The day started with an unpleasant awakening – the hotel thought we were checking out that day. According to our itineraries, Mama E and BJ were supposed to be going home, but I was staying the night. In a couple hours, we fixed everything – the hotel didn’t give us the boot, and Mama E and BJ extended their stays one extra day.
I was excited about just using the day to relax. That didn’t happen. I paid Star Travel & Tours $79 for a driver plus $500 KSH admission to spend my day at the Giraffe Center. It turns out my driver had a gig on the side. On my way to the Giraffe Center, he made several drop offs and pick ups – even attempting to leave me at a minimall while he made a drop. Once I paid to get into the Center, not five minutes after walking in, he was nagging me to leave. I finally ditched him.
After getting away from him I had (a little) fun. My tour guide, Becky Wanjau, started my visit by helping me feed the giraffes treats. The giraffes have huge tongues and drool everywhere. This surprised me so much that on my first attempt, I dropped most of the treats. She gave me a second chance, this time feeding two at once, and I was successful. Once I finished the feeding, we started the tour of the Center. The Giraffe Center was built to protect the endangered reticulated giraffe, and they are released into the wild when they are three years old. The giraffes I was feeding were older – mother giraffes used for breeding. There was a “multimedia room” (a theater with a TV) that displayed pictures on the wall drawn by local school children. They were on sale for $1000KSH each – the money goes toward sponsoring visits and environmental education.
On the Center grounds there is also an area protecting leopard tortoises, most of which were brought in by people by the side of roads. The tortoises have become vulnerable due to shell poaching and the pet trade. I left soon after, my driver made more deliveries (of course), and dropped me off at the travel agency, where I made it clear how pissed I was that I shelled out a total of about $85 USD for that nightmarish experience. After a blithe, “yeah, he shouldn’t do that” I returned to the hotel unsatisfied, but determined not to blow a fuse.
I thought it would be a good idea to take out my frustrations at the gym. Since the trainers did not seem to understand the phrase “go away,” that was almost a waste of time. I decided to end the gym excursion in the steam room. However I didn’t bring a swimsuit with me, so I hoped I wouldn’t stand out too much in my tank top and underwear. I was wrong – I was the only one not nude (this was a single-sex steam room, by the way.) But after my crazy day, I wasn’t fazed at all. I just relaxed until dinner.
Since Mama E and BJ had already eaten and were tired after a long day, I ate dinner alone. I just watched TV – CNN International was on in the dining room. Top stories included Barack Obama’s questionable dancing skills on Ellen, the cheerleader in Auburn who was run over by the football team, and Britney Spears’ custody battle. Also, both CNN International and BBC World News referred to Luke Walton’s infamous own basket as “a type of ‘own goal,’” since I suppose a soccer reference would be more familiar with the global crowd. (Now I kind of sympathize with those international journalists who, during the World Cup, got testy with American journalists trying to explain soccer by using other sports as references.) Somehow, I thought international news would be above all this.
Near the end of dinner a woman barged into the restaurant screaming in Swahili, pushing her way past hotel staff and shoving money in customers’ faces. Since I couldn’t understand what she was saying, I couldn’t assess if she was armed and/or making threats.
After about 10-15 minutes of ranting, enough police arrived to escort her out. My waitress didn’t come back until a few minutes after the commotion, and I paid and left quickly in case the woman came back.
I watched TV for about an hour, and then went to bed.
* In Mombasa, many of the local restaurants and hotels were advertising Halloween parties. Nothing of the sort in Nairobi.
* On the drive to the Giraffe Center, we passed through a neighborhood of Nairobi called Karen, named after Karen Blixen. The area was once coffee farms, as the Out of Africa author was a coffee farmer. The area is now being turned into country clubs and luxury subdivisions.
*The Giraffe Center was fun; I wanted to do a real safari but they were $120USD+
*There were greenbelts and “how to preserve the environment” signs all over Nairobi.
A reticulated giraffe
Feeding the giraffe
Becky helps me try to feed them again.
The multimedia center
Tourguide Becky Wanjau
Drawings by local students
Giraffe Center grounds
The entryway. Notice the three photos on the wooden beam in the back? The bottom one is of Barbara Bush’s visit.
Warthogs aren’t endangered, but they normally associated with giraffes in the wild
A leopard tortoise