baboons. It was pretty sparse compared to Ngorogoro, but better variety. We saw one new-born giraffe that couldn't stand. The driver turned in his seat, grinned and whispered, "lion lunch." The cheetah had a badly slashed face. This is a Wild Kingdom. We saw many elephants, including a family of all ages right down to a tiny one no bigger than a horse.
It was a long day though, and I tired of it before it was over. We didn't return until long after dark, driving in the rain through trails I can't see how the driver kept straight. We became stuck in the mud twice and we all had to get out to push (no 4wd here) but we made it back without any other excitement. Other groups had better luck. Some saw lion kills, leopards, all sorts of stuff. Shucks. |
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| 2 October | Nakuru | |
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Out of camp, back on the road. The driver stopped at a craft shop so Dad could confirm his flight, then disappeared for over an hour while the sellers continued to harass us. This was our second craft stop today, so when he finally returned we (the Germans and myself) were not happy about it. As Kirsten succinctly put it "Yesterday good day, today shit!" Right on, sister. The driver didn't take it well, but at least there were no more "crap" stops until lunch. We blazed down the road. After a good lunch, the Kiwis and Japanese split off to return to Nairobi in a separate van while we continued on to Nakuru.
Back on pavement, we made good speed through increasingly green and prosperous looking areas. Rich farmers live here, the driver said. Nakuru is the 4th largest city in Kenya. Nice enough. We stayed the night at the Waterbuck hotel. The German's guidebook said it was the nicest in town. Poor town. It was a good enough place, better than I expected, but there was just a trickle of warm water to wash up with. Dad was not feeling tops, so he skipped dinner. Poor him. It was a very delicious buffet in the dining room. Yum. I actually had to dress up a little to fit in. Kirsten sure prettied up nice though. Rrr. "How was it?" OK, I guess. |
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| 3 October | Nairobi | |
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Up to see the park. There were many warthogs here. Also, waterbucks were everywhere, along with the other usuals: zebra, giraffe, etc. There were also tons of all sorts of birds, especially flamingo. The shoreline was pink with them. As we were driving around to the other side, what's that? 8 black rhinos stood right next to the trail. Prehistoric looking creatures. We drove up to a lookout point. Good view. After that, it's back out of the park. Lunch back at hotel, then a quick rainy drive back to Nairobi.
Dad's leaving today, so I took a single at the Embassy (800) and we went through our stuff, including the big duffel that we left behind here. I sent home with him much of my previous year's gear. I will be carrying mostly new stuff for fashionable Europe. Too bad I couldn't wait a week though. Lamu's going to be hot in jeans and boots. The Air Kenya shuttle to the airport no longer runs, so Dad grabbed a taxi and bye guy, see you in December! ("Make it earlier if you can") On my own again in a basically new country and continent. It's a little scarier now. Restaurants don't appeal, so the market supplied my dinner. Then I washed everything that didn't get sent back. Much black water... |
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| 4 October | Nairobi | |
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I checked on an air ticket to Lamu this morning. US$224 round trip. Maybe not. No, damn it, why not? I can afford it! The only alternative is a very long, hard train/bus ride, a full day's travel. Eh, OK, book it. To the bank next. How much? Um, is US$22/day possible? Maybe, let's try... 13000S. Vegged the day after.
At night, I dressed up in my spiffy new clothes (locked my money belt, camera, and watch away) and went out for a walk. I wasn't up for a disco with women tearing my clothes off, so I just looked around the center. I turned a corner and found myself suddenly in a dark side street. Stupidly, I decided to continue through to the next lit street and a baseball bat almost dislocating my shoulder swiftly taught me how stupid I had been. The next blow cracked my lathi as I raised it to protect myself. The guy had found himself a less than cooperative target. While he was down, I raced out of there, shaking from my close encounter. Enough for today. I ran back to lock myself into my room. *shudder* |
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| 5 October | Lamu | |
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Up and out to the airport, nice and easy. Bus 31, 12S. A girl sat down next to me on the bus. Instantly, she began hitting on me. I guess it's true. Within minutes of talking, she was inviting me back to her apartment. Uh, I do have a plane to catch. "It won't take long," she blurts out. Yup. I wasn't sure if I should be offended. The girl had told me she would say when Wilson airport came up, but we passed it as she was trying to convince me to f*ck her. What irony here... After I asked her about the airport, she said, "I'll drive you back, we're almost home." Whoops, driver! I had a long walk back, but I had plenty of time.
It was a small plane, and a rough flight. It really doesn't inspire confidence when an airline provides two large airsick bags per passenger... It was a very empty land we flew above. Strange thing. I think I'm developing a phobia of flying. Is that possible? The plane landed at Manda island airport. The air was very warm and humid, but the place had a very relaxed feel. Our luggage was wheeled out to us in wooden cart. A boat then took us over to Lamu. As soon as we got off the boat, the beach boys descended. My book had warned me against them. I tried to ignore them and just walked off, but they didn't go away. They just hounded my steps shouting at me, each other, and passing villagers. I told them to buzz off, with no effect. I tapped one guy's shin with my lathi to imply violence if he didn't move off, and he set up a howl to one and all, "He's beating me!" I didn't find anything the way I was going, so I turned back. The guy was now telling me that they only get 5S to "guide" guests to various hotels, and he threatened me that if I don't stop "beating" him, he'll tell the whole island and I won't enjoy my time here. Stuff it. It only got worse. He threatened me with the police, so I sat in the shade across from the station until he went crying to a policeman there, pointing at his (unmarked) shin. The cop came over, "What's up?" I told him this beach boy was annoying me. "Sorry sir, no beach boys here, only official guides." The "guide" sniffled and showed me an ID card. So what? "So you shouldn't beat them." Humph. Sorry, I smiled at the cop, OK? "Welcome to Lamu." I found the Stone House, recommended by Matthias and Kirsten. It looked good enough. The proprietor wanted 1000S a night. Hm, time to haggle. That's what you gave my friends for only 3 days stay, how about 500S for 8 days? He grimaced. "I can do that if you come back tomorrow. If you stay today, it must be 1000." Why? He pointed to the beach boys, sorry, "guides" grouped outside the gate, "I must give them a commission." But they didn't bring me here. "Sorry. If you come tomorrow, I can give you the room for 700S, but not today." Humph. I stomped out, glared at the assholes there, and started walking. They start guiding me to nearby Yumbe, but I just turned around once they were ahead and went the opposite way. They soon chased after, but I faced them in an empty alley, lathi raised chest level. You going somewhere? With the best glare I could manage. It scared a couple more off, but I was still followed by two. Hell with them, I just sat in front of the mosque until another boat arrived, one more left. I ignored the other. "Owners" of various places came by offering rooms, but they were friendly, no pressure. They would just describe their place, give directions and prices, and move off.
I finally settled for Haloody. I had a very nice rooftop room, with mozzie nets, fan, ensuite, very fancy for 600/night. Enough. None for the beach boys. Grunt. Off with the pack. Now that I wasn't being followed, this place is very nice. Everyone was saying "Jambo" and "Karibu Lamu!" It is a good relaxed town, with no cars or engines at all. Only the quiet of a productive town, donkeys yelling, children singing, hammers knocking. The buildings have beautiful carved doorways. A fabulous tuna steak at Bush Garden restaurant and pint glass of fresh mango juice all for 190S. Yum. Next to Petley's - one of the two places where you can buy a beer here. They have a relaxing rooftop bar/restaurant, a friendly barkeep, but it was empty tonight. There were only a few others in one of the corners. Too bad. It feels like it could be good here. A guy comes by, selling souvenirs. Nope. "Dhow trip?" Nope. "Smoke?" I hesitated just a little too long, and he slid in. "Good stuff." How much? "Depends on how much you want. Here we sell it two ways, by the arm or by the finger." Huh? "Arm's this much," (he holds up fingers describing a circle about as big around as his forearm), "a finger's this much," (forefinger). Arm, 1000S, finger, 400S. Interesting. Not. I'll pass. After 3 beers, no one was around yet, so I decided to turn in. |
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| 6 October | Lamu | |
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| 7 October | Lamu | |
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I bought a sarona this morning. A kikois, the traditional wear here, is a rather plain striped fabric, about 1m x 1m, but I saw more of the younger men wearing saronas, a little more colorful, so I got one, then some thongs. They were cooler than my shoes, and it's only for a week.
Then, to the beach! ½ hour walk along the water, passing several dhows being built. At the end of the island, there was a small town named Shela with some fancier hotels. Beyond the town was the beach. Interesting. It was... nice I guess. It had clean white sand, dunes going back from the sand, a few palm trees. But it looked like it vanishes at high tide, with water right to the dunes. Still, the water was nice and clean, and there was a bit of a surf. I think it'll do. Very few people were lying out, maybe 10 in all, all couples. I walked down to the end of the beach and rested my weary legs. I took a swim, built a sand sculpture, and swam some more, but the surf was coming in fast, I'm losing my beach here! I packed it in and started back. Problem. Part of the trail was along the water coming here. Now it's under water. My book said there is a trail back to Lamu, so I searched the town to find it. I eventually found one that left town in the right direction, and I followed it. And followed and followed... Um, it seems like more than 30 minutes this time. I finally had the bright idea to look up at the sun. Em, doesn't the sun set in the west? Why is it in front of me? It turns out, I had somehow lost my direction and had been trekking across the island, away from Lamu! Damn. I set off cross country and after much sweat and frustration, I found the shore again. Back to my room dying of thirst. A quick shower, then out for a Fanta - downed it, and a H2O - finished off almost half at once. Swali the beach boy got Chris to pay 1000 for only an afternoon dhow trip, with no lunch even. I'm not trusting him any further if I can help it... There is supposed to be another disco tonight. Let's see what happens... Not much. At Petley's, Chris and I met a group of laid back locals. They were a cool bunch out to have a good time. One nice girl, Suzay, was hitting on both Chris and I. Neither of us encouraged her, but that didn't stop her from aggressively feeling us up. As the place emptied, everyone walked out to the Civil Servants Club for the popular disco. It looked like the entire island had turned out for it. But halfway there, the news filtered back: no disco, they didn't get the permit. Huh? But they announced it. More lying. We ended up sitting around and playing darts. Chris made the mistake of buying Suzay a (warm) beer so he suddenly became her "boyfriend". Oops! It was a strange evening. |
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| 8 October | Lamu | |
| Nothing all day. A power outage suddenly transformed Lamu at night into Varanasi. Wandering the streets, I ran into Chris with one of his "ninjas" - the Muslim women in the chador. Dad had given me a bunch of little disposable torches (flashlights) from his company to give as small gifts. I gave one of these to the lady "from Chris" - "as a small gift". The next day, she approached me, asking how she changed the batteries in it. Oops! It is only a small gift! | ||
| 9 October | Lamu | |
| Nothing again. I sat and read my Ireland LP all day. There was a disco at night, but both Chris and I were invited to a Muslim wedding instead. It was an elaborate affair, though I felt out of place during the festivities. | ||
| 10 October | Lamu | |
| Impressions: Best call to prayer singing I've heard yet. Dhow trip, dhow trip, dhow trip. Everyone lies to try to get your business, with everything. Relaxed spot, but locals very much in your face, either very friendly and hang out, trying to separate you from your money (or hat, or shoes), or cool "ninjas" gliding down the street, cloaked and veiled. Good meals, hot days, cool nights. Wondering which friendly person is and which will turn and try to get you. Women who try to sleep with you, but also expect you to pay for the education of their grown children. A mother at 13 years old, worried about AIDS. A coconut carver who chases fat women - "There's more to hold on to!". A Frenchman searching for a briefly glimpsed Japanese girl. Smells of Thailand mixed with India. Do you have a pen? Good fruit juice. Hunger. Relaxation. I can make "connection" for you. | ||
| 11 October | Lamu | |
| Same, same. | ||
| 12 October | Lamu | |
| Yup, same, last day. | ||
| 13 October | Nairobi | |
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Up and packed. Chris went around saying goodbye to all his ninjas. One gave him a free henna armband. While taking my last walk around, I was watching some people work on a boat. Something knocked the boat and it fell off its supports, right onto my foot. Owowow. I broke a toe or two, plus there was a tiny cut. I cleaned it up, put antibiotic on the cut, taped up the toes, and covered it all up. No worries.
I've enjoyed my stay here, but it is time to go. A very small plane took me back to Nairobi, but it was a very smooth ride. I said goodbye to Chris at the airport, he flies to Mombassa today, then Paris demain. Good guy. I met another Chris on the plane, a German guy. We shared a taxi from the airport when we got to Nairobi, 250 each, me back to Embassy, him to Iqbal. Not much else, groceries for dinner. My foot was hurting badly tonight. |
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| 14 October | Bahrain | |
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Even though I had the spare Kenyan shillings, I decided to take the cheap way to the airport. Bus 34 got me there for only 15 Shillings, nice and easy.
My first flight was to Muscat, Oman. After a one hour layover with Arabs staring at me, another 45 minute flight took me to Bahrain. I went up to the transfer desk. I have a 12 hour layover, is a hotel possible? Of course. They gave me a voucher for a hotel, dinner, and breakfast. A 24 hour visa cost only US$2, and a shuttle took me and another Nairobi gentleman to the Oceania hotel, then left us there. The manager saw us, yelled to the doorman, "Catch the driver, we have no rooms available!" Too late. He called Gulf Air to recall the driver, but it took 4 calls and over 1½ hours before the driver returned. I thought it was too easy... He took us next to the Ramada. Very nice. To think back about some places I've stayed on this trip... This room had no character, but I did get a very good chicken curry for dinner at 1:30. My foot was critical by this time. It looks like a major infection somehow. Ouch.
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©Copyright Seán Connolly |
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