 |
| A spectacular view of a coastal hotel in Mombasa |
|
| |
 |
OTHER ARTICLES |
|
 |
|
|
|
|
As we usher in the ‘high season’ in tourism circles, properties at the Kenyan coast that had closed down during the ‘low season’ have reopened, ready to take on new business.
Traditionally, tourist activity at the coast is low during the low season, so a good number of hotels opt to shut to cut down on ‘unnecessary’ expenses. For some, the low season is the best time to attract new business. Here’s how 420 South, a group of guest houses at the coast do it.
……As the small single engine plane prepares to position itself on the runway for take-off at Wilson Airport in Nairobi, the pilot turns to the passengers and welcomes us aboard. It will be a one hour fifteen minute flight to the coast he tells us; then passes a plastic container containing candy mints to the passengers in the first row behind the pilot’s seat. Mint anyone? The in-flight service now complete, the plane scurries down the runway and we’re off. Although there is room for 12 passengers, we are only 10 today, I having purchases my ticked just before take-off. It is the ‘off season’ so seats are usually readily available. Given the beautiful day I find it hard to believe there is an off season in this part of the world, and I would soon learn about the benefits of visiting the coast when activity is low.
A little over an hour later the coast comes into view and we land at the Akundu (not Ukunda) airstrip just outside Diani. It is now possible to fly directly to Diani, bypassing Mombasa, from Wilson to the beach. I have arrived with a friend of mine from Nairobi who was planning a short getaway as well, so we decided to team up and share some accommodation with the same goals in mind: rest, sleep, swim, eat fish and enjoy a few good books. We are not going to a hotel, but a small group of self-contained bungalows on the stretch of beach known as Galu. Hilary Monson runs the group of 6 small houses named 420 South (meaning 4 degrees, 20 minutes south of equator). Its privacy you can’t get at a big hotel. On the way in from the airstrip we stop at the local supermarket, bakery and vegetable stands to get supplies for our stay. Our mission is to stay in one spot and make the most of our time away from the hustle and bustle of Nairobi, trying to turn days into weeks by slowing down the pace.
The small two bedroom house sits back from shore, its veranda facing the ocean just 50 yards in front of the house across the green lawn with the usual palm trees. There are no walls, no fences, and no barriers, just an unobstructed view of those beautiful greens and blues of the Indian Ocean. We meet Francis, our resident cook, a Kenyan from Kakamega who lives in Diani with his family. He loves it here. His job is to make sure we enjoy our daily diet of fresh fish, which we purchase from local vendors who come to visit each day once word has spread that there are new customers in the area.
The local fish market is just down the beach so there are always choices to be made: red snapper, prawns, crab, barracuda, even oysters coming from other parts of the south coast. Vegetable vendors on bicycles also make routine stops so that we can restock our kitchen without leaving the house. Certainly this is the way to live. Francis arrives for mealtime three times each day and prepares food and lays out the table.
It is quiet here. It is the low season and there are few people around. A laid-back feeling permeates the air. The usual hawkers are strolling the beach selling their wares: wooden boats, key chains, shells, massages, trips to reefs for snorkeling or diving, but customers are few. There are larger hotels in either direction further down the beach, but distant enough that we can ignore their existence.
The house is far enough from the shore that we only see the heads of passers-by, but a good swim is only a stone’s-throw away. I find it hard to imagine visiting during peak season when the hotels are full, the heat at a maximum. I think of movies, about spring break in North America when droves of young people head for warm climates and beaches, disturbing the peace with partying.
The weather is hot enough at this time of year (October), the sun strong enough to burn my ‘muzungu’ (white man) skin if am not careful. The nights are lovely and cool, a steady breeze coming in from the ocean. The first morning after my arrival I am woken by a loud clamouring nearby. It sounds like someone is repairing the metal roof, oblivious to the racket they are making. I am soon to learn that this is a daily ritual for them, jumping from the trees onto the roof, running to the other side and vaulting into the trees again, sometimes pausing to look at the strangers until the two dogs from next door give chase. It’s a game of cat and mouse, but with dogs and monkeys.
For those who feel more motivated than I to seek excitement, it isn’t far away. There are golf facilities at the large resorts, game drives, night life, yoga, and even kiting for those surfer types. There is always that proverbial stroll on the beach where you can meander for hours alone with your thoughts. I would often take a walk in the morning hours to visit the fishermen nearby, watching them repair their boats and head out to sea against a background of the rising sun.
During the high season the beach would be a bustle of activity at a premium price. Again, I commend myself on visiting at this time of year, and even on my choice of lodging. It’s a perfect fit for me. I try to imagine the heat of December when sleep does not come easily and the air just hangs. Movement during one day is difficult because of the temperature. I would be happy for the hawkers, though, as they depend on those busy periods to earn their living; and hotel owners want rooms filled. But for me, the low season is the attraction. If it’s some real peace and quiet you want, avoid the masses. Come to the coast when it is resting, waiting for those busy days to return.
On my final night before returning to Nairobi and my regular life, the moon is out bathing the white sand in delicate light; all details visible after the eyes adjust. It is enough light that I can make photographs of the beach by moonlight.
I sit on a stone bench, perched above the sand, staring out at the ocean, and wonder what it is about this act of looking out at the expanse of water that is so appealing. Do we feel the pull of other, far away shores? Does it rekindle our curiosity about the world as we feel smaller in its presence? Perhaps it is just being grateful for the time to enjoy such a magnificent place. There is nothing low about it.
|
