My Travels and Travails to Mombasa (with a puppy interlude)

Well, it is 4 AM of my second day in Kenya.  I have been awake for about a half hour, I have   water, inspected the blisters on my feet and am wide awake.  So, I guess it is time to update the blog.  Or at least create a word document since I am not on the internet right now.

Getting here was a contrast in highs and lows, fortunately, mostly highs. 

Mom drove me to the airport on Wednesday at around 11:30 am for my 2pm flight. The first leg of my journey was with Air Canada to Vancouver then KLM would take over until Nairobi.  As I have well discussed, my baggage was maxed out in size and weight.  So, I check in with a non-smiling middle-aged Air Canada person.  I already had my boarding passes for Victoria and Vancouver but I had to check my bags. I start with the smaller one.  So far so good.  Then the big one.  We all look at the scale which says 50.4 lbs.  She says I am right on the line but lets it go.  I have hope.  But then she punishes me for daring to push the line.  She says she can’t check the bags all of the way through.  I will have to pick them up in Amsterdam and wait until the KLM counter opens there to recheck them.  She said some BS about security.  I really did not want to touch those bags again until I absolutely had to.  The carry on ones were bad enough.  I tried the ‘going to Africa for the kids’ line but stony face would not crack.  She threw on the Amsterdam tags and I was dismissed. 

Mom and I had breakfast at White Spot and then I was off.  Flight to Vancouver was uneventful.  Once at the Vancouver airport I had a couple hours to find my gate.  Amazingly, there was already a ticket taker there.  She was young and smiling. She worked for KLM, not Air Canada.  I told her that my bags were only checked through to Amsterdam and I was wondering if she could do something about that.  She asked for my passport.  She typed in my name.  The entire interaction took all of 30 seconds.  Then she handed back my passport with two boarding passes for Amsterdam and Nairobi and said both bags were checked through to Mombasa. 

Here’s the thing about Air Canada.  On the whole they aren’t that bad.  They have always gotten me to my destination.  They have never lost my bags.  I have never crashed.  My flights leave on time and arrive on time.   But I hate them because there is always, every trip, one person who sours my Air Canada experience, who makes things harder than they have to be, who will not go one extra inch beyond what they are required to do.  This trip it was Victoria counter lady.  She represents everything I hate about Air Canada. 

But KLM saves the day.  As it turns out, if I had had to pick up my bags in Amsterdam, it would have involved going through security and immigration, basically entering the country, just to wheel my bags back to the KLM desk to recheck.  I cannot imagine that this is considered ‘normal’ practice for international travelers who have connections in countries that aren’t their final destinations.  But, I guess Air Canada doesn’t deal with that many international travelers (sarcasm, in case it wasn’t really obvious).   But let us leave that leg of the trip behind.


Vancouver skyline behind my plane from airport window

The flight from Vancouver to Amsterdam was long and uncomfortable.  I was sitting beside a nice lady who did not speak English but smiled and nodded when I spoke to her.  [Discussion point:  If someone babbles at me in a foreign language, I say ‘I don’t speak ‘fill in language’.  Since I am saying this in a different language than they are speaking, I figure they get the jist.  I have found older travelers never do this.  I have many times sat beside someone (ladies, men, European, Asian) who just smile when I talk to them, leaving me to wonder if they understand me or are just quiet.]  But I digress.  The take away from this flight is that I didn’t get any sleep.  Despite my Gravol (I think it was Gravol, it was the generic brand so it may actually have been something else like anti-diarrhea and may also be expired.  either way, no sleep but also no diarrhea). 

Groggy as I was, I did not want to waste my day in Amsterdam in the airport.  I stored my bigger carry -on bag in a storage locker (7 Euros).  I had a mini-guide book (which I never used) and a simple map (which I used constantly) in hand and off I went – into the train station attached to the airport which is where I got confused.  Millions of people lining up to buy tickets at automatic ticket machines.  Many like me, clearly confused tourists just trying to get to the city.  As I stood in line, watching the latest family take forever to try to interpret the instructions on the tiny screen, I spotted a ‘train info’ desk.  It was well hidden under some stairs so there was no one in line.  I immediately abandoned the ticket machines to ask, stern info desk lady points to the human ticket windows, also no line.  Easy Peasy.  Return ticket to Central Station – 9 Euros.  My ticket lady (also stern) pointed me in the right direction for the trains and after that, no problem. 

Inside the train

Outside the train

Central Station is huge.  My mental image of the city (at least the touristy down town part) is a half circle, like a hand held fan, with Central Station as the hinge that holds the blades to that fan. 

Central Station

I left the station  and just walked around.  I started in the Red Light district.  No more ladies sitting in windows.   Mostly just coffee shops with pot smoke wafting out,  sex shops and the occasional ambiguous sign saying things like ‘we wear masks here’.  And a lot of groups of shady looking young men, or maybe there weren’t shady looking, they were just European, it is hard to say.  Either way, I just kept walking.

(Birds are starting to chirp outside, sun must be coming up, I may have to stop writing soon and go see what lives in the yard).

No surprise, Amsterdam is beautiful.  It was an overcast day but not too cold.  I can’t even remember what I saw exactly, I will have to let my pictures speak for me when I can add them.  
Here are some random pictures of Amsterdam: 

Your average street

Tourists being attacked by pigeons

Royal Palace

Love Locks

Bikes are everywhere,  this is just a very few

Store in the Flower Market 

I do remember that I wanted to go see Anne Frank’s house. So, I wandered in that general direction.  When I finally got there, I was disappointed.  Like everyone, I have read Anne Frank’s diary and I thought her house would be in some way moving.  But instead I found a boring building, completely upgraded for security, all soul removed, with a two block line of people shuffling into it.  Next to the monolith, there is another house with a door with a sign that says ‘Anne Frank huis’.  So, I sat on the bench across from this since there was no way I was waiting in that line.  I thought I might feel something, being so close to her house.  But, perhaps it was the endless succession of people taking selfies with the sign, I felt nothing.  So I moved on.

I don't even know if this is part of the house or just a museum built next to it.
 It is horrible and impersonable, either way.

The door with the Anne Frank huis sign, in a rare non-selfie blocking moment.

I finally stopped for lunch at a pub in a busy square.  I ordered a Brie, Pear and Walnut Panini and a white beer.  The sandwich was delicious but the beer was spectacular.  Brewed local by the pub.  I wished I could bring some with me.

White Antonia, an amazing white beer brewed by En Bierencafe do Brabantse in Spui Square

And my lunch, a Brie Panini with Pear compote and walnuts.  YES!

More wandering until I was time to head back to the airport. 

Some locals: 

This one is for Chris

(break time, I am going to grab a bite to eat and sit on the deck to see who is out there. Yesterday I thought I saw a Rose Cheeked Cordon-Blue – that’s a bird not a meal – but couldn’t ID him before he flitted away, maybe he will sit still for moment longer this morning).

(I’m back.  It is not even 7am and I am already covered in a sheen of sweat. As soon as I closed my computer earlier, a downpour started so no birds but lots of humidity.  I have a load of laundry on which is  total luxury.  Otherwise, I might have had to burn my travel clothes.

(Another interruption.  The neighbour has four 10 week old lab puppies who just arrived looking at me through the deck gate.  So, I let then in.  First they jumped all over me with their dirty little puppy paws and then they stole a shoe and took off.  So, I have been running after them trying to retrieve the shoe.  They are adorable menaces.  Lesson learned: Don’t let them on the deck even if they give you puppy eyes (literally) through the gate).

Here they come

Let us in.  We'll be good.

Ok, where were we.  Oh yes, leaving Amsterdam. 

Sunset in Amsterdam

Retrieved my bag from storage.  Through security and onto the next plane.  All told, about $35 for storage, train and lunch, the cheapest vacation in Europe ever! 

I was pretty tired as I boarded the Amsterdam to Nairobi portion, which as it turned out was a Kenya Air flight.  But, miracle of miracles, the plane was almost empty.  I had three seats to myself!  So, after dinner, I stretched out over all three and fell asleep.  It wasn’t the best sleep in the world but compared to trying to sleep in a ball in one seat, it was heaven.  I probably got three hours of sleep, which is unheard of for me on public transport.

Good thing too because I had to have all of my wits about me for the Nairobi airport.  Anke had warned me that since the last time I spent a layover there, part to the airport had burned down and now the domestic airport was across the road from the international arrivals.  This sounded daunting.  Especially since I only had a 90 minute layover.

I get off the plane which was 15 minutes late and followed the crowd.  Usually a good idea but not at a major international hub apparently.  I followed the ‘connecting to an international flight’ crowd instead of the ‘connecting to a domestic flight’ crowd.  I should mention that when nice KLM lady booked my luggage right through to Mombasa, I was suspicious.  When I arrived in Amsterdam, I checked the baggage before I left the terminal just in case it was sent to baggage claims.  It wasn’t there so I felt more confident.  But I was still unsure about Nairobi because that is where I would have to go through border security and I figured they would want me to have all of my luggage with me. 

But, since I was following the wrong crowd, I didn’t even see a baggage claim area. I go through security again.  Another side note, I had three computers in my carry on, my little computer, Anke’s IPad and her huge laptop.  Each time I went through security, I had to take them all out.  This was fine.  It was putting them back in with a crush of people trying to push me out of the way that was the problem.  This was my fourth time through security and my bag was completely unorganized.  It was almost impossible to zip it back up. 

Through security into another line.  End of that line is when I discovered I had zigged instead of zagged.  Have you ever tried to go backwards through a security check.  Unfortunately, I have, too many times.  Some nice people got me to the right spot where I and another misdirected traveller had to wait for the ‘domestic arrivals’ bus.  We waited a bit until a very crammed bus arrived and we squeezed in, which is saying a lot considering the size of my carry on bags, and off we went to the immigration. 

Again, it was all very confusing and I was in the wrong line again.  I had not bought an entry visa to Kenya but I knew I needed to get one when I arrived.  As I was in the first line, I saw a sign that said ‘Visa’ plus that one was a way shorter line.  So I jumped queues and was standing in front of the immigration lady without having filled in the ‘I don’t have a Visa yet’ form.  But I was watching my 90 minutes tick away so instead of going back for the form, I just went for it.  I told her I didn’t have the right form.  She didn’t care.  But the other guy that I waited with for the bus was at the next desk and he was being sent back.  He was livid.  He should have gotten my lady.  She didn’t bat an eye. She took my immigration form that I had filled out on the plane, took my $50, wrote “Joanne Can” on my Visa and sent me on my way.  I like to think that she was giving me kudos as in ‘Joanne Can make it through this experience, way to go girl’ but it could mean Canada.  I guess we’ll never know.  So, I have a Kenyan Visa with only my first name on it.  Seems official.  But they let me in so who am I to argue.

Next stop, security again.  Past the baggage claim area.  Fortunately, I gave a glance at the belt.  My bags weren't there but I caught the eye of a young man holding a sign which said ‘transfer to Mombasa’.  And there at his feet were my bags (one of which had the handle ripped right off at some point - some would think this is bad news, I say - yay, excuse for a new bag!).  Gods be good, someone was taking care of me.  Transfer sign guy had some other poor saps bags too, I like to think it was livid man, but that guy didn’t show up, perhaps he had just run by to security not realizing like I almost had. 

Transfer sign guy found a woman to guide me to the Domestic departures gate, which as promised was across the road from Domestic Arrivals.  I had to push a baggage cart with 121 pounds of luggage at a brisk pace but we made it.  Through security again, checked my two bags, through security again (computers out, computers in, repeat ad nauseum). And then I was at my gate just as they were loading.

Oh, I almost forgot.  Right before baggage claim, there was an Ebola check zone where they scanned everyone’s face for fever.  By this time, I was a hot sweaty mess with what I’m sure was the reddest face ever.  I stood in front of the scanner, knowing in my very core that I was going to get taken aside.  But she barely looked at me and waived me through.  I probably showed a face temperature of 107 degrees but white girl from country ‘not Africa’ gets a pass.  Yay First World Privilege!

Me, a sweaty hot mess on the Nairobi to Mombasa flight.

Quick flight to Mombasa where I was met by a driver named Benjamin who brought me to Anke’s house.  And that is where I will stop for now.  Anke just got up and I need to hang up my laundry.  Five minutes later – I washed a pack of Kleenex with my clothes.  I should not be allowed to be a house guest. And it just started pouring rain again. And a centipede just crawled up between my toes.  But it was a little one so no worries.