There’s something magical about living in a tree. That is, until you get really drunk one night and nearly kill yourself falling out of said tree trying to get to the communal toilet before you start projectile vomiting both your dinner and what little is left of your 31-year-old integrity.
I spent the last four days on the coast of Kenya, flying into Mombasa and riding out to the pristine sands of Diani Beach. I was meant to travel from Nairobi to Mombasa by night train, but my train was cancelled due to it “running two days late”. Strange, considering it only runs every two days and the train two days following mine was cancelled as well. TIA!
I stayed at a small backpackers sanctuary across the beach called Stilts Backpackers. I have mixed feelings about this place for reasons apart from the spewing incident. The staff, manager and owner were extremely friendly and helpful, but my first impression was skewed by the fact that they didn’t receive the change in my reservation and didn’t seem overly concerned about it. To be fair, I booked my stay through Hostelworld so the mix-up wasn’t entirely Stilts’ fault.
The location was superb; it’s right across the road from 40 Thieves Bar and thus only a 5-7 minute walk to the beach.
While my own stay at the hostel was great, on my last night, two incidents occurred that did not involve me but were concerning to say the least:
- One guy’s treehouse was broken into while he was out and half of his belongings, including passport, were stolen (passport was found tossed aside on the property later the next morning).
- One cottage of four girls’ was broken into while they were sleeping. The locked door was kicked open, but one of the girls was quick-thinking and got him in the face with pepper spray before he ran away.
I left the morning after these incidents and am unsure of who the perpetrator(s) was/were and how they got past the guards on the property, but even more concerning is that the owner, while helpful in advising the affected guests of alternative hotel options, appeared unapologetic and unconcerned. Regardless of whether or not this type of thing happens often in Kenya or anywhere else in the world, I wasn’t impressed with the response from the staff.
Anyway, on to the reason I endured planes, cancelled trains, automobiles and even boats to get here…
Diani Beach is nothing short of spectacular. I won’t post too many pictures of it because it’s pretty much the default background on everyone’s computer and/or tablet monitors throughout the winter months: sun, turquoise waters and fine, white sand.
Things of note:
- It’s virtually impossible to get five minutes alone, especially as a lone female traveller. I love conversing with locals, but being approached every few minutes for a sales pitch or even just a little chat was – and I’m embarrassed to say – irritating after awhile. Just let me tan, dammit.
- Souvenirs and knick-knacks on the beach are expensive so if you come down here, don’t be afraid to a). find out the asking price, b). slash it by at least 70%. This is something else I have mixed feelings about: what’s two extra bucks to me, really? But it’s all part of the game.
I used up an entire bottle of bug spray here (the insects on the coast are really gross and really fucking weird looking) and by the time I finally got enough alone time to try and take hot-dog legs pictures, the clouds were building up for a flash storm. No matter, the rains were warm and I was in paradise.
Hot dog legs are so 2013 anyway, so here are my toes.