Dearest Mombasa

Last weekend, I had the privilege of travelling to Mombasa- a small town on the Eastern Coast of Kenya. Audrey, Leann and I wanted to complete a 5 day trip on a missionary budget. We took an eight hour bus trip to and from Mombasa for a total of $22 and stayed four nights at a hostel for $8 a night. We also ate from local fruit stands (avacodos, bananas, and cloves of garlic are all about 10 cents each) or from little shanty restaurants (a Kenyan meal of ugali, chapati and beans cost about 60 cents a person). So, in total, we were able to go to one of the best vacation spots in the world for about $70. Nothing was planned and the whole trip was ridiculous and out of control. I wouldn't have had it any other way. Here is why:

Resort Crashers: Quite pleased with ourselves.

At our hostel, we met many colorful travellers, including a Danish boy named Christoph, who came complete with a cheery accent and a giant blister on his toe courtesy of his hike up Mount Kilimanjaro. He was soon our 4th musketeer and with him as a guardian, we were able to jump on matatus and explore the whole town to our leisure. After chatting with some people from the hostel, we learned that as white people, it was totally appropriate to walk right into 5 star beachside resorts. So, on our first and last days there, we flashed our white skin and were able to lie in resorts' pool chairs, play their games (don't mess with my water polo skills), use their towels, and feel the indescribable relaxation that comes from being completely pampered.

Leann gives us a hug at a fort in Old Town

On another day, we went to Old Town, an old Arabic city where the second dream in Inception was shot. We explored the narrow streets, marvelling at the strange beauty of lattice windows and peeling stucco of the Mosques. We ate pistachio ice cream from a little Muslim grocer, had pilau and chicken in an open air restaurant (85 cents for a heaping plate) and drank kahawa tangawizi (ginger coffee) from a cute man and his copper coffee pot in an alleyway. Old Town was magic. The heavy air smelled of cumin and ginger and the humid heat surrounded us, reminding us of the ancient beginnings of this mysterious little place. 

Terrified.

We also went to a crocodile farm, where, like Romans in the Coliseum, we watched crocs bite into carcasses of cows and bits of rabbit meat. If not shocking enough, we also saw giant turtles mate and had baby crocodiles put on our heads for pictures. I think the Kenyans were more concerned about tips than safety, so I was quite grateful when they took the baby off of me.

Mombasa is one of the best places in the world. It was 90 degrees with 95 percent humidity, there was no AC at the hostel, and the showers and sinks were salt water. We were hot and sweaty. We were tired and poor. But we went to the Indian Ocean and experienced it as real Kenyans. I couldn't ask for anything more.