Comfort Hotel, Nairobi Kenya
When I landed in Nairobi it was light out, and by the time I left the airport it was dark. Getting my Visa was easy- a short process of being fingerprinted, photographed, and interrogated in decent English.
The moment I saw the black Osprey bag come rolling out at baggage claim I breathed a big sigh of relief. And as a girl dragged it off the track and threw it on a cart I nearly choked and ran over to her. A closer examination from us both confirmed it was indeed her bag, identical to mine but likely containing her luggage. Needless to say I let her part ways with it without making a bigger scene. I confirmed with the airlines that after watching all the bags get picked up, that mine was absent, and likely still in Switzerland. I was relieved to find a Swiss Air agent who spoke English, and was happy to help me fill out the paperwork to get it transferred to Nairobi and delivered to my residence here. It would arrive tomorrow, but only after I had left for Mara with the belongings I had in my carry-on. Suddenly the extra socks and underwear, long pants, and jacket made it a sweet victory, as I knew I could survive on less in the African grassland.
I headed outside the airport after exchanging some money, and booked a limo service (Didn't want to chance it with a taxi now that it was dark and I didn't have hotel reservations still) to take me to downtown Nairobi and pick me up from my hotel and take me to a smaller, local airport for my morning flight the next day. Walking up to the car, I made the mistake after loading my bag of trying to get in on the passenger side, which turned out to be the driver's side. Whoops. Leaving the airport, I was surprised how crowded it was, many people walking, sitting, riding motorcycles, driving cars, walking in the road- no place seemed to be off-limits to pedestrians. It was dark and the streets were so crowded! I was grateful I had hired a driver instead of making the walk (it looked do-able on a map but I talked myself out of it instantly after thinking about it for a second) We flew past other cars at many kilometers per hour, weaving in and out of traffic, and suicidal pedestrians; dark-skinned and wearing dark clothes, these walkers with a death-wish were harder to spot on the road than deer on the River Road. Within minutes we hit traffic, and my driver and I had no choice but to talk to pass the time. He was surprised I was so young. He wanted to be an ecologist. Various street vendors walked past us, weaving in between stopped cars, trucks, and mutatus, peddling their wares: phone chargers, couch pillows, nuts wrapped in paper, and soccer balls. The haze of exhaust sat low over the road, and the ghostly figures back-lit by oncoming headlights danced, jogged, and moved through traffic like a pot-induced psychedelic hallucination. I was lulled into the rhythm of Nairobi. My whole body swayed back and forth, the way that it does when you're sitting in an old stick-shift parked in neutral. The blast of air from the passenger-side vents carried the thick smell of exhaust, and combined with the tribal music blaring over the radio, my senses were overwhelmed, and I wanted badly to fall asleep. The stop and go traffic took us past slums, prostitutes, abandoned construction sites, and billboards advertising products on nearly every available flat surface. The horns, crowded mutatus (crowded vans that are known for reckless driving, cramming in many passengers sort of like a local taxi) and free-walking people everywhere made up a lively bustling cityscape, taking me back to the first time I experienced the streets of Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. (Nearly 3 years ago to the day!) Nearly an hour later we pulled up to a street corner in downtown Nairobi, and my driver told me this is it. I didn't see a hotel anywhere, but the somewhat-official looking guard on the curb helped my hunch that I was fine unloading my stuff and walking around a little bit. I paid my driver and affirmed I would meet him here at 8:00 the next morning. Behind the armed guard (carrying a club and a scary-looking walkie-talkie) was a barred door. I had reached my holding cell for the night.
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| The door to my floor- better safe then sorry! |
I chose to stay at the Kenya Comfort Hotel. Rated by Lonely Planet's guidebook as a two dollar sign hotel, it had all the amenities I was looking for: running water, a bed without bedbugs, and a lockable door. It was dreary-looking at night, but in the early morning light of the morning, as the city woke up and it got light out, I patted myself on the back for my smart choice. A much better alternative to the $200/night Hilton Nairobi down the road. I didn't mind the security- locked gates on every floor and 3 locks on my door game me the notion that Nairobi probably isn't the safest city in the world. I purposefully did not over-research Nairobi crime rates, knowing that I would be safe and better to not fill my head with useless things. I asked for a room with a single bed, and named my price in USD, which they were happy to accept. It was lower than their advertised price and the manager told me he would upgrade me to a room with a large bed at no charge, but if I brought a friend with me later, than I would have to pay for double-occupancy. I remembered the advice given to me at the beginning of the trip, and assured him that I would be alone the entire night.
My room was quite small, with an even smaller bathroom, and I was sure to lock all three locks using multiple keys, and organized my luggage, took a shower, and went to bed. Before falling asleep I figured I would close the mosquito netting above my bed, if not for the lack of insects, just for the aura. It was worth it. I slept for nearly three hours, and woke up to read the lesson, which was perfect for my trip ahead. Then I read four different magazines I found in the hallway, one issue was all about raptors in Kenya (I donated a magazine I saved from the plane in exchange for that one) The various safari-themed magazines were full of vivid photographs of African wildlife, and fascinating details and accounts of safaris. I read for close to two hours, wondering what my safari would be like, and if I would capture some images that were nearly as good as those in the magazines.
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| A precursor of things to come! |
One particular issue was all about Maasai Mara, which conveniently I was heading to later on today!
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| Many sleepless hours spent here |
I finished my morning's activities writing my blog (which you are reading right now) and trying to fall back asleep, dreaming while awake as I assembled the amazing sightings and dramatic safari images I would see over the next few days.
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