Prologue:
This is a kind of long and meandering story across three continents, seven countries and nine US states via planes trains and automobiles. Not to mention a boat, some busses and the back of a Pickup. Beware though, I originally wrote this up in 2001. Long before the great Pacific Northwest beat the insensitivity out of me. But in the interest of realism, and the lack of interest in making the effort at political correction, it is staying pretty much the same not very politically correct.
First stop: Key West:
The adventure started when I flew from Seattle to Miami. I rented a car and headed down to Key West. Sadly, Key West has lost its luster over the past few years. It has become just another Port of Call for the cruise line crowd and maybe the fine folks who usually head to Panama City for their annual vacation but decided to leave the kids at home and dance around the bars wearing not much more than a way too thin coat of fingerpaint. As usual, the only naked girls I ever get to see, shouldn’t be.
Don’t get me wrong, there is still a lot of fun to be had in Key West but going alone is kind of depressing and I was restless and eager to get on with the bigger trip. I stayed a couple of days before I grew tired of it, pointed my car North and pushing the floored it. As much as flooring it gets you on A1A through the keys where top speed with no traffic is 40mph.
Second stop: Miami:
I made it to South Beach for a weekend of partying that the city was famous for. I took a room at a beachfront hotel right there on Collins Ave. thought ahead and didn’t shave for three days. That coordinated with my unstructured white sport coat and pants with the pastel t-shirt (not really, but the image is kind of ridiculous, isn’t it?) I did take off my black socks, though. But to no avail. I just couldn’t get in the spirit. Nowadays, I think I fit in better with the bingo crowd rather than the nightclub crowd. Who goes out at midnight? That is insane! Hell, these days, at midnight, I am waking up to pee. My internal clock is set for daytime activities. Luckily that when the women go topless on the beach. That isn’t something I don’t get to see a lot of up in Seattle. Especially without a cover charge and $8 Bud Lights. Not that I am a frequent visitor to these places.
I did a bike tour of the Everglades just outside of Miami and I learned a very valuable lesson on this outing and am glad to pass it along. Make sure your rental bike’s tires aren’t leaking air before you head off on a 16 mile round trip journey into the swamps on a day when there are no other tourists and the afternoon storms are expected. I didn’t and ended up pushing the bike the last 5 miles in a torrential downpour. That wasn’t so bad because the rain was warm and I was wearing my swimming suit. The real problem was that; by definition a swamp is low lying ground. This left me being the highest point for miles around pushing a metal bike in an electrical storm. If that wasn’t bad enough, the flat tire made a sound like a great big alligator crawling across wet black top. I made it back uncharred and with all the limbs I started with only to have the rental lady try to charge me for the hour I spent pushing the bike through the swamp. I talked her out of it and went home to take a nap which came early at a red light in downtown Miami. I woke just as I started to roll into oncoming traffic.
Undented, I made it back to my hostess’s house just in time for some extra tasty pre, during and post dinner drinks
Third stop: Orlando:
From Miami, I drove up to Orlando to check out how it had changed since I left back in 1992. I spent most of my twenties there and saw it go from a sleepy little suburb of Wally World to a teeming partying metropolis. It didn’t stop after I left either. If I were a conspiracy type of guy, I would think they were
waiting for me to leave before they kicked off the really good stuff. In fact, I might be able to get into loads of trouble if I was 10 years younger. But, old bingo boy here just doesn’t have the energy to keep up with these kids today. I stuck with nice dinners and visiting old friends. Florida is a nice place to visit but it is still too damned hot, I think I’ll stay up North where it is cloudy, wet and cold. It was good to see everyone again. Sorry to those that I didn’t.
Fourth Stop: Atlanta:
I drove onward to Atlanta for a little southern hospitality. More free food, beer and a comfortable bed not to mention a big swimming pool and digital cable. They even had a big party for me which was most appreciated.
To be honest, It wasn’t actually for me, I wasn’t really invited and didn’t even know the person the party was really for, but I had fun. I did go out one Friday night into what used to be the happening spots but the kids keep getting younger and the music keeps getting louder. Which made me realize something. Just like the uglier the girl, the more eager she is to take her clothes off… The crappier the music, the louder it seems to get played. As always thanks for the roof over my head and the beer in my belly.
Fifth Stop: Cleveland:
Next up, the long drive to the city where I grew up. You would think that 800 miles would take longer but I left Monday morning and pulled into Cleveland on Tuesday morning. That included a couple of beers in my old college town and a few hours sleep in the parking lot of a 24 hour grocery store.
But there I was. Ready for the onslaught. It wasn’t too bad for the first few days. A lot of sleeping, a TV in every room, a daily 4 mile run to prep for Africa, Prime tickets to two Cleveland Indians baseball games and internet access. Then, during one of the after dinner conversations with my mom, who is spends a lot of time wondering why the days, weeks, months and now years keep seeing to go faster and faster. She brought up the fact that I graduated in 1979 and that I was getting old, 40 years old in fact. Which was, of course, is something I was well aware of. But then she informed me that there was a noticeable bald spot in a spot that I can’t see even with two mirrors and an uncomfortable twist of my neck. So now I am practicing the comb over and looking for a good baseball hat.
Then I go over to see my uncle who I haven’t seen in 10 years and this is his quote, “you are much fatter now”. Sheesh, I go from 6 foot and 130 pounds in my 20’s to 6 ft and 185 in my 40’s and now I am fat. No mercy. So on that happy note, I headed off to Chicago via a stop in Grand Rapids to catch my plane to Brussels. Cursing those times when I said “sure, super-size it” the whole way.
Europe:
I didn’t really want to go to Brussels. A town named after a bad tasting vegetable is something to be avoided in my book. But alas, Brussels was most definitely in my future. I was originally going to catch the train to Amsterdam as soon as I landed. My luggage on the other hand was enjoying a tour of the Zurich airport’s luggage conveyor system instead of catching the plane that I was on. Since I don’t usually have a room reserved when I land in a foreign country, there was no way to have my luggage forwarded. I ended up hanging out in the airport as train after train left for Amsterdam. Finally, my luggage popped out of the little shoot and I was on my way. But it was too late, I was too tired, too hungry and too grumpy for Amsterdam so I headed for Brussels. I rented a stuffy room that I could stand in the middle of and almost touch all four walls on the seedier side of town. Still, it met my requirements, a door that locks. It was morning back in the states so I was up and ready to go.
Once I got past the porn shops and neon lights of the Nudie bars, Brussels turned out to be a nice place. Lots of people eating and drinking in the sidewalk cafes in the narrow streets of the old part of town. I even saw the famous fountain made out of a statue of a little kid peeing. I don’t know if you knew this little historical fact, but the naming of the continent and it people came from this statue. Yep. He’s a peein’ and You’re a peein’ too. European, get it? Sorry, I just had to use that joke as I probably won’t ever get the chance again.
The next morning I caught the train for Amsterdam. We all know that it’s major attraction is its infamous Red Light District and the coffee shops that have probably never actually served a cup of coffee, ever. First things first though, I needed a cheap room and I didn’t want to have to deal with a bunch of stoned dreadlocked American trust fund babies on their college trip before they start working for Daddy. I decided to head out to the suburb of Harlaam which is much different than the Harlem that was named after it. It was a quiet pretty little town just a few minutes, by train, west of the city.
But few people go to the Netherlands for the nice little towns. Amsterdam is the destination. The canals, the Anne Frank House, the Museums and houseboats. I rented a bike to see the city as a local would. It was a nice sunny day as I biked around until I got hungry for lunch. I was given a bike with two locks so I got the hint. I secured the bike in one of the many racks and headed for a nice Sidewalk café. An hour later, I came back to where I left my bike and guess what. No, the bike was there, someone stole the lock. Which put me in a bad mood for the rest of the day because a) Stealing a bike lock that you can’t use is just plain mean and stupid and b) I was obviously paying too much for a bike that even a drug addled idiot wouldn’t steal. I had to go back to the rental shop and explain the situation to this big mean Russian looking guy with a nice good looking woman standing nearby. So that cost me some pride and 30 bucks for a new lock.
That being said, I have to admit riding a bike around Amsterdam really is a great way to see the city. and stoner after stoner sitting around looking like they were trying to see air. Which, with the thick green clouds, you wouldn’t think would be so hard.
When in Amsterdam though, I figured I should see what all the hub bub is about. I walked around town, eyeing up the coffee shops but they all seemed a little dingy to be hanging in out in on beautiful sunny day.I keep looking until I see a barge with the international sign of the leaf painted on the side. There was a nice deck and people hanging out having a good time. So I got my courage up only to have it dashed when I got close enough to the boat to remember that most stoners aren’t good housekeepers. Which would be alright except for the fact that this barge looked like the rats left years ago and bong resin was being used to plug the holes. But then, I figured how deep can the water be if the thing did sink? So the courage came back and I headed for the gang plank. Then it came to me that I have never bought dope before. What kind do I buy? I have no idea how to roll a joint? Would I have to ask for help? What if someone offers to share a bong load? Forgetting the fact that it is kind of gross, I don’t know how to do a bong hit. Could I buy a sampler pack of little doobies? So many questions. In the end, I gave up and had a beer. From the past few sentences, you would figure out that I can really get to thinking sometimes, can you imagine what would happen if I was stoned?
Waking up clear headed the next day, I decided to take the train to the North Sea and walked on the beach. The surprising thing about the beaches there is there were long stretches of clothing optional beaches with bars, restaurants and volleyball courts.
Three things that don’t come to mind when I was making out my list of wise things to do while naked. Turns out my list is pretty short. Showering and being born are all that I came up with. Oh yeah , I almost forgot…maybe sex. And yes, my big fluorescent white ass stayed covered out of consideration for the poor Netherlanders who may not be ready for glaring brightness of it all.
I still had a couple of days before my flight for Nairobi and I didn’t have any plans. So I decided that I should head for Luxembourg. My reasons were simple… I have never been there, I don’t know anyone who has there and I have never met anyone from Luxembourg. I was beginning to think it didn’t really exist. Think about it. What other country has a capital with the same name as the country? Why does nobody speak Luxembourgese.
We have all had French, German, Italian and Spanish food. But not Luxembourgish. Maybe this was just
some sort of High School Geography conspiracy aimed at making the tests that much harder. I got on the train in Amsterdam and rode until I heard the conductor say Luxembourg and dashed for the door just in case it was a conspiracy of International proportions. To my surprise, it did exist, at least there was a sign at the train station. I am still not quite convinced because when I tried to change money, the cashier just looked at me funny and said, in a French accent I might add, “Oh just use your Belgian Francs”. I looked around from the front door of the train station and the country didn’t look so big so I reserved the overnight train for Paris, locked up my bags and went for a stroll. The people seemed normal. Maybe a little TOO normal. I needed some food and an adult beverage to review the evidence.
After a nice dinner in the town square it began to rain so I held my own personal pub crawl while I waited for my train. Each time the rain let up, I ran to another bar. I made it to about six before I headed back to catch the midnight train that, as it happens, was coming out of Amsterdam on its way somewhere south. I had a good buzz going and was concerned to find that the station restrooms were closed for the night. Luckily, I timed it right and the train was scheduled to arrive in just a couple of minutes and I could use the onboard facilities. Unluckily the train was actually 3 hours late. Luckily, there was no high voltage third rail to conduct electricity if it came into contact with water numerous times over the next few hours. Finally, the train came and I was happy to get onboard. The happiness was short lived when I found that it was coming from Amsterdam and full of hung over, actively ill, dreadlocked and dirty kids on their way to wear out their welcome in some other fleabag hostel somewhere. The smell was horrible and unbearable even in my state of exhaustion. I was beat and needed to get some shut-eye. The only place that I could find that wasn’t totally disgusting was in the hallway behind the engine. I knew that I would have to switch trains about an hour out of “Luxembourg” so I just needed to stay up until then. Which of course didn’t happen. Next thing I know I am half-way into Germany when I wake up. You would figure somebody would wake you up and ask you why you were sleeping in the train hall but no. It is all part of the “Luxembourg conspiracy” I think. I got off at the next stop and ran to the ticket counter to catch the next train to Paris. Luckily, there was one scheduled to arrive in 4 minutes and the reader board showed it was On Time.
Unluckily, I had to wait behind a guy who decided that planning his summer Eurail vacation at 4:00 in the morning was a good idea. I forgot that I had the ultimate trump card. I was American. We’re big, loud, ugly and carry lots of guns. So I cut the guy off and the lady hastily gave me a ticket to Paris. I slept the whole way through Wine country but I guess if you have seen one grape, you have seen them all. I rolled into the Paris train station with no plan other than catching the 4:00pm train to Brussels. I checked my bags again and went for a stroll through Paris without a map. I think I caught the metro to Notre Dame but those first few hours are a bit foggy. I found myself roaming around the Louvre, Notre Dame, the Rive Gauche. Marveling not at the architecture because in fact I find Paris a bit pretentious and over the top in the light of day.
Paris is a nighttime town. I didn’t get to see that this trip. What was impressive were the Ferris Wheels. Not in an awe inspiring way but a “What were they thinking?” way. Right there on the grounds of the Louvre were two huge really big Ferris Wheels. Hopefully, they are a temporary summer thing but you never know with those French. But I was in Paris and it was time for Lunch. How many people do you know who go to Paris just for lunch? Not so many I’ll bet. Well how many people do you know who go to Paris for Lunch and have Pizza and a coke? Even fewer I’ll bet, but now at least one. Yep that is what I chose and it was good. So there.
That was my Paris experience. Now it was time for the high speed train to Brussels for one last night to get ready for Africa in the morning. I got a surprisingly nice room in Brussels this time. So I took a much need bath and multitasked my laundry duties at the same time. Then a dinner that I can’t remember and a good night’s sleep. So that is how I spent my European vacation. It is pretty typical of a road trip with me so it is not surprising that I am a solo traveler. But it seems to work and now for the rest of the story.
That was my Paris experience. Now it was time for the high speed train to Brussels for one last night to get ready for Africa in the morning. I got a surprisingly nice room in Brussels this time. I took a much need bath and multitasked my laundry duties at the same time. Then a dinner that I can’t remember and a good night’s sleep. So that is how I spent my European vacation. It is pretty typical of a road trip with me so it is not surprising that I am a solo traveler. But it seems to work and now for the rest of the story.
Africa
The flight to Nairobi was uneventful except that I was able to buy a really cool Swiss Army Knife duty free.
Probably the last such in-flight purchase ever. It is a cool thing because it has digital thermometer and altimeter built in. So if you are ever want to celebrate reaching a certain altitude but want to make sure that the Chablis is properly chilled and realize that you forget your cork screw, than I would be a good guy to have around. Plus, women and Masai warriors were really impressed with it. But on to Nairobi. The plane landed late at night after a 10 hour flight so I was tired.
Usually third world airports tend to have quite a waiting party on the other side of the passport doors and Nairobi was no exception. Maybe even worse considering I tend to stand out in the sea of very black faces. I took the first cab that came along and had the driver take me directly to the Nairobi Holiday Inn, a relatively nice hotel, which is a rare treat for me. I felt like I was cheating but it was part of the package so I was paying for it whether I used it or not. The ride was long and dark. I think the “Dark Continent” moniker has more to do with the lack of light bulbs rather than anything else.
On the way, the driver pointed vaguely into the dark at places even local people don’t go to and certainly not tourists. The pointing was frequent & unsettling so it was comforting to pull up to the well guarded gate of the hotel. It is a nice hotel with a couple pools, bars, restaurants a nice gym and clean rooms. But at $100 a night, about $96 dollars more than I wanted to pay so the next day, I packed up and headed into the city and scored a room above a sausage shop at the perfect rate of $4/night with bath down the hall.
The next morning, I was immediately hit up by the in house tourist bureau lady to sign up for her safari. I really hadn’t planned on going on safari because I had paid for one at the end of the trip so I headed out into the city. Holy Crap!! What a mess. Adjectives like Noisy, smelly, dirty don’t come close to capturing the essence of Nairobi.
Luckily I am single and am not in touch with my feminine side so I have a pretty high tolerance level for grime and chaos so off I went into this rat hole. The first thing you notice is there are a lot of black people and not too many white people. I have to admit that it is a strange feeling to stand out so much. I was just loping along by myself watching the comings and goings of the populace when I noticed there was a man walking next to me. He then started talking to me. Now, it has been my experience that when a person I don’t know engages me in conversation, I usually end up with less money after the conversation than when it started.
So we’re walking to nowhere in particular and he is telling me a story about planning on going to Vet school in the states. He wanted to talk about life for black people, Jessie Jackson and things I would have to watch the WB network to know about. But he was just chatting away and seemed harmless and I still had all of my money so I wasn’t too worried. The next part started innocently enough when the guy asked if I wanted to go sit in the park and chat some more. I had nowhere to be and felt obligated to experience other cultures and get to know the locals like they say I should in the guide books.
So we headed for the park. Which, I figured out later, was one of those places my taxi driver pointed out the night before as a bad, very bad actually, place.
We sat down and then my new friend changed his story. He was actually an illegal immigrant from Somalia and needed money to get out of the country by the next day or they would throw him in Jail. So I gave him $5 bucks and said have a good life. Before I could stand up to leave, two men walked up and showed me a badge and said that I was going to be put under arrest for aiding a known terrorist. So they wanted to know how I knew the guy, what I gave him, how much money I had and pretty much said I was under arrest. So for a little bit I thought I was f**ked and on my way to some African prison. Then I started to notice they were pretty interested in how much money I was carrying. At that point, I demanded to be taken to the police station. They said that if they do that, then I am booked and heading for jail until things get worked out. I thought I would make a run for it, but these are Kenyans. They are born runners. And I am a fat white guy, pretty easy to track even if I could run far and fast. Then I thought I could do some karate on them and then run. But if they really were cops, I’m double f**ked.
In the end, I just stood up and said, I am leaving, you do what you have to do and in my best race walk technique headed for the gate. I stopped to report the situation to a real cop and he just shrugged and asked if I had any extra cash I could give him.
In the end it was a lesson that didn’t cost as much as it should have. I read a story afterward that the same thing happened to another white guy but he ended up walking back to his hotel without a stitch of clothes and beaten bloody.
I cabbed back to my hotel, caught my breath and headed back out again. Hopped back on the horse, so to speak. And wouldn’t you know it, 50 feet from the front door, there I was again, walking along with a guy I didn’t know. This one was hawking Safaris. This time though, it was a reputable outfitter. After my first few hours, I figured I needed to get out of town quick otherwise I was sure to be the next beaten and robbed naked white guy if I didn’t.
I paid my money for 7 days out in the bush at about 60 bucks a day for food transportation and a place to sleep. I was expecting safaris to cost $200 a day and up. This was obviously going to be a bare bones excursion. All the planning and negotiating took the whole afternoon but at least now I had a plan for a few days and I was going to get my picture taken under the Equator sign. Which was really why I came here in the first place. I can watch all the animals I want on several cable channels at home.
It was coming up on dinner time and I needed to find some food. I would have to venture out yet again. This was when I invented the Nairobi shuffle. Faster than a walk, but not quite a jog. One hand in over my chest wallet pocket and the other in my pants pocket to conceal that I was holding my really cool thermometer/altimeter Swiss Army Knife pre-opened to the biggest blade it came with. I had hoped to find some dinner and get back before dark but it wasn’t to be.
The sun goes down pretty much around 6pm everyday because it is right on the equator. I had dinner and asked directions back to the hotel.
The head waiter said “you better take a cab”. But I protested saying it was only two blocks. “You better get a cab” he repeated, “It’s dark out there”. Instead, I grabbed a map and set out into the dark. no street lights, nothing open. Just a lot of pedestrians and traffic.
Now I am not sure if this is racist but there is something very disconcerting being out in the pitch of night on crowded streets but you can only hear people moving around you. That is until my next new friend showed up out of nowhere walking right next to me like we were old friends.
Him: “Hi, Do you remember me from the hotel?”
Me: “Oh sure. How are you“?
Me thinking: I have no idea who you are but I don’t want to be rude and say I don’t remember you.
Him: “Are you heading back to the hotel“?
Me: “Yep“.
Him: “Me too, I was out picking up supplies and I ran out of gas“.
Me: “Oh, that sucks“.
Him: “Yeah, I didn’t bring enough money for gas so now I have to go all the way back. Hey maybe you can help me. I you can lend me some gas money, I’ll drop the money off at your room when I get back. It will really save me some time”.
Me: “Maybe, How much do you need“?
Him: “Oh just $10 dollars should do“.
Me Thinking: I have no idea how much gas costs here. But he does look familiar.
Me: “OK. But I’ll go with you to the gas station“.
Him: “Oh you don’t want to do that. They’ll charge me 3 times regular price if you are there“.
Me: Yeah, that kind of makes sense. Here is the money. Drop by my room when you get back“.
Him: “Sure thing, I’ll see you in a few minutes“.
Me: “OK“.
Me thinking: I wonder what this sinking feeling in my stomach. Must have been my dinner.
I made my way back to the “hotel”, through the gates and past the guards to wait for my friend to drop my money off.
It was a pretty short wait because a hand written sign right behind the front desk said in big bold black lettering:
I really needed to get out of Nairobi. I locked myself in my little room and fell asleep listening to Nairobi’s nightlife from the streets below. Morning never seemed so far away before. Especially since I was kept awake by something or things biting me all night. Needless to say, I was packed up and ready to go long before the scheduled 8am pickup time.
Seeing as how the first day in Nairobi just took up two pages and you probably lost interest back in Amsterdam and I am starting to write in run-on sentences, I will try to limit myself to just the high points.
Unless, of course, the low lights are more entertaining as they usually are.
After a few hours of running around town trying to collect people, get supplies and wait while one of the guys reworked his future travel plans since the next stop on his itinerary got blown up the night before, we hit the road. We stopped at a few roadside gift shops so our driver could get his commission. The owners are very adept at the hard sell. They shake your hand and don’t let go unless it is so you can pull out your wallet. As my luck would have it, I was in the clench of a man with the early stages of what looked like leprosy. I washed off pretty well after we left and I still make it to 20 when I count my digits so I think I am ok.
After that, it was a slow lunch of I think hairy chicken parts, fries and a big beer. The next stop was the Park gate, at least as far as what the itinerary schedule had listed. It doesn’t seem that the 60 dollars a day covers vehicle maintenance and we found ourselves on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere with gray smoke coming out of the floor boards without a radio or phone.
After a half hour or so, another bus stopped and the two drivers talked for a while in Swahili. I guess the conversation went well because our driver got in the bus and drove away.
We sat there for another half-hour before our driver showed up in a pick-up truck driven by the son of one of the local chiefs. We all crawled into the back of the truck and towed the broken down van to the chief’s estate about an hour down a very bumpy road. We sat around the chief’s compound while prices were negotiated, transportation was figured out, and the chief sized up me and my fellow male safariers as possible husbands for his daughters. In the end, we got a bumpy ride to the park gate in the back of the pick-up sprawled on top of our luggage. We couldn’t go past the gate because nobody wanted to pay the park fee to get the truck into the park.
The drivers sat around to discuss their options while the rest of us strolled over to a small village a few hundred yards from the gate. Among the mud huts and corrugated sheds there was a bar. There wasn’t any refrigeration, or lights or electricity or windows for that matter. But any bar in a storm I guess and sitting there in the dark drinking a warm liter bottle of beer sure beats being cheetah vittles on the savanah anytime.
We only had time for one beer before a guy with a land rover came by on his way to another camp outside of the park. He offered us a lift if we didn’t mind riding on top of bottles of soda he was delivering. So we crawled into his truck and headed into the dark and head down the theoretical road. Another hour of testing the shock absorber limits, driving through a couple of streams and through a lot of foliage we were at his camp. We dropped off his cargo and headed back out into the night.
We finally pulled into camp way past dark greeted by several tall thin black guys with spears and clubs. It was very late and I was very tired. We were shown to our tents which were very nice (during World War II).
It wasn’t until we had our stuff unpacked before we realized that the tent zipper didn’t work and the mosquitos and who knows what else was free to feed on us as they desired.
Which reminds me of the anti-malaria drug called Larium. It doesn’t come highly recommended because of the tendency to cause mild to severe psychosis in some people. But on the bright side, you get to have really good dreams. Reading the label on prescription bottle, it turns out I had a 6 week supply of the stuff as did several others I met during the trip. The thing about Larium is you have to take it once a week at the same time. Once you get into the groove of taking them and can overcome the urge to murder your tent mate in the middle of the night, they can be quite fun.
”So what day do you take your Larium?”
“Tuesdays”.
“You?”
“Oh, I am on the Friday Schedule”
“How are your dreams?”
“Not so bad, I haven’t killed anybody in mine yet. Mostly just hanging out with people I haven’t seen in a while.”
“Mine are just swirly colors, Nothing disturbing though”
To the person sitting comfortably in the Suburbs, this doesn’t sound too interesting, I know. But it is actually a polite way to figure out who could go psycho and when to stay away from them just in case. I had one very realistic and vivid dream where I invited all of you to go on vacation with me. Which was fine, I knew you wouldn’t go. But when I offered to pay I KNEW I was dreaming and quite possibly going crazy. But that is as bad as it got. I still have one more just in case I really get bored. Everyone else stayed pretty balanced as far as I could tell.
But, back to the tent….
We asked to move to a new tent but didn’t get much sympathy from guys who sleep in houses made of sticks and caked on cow shit. We finally moved ourselves to a tent that still didn’t shut all the way but it was as good as they came.
The next morning, we headed out for a game drive, saw a lot of animals and came home. The morning after that, we headed out for a game drive, saw a lot of animals and came home. We did get to stop by a hotel and see how the $200 a day crowd lived. Except for hot running water, a roof, four walls, floors, doors, beds, AC, a swimming pool, a bar and a restaurant, I didn’t see much difference.
The safari included a visit to an authentic reproduction of a Masai village with real cow and goat shit to get stuck in the treads of our boots. Not to mention a chance to sit in a smoky windowless pitch black Masai hut made of cow shit. It was also an excellent opportunity to bargain for arts and crafts that no one really wanted.
The next morning, we headed out for a game drive, saw a lot of animals and came home. I am not really glossing over the animal encounters because they pretty much just stand there. There is nowhere near all the killing and sex that they show on the animal channel.
We did get to go see the famous river crossing where the Wildebeasts and Zebras become croc food during the migration. That would have been cool to see but it was a pretty mellow day on the river when we were there. Just some hippos and a dead croc that didn’t know enough to not get sit on by a hippo.
The next morning, we left the park and drove to another. We saw lots of birds, but still none of the cool animal killing you see on TV back home. There was lots of animal sex going on though. Sheesh, those Baboons are randy buggers!!!
After a long day of Safari’ing, it is nice to get back to camp or in that night’s case, a hotel. Most evenings, our entertainment was sitting in a circle, chatting and passing a cheap bottle of whiskey . This night there was another safari group staying at the same hotel so we invited them into our whiskey circle
I was sitting next to a couple from Poland. Nice couple but I was taken by surprise when the women asked me and only me in her Polish accent “Ave yew Ever slep with Wolmen.” Everybody turned and looked at me and of course I am going to say yes, adding “once or twice”;. “Do I know you?” All of my Safari mates had an amused look on their faces wondering where this was going to go. It turns out she wasn’t asking about my love life but actually just wanted to know if I had ever been to POLAND? So everyone thought that was quite funny. Then again we just finished off the fifth between the 6 of us so it is kind of hard to know what was funny and what was just stupid.
The next day we drove all day to another park further North that was more desert than anything else. There was dust everywhere.
The next morning, we headed out for the game drive, saw a lot of animals and returned to camp.
The following morning, we headed out for the game drive, saw a lot of animals and returned to camp.
The next morning, we headed back to Nairobi but not before a teenage elephant decided to stop by the camp for a visit. It was a pretty precocious elephant since he spent the night getting chased out of the neighboring camps which explains the screams and gunshots we heard through the night. Pretty exciting.
On the way home, I was finally going to be able to stop and get my picture taken under the equator sign. The roll of film containing the proof has never been seen since.
Back at Nairobi again and I still had no plans for the next five days. I did get a guy to drive me out to the local tourist restaurant where the cute little animals I had just spent 7 dusty, bouncy dirty days looking at were on the menu. Hmmm Boy. I ended up eating at the bar because I didn’t have a reservation. Who was sitting next to me but the son in law of Kenya’s president and he was buying beers. Pretty cool since Can’t vote in Kenya. But my driver was not a fan of the current administration and wanted to go home so I gave up on the free beer and got the ride back to the hostel. A big double bed in a small dorm like room. At first I thought it was nice to have the extra bed space, until I realized the extra space came with that many more invisible biting critters who loved white meat. I would have tried another hotel but it was conveniently located on the same block as a pizza place and internet cafe. I expect most tourist beds in town had critters of some kind anyway.
I decided to go to Zanzibar next, of course without any plans. I was stuck in that flea bag hostel for 2 days while I waited for a plane seat too open up.
Luckily, there was a women staying there while she tried to decide what to do with her last week in Africa.
She was good looking, considering she had been in Africa for 3 months and I hadn’t had a date in 6 months. So we went out for a beer and a sandwich one evening just after the sun had set. She didn’t even question me about the Nairobi Shuffle as we walked a couple of blocks to the restaurant. She totally knew what it was all about.
As with most random dinners with travelers you meet on the road, there is always a good story or two. She told me about the long bus ride she took to Nairobi a few weeks earlier where she became engaged in conversation with a nice man sitting next to her. They were getting along quite nicely, chatting about America, traveling, their families, watching each other’s stuff during bathroom breaks. Even making plans to meet up in Nairobi some evening. She ate a cookie he offered her and woke up 4 hours later at the end of the bus ride with all of her stuff gone. The tale made me feel much better about the cheap education I had received so far.
We shuffled back to the dorm and went to our separate critter infested beds. I didn’t last long as the bites were much worse than before. I laid out on the formica top of the kitchen table for 8 hours while I waited for my ride to the airport.
It wasn’t hard to get a cheap room on Zanzibar Island because there were riots earlier in the year and the tourist were staying away. I hired a tour guide who took me to the markets and the slave museum. I was surprised to learn that the Muslims stole more people into slavery than the Europeans did. It seems they aren’t allowed to own other Muslims. It is a predominately Muslim island. My guide, a Christian, said that if a Muslim tries to convert out of Islam, it is probably going to be the last thing they ever do. I not too sure about those Muslims anymore. Although, it is pretty cool to be woken up by the call to prayer call every morning. Then again, it can probably turn in to a real pain in the ass after a late night of Christian style carousing. Which I didn’t do, because when the sun goes down, the bad people come out. And of course there are no street lights.
From my perspective, there isn’t much to do in Zanzibar after the day tour was done so I rose early the next morning to catch a shuttle bus up to the North end of the island to sleep in a grass hut and rest up for the Mt Kilimanjaro. It didn’t hit me until later that I would be resting up for a climb to 19,000 feet from a location that was at sea level. Resorting to my vastly minimal amount of medical knowledge, I figured that maybe beer would thin my blood out and lessen the risk of an altitude inspired brain aneurism. Not knowing how much thinning out I needed, I erred on the side of considerable. It was a fun night on the beach.
The following morning was a bit painful made even more so by a choppy ferry crossing of the Zanzibar Channel to Dar Es Salaam. Which means “House Of Peace” in Arabic. Ironically, this is where one of
the bombed US Embassy’s was located. Again, I wasn’t allowed to go out at night so I think I had chicken for dinner in the barely lit hotel bar/restaurant. I am pretty sure it was chicken because I could feel the hair just like the chicken I had on safari.
Earlier in the day, I hired a guy and I guess a lot of his friends to get me to Arousha, a town at the base of Mt Kilimanjaro to meet the rest of my climbing team. I wanted to fly because it was an all day bus ride. But again there were no seats. To his credit he worked hard to get me a bus seat the next day. I am not quite sure of the legality of how it all worked but the next day I was on the bus. Interesting that I was assigned a seat in the back of the bus. I had to share the space with a rather large woman, her squirmy 2 year old daughter and what I am guessing were the entire contents of her kitchen. Long, Long Ride.
The thing you grow to hate about 3rd world travel is getting off any public transportation to a large unruly crowd of screaming waving touts waiting for YOU. Grabbing your bags, Offering food, bed and their sister for a very good price There was no better time to launch into the Nairobi Shuffle with a modification for the luggage I was carrying.
I was surprised to find a nice room at the Hotel 7-11. It was a bit pricey at $7.50 a night but I was too tired to go on. I am a non red meat eater for the most part but since I wasn’t quite sure what the white meat was, I slackened the rules a bit and only ate things if I Couldn’t tell what they were when they were alive. I took this opportunity to eat at Khan’s Auto Parts and Bar B Que. Good stuff and not as greasy as you would expect. Then I went for a walk in what turned out to be another light bulb free city. I found a bar had a beer and shuffled on home.
The next day I met the 4 other climbers in the team for a rather revealing gear check. Everything we took with us up the hill was spread out on the lawn before God and everyone to be critiqued and passed for loading into the duffels the porters would carry. Luckily, I had bought new underwear for the trip.
Then we got in the van for the long trip to the base Hotel. We ate, I had a beer. The others seemed to be eschewing beer so close to the climb. So it was an early night and we all headed to our respective rooms for a good night’s sleep.
We got up to a steady down pour that subsided by the time we hit the park gate. We had breakfast and met our 2 guides, a cook and 10 porters, they sang some songs which could have been about taking rich fat white people paying good money to walk up a mountain for no apparent reason but it had a catchy beat so we clapped. Then we spent the rest of the day climbing up through the rain forest to our first hut at 10,000ft. We had dinner, we climbed into our cots and took turns keeping the others awake by snoring.
We got up had breakfast and walked 8 hours to the next hut at 12,500 feet, We had dinner, climbed into our cots and took turns keeping the others awake by snoring
The next day was our rest day to get used to the altitude. We hiked to 14,500 feet, turned around and ended up where we started. We had dinner, climbed into our cots and took turns keeping the others up by snoring.
The next day, we had breakfast and walked 8 hours though rock strewn nothingness to our final hut at 15,400 ft. We had dinner, climbed into our cots and tried to figure out where all the oxygen went. At Midnight, we got out of our cots, loaded up with what we would need and headed up the mountain. I was feeling pretty good but the others were sick, crying, peeing expensive water and generally didn’t seem to be having a good time. I ended about 100 feet ahead of them around sunrise. This was 100 feet of pretty steep trail so they were about ½ hour behind me. I made it to the rim first and kept going. The others made it to the rim took a picture and turned back. I was feeling pretty good but light headed.
Which never really stopped me before so I kept going for another 2 hours across the roof of Kilimanjaro, along a trail through jagged ice formations and finally to the actual peak. It was windy but not bitter cold. Still not a place you want to hang around very long. I had my picture taken on the top of Africa and headed back down. Success!!!! Proof positive, that beer training is the best training.
I was really tired though. I would sit down on a rock to rest and fall asleep. I am sure my guide was getting pretty irritated waiting around for me to wake up and actually had to wake me up a couple of times. We finally got back to the hut just in time to hike back to the hut from yesterday or the day before.
And then all the way down the last day. And that was that. Back to Arousha, a shower, change of clothes, and we all went out to dinner (plus beer for me). My climbing companions had no interest in going out to see the pubs of Arousha and headed back to the hotel after dinner. I had a beer at the bar when I realized that I didn’t know exactly how to get home and couldn’t pronounce the name of the hotel.
I headed out into the dark streets to get a cab. But as is typical there were none to be found. No traffic at all just some movement in the shadows. I walked around the streets looking for a cab when I heard some commotion behind me. I turned just in time to see what looked like 14 year old girls swarming toward me shouting things like “you want a good time?” “You like me?” etc. The fact that there were some rather large men close behind them had me reverse mode at a quick run.
The Nairobi Shuffle wouldn’t work here. This was full on sprint. I was saved by a cabbie sleeping in his car a few blocks away. He however didn’t speak English so we just drove in the general direction of where my hotel was. After a half hour of dark bumpy roads, I was no nearer than before. So I had him drop me off at the next well lit building we passed.
This turned out to be a bar and of course I was the only white guy and of course I timed it to coincide with a documentary on the genocide in Rwanda and how the Americans didn’t do anything to help. So I got a beer and tried to blend in. For some reason, that didn’t feel like it was working. Again luck was on my side, this was also a hotel with a phone AND a phonebook. I tore out the page with the hotel listing and found another cab. After I pushed started his car, he got me home.
The next day we had breakfast and drove to the Ngoro Ngoro crater to look at animals and stay in a nice lodge. This place was so nice that it had little bottles of beer that were way more expensive than my big beers. A cruel letdown from the previous weeks of inexpensive big beers especially since it was the same beer. Bastards! They only had hot water from 5 to 8 and 5 to 8 too.
We woke the next morning to a great big breakfast then drove along the crater floor stopping continuously to watch this animal and that animal. The crater is its own little ecosystem so there are many species living within the crater walls. A few hours of that and then we headed on to the Serengeti where our camp was already set up complete with heated water for our showers.
Everyone knows that the best tasting food you’ll ever eat is that which you eat around a campfire after a long day outdoors. The food that night was even better than that.
We woke to a big breakfast, brushed out teeth and hopped into the bus for more animal watching. We could have just set around the camp to see just about as much because when we got back to the camp that evening, we found that a band of baboons broke into the tents and then the luggage and made a mess.
Not mine though I think my dirty laundry was a pretty strong deterrent.
The difference between this safari and the previous one is that this one really was out in the wild. Any animal could cruise through camp at anytime.
There was a lion roaring through night just beyond the lights of the dwindling camp fire. Luckily, he stayed away and nobody got eaten or anything. I credit that to my lack of clothing changes and not doing laundry for a while. We had another fine breakfast, hopped in the van for another day of animal watching. Then we went to sleep and got up and had another fine breakfast and drove to where Dr Leakey found some old bones. Something about the first man or something but I was about done with the bus riding so was a bit glazed when they provided the details. After that enlightening hour, we got back in the van and drove another park to look at more animals that pretty much looked like the other animals. I was not alone in the animal saturation since my fellow van riders voted to bag the remaining animal watching and go to the nice hotel instead and drink the expensive little beers.
In the morning we piled into the van one last time for the ride back to the Nairobi Holiday Inn where this little field trip started a couple of weeks earlier. Our final day was spent roaming around Nairobi in a last ditch effort to spend our remaining Kenyan cash on gifts for the folks back home. All packed up, those of us that still remained shared a cab to the airport, stopping on the way to eat cute animals at the restaurant I was at the beginning of the trip. Served like a Brazilian steak house, it is all you can eat, zebra, ostrich, croc, etc until you drop the little flag you are given before the food guy comes to the table. This time no Presidential off-spring to cover my beer bill and we all needed to catch our flights anyway.
We said our goodbyes and flew our separate ways. I ended up in the Brussels Airport for many hours. Where I went through some of the toughest security screening I have experienced. But I was deemed safe and off to my new home in Seattle I went.