Nakuru National Park - Safari
Only a few days in Africa and already on my first safari - Nakuru National Park, Kenya. Giraffe, zebra, water buffalo, impala, baboons and a few pride of lion compromised majority of animal life but it was the star attraction clenching my tourist dollars – RHINOS!
Arriving in Nakuru town just before closing time, 5 p.m., I knew I needed to move quickly if I were to book a safari for the following day. Like a bat out of bus park hell, I sprinted toward main street in search of, “Crater Travel,” a safari company highly recommended by the travelers Bible, “Lonely Planet”. Frantically skimming every building and sign, my crude map offered very little navigational assistance. Locals were no help either. “Crater who?” Turning a corner, I bumped into a kind woman who offered assistance. Blurting out, "Crater Travel", she laughed and replied, “I work there.”
Scurrying through the busy streets to their dull and tired shop, the main representative was completely opposite to her helpful co-worker. More interested in clocking off then helping me, her slack-ass vibe and reluctance to negotiate safari price sent red flags soaring. So I asked my make or break question in Africa, “Do you accept credit card?” No. Third strike and they were almost out. Hustling down the street, I found a bank willing to exchange my last Euros for Kenyan Shillings. This is where traveler karma stepped in. Chatting with two British NGO’s in the FOREX line, they recommended a much friendlier and helpful safari company in town, Pega Tours.
Arriving in Nakuru town just before closing time, 5 p.m., I knew I needed to move quickly if I were to book a safari for the following day. Like a bat out of bus park hell, I sprinted toward main street in search of, “Crater Travel,” a safari company highly recommended by the travelers Bible, “Lonely Planet”. Frantically skimming every building and sign, my crude map offered very little navigational assistance. Locals were no help either. “Crater who?” Turning a corner, I bumped into a kind woman who offered assistance. Blurting out, "Crater Travel", she laughed and replied, “I work there.”
Scurrying through the busy streets to their dull and tired shop, the main representative was completely opposite to her helpful co-worker. More interested in clocking off then helping me, her slack-ass vibe and reluctance to negotiate safari price sent red flags soaring. So I asked my make or break question in Africa, “Do you accept credit card?” No. Third strike and they were almost out. Hustling down the street, I found a bank willing to exchange my last Euros for Kenyan Shillings. This is where traveler karma stepped in. Chatting with two British NGO’s in the FOREX line, they recommended a much friendlier and helpful safari company in town, Pega Tours.
From the moment I walked in, Jane and her Pega team greeted me with open arms. They provided many options as to my safari and even drove me around town to purchase safari provisions (lunch, tea biscuits and loads of bottled water) along with a bus ticket for my following nights onward journey. Jane even offered a place to stay. A guesthouse including dinner and breakfast for 800 shilling (10 USD). Little did I know the guesthouse owner, was also the owner of Pega Tours, Peter.
Peters wife, Irene, picked me up from town and helped me settle into my room. Then she invited me for tea in the sitting room. Pouring cup after cup of African tea (regular black tea brewed in full-fat, full-cream milk) out of an oversized plastic thermos, we made casual small talk but when I asked Irene how many people in her family, she blushed a little and hesitantly continued, “Well...my father is very traditional and had 3 wives. So I have 24 brothers and sisters.” Of course, the answer shocked me a bit but I laughed and made a joke about him being a "busy" man. She returned my laughter and her cultural worry dissipated.. |
It wasn’t until Peter arrived home from work that the conversation turned from pleasant cordialities to deeper issues. Sitting in their plush, oversized armchairs we chatted about life in Kenya with the evening news blaring behind. Intermittent at best, every thought and sentence was usually chopped up by late breaking news, but it also provided platforms of conversation. Like the 3-week teachers strike, closing all schools in Kenya until teachers salaries were raised. Or, a Masaii Mara attack on a local boy, heightening already heated ethnic tensions. I learned so much about Kenya in that hour-program then the LP (Lonely Planet) could ever provide.
Dinner was served thanks to their “house girls” (maids). A delicious meal of beef stew, lentils, vegetables, chapatti and watermelon for dessert.
Dinner was served thanks to their “house girls” (maids). A delicious meal of beef stew, lentils, vegetables, chapatti and watermelon for dessert.
Over dinner, I asked Peter about the success of his company, Pega Tours, and the tourism industry as a whole in Nakuru. I was surprised to hear he had traveled to Germany and Italy a few years prior to expand his business ventures. Extending my services to help on the Swiss front, he beamed ear to ear and thanked me heartily.
Finishing our dinner we retired back to the sitting room, the tele was turned on once more. This time, a comedy skit, spoken in “Swinglish”. I could understand 50% with the other half inferred through context. Laughing along with Peter and Irene, I felt apart of this wonderful and loving African family.
Before retiring for the evening, I thanked Peter and Irene for a splendid evening and to my pleasant surprise, they invited me for dinner the following night too. Offering to drive me to the bus station at 9 pm for my overnight bus, I graciously accepted their kind gesture.
Awaking bright and early the following day, Peter joined me at the breakfast table for buttered, honey toast and a cup of thick, steamy African tea. Woofing down my food between sentences, I expected the safari driver to arrive any moment for our 6:30 am departure. Belly bulging, my anticipation for departure began to wane as I waited…and waited…and waited. 3 cups of Africa tea later and more then a few impatient foot taps, the safari vehicle rambled up the drive. Peter apologized for the delay, claiming a small mechanical issue (i.e. the land rover needed oil) before ushering me into the car and wishing me a successful safari.
Informed the night before of my potential, solo safari, I was half-heartily hoping for a few other safari goers to join me. In the end, however, no other travelers booked on (good ol' low season) and I instead The best way to safari, as I soon learned.
Finishing our dinner we retired back to the sitting room, the tele was turned on once more. This time, a comedy skit, spoken in “Swinglish”. I could understand 50% with the other half inferred through context. Laughing along with Peter and Irene, I felt apart of this wonderful and loving African family.
Before retiring for the evening, I thanked Peter and Irene for a splendid evening and to my pleasant surprise, they invited me for dinner the following night too. Offering to drive me to the bus station at 9 pm for my overnight bus, I graciously accepted their kind gesture.
Awaking bright and early the following day, Peter joined me at the breakfast table for buttered, honey toast and a cup of thick, steamy African tea. Woofing down my food between sentences, I expected the safari driver to arrive any moment for our 6:30 am departure. Belly bulging, my anticipation for departure began to wane as I waited…and waited…and waited. 3 cups of Africa tea later and more then a few impatient foot taps, the safari vehicle rambled up the drive. Peter apologized for the delay, claiming a small mechanical issue (i.e. the land rover needed oil) before ushering me into the car and wishing me a successful safari.
Informed the night before of my potential, solo safari, I was half-heartily hoping for a few other safari goers to join me. In the end, however, no other travelers booked on (good ol' low season) and I instead The best way to safari, as I soon learned.
Introduced to my guide, Peter (a different Peter to my guesthouse owner), we hadn’t even reached the two-lane highway before pulling over to pick up a young, gangsta lookin, ball cap sportin’ dude. I thought maybe he was giving his friend a lift, but turned out this “boy”, would be my guide. Cylus.
10 minutes and 80 USD later, we crossed the threshold of Nakuru National Park. Bumping down the broken, disheveled road (due to extreme flooding around Lake Nakuru), I couldn’t wait to open the viewing hatch and feel the wind in my hair. Standing tall I breathed in the fresh air, got lost in the early morning shadows, and ouch…bumped my sternum against the hatch every 5 seconds. Did I say bumpy road? I mean crater laden, spine-rearranging, obstacle course. |
Driving through the dimly lit forest, the broad grasslands soon opened before us and Lake Nakuru emerged on our left. It is this lake that makes Nakuru National Park so famous. Why? Well, lakes bring bird life and shallow lakes create algae which bring hungry flamingos. Referred to as, “The Sea of Pink”, Lake Nakuru is usually swathed in rosey feathers and beady eyes. However, due to extreme flooding, the usual “sea of pink” was reduced to only a few splotches. Majority flew the coup in search of shallow lakes and more algea. The few who remained searched through the deep waters for food while the more dietary flexible pelicans, stepped up to the plate, performing beautiful and synchronized fish dives for my viewing delight. “Alright ladies, bums in the air, faces underwater…let’s go fishing!” |
Then came the big game. Water buffalos were the first to spot. Lounging about the lake, dozens of water buffalo chewed on grass, relieved themselves constantly and stared at me with very unimpressed eyes. A more exciting find were the zebras. Mowing the grasslands for food, they hesitantly kept one eye on us and the other on their food. Peppy impalas, elegant giraffes, peculiar ostriches, and cheeky baboons also graced us with their presence but the best of all…a giant white rhino.
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As if painted onto the horizon, her prehistoric build appeared a stone statue at first. It wasn’t until nearing her lakeside domain, that the show beagn. Shifting slowly from one side to the next, it seemed Ms. Rhino was giving us a show. Right profile, okay now left, right, now left. Her chiseled wrinkles and chipped horn gave away her old age but she shook her big, dinosaur-like bootie anyway.
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After 4 incredible hours of animal spotting, I needed a change of pace. I asked Cylus if I could drive. He laughed, quickly considered and then cried, “Yes Mzungu, Yes”. I promised it was our secret and his boss, and my host Peter, would never need ro know (Sorry Peter ;). Vroom!!! Peeling onto the dirt road, the faster I drove the more Cylus squealed with joy. He loved every second of the crazy mzungus safari, as much as I was.
Handing back the reigns to Cylus, I assumed my lion-spotting position. Perched above the hatch, I scoured the savannah, straining to see Simba. But the only lion I saw, sat next to me the entire trip. My driver. Don’t ever tell a hormonal 24-year old boy that he’s handsome and should have a girlfriend…it could end in a marriage proposal. Cylus’ compliments began slow and shy but when he mentioned having, “black babies”, and coming to America I pulled back my reigns. Whoa buddy, I |
signed up for a safari not a mail order husband. Continuously referring to my boyfriend was not enough. I don’t think claiming a married status would have helped either. Hell, not even lesbian status would have stopped the awkward compliments. Oh well, he may have been a lion but I was the big fat elephant squashing his advances.
80 dollars for National Park Fee, 70 dollars for the Tour and 5 dollars for my pack-lunch…all and all…an amazing day!
80 dollars for National Park Fee, 70 dollars for the Tour and 5 dollars for my pack-lunch…all and all…an amazing day!
As with every trip, here are my top 3 lessons learned:
- If you have the opportunity to book a private safari, for a normal per-person group price, don’t hesitate! Stopping where you want, for as long as you want and in my case, driving the bloody 4X4…Wicked!
- A compliment goes a long way in Kenya. Be careful what you say and if you find yourself in an awkward, male/female situation, claim to have a strange and contagious disease.
- Finally, guesthouses are the way to go. Sure, it’s nice to hang out with other travelers in the hostel scene, but you’re in Africa to soak up the culture. What better way then with a family?