The Journey

That evening, we boarded a bus with our American friends to Mombasa. It was our first time let loose in Kenya without help. The bus was luxurious, comfier than our planes and they gave us free water and sweets. We arrived in Mombasa at 5am, before sunrise. This was not good news. As soon as we got off the bus, sleepy and still very dazed, with little idea of what we were going to do other than to try and watch the sunrise from a beach, we were mobbed by taxi drivers, Matatu touts, and people hassling us this way and that. We decided to try and walk towards the sunrise, reasoning that we'd end up at the beach sooner or later. Half an hour later, walking with our huge bags, sticking out like 4 sore thumbs, and having missed the sunset while a particularly charming man had attempted to grab and run off with Heather's necklace from around her neck - we decided we wanted out. Quickly. We made our way to the ferry which would take us on our way to the touristy beaches South of Mombasa, and by 8am Heather and I had set up our tent in a charming wee campsite next to Diani Beach. The beach was magnificent, but the weather was more than a little temperamental. We spent a half-day touring the magnificently green Sacred Forest of the Kaya Kinondo, wearing the mandatory black skirts required by local custom and swinging like tarzan on liana branches. The rest of our time was on the white-sanded, palm-tree-fringed beach or in the beach bar, refusing business from the beach sellers (offering camel rides, snorkelling, hair-braiding, massages and plain old Kenyan tourist tat) and being a little shocked by the blatant (ab)use of young Kenyan men by middle-aged white ladies who were, perhaps, just a little lonely. Hmmm...


Our American friends left Diani on a bus to Dar the day before us. This seemed like a good idea to copy, so the man in charge of our campsite booked (and had us pay him for) our tickets on the bus and told us where to be when. It all seemed fine. When it came to that morning however, we were unable to get a Matatu into town on time, and arrived in the vague locality of the bus stop about 20minutes late. We didn't know the bus company name, and had no tickets (they were supposed to be on the bus waiting for us). This was not good. In the hope that the bus was late, we stuck around for another hour, deciding to try and get on any bus to Dar even if it cost a small fortune. We asked some local guys for help, and they hailed a coach that stopped 200yds down the road from us. Just as I started to run to catch up with it, the clouds opened and it monsooned on us. To add insult to injury, the coach pulled away just before I reached it. This was not shaping up to be a good morning. Soaked through, with dripping bags, we sought shelter with our new local friends and waited, hoping for something good to happen. Eventually, just as our hope was fading to non-existent levels, another coach came within sight. Our new friend, Carlos, liked the look of it and ran across to stand in the road in its path and force it to stop. We grabbed our bags and went over to him. It started monsooning. Again. He talked to the driver, and by some miracle, was able to confirm that a) this bus was indeed going to Dar and b) that it was our bus, only 90minutes late. We hopped on, dripping on the other passengers as we wobbled up the aisle, and squelched into our seats.


We were in Dar Es Salaam 9hrs later. Our taxi from the bus station into town took another hour. Our guidebook promised us that there were more than 10 budget choices for accommodation, so we hadn't bothered booking and we sought out the YMCA hostel first. No room at the inn. I phoned the other 9 options. No room at those inns either. This was not looking good. Even the Midrange places couldn't accommodate us. It was dark. We were tired. Luckily Heather was not heavily pregnant with Son of God, and for that reason we didn't sleep in a barn, but checked into the absolute luxury of the Holiday Inn for $157. Oops. The showers were good though.... Hot water. At the turn of a tap. Who'd have thought it?