Naivasha, Hell’s Gate

We went to Nairobi national park, which is basically a nature reserve for animals with dirt roads cutting through the dry foliage. The diminutive skyline of Nairobi stands in the background, but after a few kilometers of driving you won’t see any of the buildings.

We saw several animals. Zebras were the most predominant in the park. I never realized how striking their coats were until I saw it up close. The patterns are so intricate that it looks like an artist took painstaking amounts of time to make perfectly arranged stripes. We also saw herds of what looked like deer or antelope. It turned out to be at least 6 different species of hoofed animals. Impalas, gazelles, hartebeests, topi, sable antelope, eland, and waterbuck are what I think I saw after comparing pictures in a guidebook. We saw some primate (I don’t know what kind) and African Buffalos. The giraffes were amazing. They were so big. At first I saw them as a kind of awkward blend of several species, but upon closer view they appear much more graceful than I thought.

We got there pretty late in the day and drove around, stopping only a few times. You’re not allowed to get out of the car, but I had to get out to see if we could go through a small stream. Although buffalo were nearby, I got out to determine the depth of the water. I threw a rock into it because the water was too murky to figure out if we could make it. It was ok, but Karen drove through it so quickly that the underside of the front of her car scraped along the ground. That happens frequently in Kenya, as the roads are shoddy, laden with potholes and speed bumps, also known as the “invisible police.”

The next day we went to Lake Naivasha, which was amazing. I didn’t put sun block on my back, so of course my white ass got burnt (not literally my ass). Since there has been a drought in Kenya many of the flamingos migrated from Lake Nakuru, so we got to see flocks of them. It’s so cool when they take off from their perch on top of the lake because it looks like they’re running on the water. They’re not all pink as I expected. They are mostly white with pink wings and a thick black strip on their back.

The hippos were sleeping as we rode by at a safe distance. They huddled in groups in water shallow enough for them to stand as small birds rested on their backs. Hoofed animals walked around the banks of the lake. There’s a large piece of land in the middle of the lake called Crescent Island because of its shape where most of the wildlife roamed. I was obsessed with the eagles.

Afterwards we sat at a cafe and had lunch, which consisted of eggs and several kinds of sausage. I had a Tusker which is the national beer of Kenya. Such prominence is no minor feat considering how much Kenyans drink. They often drink it warm…gross.

We drove some more to a national park, a harrowing experience. The road was awful. Dirt, rocks, stones and debris covered the path. Whenever we were stuck behind a car or matatu (minibus), which was often, we had to close the windows because the thick dust got into the car. Despite closing the windows the whole dashboard turned into reddish brown color. On the side of the road, monstrous glass buildings filled with flowers stretched out as far as I could see. Flowers are one of the biggest exports of Kenya, and plantations dash the countryside. It felt creepy, like some kind of indentured servitude, or at an extension of colonialism.
Anyway, it was hot as hell (duh, it’s the equator), which wasn’t the slightest bit ironic since the name of the park is Hell’s Gate. We met a tour guide who has lived his whole life in the park and he said he was “born in hell.” Funny, I thought that was Texas. Oh well.
The park was excellent. Several movies were filmed there. Tomb Raider 2. And when we climbed up a peak the park ranger explained the gorgeous landscape inspired the sketches for the lion king. I have to see the movie again.
We walked down into a dried up stream for about a half-mile. Eventually we walked through small canyons, about 100 feet tall, that fills with water when strong rains come. The land is above volcanic rock, so the bit of water that rolled down the walls acted as hot springs. It was scalding hot. The canyon was beautiful, like walking through a cave with no roof. Sorry I don’t have photos but Karen suggested that I not bring my camera because it would be too slippery.
A day or two later we went to a refugee camp in the North, which I will elaborate in my next blog.
For now, take a look at these pictures.
I fed and hugged giraffes at a wildlife preserve near the Karen Blixen garden, named for the woman who was the main character in the movie, “Out of Africa.”
The preserve gave us food pills for the giraffes.


The giraffes not only have long necks, but also long tongues. This picture is of a small girl feeding the one giraffe who had a particularly long slender slimy tongue. He was cute as hell though.
I was supposed to leave on a Friday morning, but I arrived to the airport semi-late and the airline gave my seat away.

So they gave me a room in a five-star hotel and I got to stay an extra night. The next day we went to Nairobi City Park and played with monkeys. How cool is that!!!!!

Visiting Kenya

January 15, 2006
I’m in Kenya now, or as Ms. Jones likes to call it, “the motherland.” Not that Egypt isn’t technically on the African continent (the African Cup soccer tournament is Egypt this year), but it certainly doesn’t feel like it. Many Egyptians don’t even really think their country is in Africa. I think it’s a racial distinction. There’s an Arab superiority complex. So, for example, the majority of Muslims worldwide is not in the Middle East and is not Arab, but Arab Muslims in general do not regard other Muslims in the same fashion that they do of themselves. This, of course, is entirely contradictory to the Islamic notion of the intrinsic equality of all Muslims. Regardless, the race complex runs deep into Arab culture. For example, Sudan, the country directly south of Egypt, comes from the Arabic word for “black.” So “Sudan” translates to the “land of black people.” There was a time when the entire subcontinent, or rather any part with predominantly dark-skinned people was referred to as sudan and Egypt helped the British rule the land to its south.
Anyway, Karen visited me from Kenya last week. She went through some kind of reverse culture shock, where she was surprised at and unaccustomed to not seeing black people. Of course there are black people in Cairo, and most of the people are brown-skinned, but there’s a definite difference between Arab and African cultures.
However, I didn’t go through the same type of shock in Kenya. It’s not exactly how I expected it. I assumed it would not be built up at all and that it would be really crowded. It’s neither. First of all, it’s absolutely beautiful. Trees and foliage dominate the landscape, whether driving through the suburban-like neighborhoods of Nairobi or the wide expanses of the country.
But also, globalization has somewhat taken hold of the more populated areas of Nairobi. Thankfully there are no McDonald’s, but I saw lots of ex-pats (westerners, mostly) hanging out at nice coffee shops and sterile shopping malls. Apparently there really isn’t much else to do for the mazungu (white people). And it’s not safe to walk the streets at night. You have to stay in your car, which is pretty dangerous in itself because there are no street lights. It’s very strange; you don’t realize how important overhead lights are until you are without them. You can only see about 15 feet ahead except for the high beams from incoming traffic.
But you’re also constantly reminded of how dangerous it is at night because all of the buildings have gates and guards. All of the structures in the residential neighborhoods (excluding the most impoverished) have large rock walls with barbed wire surrounding them. Apparently there are bandits that roam the streets at night. I didn’t see them, but I did see lots of guys selling crap you don’t want weaving through the cars stuck in traffic. Some of them are dangerous and will rob you, as per the example of Karen getting scratched in the face as some guy grabbed her cell phone out of hand while she was having a conversation. Karen was therefore a bit nervous when we were in traffic and would raise the windows and lock the doors every time we slowed down.
It’s strange because it didn’t feel unsafe, and the people definitely are not hostile, but you need constant security. In many ways it’s confining, because spontaneity isn’t exactly possible since you have to coordinate everything. The city is also spread out, so you have to take cars everywhere. Taxis are pretty expensive too. Despite this, I could live there. It’s beautiful, the people are beautiful, and the lifestyle is very laid-back. It lacks the certain urgency that is so annoying about the states. The weather is also very nice. It’s hot, but not humid, so it’s bearable. And when it rains, it’s amazing…there’s so many trees and plants, so during rainfall the air smells lovely.
So that’s my observations. I’ll post some more about what I did while I was there.

Air France sux

Greetings from 30500 feet in the air. ****

My days of frustration with Air France are near an end. Tonight I arrived late to my flight to Cairo via Paris from Philadelphia International Airport. The agent handed me my ticket and informed me that the back of the plane was overbooked. So he told me, “I vouched for you and gave you a seat in business class.”

I joked with Regi on my cell phone that I would be receiving complimentary champagne. Little did I know that French sparkling actually would be dripping down my throat before and after take-off.

Up to the point when a simmering hot wet towel was cleaning the crevices of my hand, I loathed and despised Air France.

Before sitting in the seat with enough leg room for an 8 foot tall man, and before I placed my shoes in the cubby hole of the seat in front of me, and also before discovering the menu for the flight included Mahi Mahi served above a white tablecloth, I was ready to kick some French Air ass.

If you read my blog detailing my time in Paris De Gaulle Airport en route to Cairo, you would know that I arrived early for my flight only to pay several hundred dollars for my luggage and hear a rude Air France agent bark orders at me.

And later, on my flight from Cairo to Paris, I was forced to pay for my ticket at the window because somehow my itinerary was cancelled. (before being cancelled it was somehow changed to a flight to London and then Nice including a reservation for a hotel and rental car for a Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. No shit.) Fortunately I had enough money to cover the cost of the ticket. On the flight, I tried to give an attendant with a trash bag my empty plastic cup and she didn’t take it. So I put it on the ground. I woke up to find her throwing the cup on my lap.

When I got home I checked my account and I was overcharged by more than $100. I sent a fax to get my money back, but they are so backed up with complaints that they couldn’t handle my problem. But I gotta tell you, right now, the back massager and recliner is making it feel much better. And so is the cognac. And so was the white wine poured from a LARGE bottle. In fact the only thing poured from a small bottle was lemon infused extra virgin olive oil. Fortunately for them I didn’t have to whip out a tiny bottle of whoop ass.

And in all fairness, the flight agent who hooked me up with business class had a Delta Airlines sweater on. He was certainly not French, as per his Spanish last name and his colleague’s request that he make her a burrito. And I still haven’t gotten a refund for my overpriced ticket. So Air France is not off the hook from the wrath of Andrew. Give me another glass of bubbly. It’s been an auspicious beginning to my career as a foreign journalist.

****This was written one month ago. I haven’t gotten this whole frequent blogging thing down yet