Even though it was nice to take an extended break in Nairobi, after four and a half weeks I was a bit ready to get back on the road and see a bit more of Kenya, so last thursday I hopped an overnight bus to the city of Mombasa on the coast, a place I was anxious to see, having fond memories of Christmas there 10 years go. After a fairly bumpy bus ride, over rutted, pot-holed roads that left my neck a knotted mess, we rolled into Mombasa and its moist, sticky heat around 9am.
After checking into the Beracha Guest House, I spent the first day strolling around the city and hitting the tourist spot of the old 'Fort Jesus' (an old portugese coral fort), where I got a tour from a guide who did little more than read the posted signs, point out the cannons and century towers, and ask me for more money, after which I headed for a brisk walk through the old town, which under the mid-day sun left me drenched.
That evening I made the acquaintance of 2 american girls, that had moved back to Mombasa for a year of volunteer work after being here two years ago for study abroad, and a canadian girl who was back visiting after spending some time working at a refugee camp near Turkana last year. They were kind enough to let me tag along with them the next day through the market (a darker, danker, trash strewn version of those in turkey), find some good cheap food, and a cheap but slow internet joint.
That night the girls convinced me to go with them to the local club 'Tembo' (elephant), which, after a 20 minute matatu ride where I was wedged in a hole between two middle seats, turned out to be a lot of fun. Having seen few other white people in mombasa upto that point, I was surprised at how many were at the club. A quick survey revealed that these were far from my peers: I was a few years to young, my gut several inches to small, my hair count a few million too high, and I was missing the requisite prostitute or two wrapped under each arm.
After a late night/early morning, and a hot lethargic third day, I hopped another bus to the near by town of Watamu.
After checking into the Beracha Guest House, I spent the first day strolling around the city and hitting the tourist spot of the old 'Fort Jesus' (an old portugese coral fort), where I got a tour from a guide who did little more than read the posted signs, point out the cannons and century towers, and ask me for more money, after which I headed for a brisk walk through the old town, which under the mid-day sun left me drenched.
That evening I made the acquaintance of 2 american girls, that had moved back to Mombasa for a year of volunteer work after being here two years ago for study abroad, and a canadian girl who was back visiting after spending some time working at a refugee camp near Turkana last year. They were kind enough to let me tag along with them the next day through the market (a darker, danker, trash strewn version of those in turkey), find some good cheap food, and a cheap but slow internet joint.
That night the girls convinced me to go with them to the local club 'Tembo' (elephant), which, after a 20 minute matatu ride where I was wedged in a hole between two middle seats, turned out to be a lot of fun. Having seen few other white people in mombasa upto that point, I was surprised at how many were at the club. A quick survey revealed that these were far from my peers: I was a few years to young, my gut several inches to small, my hair count a few million too high, and I was missing the requisite prostitute or two wrapped under each arm.
After a late night/early morning, and a hot lethargic third day, I hopped another bus to the near by town of Watamu.
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