In East Africa, people talk about “going to the coast,” as if the whole of the Kenyan coastline is one destination. But Lamu, Mombasa, Watamu, and Malindi, to name a few, are all distinct places with their own beautiful beaches, histories and peoples. Getting there is not particularly easy–roads are treacherous; flights can be pricey–but can you hear the allurement of “Oh, we’re just going to the coast for a few days?” And while we live at the coast here in South Carolina, the idea of dipping our toes in the Indian Ocean sounded pretty awesome.
It was February 2018, and while our safari had been on the books for close to a year already, we were looking for a place to spend a few days before the trip to get the kids acclimated to the time zone change and recover from what we knew would be an intense series of plane flights. We had decided on stopping over in Paris, but thanks to an offhand comment from my grandmother about taking the train to the coast 30 years ago; the knowledge that a child we sponsor through Compassion lives in the Mombasa area; and the general interest factor, we decided to try planning a few days at the coast.
As most of our travel planning goes, our little “side trip” took on a life of its own and consumed quite a bit of time and energy as we researched and tried to figure out how to pull this off affordably and safely. We decided to check out the brand new train running between Nairobi to Mombasa (picture the opening scenes of Out of Africa plus brand new and much faster trains, a brand new track and Chinese flags evvvverywhere because they financed the project). We loved train travel so much when we lived in the UK that we figured it was worth checking out. Plus it was about 1/6 of the price of flying. The amazing people planning the rest of our safari helped us figure out and book a hotel, the various little transportation pieces, and our train tickets (which had to be claimed in person in advance). Compassion planned out a day for us with Ngala. Everything fell into place. And we were excited about this little adventure we would be having with our family of five before we hit the big time with the rest of the family.
We left Charleston at 2pm on July 28 and three flights later arrived in Nairobi, Kenya, at 10pm on July 29 (3pm Charleston time). By the time we made it through customs, got our baggage and got checked in to the relatively nearby hotel, it was almost midnight. Our taxi for the train station was coming at 6am. Woof. Not my favorite few hours of the trip!
However, adrenaline and the excitement of travelling count for a lot, and pulling up to the train station as the sun was rising was exhilarating for all of us, even in spite of the very abbreviated night of sleep. After three very thorough rounds of security–inc. full patdowns, explosive-sniffing dogs, and multiple metal detectors–and purchasing a few train snacks like fresh-made mandazi (a sort of doughnut), sausages and a few bars of Cadburys chocolate, we boarded the spotless, gleaming train that left on the dot of 7:30 am.
Since the tickets had been very reasonably priced, we splurged on first class. The service was impressive and the pride the staff took in their train was notable, definitely not something we had seen in the UK. The second a cracker crumb or a bit of playdoh hit the ground, possibly a common occurrence with our crew, someone was over sweeping it up with a broom.
Two things stood out to me particularly about the train ride. First was that everyone in our car was just as excited as we were to see animals from the train. The giraffes visible in Nairobi National Park and the elephants and zebras in Tsavo National Park had most people crowded together at the windows on whichever side, pointing and cheering in excitement. We were not expecting this, assuming that we-as-mzungus would be even more conspicuous than usual, gaping at the animals, but it spoke volumes to us about the accessibility of wildlife experiences for the average Kenyan. This was confirmed by Thomas’ seatmate, an Oxford-educated and UK-living Kenyan home for a visit who had all sorts of interesting commentary about Kenyan politics, the investment of the Chinese in Kenya, etc.
As it happens when you’re stuck on a train for six hours with small children, we became acquainted with the other people with small children around us. In addition to Thomas’ seatmate, we also interacted with the people behind us, a nanny with a 3 year old girl and her 8 year old cousin. She was taking them to Voi, a town most of the way to the coast on the edge of Tsavo East, to stay with her family. We chatted on and off for several hours until they left. It was a pretty standard train interaction–pleasant, but one I promptly forgot about. Three days later, when we were returning to Nairobi from Mombasa, I looked out onto the platform when we were passing through Voi and I saw her! We made eye contact and she broke into the biggest grin and waved, and it was this perfect, synchronous moment of knowing each other–she knew me, and I knew her, though we will undoubtedly never see each other again. Seeing her meant everything and nothing all at the same time. It boggles my mind to think about how easily we could have not seen each other, too. What if I was sitting on the other side, or looking at my phone, or she had looked down when our carriage went by, or a million other options.Sometimes travelling makes you feel like you’re part of this great mystery, of this strange interplay between the infinitely big and the infinitely small, or of this grand narrative–all of which I ascribe to as a Christian–and you just have moments where you get to see that so clearly.
Now, onto Mombasa. We arrived around 1:30, sliding into a terminus that is beautiful and shiny and huge at precisely the right time. The five of us were running on fumes at this point and I don’t think I’ve ever been so glad to see a grammatical mistake before, the taxi driver’s sign with “Groom’s Family.” Everyone but Thomas fell asleep on the 45 minute taxi ride to the hotel, and he got the lucky bonus of calming a screaming Isobel who finally passed out and then peed all over him. A classic #travellingwithkids moment.
We stayed at the Pride Inn Express Nyali and decided that the best way to turn our afternoon around would be to hit the pool immediately in an attempt to make it to an early bedtime. “Thou shalt not nap,” according to the Book of Jetlag. However, poor Iso was done in, so she took a nap while Thomas and I traded off swimming with the bigs. Following an early dinner at the hotel restaurant, in which the kids were pretty poorly behaved and the waiter spoon fed Isobel her dessert, we poured our exhausted but clean/safe/fed bodies into bed around 7:30, sleeping for a glorious 13-14 hours and awakening the next morning to a bright, equatorial sun with chirping birds and monkeys scampering on the steps outside of our room. We were rested, pretty much adjusted to the time change, and ready for our two full days at the coast.
Team Grooms 