Nairobi-wilderness next door
Full of impressions from my first visit to Africa, I am sitting on an airplane from Kigali, Rwanda to Kenya. I’m in a bit of a festive mood, which is reflected in drinking Tusker beer from a tin and eating nuts. I am not disturbed by the slightly more rough landing of the plane on the runway in Nairobi, like the watch. The connection to our home is in ten minutes.
The reward for sprinting through the airport corridors at the gate is amused by the laughter of the airport staff. Sorry guys, the plane takes off. Ok, what now? The good news is that if you fly with Kenya Airways, you don’t have to worry anymore. We get a transit visa to Kenya while you wait, and in 20 minutes each of us head to our own hotel room with TV and bath. With bath! In Africa! It is three at night and therefore I go to sleep instead of bathing after a while. See you next morning.
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In the morning it was seen that we were accommodated at the five-star Panari Hotel at the expense of the airline. On the way to my room from a minimum of seven-star breakfast, I look out of the glass elevator through a four-lane road to the vast, suspiciously uninhabited area. Suddenly, in the distance, I find movement. Giraffes! Giraffes in a three million city? I sigh over my overwhelming imagination and go out where I am. Google causes me to be in the elevator again in three minutes and go to the hotel reception to arrange a safari. The area behind the road is Nairobi National Park. No zoo, but 170 square miles of wildlife where rhinos, buffaloes, leopards, zebra lions and yes, giraffes.
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The guy from Paca
Thanks to the amazing receptionist I have a car with a local driver arranged for another 5 minutes. After the (great) lunch, the guide picks me up, followed by four hours of observation of animals that I only knew from the zoo until then. I will never forget the lion’s head peering out of the tall grass, and I hold my camera trigger with my breath. Let me take a quick look at the display and see … stump. To defend myself, I must say that my log was also the lion’s lion. In his defense again, we found the real two lionesses with the cubs about half an hour later. When I recount my friends' experiences at dinner, I learn that if I did not want a safari, I could skate at the hotel. On ice. In Africa. Next time I’ll get it straight, without sprinting around the airport.
