Kenya’s Independence Day (Jamhuri Day) is December 12th, and this year happened to be the 50th anniversary celebration. Since it’s a national holiday, everyone takes off of work and a lot of people end up traveling. The holiday itself fell on a Thursday, but since it was such a big anniversary, the president randomly declared Wednesday and Friday holidays, too, and with about a weeks notice I had a 5 day weekend ahead of me!
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| Flying into Mombasa |
My boss was in Kisumu on Monday and Tuesday before the holiday, and late on Tuesday night I was debating if I should go somewhere…work had been stressful, and there had been some muggings and protests in Kisumu and I wanted a little break. She suggested I head to the coast, so I looked at plane tickets. Our team had to work on Wednesday, and plane ticket prices were pretty high on Thursday, and I was lamenting the spike in prices on the days I wanted to travel. But since she’s the coolest boss ever, she suggested I just leave on Wednesday and come back on Monday to avoid the rush!
With Ana-Claire’s blessing, I booked a 7am flight to Mombasa, Kenya! Since it was about 1am by the time I finally decided, I packed some random stuff into a small backpack (basically 2 bathing suits, 5 sundresses, and sunscreen) and hoped I would be able to find a decent place to stay when I arrived. I have actually never just shown up into a town and tried to find a last minute place to stay, so I was a little nervous, but Africa is teaching me to go with the flow more J
Ana-Claire was actually flying on the same connecting flight to Nairobi, so we rode to the airport together at the crack of dawn. After a quick 45 minute hop to Nairobi, we parted ways, and I got on my flight to Mombasa. That flight was also under and hour, and before I knew it I was on the coast! I got off the plane and the first thing I noticed once I hit the tarmac was overwhelming heat and humidity. Kisumu is a bit elevated (though it’s still pretty toasty) but the temperature at seal level was stiflingly hot! I didn’t mind it at all, and was psyched for the sea breeze and the change of scenery: I didn’t realize it, but I had been in Kisumu for 3 months straight with no more that 36-48 hours of break – that might be a new record for me since I almost always have a weekend getaway or road trip planned! I had been working so much and have no car, so I had been pretty stationary for once.
Most of the ride was easy enough – we left the station after about 15 minutes of the driver hustling passerbys to fill the bus to capacity. We made it out of Mombasa and seemed to miss the notorious city traffic and were in the suburbs and outlying villages pretty quickly. I dozed a bit, lulled by the car and the extreme heat, and woke up a few times to gorgeous peeks of the turquoise ocean and white sand that I could see when we went over bridges that crossed rivers which led to the ocean. The bays and inlets were beautiful, and I was excited that I was ditching the bustle of the city and the crowds and headed to a small beach town!
I dozed again and was awoken by sudden silence: not a normal feeling in a crowded mini-bus that’s about 95 degrees and hurtling over hippo-sized speed bumps. I looked around and realized the driver was slowly drifting us to the side of the road and the matatu was dead. We pulled over and all climbed out of the bus to assess the situation, grumble, and watch the action. The intrepid driver got out some water, a rag and some very homemade looking tools, lifted the entire front bench of seats (apparently that’s where part of the engine is, no wonder it felt like my flip-flops were melting to the floor!). He fiddled, he banged, he tweaked, and he tested.
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| Broken down matatu |
Nothing.
So he restarted the fiddling while more-than-fully-loaded matatus drove by, slowed down just long enough to have us all refuse, then heckled us. Miraculously, after about 5 minutes of what I could only distinguish as indiscriminate banging and poking, the little bus fired to life, and we all enthusiastically piled back into the vehicle (deathtrap).
About 30 minutes later, the apocalyptic looking dark clouds that had been amassing inland were beginning to drift toward the shore – and our route – and before I knew it we were now speeding down a two-lane road, blindly passing, in pouring rain. We had to roll all the windows up to stay dry, and let’s just say that 14ish people, in stifling Equatorial heat, with rolled up windows is not the most pleasant experience.
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| Malindi beaches |
Eventually the rained stopped, and we made it all the way to Malindi! The driver dropped off all the other passengers and was even nice enough to help me find a place to stay. I asked him for a recommendation, and he took me to one of the places list in my guidebook, so I figured it couldn’t be too bad! I was showed a room, showed the pretty old looking shared bathroom, and told breakfast was included for about $15. I could see the ocean from the window, and it seemed fine for at least a night, so I agreed and immediately threw on a bathing suit and new dress and went out in quest for food!
I wandered towards the ocean, and found a long pier. There were lots of young boys fishing or just hanging out, and they all kept saying “Ciao, bella!” which at first I thought was a bit odd but rather cute, so I mostly ignored it. I was surprised that the water here was a murky, silty brown color, not at all like the beautiful water I had seen the whole drive! I figured it was maybe just the spot I was in, and there was nothing happening on the pier, so I walked further down the deserted and undeveloped waterfront to a few small restaurants. One looked beachy and rather authentic (read: cheap and maybe had seafood), so I stopped in and ordered a water, cold Coke, and a beer all at once….I had purposely had nothing to drink for the long ride and was starting to feel it!
The menu looked pretty “eclectic,” but I decided to brave it an ordered the seafood cocktail. I thought I would try an appetizer and order more if the food was good….but the app came and it was a pile of pretty undistinguishable sea creatures all covered in some sort of awful mayonnaise type sauce. Maybe mayo fans would have enjoyed it, but those who know me well know the stuff makes me cringe, and I scraped as much off as I can, ate some, and gave up. But the Coke and the beer were awesome, I could see the waves, and everything was so cheap that it didn’t really matter too much.
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| GELATO!! |
I walked backed toward the pier and my hotel, and found an adorable little café that sold real, homemade gelato! Since my seafood app had failed, the next best thing was dessert, so I got a scoop of Nutella and a scoop of pistachio flavor and watched the kids playing soccer on the beach. The gelato was amazing, and on my wandering path back to my room I stumbled upon a museum…I thought there would be an interesting display on Swahili architecture or the local culture, but the lower level of the museum was 3 large rooms with displays dedicated to one weird, prehistoric fish that had been caught off the coast of Malindi over 60 years ago. I didn’t really get it, and left after a quick stroll through the
After the museum I went back to the guesthouse – the beach looked really crumby the whole way, and the water was full of runoff from the heavy rains flooding a nearby river, so I decided to make a plan to find a better beach. I asked the front desk, and they said the water would be like that for a while, so I asked him to help me find a dive company to try SCUBA diving – he arranged it all for me. Before I knew it I was booked for a 7am pick up for the dive outfit in the next town over! They assured me the water was great there, and offered to pick me up and take me anywhere after the dive, so I had an escape plan J
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| World's Loudest Mosque |
I got a much-needed shower…and even though I was told the guesthouse had hot water (and there was none), I was incredibly happy for the cold shower and probably wouldn’t have used any warm water anyway – it was just SO hot outside!! I tried to make myself presentable, had the guy at reception suggest a restaurant and make a reservation, and headed out to get some real seafood! I ended up at a place named “The Old Man and the Sea” – it looked nice and had good reviews, and the menu was all local seafood!
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| Treat yo self |
It took a while to get service, but I ordered a yummy shrimp cocktail (hold all sauces!!) to start, which was good, and champagne-poached red snapper. The whole meal was great, the house white wine was perfect, and all together the whole thing only set me back about $17. After that it was pretty late, so I got a ride home instead of walking and went back to the room….but it was so ridiculously hot that I ended up turning off all the lights, turning on the ceiling fan, opening up the main door to my room for a breeze and just laying on my bed in a sports bra and shorts trying to get comfortable. There was a tiny bit of cross ventilation, but the mosquitos were everywhere, so eventually I closed up the front door and climbed under my net and struggled to get comfortable in the heat.
Then there was the mosque: the call to prayer from the neighboring mosque was SO LOUD that earplugs did nothing. There was singing, talking, and what seemed like yelling for about 20 minutes. It finally got quiet, and I drifted off for a while, but it really was incredibly hot and I woke up a number of times and tossed the sheet off or squashed evil mosquitos inside my net.
Around 4am the mosque fired up the terrifyingly loud speakers again, and the initial screaming/singing was so haunting and shocking that I almost jumped out of the bed. I won’t lie, I was extremely annoyed, tired, itchy from mosquitos, and sticky from the heat. It was too early to actually get out of bed and start the day, so I laid there and stewed, but by the time I drifted back off to sleep the alarm was going off and it was time to go diving!
Day Two: Diving in Watamu!
I formally decided to absolutely not stay in that torturous place for another minute longer than I had to, and packed up my bag, had my included breakfast, checked out, and found my ride to the dive shop. I was collected by an older Italian couple, the owners of the dive outfit, and happily whisked away in an air conditioned van to the small town next door called Watamu. It was an entertaining drive, as they were ridiculously Italian and yelled “Mama Mia!!” at the bad drivers on the narrow and busy roads J
We arrived at the dive shop, I was given all the normal gear, and paid a whopping 80 Euros (sigh, Italians!), and got onto the boat! The beach was absolutely gorgeous, with white sand, clear turquoise water, and cool rock formations mushrooming out of the water. Embarrassingly, it took me and the dive master what felt like an eternity to squeeze me into the provided wetsuit – even with his help it was super difficult for me to wiggle into the suit! It was so hot, and as soon as you start sweating, its almost impossible to force those things on.
But I finally zipped it up, threw on my tank, and had 2 awesome dives in the clear, bathtub-warm water. The coral was cool, there were a lot of pretty little fish, and we even saw some eels and big schools of medium sized fish hanging out at the edge of the reef. I was hoping to see some turtles, and I had even seen a few on the surface on the ride out, but they were being rather evasive. But overall the dives were really nice, and my guide was very patient and pointed out anything colorful he found that I missed.
The water was so warm that by the end of the second dive I couldn’t WAIT to rip off the wetsuit. I actually took off all my gear and then went for a swim along the side of the boat to cool off! It was such a beautiful day, and the water and beach were really perfect. We rode back in and my dive mates and I hung around on the beach of the dive shop for a while chatting in a weird mix of English, Spanish-Italian (I spoke Spanish at them, and they spoke Italian back at me) and Swahili.
Eventually, we all got hungry and the dive master offered to give me a ride into town to find a place to stay, so we headed into the little village. It wasn’t a huge town, so after wandering around for about 10 minutes and asking about availability and pricing, I found a decent guesthouse with a ceiling fan and it’s own bathroom for about $15. I dumped my bags and went to go find some more Italian food!
I was pleased to find a nice hotel with a huge walled garden and a pizzeria only a few blocks down the road. As soon as I sat down I was brought a complimentary glass of cool champagne and a huge bowl of olives…so those who know me well know that I was already in heaven before ordering!
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| Show off |
I had to try the pizza, and it was great! They had a huge stone oven in the garden, the crust was thin and crispy, and the cheese, olives and prosciutto on the pizza were all perfect. I scarfed almost the whole thing (which I regretted a little shortly thereafter) and then walked to the beach. I realized I had left my only travel towel at the dive shop, so I decided to walk the mile or so along the beach to go rescue it.
It was such a nice day and the water was so warm that the long walk along the beach was toasty but great. Being a single, white lady walking alone, the random idle men lounging on the beach would jump up and attempt to join me in my walk, but after a short chat I would firmly tell them I wanted to walk alone and would say goodbye, which worked surprisingly well. I walked through two bays and saw children playing in the waves, people windsurfing, and lavishly huge mansions on the water.
I snagged my towel and kept walking, it was so nice, I had no plans, and was happy just wandering the shore and exploring the area. A persistent local eventually started strolling with me, and I figured I might as well learn about the area , so I asked him all the things I had been wondering about. For “high season,” the beaches were relatively deserted, and he said the tourists weren’t coming this year because of the terrorist attack on Westgate and the poor Italian/European economy. He said everyone was going to Tanzania this year because it was cheaper and people thought it was safer. He also said almost everyone in the area learns to speak Italian in order to cater to the tourists that had adopted the area as their annual vacation spot.
After a little while and a long walk, I bought him a Coke and said goodbye. I walked back to town on my own, and stopped once to take a swim in a deserted bay with a few kids playing in the sand.
I found a little bar & grill on the beach close to my guesthouse, bought a giant water, and sat and watched the sunset over the fishing ships in little bay. After hydrating, the sunset, and a mosquito-infested shower, I went back to the same restaurant for dinner, and had another extremely welcome glass of champagne, a cheese plate appetizer (it’s impossible to find good cheese in Kisumu!), and a delicious meat lasagna.
It was a really great start to my solo beach vacation, and I was very happy that I had moved over to the little village of Watamu!
Find more pictures here: https://kristynspictures.shutterfly.com/10134
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