Mellow in Mombasa

On my 3rd day in East Africa, I witnessed one of the odder race demarkations I would see in the course of my stay.  I arrived at the Nairobi railway station, surprised to see a line of people standing to one side of the entrance, animatedly screaming at the passing commuters.  A closer glance revealed they were selling train tickets!  No counter, no computerization, just a bunch of people waving ticket stubs and yelling.  Concerned, I turned to the cab driver and asked him if I had to go get my ticket from them.  He smiled and said "No, the white people go to the office inside on the right".  I did as he said and entered the office that was officially designated for long distance travel.  Sure enough, there was an unmistakeable consistency in skin tonality.  We were all lily white and were all there to board the Jambo Kenya Deluxe overnight train to Mombasa.

After receiving our cabin assignments, we were sent to a roped off part of the platform that had about 50 white plastic chairs.  There was still plenty of time before the train departed so I wandered off in search of a drink but turned back to see concerned glances from the guy in charge of the white chair zone.  Apparently, his role is that of a muzungo wrangler.  It is his job to keep the white people out of trouble.  One British couple told me he had approached them when they opted to sit on a bench with the locals and said "No.  You sit there." while pointing to his fiefdom.

The train itself was quite comfortable, although the years have rendered the deluxe label a bit of a stretch.  For the price of a first class ticket ($50), I did get my own cabin with a bed and individual sink plus dinner and breakfast served in the dining car.  The 12 hours or so passed easily and waking to the screams of kids running from their small villages to wave at the Whitey Express was a cool and unusual experience (albeit one that, were it to take place everyday, would eventually transform me into an expert rock thrower).

My first impression of Mombasa was that it was wet, very very wet.  This was also my second and third impression, as well,  but I guess this is what is to be expected when you visit a place during what they euphemistically refer to as their "mini- rainy season". 

Luckily, I had booked myself at Backpacker's Nirvana, the homiest and most laid-back hostel in all of Kenya. No sooner had I walked in the door than two guests, doctors from the US, invited me to join them on a visit to Old Town.  After several days of not having anyone to talk to, I jumped at the chance for company.

We began with a visit to Fort Jesus, a fort built by the Portuguese, taken over by Omani Arabs, reclaimed by the Portuguese and then possibly again by the Omanis- I lost tract by this point- but eventually coming to rest in the hands of the Brits.

The Fort is the anchor tenant, if you will, of the small and lively Old Town.  Middle Eastern in nature, the area is a jumble of narrow lanes, postage stamp-sized stores and charming colonial-era architecture. It is immensely walkable and once you get away from the touristic draw of the fort, possesses a relatively low hassle factor. It was, however, at this time also very wet.

Note the work of French street artist Space Invader on the upper part of the wall.

Fort Jesus Lizard (not its scientific name).

Upon leaving the Old Town, we went in search of the iconic Mombasa tusks that were erected in 1952 to commemorate Queen Elizabeth's visit.  Twenty-five minutes of walking through downtown Mombasa were soon followed by 30 seconds of "Yep.  Those sure are some big (thankfully fake) tusks.   Now what?"

The response came courtesy of Backpacker's Nirvana and its welcoming and fun-loving staff.  For the next few days, they kept us busy with good conversation, outings to nearby Nyali Beach, bar crawls and in-house movie nights.  Even the resident vervet monkeys filled in and did their share, keeping us entertained while we lounged in the garden or on rooftop deck.

On my final day in town, Lesley (the owner) took both myself and a Finnish guest to the nearby town of Kilifi, where we all met up with some of her friends and hung out at a very Key West-ish creek-side bar.  Turns out Kilifi is where the sun had been hiding all along..

All in all, it was a very laid-back and enjoyable stay in Mombasa, which was exactly what I needed. I had to carry that serenity with me because  although I may have arrived on the Jambo Deluxe,  I was soon leaving town on the Ghetto Greyhound.