After a lot of camping at Lake Navaisha and in the Maasai Mara, we were pretty excited about the prospect of staying in an apartment for a few days in Nairobi, which ended up costing less than three beds in a hostel. And more importantly, it had laundry facilities. I don’t think my clothes had seen a washing machine in months, as everyone does hand-washing in most of East Africa. When we checked into the apartment I immediately asked about the laundry room, and our host confusedly pointed out the in-suite washing machine. In-suite! Life was good.

Between continuous loads of laundry (seriously, we washed everything we had with us, which admittedly, was not all that much), we did other exciting errands in the city, like grocery and liquor shopping. We also managed to load up on an Mpesa account, a very cool payment method for virtually anything that works through cellphones and is used extensively throughout Kenya. Jon also shaved his head to avoid dealing with his hair. Marieke and I did not. 

We tried one day to see a bit of Nairobi, but as it was a Sunday, literally everything in the CBD was shut down. Finding an open coffee shop was a highlight, more so than trying to find a liquor store that was open (we had evidently not bought enough gin when we arrived), only to find ourselves following google maps directions that led us to a rather dodgy area of the city, back towards where I had spent the night originally on my way to hike Mt. Kenya. Defeated, we grabbed a Bolt back to the apartment and decided to order some booze using Uber Eats.

It was pretty fun tracking in real time the motorbike/boda boda driver carrying our anticipated gin, until he showed up and handed us a bottle of non-alcoholic sparkling wine. Apparently the company was out of what we had originally ordered, a gin called King Robert the Second Gin. They had called when they received the order to inform us that they did not have what we wanted, but they could substitute it. It was difficult to understand their English (not their fault) through the spotty cell connection. We assumed they would send us a similar product, but from a different name brand. Instead they sent us a different product with a similar brand name. Robertson Winery Non-Alcoholic Sparkling Wine. Needless to say, expensive non-alcoholic wine wasn’t going to cut it, so we re-ordered from a different location, confirming what we were being sent this time was actual liquor. This time we got the gin we were hoping for. It went down great with Sprite and passion fruit juice. The next day we had some leftover gin and Sprite which we decided to bring with us to Mombasa. The bottles were half empty so, to save on space, Jon transferred them to a couple of smaller empty water bottles before heading to the train station.

We had been warned about the security of the new high speed train to Mombasa. I had heard stories of people losing pocket knifes, so had given my multi-tool to Cheryl to bring home and had kept my small, cheap swiss army knife. Other than a full scan of my laptop, and a rather long questioning as to why I had so many condiments in my bag (I wonder what they would have said if I told them I found the local food rather bland), I came out of the scans, searches and dog-sniffs with my knife safe.

Marieke was stopped by security when they spotted her water bottle on the side of her bag and was asked what was in it. Unfortunately, she did not know. It only occurred to her then that Jon had not told her which of their many water bottles had the gin. She had one and he had three. We were so worried about knives being confiscated we did not realize that bringing alcohol on the train could be an issue. She replied “water” not knowing if she was lying or being truthful and then nervously watched the guard unscrew the cap and give it a sniff. She handed it back to Marieke and let her pass. Jon was pulled aside to have his bag searched. The guard spotted the bottle of wine, which we had not gotten around to drinking, but once Jon pointed out the word NON-ALCOHOLIC the guard forgave it. Then he began opening the three water bottles. He first opened the one with actual water and sniffed. Satisfied he moved onto the one with the left over Sprite. Realizing it was not water, he handed it to Jon and told him to take a sip. With two out of three down, and our wine bottle indicating that Jon was a boring teetotaler, the guard decided not to bother with the last bottle, full to the brim with gin. Despite his efforts to bury it, Jon’s multi-tool was discovered and added to the bounty of other illicit goods from other would-be smugglers in a bin that looked intriguing.

After less than four hours on the train, we arrived in Mombasa. And immediately felt the heat and humidity. So much for our clean clothes! After a month in the highlands of Ethiopia and Kenya, we were used to sweaters and long pants at night and in the morning. Here, we couldn’t stop sweating. I at least was used to camping in the heat from Malawi, and had adapted by keeping the flaps open, but it was a bit of a shock to Marieke and Jon. Apparently the peacocks outside our tent didn’t mind it though, as they excitedly woke us up in the morning.

We were staying in a hostel that had a campground just outside the historic part of the city, to be closer to the beach. Still sweating profusely the next day, we headed to the water. After dodging a ridiculous number of beach boys (and women) selling all sorts of useless goods and expensive trips, we found some sand to work on our tans and get into the water. It was overcast so not too hot, but then the sun came out and it was roasting. Eventually, we’d had enough and left to go make dinner in the hostel. Which was a feat in itself, as there were hardly any dishes in the kitchen and no soap to wash them. We were eventually taken pity on by an older guy who was essentially living in the hostel, and hoarded his own soap, but generously gave us some. Before we knew it, he was launching into a tirade on everything from the lackadaisical management of the hostel to the acts of terrorism in eastern Kenya. All in all, typical of some of the company you meet in hostels.

Unfortunately, our tans had turned into extreme burns, easily the worst I experienced on the whole trip, so we wandered to the pharmacy to look for aloe vera. While we didn’t end up buying any of the overpriced items in the store (we bought much cheaper stuff at the grocery store), we were (sort of) impressed with the selling acumen of the lady working there who tried to convince us not only did we need aloe, we also needed to buy vitamins to improve our memory to remember to apply sunscreen. When we told her we put it on three times, she clearly did not believe us. We later tried our own remedy of drinking the leftover gin with the non alcoholic travesty, along with some passion fruit juice. It was pretty good actually and momentarily made us forget our burns.