We woke up to kids screaming on the tracks. They had come out in hopes that we would throw something out to them. They stood dangerously close to the train as it whizzed by, arms wailing, voices carrying up into the window. I threw Oreos as far into the field as I possibly could. At least that got them off the tracks, into safety, for at least a little while.
We got off in Mombassa; a beautiful city that rests along the sea. The city is layered with rich Muslim history, showcasing some of the oldest mosques in Africa. We planned to spend the afternoon here on the way back.
We could hear a man screaming through a megaphone at worshippers for a good hour. We had no idea what he was saying but it didn’t sound like he was very happy. Tara was told as soon as we got off the train that there is a lot of anti-American sentiment here and she was to claim Canada as her homeland should she be asked. I clutched my Canadian passport and was thankful I always have that to fall back on. There have been a few instances where I have been treated better than she had after they found out where we were from. For instance, everyone in Dubai was very nice to me and interested in my country; people were nice to her until they found out where she was from. One man even turned his back on her and abruptly stopped the conversation he had started once he found out she was American. It’s sad, but true.
It was only about an hour taxi ride to Dinai from Mombassa. Our lodging was a cottage, one of about 10, very close to the beach. The cottages are owned and operated by a retired Irish couple that fell in love with Dinai and wanted to make it home full time. They tried to keep the African charm, complete with the cottage staff cutting the grass with machetes. It took him about four hours just to do the small patch in front of our place. Another worker bicycled into town to get us fresh fruit, which he sold at our door. Monkeys hang out in the trees and on the lawn in the front yard. This place is amazing.
After finding out I didn’t have to worry about sharks or pirates – too things I have a huge fear of – I spent the day relaxing on the beach sun tanning and swimming. The Indian Ocean is crystal clear, more beautiful than any other beach I have seen – the palm leaves are a vibrant green, the sand a pure white and the water varying shades or brilliant blues. This is the first time I have truly relaxed since I got to Kenya – fantastic.
I read a lot about prostitution with older European women buying sex from young Kenyan men. It’s a pretty women situation in reverse; they agree on a price and stay with the women in their hotels for the whole week. Women even come with friends and make a whole event out of. I have no idea why this would appeal to anyone. However, we saw it everywhere here. The ladies were always not very attractive, yet always in a bikini and fairly wealthy, wearing tons of jewelry. The men are always quite attractive and very well built, usually fisherman and not well off. It was clear what was going on but no one seemed bothered by it. All I can say is wow – prostitution in action.
Unfortunately, because it is so common, they assumed that we were there for that as well. Anytime we would stroll along the beach we would get propositioned. They never pushed the issue but it was annoying nonetheless. We let the guard know we weren’t interested and he would let them know and make them go away. Thanks but no thanks!
We ate out at a restaurant on the beach called 40 Thieves. It was very pretty. The food was okay but I still had an upset stomach from the curry the night before. It was a really rough night and I didn’t want to push myself.
Right before we left I hit up the bathroom. I had only been in there about 10 seconds when a crab crawled out from behind the toilet and right in front of my foot. Up I went on the seat, virtually held hostage by the angry snapping crab on the ground. I finally worked up my courage and jumped over it and out the stall door. Tara thought it was so funny that she went in to check it out as well. The crab was not afraid of her either. Rebel yell.
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