5am bus means waking up at 4:30. Miserable and pitch black. But we make the bus, and head to the house of a volunteer in Mbeya, Tanzania. Was able to eat and take a quick shower- and by shower I mean pouring water over my head from a bucket. By an amazing stroke up dumb luck, this volunteer lived a 10 minute walk from the train station, where I was able to catch the train I'd bought tickets for back in Dar Es Salaam, and had given up on somewhere in southern Tanzania. I made the train and settled in for the long ride with my cabin mates, a Japanese guy named Yoichiro, a Kenyan named Alex, and some Danish guy who didn't stay long.
In the evening, just as the sun went down, we crossed into Zambia
Friday, September 30, 2011
Day 27: the beach
For once, gloriously, no buses. Still in Matema, Tanzania, at the shores of Lake Nyasa/Lake Malawi.
Started the morning off with a hike to a waterfall. The waterfall ends in a deep pool, which we cooled off by jumping into. Then more beach, and another beach bonfire. Simple, and amazing.
Started the morning off with a hike to a waterfall. The waterfall ends in a deep pool, which we cooled off by jumping into. Then more beach, and another beach bonfire. Simple, and amazing.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Day 26: Lake Nyasa
On day 26 we made it, after some grueling busing, we made it to the shores of Lake Nyasa (Lake Malawi), one of the largest lakes in Africa. The end of the lake fades into the horizon, like an ocean. On the left are steep mountains, and to the right is Malawi. I had chips mayai again, the french fry omelet of past posts, and we capped of the night with a beach bonfire.
Well worth all those damn buses.
Well worth all those damn buses.
Day 25: bus
More bus. Decided that rather than try to get back to Dar Es Salaam (to catch the train) I'd keep heading around the south with the volunteers, and find some other way into Zambia. As always in Africa, the method is "somehow." I'll get to Zambia "somehow."
Day 24: Brazilian BBQ with the Peace Corps
This day wins in the random category. Started the day playing ultimate frisbee and basketball, until, as is usually the case when I try to be active, I injured myself. We lost narrowly in ultimate, but my team went on to win in basketball. Then we went to the house of a Brazilian expat who served us authentic Brazilian churascaria bbq. After dealing with the crap food for over three weeks this was amazing. I was even excited about the salad. Then I got to watch the Peace Corps talent show (I hope they're better at aid work than entertainment) before we beat up on the makeshift pinata.
Good times.
Good times.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Day 23, Songea
Wake up before daylight, pack bags, get on another cramped minibus (called “dalla dallas”) and spend another ungodly amount of time traveling. Finally, we make it to Songea, site of the Peace Corps gathering and a place that never really sees backpackers. It’s remote and not at all famous, so it’s random and fortunate I ended up at this little town not too far from the Mozambique border.
The volunteers get a 9 week intensive Swahili training, and speak pretty well. It was a huge help and I was finally able to learn a couple of words. Had another traditional Tanzanian dish, Chipsi Mayai. French fries cooked with eggs. It’s basically a French fry omelet that you smother in chili sauce.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Interlude: anecdotes and embellishments
The day of whitewater rafting in Uganda, we made it to the hostel with plans to shower and drop our bags in the room. But there was a deck a few hundred feet over some cataracts in a wide section of the Nile, ambling along in a wide gorge with green hillsides. We didn't leave the deck for hours. Shannon had a Redd's Cider, Deepak had a Tusker Malt, I had a Nile Special Lager and we all reflected on how far away the bar exam felt.
In Tanzania, the electricity goes out every day, more or less. Getting back to my hotel one night in Stonetown, the staff handed out candles and matches to returning guests, sending us by candlelight up the dark wood staircase. Kerosene lamps or candles sit at the table of every restaurant in Zanzibar.
There is a quote on the wall, from Ernest Hemingway, at my current hostel reading: "I never knew of a morning in Africa when I woke up that I was not happy." What the wall does not tell you is that the next line in that book says "Until I remembered unfinished business." There is always a lot to be done here, and entire days are spent on travel, atms, internet, finding lodging, doing laundry.
In Tanzania, the electricity goes out every day, more or less. Getting back to my hotel one night in Stonetown, the staff handed out candles and matches to returning guests, sending us by candlelight up the dark wood staircase. Kerosene lamps or candles sit at the table of every restaurant in Zanzibar.
There is a quote on the wall, from Ernest Hemingway, at my current hostel reading: "I never knew of a morning in Africa when I woke up that I was not happy." What the wall does not tell you is that the next line in that book says "Until I remembered unfinished business." There is always a lot to be done here, and entire days are spent on travel, atms, internet, finding lodging, doing laundry.
Day 22: the Peace Corps days
Somehow met up with the peace corps volunteers, a group I'd met at my hostel in Dar, at a busy Tanzanian bus station at the scruffy edge of town. Didn't have a cell phone, so it's a little hit and miss trying to find people, but I've learned to rely on the fact that it's really, really easy to spot white people in Africa. (Back in Uganda, Deepak says to me: "if you are ever a fugitive, don't come to Africa. We spotted you a mile away). Anyhow, somehow met up with the group, hopped on a long bus ride to Iringa, 7 cramped hours away. Getting in at nightfall, I got to try some Tanzanian food, and at Tanzanian prices. 90 cents got me a large place of rice and beans, smothered with red chili sauce. That's how they do it.
Day 20-21, Dar
Get into Dar on the nicer ferry, not wanting to risk discount ferries anymore. I think you understand. I made it to the train station to buy a ticket into Zambia, but they were sold out until the following week. So I buy my ticket and resign myself to a boring week in sleepy Dar.
Long story short, I ended up going to a pig roast in Southern Tanzania with a bunch of Peace Corps volunteers.
Long story short, I ended up going to a pig roast in Southern Tanzania with a bunch of Peace Corps volunteers.
Day 19, Stonetown again.
Get up, pack, get a shuttle, shuttle takes forever. In Swahili, the word for "slowly" is "pole pole." Pronounced po-lay. Pole pole is how everything is done. It is the attitude, the time, everything. Not that they're relaxed, it's just that Zanzibaris are terrible at getting things down. Back to Stonetown finally. No ATMs work anywhere, so I finally had to get a taxi to a different part of town. Eventually settle back in, go back to Zanzibar coffee house, see Stonetown's mazes, back to the fish market for dinner. Made friends with some Germans studying at the University of Dar.
Day 18, Nungwi
Nungwi is the northernmost tip of Zanzibar, and about 3 kilometers north of Kendwa. Cabs were too expensive, so I just walked in along the main road. Other than that, it was a day at the beach. No ATMs outside of Stonetown, so cash was a major issue. Such is Africa.
At sunset we went for a cruise on a traditional dhow, stopping halfway to jump in the water. A bunch of old Floridians asked where they might find a liquor store
At sunset we went for a cruise on a traditional dhow, stopping halfway to jump in the water. A bunch of old Floridians asked where they might find a liquor store
Day 17, Kendwa
Pack the bags up once again, head to the northern tip of the island, with really pristine white sand beaches and open-air restaurants with tables right out on the sand. The water is clear and bright and dotted with traditional dhow sailboats. Sadly, that morning a ferry sank 14 miles off the coast, the worst maritime disaster in the history of Tanzania. Over 200 people died, and survivors were being brought ashore all morning.
Day 14 through 16, Stonetown
So we get up and take the ferry, passing the container ships around the busy Dar Es Salaam port ("a Somali pirate's dream) through the turquoise blue waters of the Indian Ocean. The ship pulls into Stonetown, Zanzibar's main city, built by wealthy Arab sultans in the 18th and 19th centuries (I guess) with a whitewashed look and a medieval layout, buildings coming right to the edge of the white sand beaches. The first night I had dinner at the seafood market, fresh skewers thrown on the bbq. So good.
The second day of Zanzibar was amazing but difficult to convey as a story; there's so much to get from just walking around town, getting hopelessly lost in the maze of alleys and busy side streets. I went for a run and paused halfway through to jump in the very warm ocean, A cup of spiced coffee at the Zanzibar coffee house was the first decent cup of coffee I've had in Africa, and we spent sunset watching locals play pickup soccer on the beach.
The third day we went on a tour of the spice farms, once a leading source of Zanzibar's wealth. Saw coffee, cocoa, cinnamon, pepper, vanilla and a bunch of others growing in the fields. Rain picked up and we had to take refuge in the mud brick, thatched roof house of a local. The tour finishes with lunch under a thatched roof canopy, sitting on the floor. Then more time at the ocean, and a quick duck into large underground caves used for smuggling slaves after the slave trade had been outlawed by the British. An amazing place, and an odd juxtaposition with the rest of the sights
The second day of Zanzibar was amazing but difficult to convey as a story; there's so much to get from just walking around town, getting hopelessly lost in the maze of alleys and busy side streets. I went for a run and paused halfway through to jump in the very warm ocean, A cup of spiced coffee at the Zanzibar coffee house was the first decent cup of coffee I've had in Africa, and we spent sunset watching locals play pickup soccer on the beach.
The third day we went on a tour of the spice farms, once a leading source of Zanzibar's wealth. Saw coffee, cocoa, cinnamon, pepper, vanilla and a bunch of others growing in the fields. Rain picked up and we had to take refuge in the mud brick, thatched roof house of a local. The tour finishes with lunch under a thatched roof canopy, sitting on the floor. Then more time at the ocean, and a quick duck into large underground caves used for smuggling slaves after the slave trade had been outlawed by the British. An amazing place, and an odd juxtaposition with the rest of the sights
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Day 13: Dar
Wake up in Jinja, take the local bus for 3 hours to Kampala. It's supposed to be an hour long but this is Africa. Find a taxi to take us to the airport, Ugandan police threaten arrest for stepping over an unassuming two foot rope barrier, get in the cab, get the hell out. We've found the one slow cab driver in East Africa, and barely make the flight. Fly out of Entebbe, Uganda, seeing the oceanic Lake Victoria roll out below us. Fly into Nairobi Airport, the power is out. Fly to Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania, spotting Mt Kilimanjaro along the way, emerging very blue and very far and very clearly above the clouds. I could have probably spotted trekkers at the summit, seemingly.
Land in Dar, cab to a hotel. It's night. It's hot. Grab a beer at a hotel rooftop overlooking the bay, as container ships and traditional dhow fishing boats pass by. And this way of getting to Dar was the easy way. We decide to sleep in and catch a later ferry the next day. Zanzibar sounds fantastic and all, but sometimes so does sleep.
Land in Dar, cab to a hotel. It's night. It's hot. Grab a beer at a hotel rooftop overlooking the bay, as container ships and traditional dhow fishing boats pass by. And this way of getting to Dar was the easy way. We decide to sleep in and catch a later ferry the next day. Zanzibar sounds fantastic and all, but sometimes so does sleep.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Day 12
There is a Jewish proverb along the lines of: men make plans, and God laughs. You could easily rearrange it: people make plans, and Africa laughs.
We find ourselves at a riverside restaurant in Jinja, the city where you can raft the Nile. We discovered the place despite the staggering incompetence of the lonely planet guidebook. I was with friends who wanted to go to Zanzibar the next day, and so this would be our last meal as a group. We were able to take a banana boat ride that reminded everyone of the Jungle Cruise, and set off into the mouth of the Nile, and Lake Victoria beyond, with the Australian restaurant manager at the helm. This guy had been living in Zanzibar for the last 3 years, so it was a big topic of conversation. After the boat ride on the Nile, we sat at the restaurant to wait out some light rain. The rain got heavier. We were trapped. The rain got heavier, so we ordered dinner. The rain didn't let up, totally dashing our plans to get back to Kampala. Finally, after hearing all about Zanzibar, I decided to hell with it, let's all go. That night, after the rain let up just enough for us to make it to a hostel, I used the world's worst internet connection to book a cheap internal flight to Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania, the last mainland waypoint to the white sand island just offshore: Zanzibar.
We find ourselves at a riverside restaurant in Jinja, the city where you can raft the Nile. We discovered the place despite the staggering incompetence of the lonely planet guidebook. I was with friends who wanted to go to Zanzibar the next day, and so this would be our last meal as a group. We were able to take a banana boat ride that reminded everyone of the Jungle Cruise, and set off into the mouth of the Nile, and Lake Victoria beyond, with the Australian restaurant manager at the helm. This guy had been living in Zanzibar for the last 3 years, so it was a big topic of conversation. After the boat ride on the Nile, we sat at the restaurant to wait out some light rain. The rain got heavier. We were trapped. The rain got heavier, so we ordered dinner. The rain didn't let up, totally dashing our plans to get back to Kampala. Finally, after hearing all about Zanzibar, I decided to hell with it, let's all go. That night, after the rain let up just enough for us to make it to a hostel, I used the world's worst internet connection to book a cheap internal flight to Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania, the last mainland waypoint to the white sand island just offshore: Zanzibar.
Day 11: whitewater rafting
We went whitewater rafting on the Nile, just beyond it's traditional source at Lake Victoria. We finished with a bbq where I had Uganda's national beer, "Nile."
Not to be a jerk about this, but I had a better day than you.
Not to be a jerk about this, but I had a better day than you.
Day 10: Rugby
Bleary-eyed, I de-bused and cabbed over to the hostel. "There are two places for the white ones," my cabbie informed me, "Red Chili and Backpackers." Well hot damn if he wasn't right, I was going to Red Chili to meet Shannon and Deepak (they may not be white in the US, but in Africa they're 100% mzungu, same as me.) We met up, found real coffee, rode boda bodas- motorcycle taxis- and found ourselves at a mostly local professional rugby match. Saw a guy have his shoulder relocated, telling his mom, as he was helped out by two teammates, to meet him at the bar.
Day 9 and a half: kill me now
There are no bad days in Africa, but the nights are another story. The bus ride from Nairobi to Kampala had me sitting in the very back, the only seat wedged between two other passengers. It left at 8pm and would not arrive in Kampala, Uganda until 8am the next morning.
I laid my fleece over my lap to avoid pickpockets. I dozed occasionally to be waken midair when a bump in the terrible Kenyan roads launched me six inches from my seat. The bus blasted at full volume US country music and early 90s R&B. At 4am we had to get off the bus for the border crossing, then hopped back on for more miserable riding. I sat quietly and prayed steadfastly for the sweet release of death.
I laid my fleece over my lap to avoid pickpockets. I dozed occasionally to be waken midair when a bump in the terrible Kenyan roads launched me six inches from my seat. The bus blasted at full volume US country music and early 90s R&B. At 4am we had to get off the bus for the border crossing, then hopped back on for more miserable riding. I sat quietly and prayed steadfastly for the sweet release of death.
Day 9: the expats
the expats drove me to Nairobi, I got to see their house and how they live. The house was small, but the gardens were nice and so was the view. Security was tight. I was finally able to get online, and most of the posts were made in their home office. They had their maid take me on a matatu, even paying for the matatu, all the way to my bus stop, which I'd never have found w/o any help. A simple day and not much of a story, but an interesting one for a tourist.
Day 8: Errands
By Day 8 the cash was out, Shannon and Deepak were (although I didn't know it) worried I was dead, and my parents, not updated since pre-safari times had probably assumed I'd been killed by a rhino and were busy turning my room into a scrapbooking studio. It was time to run some damn errands.
First, let me explain why I had no cash. It is because Africa is friggin' ridiculous. The village next to the camp at Lake Naivasha had 5 atms. I'm not even sure Martinez has 5 ATMs. 1 was out of cash, 2 were broken, and the others had lines that were 1-5 hours long as locals tried to get out their monthly paycheck from the local flower producers. It was the end of the month, and Scott wasn't going to get any money. The only thing I had going for me was Hell's Gate takes Visa. So I hop on the matatu (local bus, crammed with locals, dirt cheap, usually the only white guy being me) and headed to town. Finally I found an atm, and the one damn internet cafe anywhere near the lake.
I spent the rest of the day sitting by the lake, meeting other foreigners and waiting for hippos to wade ashore, on their side of the electric fence, as the sun went down. I met a european couple living in Kenya who were doing work at the campground, and who had once met the owners of Sonoma's Safari West African animal preserve.
I was supposed to bus from Lake Naivasha to Uganda's capital city, Kampala, the next day. But this being Africa, that's not how it worked, and I had to go back to Nairobi, somehow kill a day there, and then do an overnight, 12-13 hour bus ride. Son of a bitch.
Luckily, the European expat couple offered to give me a ride back to Nairobi and let me spend the day at their house, mooching food and internet. It'd save me a few shillings and a lot of inconvenience by skipping the matatus.
First, let me explain why I had no cash. It is because Africa is friggin' ridiculous. The village next to the camp at Lake Naivasha had 5 atms. I'm not even sure Martinez has 5 ATMs. 1 was out of cash, 2 were broken, and the others had lines that were 1-5 hours long as locals tried to get out their monthly paycheck from the local flower producers. It was the end of the month, and Scott wasn't going to get any money. The only thing I had going for me was Hell's Gate takes Visa. So I hop on the matatu (local bus, crammed with locals, dirt cheap, usually the only white guy being me) and headed to town. Finally I found an atm, and the one damn internet cafe anywhere near the lake.
I spent the rest of the day sitting by the lake, meeting other foreigners and waiting for hippos to wade ashore, on their side of the electric fence, as the sun went down. I met a european couple living in Kenya who were doing work at the campground, and who had once met the owners of Sonoma's Safari West African animal preserve.
I was supposed to bus from Lake Naivasha to Uganda's capital city, Kampala, the next day. But this being Africa, that's not how it worked, and I had to go back to Nairobi, somehow kill a day there, and then do an overnight, 12-13 hour bus ride. Son of a bitch.
Luckily, the European expat couple offered to give me a ride back to Nairobi and let me spend the day at their house, mooching food and internet. It'd save me a few shillings and a lot of inconvenience by skipping the matatus.
Day 7: Hell's Gate
So Day 2 at Naivasha, incidentally low on cash and far from any internet, we ride our rented bikes down to the national park, Hell's Gate. Volcanic activity led the local Masai people to believe this area was literally the gates of hell, and even now the steam drawn from the ground powers most of Kenya's lakes region. Riding our bikes through amazing rocky geological formations, not unlike a very green version of Utah, we passed within a few hundred feet of a herd of Cape Buffalo. Cape Buffalo are the second most dangerous animal in Africa (after the fearsome hippo) and Travis Murray (Safari West in Sonoma) is pretty sure one will kill him someday. God I hope so. Anyhow, being within a few hundred feet, and much less than a hundred at one point, you feel like you could reach out and just pet one of these F-150-sized beasts.
The main attraction of Hell's Gate is the gorge, at the top of the bike trail. The gorge has been carved out of soft volcanic soil by heavy tropical rains over a few decades, leaving a multilayered, miles-long scar in the earth, 2-10 feet wide and 20-100 feet high, broken up with a stream at the bottom and hot water dripping out of the sides. The guided hike lasts about two hours as you wander the gorge.
The main attraction of Hell's Gate is the gorge, at the top of the bike trail. The gorge has been carved out of soft volcanic soil by heavy tropical rains over a few decades, leaving a multilayered, miles-long scar in the earth, 2-10 feet wide and 20-100 feet high, broken up with a stream at the bottom and hot water dripping out of the sides. The guided hike lasts about two hours as you wander the gorge.
Friday, September 2, 2011
Day 6: Leaving the Mara
Day 6 was the final day of the safari, and we left at 6:30am for an earlier game drive, to catch the animals in action. I saw some jackals trying their best to piss off some lionesses by getting near as possible and barking at them. Jackals, we learned, are nature's assholes.
Also, saw a lion with a fresh wildebeest.
Then it was time to leave, and a Brit in our safari group convinced me to head back to the lakes region of Kenya's Rift Valley, for hiking and biking and whatever else. Despite low funds and an absence of internet, I figured, eh what the hell. So after leaving the Maasai Mara we got on another safari bus at lunch, one headed towards the lakes. From the town of Naivasha, we jumped on matatus, the local transport. A matatu is essentially a van driven by Kenya's answer to the New York cabbie. You cram in with as many locals as possible, and hope for the best. On a good day a matatu is a real experience, but you can really crank up the fun when your bag is strapped to the roof. Do I trust the matatu drivers? No. But it worked, and we took the matatu all the way to the lakeside of Naivasha, finding a fantasic lakeside camp with an open-air restaurant, and a monkey filled campground with an electric fence at the water's edge- to keep out the hippos. We dropped bags, rented bikes, and biked out to a saltwater lake nearby, Lake Eloiden. This is one of the famous flamingo lakes. Normally I don't care about flamingos, but when you see a few thousand take off from the water in concert, it's amazing.
More amazing was the bike ride to the lake. Spotted giraffes just off the road, and went to investigate. Once we got near (but not too near) we found zebras and antelope as well. When a hyena popped up, we got the hell out.
After all that, back to the camp for a Tusker.
Nairobi, Kenya (Why am I back in Nairobi? You'll have to wait for day 9)
Also, saw a lion with a fresh wildebeest.
Then it was time to leave, and a Brit in our safari group convinced me to head back to the lakes region of Kenya's Rift Valley, for hiking and biking and whatever else. Despite low funds and an absence of internet, I figured, eh what the hell. So after leaving the Maasai Mara we got on another safari bus at lunch, one headed towards the lakes. From the town of Naivasha, we jumped on matatus, the local transport. A matatu is essentially a van driven by Kenya's answer to the New York cabbie. You cram in with as many locals as possible, and hope for the best. On a good day a matatu is a real experience, but you can really crank up the fun when your bag is strapped to the roof. Do I trust the matatu drivers? No. But it worked, and we took the matatu all the way to the lakeside of Naivasha, finding a fantasic lakeside camp with an open-air restaurant, and a monkey filled campground with an electric fence at the water's edge- to keep out the hippos. We dropped bags, rented bikes, and biked out to a saltwater lake nearby, Lake Eloiden. This is one of the famous flamingo lakes. Normally I don't care about flamingos, but when you see a few thousand take off from the water in concert, it's amazing.
More amazing was the bike ride to the lake. Spotted giraffes just off the road, and went to investigate. Once we got near (but not too near) we found zebras and antelope as well. When a hyena popped up, we got the hell out.
After all that, back to the camp for a Tusker.
Nairobi, Kenya (Why am I back in Nairobi? You'll have to wait for day 9)
Day 5: On Safari
The second, and longest day of the safari, brought us to elephants, hippos, hyenas, and lion cubs, along with everything from the other day. We saw wildebeests gathering to cross the river as part of the Great Migration, the largest mammal migration on the planet. For lunch we even stepped out of the safari van, just to re-enter the food chain a little.
After the game drive, we toured a village of the Maasai people, one of the Kenyan tribes maintaining their traditional ways of life. They live in mud huts, practice polygamy, herd goats and cattle, and see themselves as lion-hunting warriors. The Maasai are known for their brightly colored red robes, and are seen herding their animals, in traditional dress, all over southwestern Kenya. I learned that even in remote mud-hut villages of cattle herders, you exit through the gift shop. Welcome to our village, now buy a crappy carving of a rhino.
Nairobi, Kenya
After the game drive, we toured a village of the Maasai people, one of the Kenyan tribes maintaining their traditional ways of life. They live in mud huts, practice polygamy, herd goats and cattle, and see themselves as lion-hunting warriors. The Maasai are known for their brightly colored red robes, and are seen herding their animals, in traditional dress, all over southwestern Kenya. I learned that even in remote mud-hut villages of cattle herders, you exit through the gift shop. Welcome to our village, now buy a crappy carving of a rhino.
Nairobi, Kenya
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Get me some internet
The first day in I narrowly managed to avoid an absurdly overpriced tour of Nairobi, and ended up meeting some Irish kids heading to the Giraffe Center. We found a cab, made it to the giraffes, and fed them by hand. Some parents were convincing their 10 year old child to hold the giraffe food in her mouth, so that the giraffe would lick her face. The child was terrified. Those are awesome parents. Then we found a swanky hotel overlooking a park and downtown Nairobi, and had a few Tuskers.
The second day I had to pack up and head to a new hostel, a much nicer place down the road, to meet Shannon and Deepak, returning from a safari. I overshot the hostel by half a mile, wandering around Africa with my backpack and a guidebook. I asked for help and a Kenyan police officer walked me back to the hostel. Very friendly people, the Kenyans. And they sure do love Americans, seeing as who we elected president. Finally made it to the hostel, meeting up with Shannon and Deepak. We headed to a place called Carnivore, Kenya's answer to the Brazilian steakhouse. Walking in, you see a giant open oven, cooking skewers of every kind of meet, including beef, chicken, pork, ostrich, goat, and I'm assuming a zebra. I mean, why not? Damn things are everywhere. Then we decided to go to the bar next door, and ended up dancing in a bar that was 100% local but for us. Obviously, me and Deepak were foreordained to be the worst dancers in the room, but everyone seemed thrilled to have some foreigners around. Sidenote, my fake wallet could have been stolen about 100 times while we were in there, but no one bothered any of us. If you use some common sense, Nairobi's reputation as a crime-ridden city is pretty overblown.
Day 3. Shannon and Deepak leave, and I'm back on my own. I head to Lake Nakuru, which the guidebook describes as nice. In fact, the park is insanely expensive and the town is a frightening shithole. And as the only white person in the entire city, I received an insane amount of attention. I am a big dollar sign in places not frequented by other foreigners. I got out immediately, finding a good deal on a safari. So trying to see the lake was a failure, but the next morning I'd be escaping.
Day 4. Maasai Mara. Day 4 had me hopping on the local mini-buses, or mutatus, heading to join with the safari. Met up with the group in our pop-top safari van on the way to Kenya's most famous national park, the Maasai Mara. Note: they do not take Visa. Visa lied about that. Youtube the commercial if you want a bit of consumer outrage. We got there in time for a 2-hour game drive through the park, seeing giraffes, zebras, wildebeest, antelope, and lions. I could write all day about the safari, but I'll wait until I have photos.
I'll add more later, but for now a quick overview of Africa. Being here makes me excited and anxious at almost all times. I'll forget where I am for a moment, then see a herd of wild zebras foraging around the acacia trees. The place is absurdly beautiful, but also insanely dysfunctional. There are fewer tourists here than I would expect (you can walk around Nairobi for 30 mins w/o seeing another mzungu), meaning I get more attention than I would in Costa Rica, Guat, or Mexico, but generally I've felt pretty safe. My fake wallet is basically there for the taking, but my interactions with locals have been almost entirely positive. I have to get to Uganda soon, but no idea how I'm supposed to pull that off. A hostel I booked online turns out not to have existed, another hostel didn't honor my reservation. Today is spent just finding an ATM (check), and internet cafe (check) and a way to Uganda. Then, I think, time for a nap.
Lake Naishava, Kenya
The second day I had to pack up and head to a new hostel, a much nicer place down the road, to meet Shannon and Deepak, returning from a safari. I overshot the hostel by half a mile, wandering around Africa with my backpack and a guidebook. I asked for help and a Kenyan police officer walked me back to the hostel. Very friendly people, the Kenyans. And they sure do love Americans, seeing as who we elected president. Finally made it to the hostel, meeting up with Shannon and Deepak. We headed to a place called Carnivore, Kenya's answer to the Brazilian steakhouse. Walking in, you see a giant open oven, cooking skewers of every kind of meet, including beef, chicken, pork, ostrich, goat, and I'm assuming a zebra. I mean, why not? Damn things are everywhere. Then we decided to go to the bar next door, and ended up dancing in a bar that was 100% local but for us. Obviously, me and Deepak were foreordained to be the worst dancers in the room, but everyone seemed thrilled to have some foreigners around. Sidenote, my fake wallet could have been stolen about 100 times while we were in there, but no one bothered any of us. If you use some common sense, Nairobi's reputation as a crime-ridden city is pretty overblown.
Day 3. Shannon and Deepak leave, and I'm back on my own. I head to Lake Nakuru, which the guidebook describes as nice. In fact, the park is insanely expensive and the town is a frightening shithole. And as the only white person in the entire city, I received an insane amount of attention. I am a big dollar sign in places not frequented by other foreigners. I got out immediately, finding a good deal on a safari. So trying to see the lake was a failure, but the next morning I'd be escaping.
Day 4. Maasai Mara. Day 4 had me hopping on the local mini-buses, or mutatus, heading to join with the safari. Met up with the group in our pop-top safari van on the way to Kenya's most famous national park, the Maasai Mara. Note: they do not take Visa. Visa lied about that. Youtube the commercial if you want a bit of consumer outrage. We got there in time for a 2-hour game drive through the park, seeing giraffes, zebras, wildebeest, antelope, and lions. I could write all day about the safari, but I'll wait until I have photos.
I'll add more later, but for now a quick overview of Africa. Being here makes me excited and anxious at almost all times. I'll forget where I am for a moment, then see a herd of wild zebras foraging around the acacia trees. The place is absurdly beautiful, but also insanely dysfunctional. There are fewer tourists here than I would expect (you can walk around Nairobi for 30 mins w/o seeing another mzungu), meaning I get more attention than I would in Costa Rica, Guat, or Mexico, but generally I've felt pretty safe. My fake wallet is basically there for the taking, but my interactions with locals have been almost entirely positive. I have to get to Uganda soon, but no idea how I'm supposed to pull that off. A hostel I booked online turns out not to have existed, another hostel didn't honor my reservation. Today is spent just finding an ATM (check), and internet cafe (check) and a way to Uganda. Then, I think, time for a nap.
Lake Naishava, Kenya
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