From Izmir (our last stop in Eurasia) to Nairobi (our first stop in Africa) was a long day of travel, via Istanbul by day and through Cairo on an overnight flight. Forging into Africa was an exciting event in itself, for us. While waiting in Cairo for our connecting flight to Nairobi, Aman and I sat patiently among our fellow passengers in transit, most of whom were dressed neatly in Islamic clothing. The gate lounge itself was sterile and not much to look at -- gleaming linoleum floors, rows of hard plastic chairs. Somewhere nearby, we heard the unmistakable screech of a dot matrix printer, printing up the flight manifest perhaps, it went on for awhile. After spending months in more industrialized nations and craving some time in a lesser developed region, it was like music to our ears. We shot each other knowing glances, and could barely suppress our grins. This was not Kansas anymore.
Our flight landed in Kenya at 3:45 a.m., local time. We obtained our visas on arrival, retrieved our bags from the luggage carousel on the main floor (while marveling that my visa was officially issued to "Angela P."), and found the driver of our unmarked transport vehicle. As we drove down the Mombasa Highway from airport to hotel, there were few cars on the road (mostly oversized commercial trucks), no people on the streets (not so advisable to walk around Nairobi at night), and pitch darkness all around (streetlights are a rarity in these parts). It was interesting to arrive under cover of night and see such a big city, the largest in East Africa with a population of 3 million, so quiet. We would later discover that, during the days, the streets are crowded with traffic, which is usually at a complete and utter standstill. Loads of people walk and run along the dusty roads, jumping in and out of matatus (privately owned minibuses, the most common form of local transport in Nairobi), which slow down and sometimes, but not always, stop for passengers.
Downtown Nairobi:
Westlands:
Matatu, with a flat (also not uncommon):
Even though neither of us had traveled to East Africa before, Aman and I did not plan to spend much time in Nairobi. Rather, like other safari-bound travelers, Aman and I were primarily using Nairobi as a launch pad for our trip to the Maasai Mara. Nevertheless, we spent our time in Nairobi wisely by getting in touch with people who we either knew or would come to know during the course of our visit. And, go figure, seeing and meeting friends in Nairobi was one of the unexpected highlights of our time in Africa.
The first person we saw was Koome, a former colleague of Aman's from his JPM days. We met Koome on our first night in town at a spot that had decent ambience, but was kind of slow (the Mercury Lounge). To give us a better sense of Nairobi nightlife, Koome took us to a more happening place on Electric Avenue in the Westlands neighborhood (Havana Bar). Unbelievable! This place was packed with people having a good time, a diverse mix of locals and ex-pats literally spilling into the street, a lanky young kid spinning some great music in the corner of the front bar area. Foreign in venue, but familiar in feel, it was a lively scene and we enjoyed it immensely.
The next day, Aman and I got together with the family of a friend of a friend, Madhur. Madhur grew up in Nairobi, but works in Brazil with our good friend Brian. When we told Brian that we would be in Nairobi for a couple of nights, he told Madhur and Madhur, in turn, reached out to his friends and family in Nairobi to see who was around to meet and greet us. A few emails later and we had plans for afternoon tea with Madhur's father and mum, followed by an informal dinner party hosted by his cousin Nisha. Wow. We cannot stress how unbelievably good it felt to be so far away from home and, yet, so warmly welcomed into their homes as though we were family, even though we had never met. It was wonderful, and we will be forever grateful for the generous hospitality.
On on our third day in Kenya, I jumped out of bed like a kid on Christmas morning, as the moment had arrived and it was time to leave for our safari in the Maasai Mara. (This was one of our most highly anticipated destinations this year, and we strategically planned our visit to coincide with the great wildebeest migration.) We showered, packed our bags and head to the hotel restaurant for a quick breakfast. As I sipped my third (or fourth) coffee and twiddled my zebra-striped napkin ring, I curiously looked around at the dozens of other groups leaving for safari -- a small sea of Westerners clad in khaki and olive green, binoculars and fancy cameras strewn about on most tables.
An hour later, at Wilson Airport, I went to the check-in counter while Aman handled the bags at the security checkpoint. I handed over our passports to the friendly young woman behind the counter and told her, AirKenya Flight 851. I was a little perplexed when she asked, in return, where we were going, but I simply said/asked, the Naboisho Camp...? She punched some computer keys, returned our passports, as well as two baggage claim tickets that said Olkiombo and two green laminated boarding cards, and instructed me that it was "the third stop"... I walked away wondering if I had heard her correctly, yet knowing that I had. When I regrouped with Aman, I relayed the woman's instructions: We need to get off at the third stop. Aman looked at me with a puzzled look and jokingly asked me, Third stop? Are we taking a matatu? I agreed that I did not fully understand. That was what I was told, I explained with a shrug.
We waited as the young woman behind the counter called various groups to board the small aircrafts that fly in and out of Wilson Airport. Passengers holding red boarding passes, passengers holding purple boarding passes. It was all a very straightforward color-coded process. Finally, she held up a green boarding pass indicating that it was our time to board and our group was off, across the tarmac and onto a small double-propeller plane. It was the smallest plane that Aman and I had been on yet. With no assigned seating system, we grabbed the first two empty seats that we saw. I proceeded to read the safety instructions to Aman. In Swahili, of course.
The lone flight attendant made an announcement minutes thereafter, indicating that the plane would make four stops in the Maasai Mara that morning. Unbeknownst to us, this is apparently the practice -- the local planes essentially make a loop everyday from Wilson Airport to several different landing strips within the Mara and then back to Wilson Airport. (Given that the Maasai Mara National Reserve has an area of 580 square miles and not so many paved roads, we have to admit this makes a good deal of sense.)
For those of you who have never been to the area (or watched as much NatGeo as us), a bit of background: the Maasai Mara is a vast terrain of open grassland located approximately 270 miles southwest of Nairobi, in the Great Rift Valley. It sits immediately north of Tanzania's Serengeti National Park. Bordering to the northeast of the Maasai Mara National Reserve is the Mara Naboisho Conservancy, an area created by the local community of landowners who banded together and decided to lease their land for various commendable reasons (in return, they share the conservancy fees charged to tourists, which provides the local community with a sustainable livelihood). The Conservancy is where Aman and I where heading for a five-night stay when we left Nairobi on AirKenya Flight 851.
As our plane taxied down the runway and lifted off, we stared out the window at the ground below. The finer details of the haphazard urban sprawl grew smaller and less discernible as we ascended higher and higher into the air, until finally we broke through the clouds and there was nothing but white. Disconnected from the scenery below, we fell asleep for a little while. When we awoke, we were below the clouds again and approaching our first stop -- an open clearing with a strip of red dirt. There was nothing around except for two other small planes and a handful of safari vehicles. A shuffling of passengers took place. Minutes later, we were back in the sky heading for the next strip of red dirt. Cruising along at a much lower altitude, we could see everything below us, which consisted of a lot of... nothing. A never-ending expanse of tawny grass, interrupted by occasional clumps of dark green brush or a spattering of acacia trees. No roads, but the land was criss-crossed with a well-worn, intersecting network of paths made by safari vehicles. Huge herds of goats and cattle, lazily grazing, dotted the landscape. Not much movement at all on the ground below until we approached the second landing strip and got a bird's-eye view of our first wildlife: harems of zebra and herds of wildebeest!
When our plane landed at Olkiombo, Aman and I were met by Arthur and Christine, two of the friendly staff from the Naboisho Camp. Arthur directed us to an olive-green safari vehicle with two open hatches in the roof. It was one of several that were parked in a line, waiting to drop off or pick up fellow outbound and inbound safari-goers. We took off down a bumpy dirt road that had tall golden grass growing on either side of us. Not fifteen minutes later, Arthur made a sharp turn and we were cutting through the grass towards a pride of eight lionesses sleeping in the shade of a scrappy-looking thicket. A freshly-killed wildebeest carcass was lying nearby. Amazing.
Back on the bumpy road, we drove for about an hour and a half before reaching Naboisho. During the ride, we came across zebra (beautiful creatures) and wildebeest (less so), hundreds and hundreds of them.
Elands and giraffes too:
By the time we reached Naboisho, we were in absolute awe of our surroundings. Oh, and the camp itself? No less impressive. The mess hall consisted of a large comfortable living area and a long dining room, built together under a high-pitched, thatched roof. Constructed of wood and decorated in neutral colors, it blended in harmoniously with the natural environment. Six luxury tents sat in a row along one side of the great hall, two on the other. Beyond the camp was nothing but open grassland. It was one of the most remote places we had been.
For our arrival, a delicious lunch had been prepared and set up under a tree in a outdoor clearing adjacent to the mess hall. We indulged on stewed mutton, fresh salads and warm homemade bread, all in the good company of our incredible hosts, camp managers Roelof and Helen, and several of the camp's other guests. After lunch, we were given a safety briefing and shown to our tent. Talk about exceeding all expectations. I sat and wrote in my journal, as Aman took nap no. 2 for the day. Except for the chirping of birds and the soft rustle of leaves in the wind, it was completely quiet. It was perfect.
We spent the rest of our first day on a game drive in the Conservancy with Roelof, Christine and two other guests, Richard and Craig, with whom we shared a vehicle during our stay. Because the Conservancy limits the number of visitors (to a ratio of one tent per 700 acres), the region is gloriously free of vehicle crowds, which allows for spectacular, unspoiled views of the landscape and its inhabitants.
It was a pretty awesome first day in the wild.
Our flight landed in Kenya at 3:45 a.m., local time. We obtained our visas on arrival, retrieved our bags from the luggage carousel on the main floor (while marveling that my visa was officially issued to "Angela P."), and found the driver of our unmarked transport vehicle. As we drove down the Mombasa Highway from airport to hotel, there were few cars on the road (mostly oversized commercial trucks), no people on the streets (not so advisable to walk around Nairobi at night), and pitch darkness all around (streetlights are a rarity in these parts). It was interesting to arrive under cover of night and see such a big city, the largest in East Africa with a population of 3 million, so quiet. We would later discover that, during the days, the streets are crowded with traffic, which is usually at a complete and utter standstill. Loads of people walk and run along the dusty roads, jumping in and out of matatus (privately owned minibuses, the most common form of local transport in Nairobi), which slow down and sometimes, but not always, stop for passengers.
Downtown Nairobi:
Westlands:
Matatu, with a flat (also not uncommon):
Even though neither of us had traveled to East Africa before, Aman and I did not plan to spend much time in Nairobi. Rather, like other safari-bound travelers, Aman and I were primarily using Nairobi as a launch pad for our trip to the Maasai Mara. Nevertheless, we spent our time in Nairobi wisely by getting in touch with people who we either knew or would come to know during the course of our visit. And, go figure, seeing and meeting friends in Nairobi was one of the unexpected highlights of our time in Africa.
The first person we saw was Koome, a former colleague of Aman's from his JPM days. We met Koome on our first night in town at a spot that had decent ambience, but was kind of slow (the Mercury Lounge). To give us a better sense of Nairobi nightlife, Koome took us to a more happening place on Electric Avenue in the Westlands neighborhood (Havana Bar). Unbelievable! This place was packed with people having a good time, a diverse mix of locals and ex-pats literally spilling into the street, a lanky young kid spinning some great music in the corner of the front bar area. Foreign in venue, but familiar in feel, it was a lively scene and we enjoyed it immensely.
The next day, Aman and I got together with the family of a friend of a friend, Madhur. Madhur grew up in Nairobi, but works in Brazil with our good friend Brian. When we told Brian that we would be in Nairobi for a couple of nights, he told Madhur and Madhur, in turn, reached out to his friends and family in Nairobi to see who was around to meet and greet us. A few emails later and we had plans for afternoon tea with Madhur's father and mum, followed by an informal dinner party hosted by his cousin Nisha. Wow. We cannot stress how unbelievably good it felt to be so far away from home and, yet, so warmly welcomed into their homes as though we were family, even though we had never met. It was wonderful, and we will be forever grateful for the generous hospitality.
On on our third day in Kenya, I jumped out of bed like a kid on Christmas morning, as the moment had arrived and it was time to leave for our safari in the Maasai Mara. (This was one of our most highly anticipated destinations this year, and we strategically planned our visit to coincide with the great wildebeest migration.) We showered, packed our bags and head to the hotel restaurant for a quick breakfast. As I sipped my third (or fourth) coffee and twiddled my zebra-striped napkin ring, I curiously looked around at the dozens of other groups leaving for safari -- a small sea of Westerners clad in khaki and olive green, binoculars and fancy cameras strewn about on most tables.
An hour later, at Wilson Airport, I went to the check-in counter while Aman handled the bags at the security checkpoint. I handed over our passports to the friendly young woman behind the counter and told her, AirKenya Flight 851. I was a little perplexed when she asked, in return, where we were going, but I simply said/asked, the Naboisho Camp...? She punched some computer keys, returned our passports, as well as two baggage claim tickets that said Olkiombo and two green laminated boarding cards, and instructed me that it was "the third stop"... I walked away wondering if I had heard her correctly, yet knowing that I had. When I regrouped with Aman, I relayed the woman's instructions: We need to get off at the third stop. Aman looked at me with a puzzled look and jokingly asked me, Third stop? Are we taking a matatu? I agreed that I did not fully understand. That was what I was told, I explained with a shrug.
We waited as the young woman behind the counter called various groups to board the small aircrafts that fly in and out of Wilson Airport. Passengers holding red boarding passes, passengers holding purple boarding passes. It was all a very straightforward color-coded process. Finally, she held up a green boarding pass indicating that it was our time to board and our group was off, across the tarmac and onto a small double-propeller plane. It was the smallest plane that Aman and I had been on yet. With no assigned seating system, we grabbed the first two empty seats that we saw. I proceeded to read the safety instructions to Aman. In Swahili, of course.
The lone flight attendant made an announcement minutes thereafter, indicating that the plane would make four stops in the Maasai Mara that morning. Unbeknownst to us, this is apparently the practice -- the local planes essentially make a loop everyday from Wilson Airport to several different landing strips within the Mara and then back to Wilson Airport. (Given that the Maasai Mara National Reserve has an area of 580 square miles and not so many paved roads, we have to admit this makes a good deal of sense.)
For those of you who have never been to the area (or watched as much NatGeo as us), a bit of background: the Maasai Mara is a vast terrain of open grassland located approximately 270 miles southwest of Nairobi, in the Great Rift Valley. It sits immediately north of Tanzania's Serengeti National Park. Bordering to the northeast of the Maasai Mara National Reserve is the Mara Naboisho Conservancy, an area created by the local community of landowners who banded together and decided to lease their land for various commendable reasons (in return, they share the conservancy fees charged to tourists, which provides the local community with a sustainable livelihood). The Conservancy is where Aman and I where heading for a five-night stay when we left Nairobi on AirKenya Flight 851.
As our plane taxied down the runway and lifted off, we stared out the window at the ground below. The finer details of the haphazard urban sprawl grew smaller and less discernible as we ascended higher and higher into the air, until finally we broke through the clouds and there was nothing but white. Disconnected from the scenery below, we fell asleep for a little while. When we awoke, we were below the clouds again and approaching our first stop -- an open clearing with a strip of red dirt. There was nothing around except for two other small planes and a handful of safari vehicles. A shuffling of passengers took place. Minutes later, we were back in the sky heading for the next strip of red dirt. Cruising along at a much lower altitude, we could see everything below us, which consisted of a lot of... nothing. A never-ending expanse of tawny grass, interrupted by occasional clumps of dark green brush or a spattering of acacia trees. No roads, but the land was criss-crossed with a well-worn, intersecting network of paths made by safari vehicles. Huge herds of goats and cattle, lazily grazing, dotted the landscape. Not much movement at all on the ground below until we approached the second landing strip and got a bird's-eye view of our first wildlife: harems of zebra and herds of wildebeest!
When our plane landed at Olkiombo, Aman and I were met by Arthur and Christine, two of the friendly staff from the Naboisho Camp. Arthur directed us to an olive-green safari vehicle with two open hatches in the roof. It was one of several that were parked in a line, waiting to drop off or pick up fellow outbound and inbound safari-goers. We took off down a bumpy dirt road that had tall golden grass growing on either side of us. Not fifteen minutes later, Arthur made a sharp turn and we were cutting through the grass towards a pride of eight lionesses sleeping in the shade of a scrappy-looking thicket. A freshly-killed wildebeest carcass was lying nearby. Amazing.
Back on the bumpy road, we drove for about an hour and a half before reaching Naboisho. During the ride, we came across zebra (beautiful creatures) and wildebeest (less so), hundreds and hundreds of them.
Elands and giraffes too:
By the time we reached Naboisho, we were in absolute awe of our surroundings. Oh, and the camp itself? No less impressive. The mess hall consisted of a large comfortable living area and a long dining room, built together under a high-pitched, thatched roof. Constructed of wood and decorated in neutral colors, it blended in harmoniously with the natural environment. Six luxury tents sat in a row along one side of the great hall, two on the other. Beyond the camp was nothing but open grassland. It was one of the most remote places we had been.
For our arrival, a delicious lunch had been prepared and set up under a tree in a outdoor clearing adjacent to the mess hall. We indulged on stewed mutton, fresh salads and warm homemade bread, all in the good company of our incredible hosts, camp managers Roelof and Helen, and several of the camp's other guests. After lunch, we were given a safety briefing and shown to our tent. Talk about exceeding all expectations. I sat and wrote in my journal, as Aman took nap no. 2 for the day. Except for the chirping of birds and the soft rustle of leaves in the wind, it was completely quiet. It was perfect.
We spent the rest of our first day on a game drive in the Conservancy with Roelof, Christine and two other guests, Richard and Craig, with whom we shared a vehicle during our stay. Because the Conservancy limits the number of visitors (to a ratio of one tent per 700 acres), the region is gloriously free of vehicle crowds, which allows for spectacular, unspoiled views of the landscape and its inhabitants.
It was a pretty awesome first day in the wild.
