There is no way to tell this story without making everyone living above 45°N very angry, so I’m just going to do it—like ripping off a really sticky band-aid. I am in a tropical beach paradise. At some point in my life I decided that spending my vacation money to go to tropical beaches would be frivolous, possibly even wasteful. I should go to Places With Activities. A trip should be about restaurants, museums, things to learn, people I know, etc.
Stuuuuuuupid!
I invite anyone who comes to the same conclusion that I have to join me on Lamu. Specifically Shela village on Lamu Island. The cost is airfare to Nairobi, train fare to Mombasa, bus fare to Mokowe, boat fare to Lamu, several itchy mosquito bites on the walk to Shela, and the knowledge that you will resent living anywhere else on the planet for the rest of your life. (Seriously. The first thing you see when you get off the boat—which just hops a channel from the mainland, no border crossing necessary—is the Lamu immigration office. The only other two I know of are in major population and international traffic centers like Nairobi and Kisumu.)
Anne, Tabea, and I got here four nights ago and decided to hike to Shela rather than stay in Lamu town proper. Our Lonely Planet guide recommended it, and after the crush of humanity in Nairobi and Mombasa, we were feeling like a little seclusion and quiet relaxation. We had also picked out a recommended guest house (hotel here means restaurant), and Tabea negotiated the price down to 1200 shillings per night for the three of us. That means that for four nights in an Arabic-Swahili style suite with two bedrooms, three beds, one balcony, one bathroom, one kitchen, electricity, running water, a fan in each bedroom, and a rooftop terrace, I paid $20. You’re thinking about joining me now, aren’t you? What if I told you there is not a single motorized vehicle to be found in Shela? All transportation is done by donkey or dhow (traditional Swahili sailboat). Okay, there are a few motor boats, but they’re on the water, so they don’t count.
It’s about 85°F here every day and the clouds burn off around 10AM. The public beach on the island starts just south of Shela and goes on for miles. There are no towns after Shela, so there are dunes and palm trees on one side and the clear blue Indian Ocean on the other. Late November/early December is still low (tourist) season in Lamu, so it takes about five minutes to find at least a half mile of beach to yourself. The equatorial sun limits the amount of swimming time for all but the most leather-skinned wazungu, but it doesn’t matter when all of the restaurants offer half liters of fresh mango juice for $1, fresh banana PANCAKES, and vegetable samosas that are to die for. I have basically not stopped eating since I got here. I think the Germans are starting to worry that they won’t be able to fit me on the boat back.
If those of you currently experiencing winter in the north are still speaking to me, I’ll post more about Lamu (and the night train to Mombasa!) in a couple of days. I’m coming back here in April when I travel again, so let me know if you want to be in on that trip. J
2 comments:
banana pancakes at the beach! my version of paradise. so glad to hear you're enjoying, and though i'm jealous, will also be down in that half in less than a week and can therefore not be angry with any fairness. keep enjoying and writing!
There is some anger and resentment here, although glad to hear you found a warm and comfortable place, with good food yet! Pierre and I may come down there and join you. Just a plane, train, bus, boat and walk--how hard can it be?
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