Kenya: the Big 5, flamingos and night safari

On the darkest of nights, little before midnight, a rusty white old van in a cloud of dust stopped in front of a camp, somewhere in Amboseli National Park. A light was lit, a door opened and three Maasai young men came out with sleepy faces. One man and 5 women stepped off the white van, dusting off their clothes with slow tired gestures. Richard, our driver, three Chinese young women, a Spanish woman and myself. Our unplanned night safari was over and so was our last drop of energy. We made it to the camp and we were all safe. We briefly saluted our new hosts and then let silence fill back the space. Miriam, the Spanish woman and I followed one of the men and his light on a small alley drawn on the ground by of stones painted in white, among lines of dark large tents. It was a deep dark.

Since all around I couldn’t see anything, I looked up, with no expectation. I stopped. From one side to the other of the sky, a thick white line was cutting the dark in two like a rainbow of stars. The Milky Way itself in its complete beauty, the way I could never even imagine it.

The Maasai Village

5am, Maasai Mara.

Kenya was turning even myself into a morning person. For the best of reasons: that morning we went to visit our neighbours in the Maasai village nearby the camp. As I walked the dusty road in that chilly morning (yes, mornings in Africa are damn cold), I saw through the rays of the early sun three young women, covered in red shuka cloth, the “African blanket”, carrying on their heads large plastic barrels.

–     They are lucky in this village, the river is just 2km away, don’t have to carry water for long distance, the guy leading us said. I continued to watch those women until they became smaller and smaller.

My unnecessary long warm shower in the camp the evening before felt like a waste I now felt ashamed of, while the low pressure water suddenly seemed a luxury. Just a few steps away from the village, our “urban” morning routines seemed here, in the savannah, bad habits from a different world, a world of too much waste.

I always knew water is precious. I read about it, watched tv about it. But never actually faced this reality.

Maasai tribe welcome
Maasai tribe welcome ceremony

Once at the gate, the welcoming ritual was performed by a group of men, singing and jumping high off the ground with their tall and slender silhouettes wrapped in traditional red blankets. The higher the jump, the better the prestige of the performer, we were told. After this we became their guests and we were invited inside. Small houses made of clay were built on the ground, all in the same shape, with round corners and tiny windows.

–       We only stay in one place like this for 5 years. This is how long the termites need to destroy the houses. Then we move some other place and build another village like this from the ground. Women are the ones that build the houses…

Kenya, Maasai Mara, Maasai village
Maasai village. The heard in kept inside the village because of predators

Every one of us was after invited to enter the houses. I went alone and was privileged to have the son of the tribe’s chief as my host. I followed him through a small opening serving as an entrance, lowering my head to fit it. For the next few seconds I couldn’t see anything. It was completely dark inside. I followed his voice in the dark until I saw a glimpse of light in front. It was a fire made on the ground, in the middle of a room. A woman was busy cleaning a few pots gathered around that fire. She remained silent as we took a sit down, on small wooden chairs. I now started to see better around but the heavy smoke inside made it difficult to breathe and my eyes were hurting. I struggled to keep this for me and be a polite guest. The young woman seemed disturbed by my visit. I would have been the same in her place.

My host started talking, presenting the house, offering information about the way they live. I felt he was somehow uncomfortable with this situation of having a stranger curious about his way of living. For the money that the tourists bring, the locals have to perform this show but this doesn’t meat they feel comfortable doing it. 

The woman remained quiet, ignoring my presence. I was feeling uncomfortable with this situation as well, while I was still struggling with that smoke.

–    ….and the cow we keep it here… he smiled hesitant and showed me the door in the back. 

–    So we have fresh milk every morning, this is our fridge, he joked with a shy smile.

–    Hmm, like my grandma, I said. My remark made him stop and look back with surprise. Suddenly we reached a common ground and we didn’t felt so different anymore.

I told him how my grandparents lived back in the days, having seven kids and keeping animals in the stable build close to the house. Next we spoke about how people process milk, conserve the meat without freezing it or use plants for medical purposes. We both knew that mint was good for stomach pains and we laughed abut this. It was interesting to exchange these information. His voice became different, relaxed and he was smiling.

I asked about the Maasai tradition involving men that turn 18 years old and need to have their initiation in life: they leave the community and go live for 3 years in the wild. They learn how to stay alive in the savannah and most of all to respect the greatest teacher: nature. The final exam is to hunt a lion and is performed the Maasai way, not waiting like a coward with a gun in a jeep to shoot the animal in the back, from a long distance. The skin of the lion is then part of the ceremony back in the village.

An ancient tradition that is rarely kept nowadays, after the cowards with guns have succeeded to reduce the lions population too close to extinction.

So the Maasai are finding themselves forced to adapt to the new reality.

I completely forgot about the smoke and the pain in my eyes and when we finally came out of the house, laughing and chatting, my Spanish friends from the camp looked fully surprised and as soon as we left the village they were curious to find out more about my visit inside the house.

-I want to offer you something special. It’s a good price, my host said, taking me aside, before leaving the village.

–    Is it a…

–    A lion fang, yes…

–    You want to see me behind bars? I joked, with the beautiful piece in my hand. I knew that in Kenya, wearing, owning, buying or selling any piece of wildlife material is is strongly prohibited and punished. – Look, this is fantastic but I can’t have it, it belongs to only one owner – the lion. But thank you, I’m deeply honoured.

In reality I was shocked…

Before leaving the village, the Maasai taught us their main survival skill: how to make fire in the wild out of 2 pieces of wood and a little dry grass. Rubbing the dry wood until the ash comes out and then blow it on the dry grass till fire is born seemed easy but I know looking is not equal to doing and my chances of surviving in the wild are below 0.

–       It’s marketing…

 Richard, our driver and guide cut down my enthusiasm about the lion’s fang necklace. Maybe he was right. But one thing that I know for sure is that any other necklace bone I saw after, during the trip to Kenya, and I’ve seen many in a lot of places, didn’t even got closer to the one I hold in my hand in that village.

–       Maybe, just marketing… I answered him, playing with the new copper bracelet on my hand and the new camel bone necklace on my neck. Souvenirs from the tribe’s chief son.

The Maasai market

In an improvised flea market outside the village, a bunch of women were selling hand made crafts: Maasai jewelries, small wooden sculptures and Maasai war masks. I bought a mask and two Maasai warriors chopped in ebony wood and painted in red and white. They will always remember me of the two unreal silhouettes of the Maasai warriors I first saw when we entered Maasai Mara, in the first day. Like two guardians of the wild, an unforgettable fantastic image!

Leaving Mara

The last time I touched the ground of Maara was in an improvised market. A few Maasai women were trying to sell their products to the tourists in the cars stopped in front of a gate, before exit. I liked a red bracelet and tried to negotiate the price…

–    You are killing mama Maasai! the lady said. She was wearing all the colours of the world plus a beautiful smile. Who could resist such a seller. I left the car to see more of her products. I left with the red bracelet on my hand, bought for the priced she asked, waving my hand from the window as our van was leaving.

–    The road took us through the Massai people territories, guarded by gates and barriers that opened each time Richard was paying a small tribute for our passing. And there were many of these on that dusty road crossing the savannah.

We drove for hours through the savannah until we finally reached the paved road again. We left behind all the wonders of Mara, its fantastic Maasai warriors, our tents in the camp, the village and all the wildlife and dreamy landscapes that not even dreams could project.

Maara is truly, madly, deeply unforgettable.

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Lake Naivasha

 We’ve been driving since forever. The whole day…

The group in the van changed on the way, the American couple stayed in Maara for a day more, we said a long goodbye that morning as they were continuing their 7 months trip to Africa and after to Asia. Together with the Spanish couple and the two Chinese girls we were heading to Naivasha. On the way Martina joined us, a Swiss girl that has been working as a volunteer in Uganda for the last three years with an NGO involved in offering protection to abused children, from sex trafficking,  child marriage, violence and even slavery.

At first she was silent. But with a Catalan guy and a Venezuelan woman in the van, no one can stay silent for too long. Marina started soon talking and just minutes after she had all of us silenced. She told us about what she saw in the last three years in Africa, about the kids in the centre, the terrible abuse cases, about Congo, the rebels there and the lava lake, the mountain gorillas in Uganda… We were charmed. This 20 smith years old woman has seen a lot, more than many in a lifetime. 

–    Ahhhhhaaahhhh, Ahhhhh, Ahhhhhhh

We heard out of the blue this scream that brought us all back to reality from the world where Marina’s stories have taken us for the last hours.

I was looking on the window and saw the pink line somewhere in front, far away, by the shores what seemed to be a large lake, but I didn’t realised what it was until I heard the same Chinese girl as loud as she could:

–    Flamingooooooooos!

After all that we’ve seen together the last days, lions, leopard, giraffes, elephants, all the incredible wildlife and the views that made us express in all ways from tears to laughs or exclamations, in all that time the Chinese girls were quite reserved in reactions, as if they did safari their entire lives. In fact all of us in the group were first timers.

Well, this time Kenya had got them truly! They were going completely nuts seeing all that pink! We all turned back to them in surprise and the next second an explosion of laughs followed.

Truth is, we were now getting closer to the wide beach and understood what provoked their exuberant and hilarious reaction: all was pink in front of us. Thousands and thousands of pink flamingos were colouring the shores of Lake Naivasha in pink! A spectacular sight!

Flamingos on Lake Naivasha, Kenya
Pink shores of Lake Naivasha

We all jumped off of the van as soon as we reached the beach. We tried to get closer but they seemed determined to maintain the distance. And then, something incredible happened: a few flamingos opened their wings and flew off, cutting the air meters above the shore. In a perfect synchronising, they were joined soon by hundreds of others until the point where whole sky turned pink and the sound of their beating wings replaced the silence.

In the sunset light this was a view to remember!

Flamingos flying over Lake Naivasha, Kenya
Flamingos on Lake Naivasha

I was the last to leave the beach and brought with me incredible photos and the promise to share them with the rest of the group after. I was wearing pink flamingo feathers earrings bought from a seller on the beach. I felt nothing but pure happiness.

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We spent the night in Naivasha, in a hotel. After sleeping in a tent for so many nights, a hotel room seemed like a long forgotten comfort from another life. 

Safari in Niavasha

We completed the famous BIG 5 during that morning safari in Naivasha park. The missing one was the rhino, after we’ve already seen in Maara lion, lepard, water buffalo and elephant. The feeling was of the purest happiness. 

Rinos in Naivasha Park, Kenya
Rinos in Naivasha Park, Kenya

We then took a boat ride, saw hipos from very close, quite too close at one point where about ten of them started pop up at the surface and our guide made a sudden manoeuvre to get us far from there fast. They are not necessarily violent but getting too close to them drivers them mad and if so, yes, they have what they need to kill a human with little effort if they want so. 

After a few tries in vain to tempt an eagle that was too full for that day for another easy meal, he finally offered the much desired show: left its brunch and cut the air in high speed to catch the fish thrown by our guide.

–     Maybe he couldn’t see the fish we threw…was my silly conclusion coming from a too tired brain

–    He’s an eagle…

Olga and I started laughing loud in the boat at her very correct remark. After the Spanish couple and Marina left the group that morning, Olga, a Russian woman that I’ve already seen around in the camp in Maara, joined us, as her trip plan through Kenya was at that point the same as mine. She was living in Chicago after graduating in US and was initially traveling with her brother and his wife and kids in Kenya. After the safari in Maara, she left them and was heading back to Nairobi. On her way she was sent by the tours agency to our group.

We started talking and got close during that day. I found out that she has joined the American couple in their extra safari day in Maara. That day they went again to the river in Maara, the place were the great migration crossings happen and they saw a crossing that very day. Hundreds of wildebeests rushed out of the blue towards the muddy waters. It was a life and death battle as crocodiles are waiting there a whole year for the feast. I saw the photos she took, the event I too wanted so badly to whiteness. But no wildebeest was willing to die when I was there.

Amboseli Park and the night safari

My eyelids were heavy, my mind filled with images of safari, lakes, flamingoes, too dusty roads, colourful dressed people in front of colourful stores, endless roads, crowded markets… And everywhere the red soil of mama Africa. From our initial group the only ones left were the two Chinese girls with whom I wasn’t talking much anyway. The trip through Kenya was continuing towards Amboseli.

Another Chinese young woman, a teacher, traveling alone and a Spanish woman, Miriam, also traveling alone before her 3 weeks of volunteering in an orphanage in Kenya, have joined us. We were now 5 women, 3 of us solo travellers. I wasn’t in a friendly mode anymore, I felt like I had enough new friends for the last days. The two women were just starting their trip to Kenya and were excited to have their first safari in Amboseli. I realised how lucky I was to have joined such a cool group from day one: all pretty close as age, coming from different countries but all had travelled to enough places to have nice stories to tell and most important: all coming to fulfil a lifetime dream: the first safari in Africa. So we shared all the happiness, intensity and excitement of each moment. And this truly made the trip more exciting for everyone.

We made a stop in a small town where Richard, our driver had something to do. A few kids were playing around and as we waited, I had the idea to call two of them and give them some candies. I had a one kg bag of caramel candies that I had in mind to share with some kids at one point, as a friendly gesture. The next second I found myself pushed agains the van by a tsunami of small bodies and a sea of little hands grabbing my hands in a me, me, me, me, me noise that immediately attracted all eyes around. I tried to organise them, to give an equal number of candies to each, but i was fulling myself. They calmed down when the last candy I had was in the hands of one of them. I wished I had 10 kg more candies… With cute candid smiles and mouths full, next second they spread all around, continuing their play from where they left it.

Kenya, Africa
The kids

The Chinese teacher was apparently inspired by this and she went to buy something from a store nearby. For my surprise, minutes later, she came back with a big bag full of pens.

– Didn’t they have candies?

– Yes, but I want to give them something they useful for school.

I smiled and wanted to see where this goes… She waves the kids that rushed again towards the van, ready for another round of candies. Her authoritarian air stopped them from repeating the episode they had with me. After a well prepared and full of motivation two minutes speech about the importance of education and the benefits of a pen in the life of a student, she starts sharing a pen to every kid. Well this time the interest was that low that some of them didn’t even wanted the pen and those that did took it were having long disappointed faces.

– Now you can also make drawings if you want, she tried to advertise the pens to the kids that were already leaving.

A few hours later, on the road, I realised that my cooper bracelet bought from the village, from the chief’s son, was gone. This made me sad and I remained silent for the rest of the drive.

Small towns, villages, markets, the live colourful movie of Kenya was developing on the screen of my window. In a small town we made a stop and I got off the van to stretch my legs a bit. I bought the most perfect mangos from a lady. I could feel their delicious scent from the stall. I had in mind to eat them in the camp, once we arrive in Amboseli.

I was amused when the Chinese girls, after all those days when they had separate food from the rest of us, prepared for them only and never touched the food or fruits we had served at the points where we stopped on the way for lunch, this time they totally broke the no 1 rule of food safety when traveling: “if you can’t peel it, don’t eat it” and they bought from a vendor on the street two packs of assorted fresh pre-cut fruits. I then was waiting for them to ask Richard to pull over so they can run into a bush… it didn’t happen.

After hours and hours of driving when we all couldn’t wait to finally reach the camp, we stopped. The road was blocked by a long line of vehicles. After about 30min we realised no wheel has moved so something was going on. The cause of all this was far away, in the front, but no one knew what it was, not even the local kids that came to see why so many cars were blocked on the road. The sunset signalled that the last hour of daylight was going to end soon. We were blocked. From one person to the other the information finally reached us: the Maasai tribes that were owning that land had a dispute with the authorities and in conclusion they blocked the road. Police came and a rock fight started. I saw Richard was becoming worried and keep talking to other drivers. Some cars were turning back.

As the last rays of sun were disappearing behind the horizon, Richard came to us and said we’re going to follow another road, through the savannah since we were not far from the camp. We left the road and minutes later the road was gone behind our van in a cloud of dust. The bonus safari at sunset made us very happy. For Miriam it was a first and she got very exited to see the first wildebeest.

– You’ll see thousands, I said and the Chinese girls and I started laughing.

We drove by groups of wildebeests, impala, zebras. The night was conquering the day and soon all I could see were little lights disappearing in the dark: the eyes of different animals.

We were driving for an hour already. Sometimes I could see in the lights of the van, in the front, groups of wildebeests or zebras turning heads and looking at the van surprised as if they were saying: what the hell you do here at night? We didn’t knew either… Richard was driving fast and was very silent. Every few minutes the van was jumping in the air and landing back. I had to use both hands to hold myself and avoid being thrown and get hurt. My hands were so tight it hurt. I couldn’t see it but I smell dust. Tones of dust, the whole dust in the world. I feared that we got lost and had no freaking idea where we were. No one was saying anything and the Chinese girls have stopped asking questions long ago.

The night was so black and the sky was turned into a curtain of stars. I didn’t know which feeling was stronger, fatigue or worry or both in a hard to bare mix. I was waiting for the moment when the van will either break in two or crush in the middle of no where since there was no road around, not even upon savannah standards.

Out of the dark a gate appeared in front. Upon it I could read Amboseli. Richard got off the van and I saw a light cutting the dark and then a small window. Richard talked to the man for a minute. The gate opened, we entered and after who knows how many minutes we reached another gate, the one to the camp. Our mighty van bit the dusty road and the breaks hold in still, finally. When the tones of dust in the air around started to lay back to the ground, I saw a light was lit, a door opened and three Maasai young men came out with sleepy faces. Richard opened the door for me and the 5 of us stepped off the white van, dusting off our clothes with slow tired gestures. The night safari was over! When I saw Richard I was shocked: his face was now all read not black, his t-shirt all wet and lines of sweat were pouring down its face. I then understood how worry he was not for us but only for our safety. But he got back his smile and we joked about our adventurous night safari. We thanked him. We’ve reached Amboseli safe and I was relieved, even though my Maasai mask arrived broken in two and the mangos I bought from that nice lady were turned into mashed mangos and ruined.

I shared the tent with Miriam since the last thing I would have been able to do at that point, after that day and that evening, was sleeping alone. That’s the last memory of that night:

– Miriam, I think we have mice inside the tent….

– Yes, there’s mice shit everywhere…

– Do you think mice can climb up the bed?

– In the bed… no, they can’t.

– Ok. Good then.

And I feel asleep feeling safe.

P.S. It’s been a year and three months since I wrote here… I feelt like couldn’t do it anymore in all this time. A lot has happened. With every day of this last two years we all got more and more far away from what we used to call normality before March 2020. Too many “it can’t be” from the past defines the present reality. The only constant and anchor that remains is nature. The healer, the comfort, the hope.

With the Spanish couple, Miriam and Martina I’m still in contact, as Instagram friends. I was in contact with Olga as well, until last week when I saw she unfollowed me on Instagram. Probably due to my anti war in Ukraine stories. Though she was also posting same thing, it seems it was just pretending. I unliked her posts and blocked her account.  

The next morning, opening the tent to this: Killimanjaro, before the last day of Kenyan safari. This time: Amboseli

Kilimanjaro, Kenya, Amboseli, safari
Kilimanjaro Mountain seen from Amboseli, Kenya

Next: safari on land in Amboseli and safari on the Indian Ocean, Diani Beach

Kenya: 12H safari in Maasai Mara (2)

After 6 hours of riding across the vast savanna, I was getting so high on Maasai Mara. It must have been around 12pm but time in the wild is counted by the sun only. We were all contemplating in silence those fields as our minds were processing the images we’ve fed them so far. Too much to believe. The dream that brought us all to Kenya was happening, we were living it.

As the dust was a provocation we thought we got used to, the next level was quite annoying: the flies. First 2-3 of them and seconds after they were everywhere. In our eyes, ears, mouths and no techniques we used would discourage those kamikaze. Then came the odour… We understood soon why all these: the golden fields of the savanna turned dark. Thousands of wilderbeasts were occupying Mara as far as we could see. Zebras were joining the party in much small numbers, like black and white spots on that paint. I have never seen so many wild animals in one place and never thought this could be even possible in the wild.

– There! This is the Great Migration, I heard Richard, our driver and guide saying. And my thought completed his words: …and this is why is called one of nature’s greatest shows of Earth.

Kenya, Maasai Mara, The Great Migration, Serengeti

We finally arrived to the river, this ground 0 spot of the Great Migration from Serengeti to Maasai Mara, one huge national park split between Tanzania and Kenya. Here, down the hill, we escaped the flies and the smell. I instantly recognised the place as if I was there before multiple times. The deja-vu feel was caused by the mind-blowing images in National Geographic where hundreds of wildebeasts were rushing into the river into a cloud of dust and death as many of them got straight into the jaws of hungry crocodiles waiting down there for their Migration festive meal. We stopped a few meters close to the edge and wait. All the other people in all the other jeeps and vans were playing the same game: waiting for a river crossing. To feed our rush for excitement and our primary instinct for kill. A crazy game I got myself dragged into during those days in Africa. Though I condemn violence in all its forms, I was surprised and ashamed to realise I also joined the club into that thirst of blood, of kill. Somehow… there it seems justified, on that primordial movie set where life and death meet in the most natural form: the kill to survive.

5am – start of a great day

Terrible night! Though I was exhausted, I’ve barely slept. The noises all around I couldn’t identify played like riddles all night long, the suffocating smell from all my 8 mosquito repellent I used before sleep, the feeling that there was someone inside my tent that made me jump out of sleep, the unexplainable real sensation that someone touched my shoulder at one point… and in the end the morning chill that woke me up.

I used my phone in the dark to find the opening in the mosquito net of the bed and rapidly reach the light switch on the wooden wall separating the tent from the bathroom built behind it, with an open roof. Well, at least I slept in fresh air… I then checked the zipper of the tent, with no lock, the only thing separating me from the outside that night…

As there was no other furniture, I used the second bed, which was empty, instead of table, chair and closed. And started to dance. The mosquito proof dance which meant that any time significant areas of my skin were left uncovered or unsprayed with insects repellent, I had o move a lot. On the shower or on the toilet, I wouldn’t stop “dancing”.

I finally put on a lot of clothes and I completed my declaration of style for that safari morning with sox and sandals. Too cold to care: 10C. Yes, Africa, exactly! Not that hot as a European might think.

At breakfast I found out half of my safari buddies had also endured a bad sleep while the other half slept like babies. But we had a whole day safari in Maasai Mara ahead of us and that was the best thing in the world in that morning at the end of August.

– Haaaa, did you hear the hyenas last night: eeww, eewwww, eeewwwww. That was Richard’s good morning….

I exchanged frightened looks with Ariadna, the Venezuelan woman in our group.

It was 6am when we left the camp, following other jeeps, heading towards the sunrise spot in the horizon. The sky was in flames, the safari day was starting. What a great feeling!

In the first hour we saw a cheetah, two lions wandering around in the distance, probably preparing for a hunt, hundreds of wildebeasts, of zebras and Thompson’s gazelles, an ostrich male, warthogs, buffalos…

Kenya, Maasai Mara, The Great Migration, Serengeti
Two Beauties of Maara

We drove further until there were no other jeeps in sight. On top of a hill we met a family of giraffes formed of more then 15 members, including 3 calves. We stopped the van and observed them for some time from just a few meters distance. They were so calm and quiet, moving slowly from one acacia tree to another, curling their long tongues around the big thorns on the branches to reach those tinny leaves, spreading their long legs and bending their necks all the way down, to reach the grass. In this position in which they look soo hilarious, like some clumsy gymnasts, we’ve learned that they are the most vulnerable towards predators. They only do it when they feel safe. Otherwise, their kick can kill a lion on the spot. Such a majestic creation they are.

Kenya, Maasai Mara, The Great Migration, Serengeti, wildlife

The next live performance was “acted” by a group of 10 elephants, mothers and their calves. Their society works like this: the males are solitary while females live in large groups lead by a female leader. Richard broke the rules and got us off the track for a few meters, bringing us so close to them until we could even see their eyelashes. He stopped the engine again and we observed them in complete silence. Time was paused for all of us there, turning seconds and minutes into frames and memories made to last all our existence. At times they looked straight to us, peacefully, rising their massive heads to just check on their new visitors. What could they be thinking about us?

Kenya, Maasai Mara, The Great Migration, Serengeti, wildlife
The giants of Maasai Mara,

A massive buffalo was approaching fast from the other side of the field, looking not so happy to have human spectators at that early hour, so we had to leave in order to avoid getting dangerously close to the one who’s reputation is of being the deadliest animal in Africa.

I couldn’t stop thinking: is our presence there right? In the wild, in their world, as little as we left of it to them. It is intrusive, to call it straight. I felt it often there, during those 7 days of safari, in many situations. Sometimes big predators as lions or cheetahs have to change their hunt plan just because 10 jeeps filled with curious humans got in their way to take some photos or make loud excitement noises. In the savannah reality, us, humans, with all our reactions, devices, cameras with huge lenses, we no longer look as the one specie that has evolved so much… It’s somehow a funny scene and we look dumb.

But in spite of all this interference, the fact that we are intrusive there, it’s a compromise that is digestible up to one point: all animals there are free, they can hunt, eat, fight, mate, wander, sleep, raise their offsprings as they please. They have adapted to this human presence. It’s common to watch hunt scenes taking place a few meters away from safari jeeps or see lions from very few meters distance, as we did later that day. I won’t believe it unless I lived it: two young male lions, sleeping next to a bush, for a little shade in that hot afternoon, ignoring completely the jeeps filled with people, moving in circles around them.

Kenya, Maasai Mara, The Great Migration, Serengeti, wildlife
Kenya, Maasai Mara, The Great Migration, Serengeti, wildlife

Still, everybody is that calm and that safe only as long as humans stay in the jeep. It’s totally prohibited to step off the car during a safari. We once saw a lion suddenly changing its direction just because he felt a human was on the ground at more then 500m distance. One safari guide had troubles with its car and had to check it for a few seconds. For us, the only times we walked on the fields of Maasai Mara were for those nature calls that really demand it: a visit in the bushes. Always on higher ground, chosen carefully by Richard. Peeing in the wildest wild, after you just saw what can get you, is really something to laugh about. After…

Picnic in the savannah

We left the river site where no crossing seemed to be in plan for the next hour to look for a quiet and safe place to have our lunch. After a few tries nothing seemed good enough for our Richard. We were all hungry… Then we saw it, this huge acacia lonely tree in the middle of a field with tall golden grass where a heard of zebras were enjoying the fiesta. The ideal place. We stepped off the car, walked around a little, breathe that hot dry air then laid down under our tree and had the best picnic in the world, watching the zebras nearby. Happiness is made of moments like this.

Kenya, Maasai Mara, The Great Migration, Serengeti, wildlife
Curious zebras, Maasai Mara

To cross or not to cross

By the river we occupied again a still vacant spot close to the edge and joined the waiting ritual. Thousands of wilderbeasts were turning the horizon dark, some part of large groups, others marching in long lines one after another, in a perfect rhythm. A group of hypos were relaxing on a sand bank by the river.

Kenya, Maasai Mara, The Great Migration, Serengeti, wildlife
Lazy hipo afternoon in Maasai Mara

A few crocodiles raising their heads above the muddy water from time to time. By that river that day every living creature was waiting: the wilderbeasts for one of them to have the courage to initiate a crossing so they all can follow, the zebras for the wilderbeasts to go first, a strategy they ofter apply, the crocodiles for their opportunistic fresh meal and the people to see some action and witness how animals are being killed on the spot, without them feeling guilty for it.

Kenya, Maasai Mara, The Great Migration, Serengeti, wildlife

I’ve noticed a group of zebras moving a lot, going back and forth around the edge, approaching then distancing, forming a circle and making a lot of noise. They looked as if they were up so something but keep changing their minds. I started paying attention, they wanted to cross the other side. A few others seemed to be calling them from the other side with noises and moves close to the edge on their side. It was an unbelievable scene: they wanted to cross but were afraid.

A larger group of wilderbeasts was forming close to the edge as well. A few times one of them was rushing up to the edge, but then suddenly stopped, coming back slowly and discouraged. It’s how the crossings happen during the great migration, it all starts with one crazy fella that starts running out of the blue towards the edge and all of a sudden hundreds, thousands follow into the river. Some broke legs, some are drowning, many are hurt by the crowds crossing over them while a few get eaten by the crocodiles. But most of them, around 2 millions, survive and so they complete a journey meant to bring them from Serengeti to Mara where in that time of the year the grass is greener. They do this journey every year, facing death in the face and pursuing with living.

Every time a wilderbeast was getting closer to the edge, we stopped breathing. Time stopped and all eyes were in that direction, cameras were ready… but nothing happened.

The only ones who seemed that were having a plan were those zebras. After many hesitations, “talks and argues” and calls from their friends on the other side, they finally rushed to the edge of the river and started the descend. Down there they analysed wisely which is the best spot to cross and finally they got into the water, did it and got away with it. All got alive on the other side, welcomed by the ones there who were watching their crossing all this time, in silence. Their victory was enjoyed on our side too, with applauses.

Kenya, Maasai Mara, The Great Migration, Serengeti, wildlife

And that was the only crossing I got to see. I left Mara the next day to continue my trip to Amboseli. A few days later a Russian woman joined our group, what was left of it after we started splitting. She showed me photos with the crossing that took place the very next day. Well, as I like to say: it is what it is and what should happen happens.

Richard was talking the whole time on his satellite phone to other guides. He seemed to know everybody we met and by the afternoon of that day we even got convinced he also knew all the lions in Mara. He was laughing and enjoying each time we were telling him this.

Only this time he was getting agitated and pushed the acceleration until our old white van seemed to be on a race of tearing itself apart on the bumpy tracks of Mara. We got to a small river and almost got stocked there in the mud. He won’s say a word about why all this. We arrived in an area with trees when he finally slowed down. From a few meters away I saw the sleeping beauty of the savannah: high in a tall tree, on a large brunch in the shade was laying a gorgeous leopard. Around it jeeps, people, cameras, photographers. Nothing could bother its sleep.

A few minutes after, as we were all charmed by its beauty, he woke up, turned its head towards us, open its eyes with the wildest and coolest gaze I lived to see, yawn showing its jaws and fell back to sleep. The show was over. We had 4 of the big 5: lion, buffalo, elephant, leopard.

Kenya, Maasai Mara, The Great Migration, Serengeti, wildlife

Richard tried to start the engine so we could move. Nothing, just a little engine cough. He tries again. Ups! Nothing. There couldn’t be a better moment for an engine to stop working then sitting under a tree with a wild leopard, a naturally born killing creature.

– Now who’s gonna push the car? He looked towards us and we stopped laughing instantly.

He was just having fun with us. He started laughing seeing our confused faces. Another jeep approached us from the back, pushed us until finally our engine started. We left the leopard sleeping and as soon as we got far enough our little adventure turned into loud laughs. We felt drained of every drop of energy. 12h were coming to an end and the sun was kissing the horizon again, preparing for a savannah sunset. We were dusty, exhausted, every cell of my body hurt but I was so absofuckinglutelly happy.

I took a shower being grateful for this gift in the middle of those dry lands. When I got out I thought I heard something which I didn’t wanna believe was true: my whole tent was conquered by a zzzzz-ing. Mosquitos were everywhere! It was getting dark and as the generators were not yet on, I had no light but I thought I saw something flying around inside the tent. Was not an impression. Was a bat… So reality was like this: a tent filled with mosquitos and a bat flying freely inside. I had no malaria pills but bats eat mosquitos. What could I do… I took my tusker beer bought by Hosea, my driver in Nairobi and left the tent to join my new friends and end a great day with a great evening. Thank you Kenya!

PS: that night I slept like a leopard

An animal was killed every 3 minutes by trophy hunters over the last decade. 1.7 million animals perished like this. An industry worth 340M every year. (Euronews)

Once among the world’s most iconic hunting destinations, Kenya has had a national ban on trophy hunting since 1977. But poaching still exists, in spite all efforts, everywhere where “trophies” are still alive. I can’t stop wonder one thing: how is it possible to see those animals in the wild and the only urge that comes out of all this is to kill, to destroy.

Kenya: safari in Maasai Mara (1)

– I will go to Africa one day to see the lions. And when I’ll see them, I will cry.

This is what I used to say to my friends about one of my biggest dreams: the African safari. The big truth that I now know it is that nothing can prepare anyone for Africa, the red continent where all expectations are exceeded.

The morning before

– Excuse me…Hello….Good morning….Excuse me….Pleaseee

Loud knocks at the entrance door. I opened one eye in the dark room with the curtains pulled and my first thought was: where am I now?

Ahhh, yes, Nairobi! My brain figured out: that one week safari starts today! That was the fuel I needed to jump out of the bed like a rocket and reach the door in 2 steps. I opened it and the light blinded me. A very worried man was standing there, and all I could see first were his eyes contrasting its cocoa skin.

– Sister, excuse me, they came for you, for the safari. Are waiting, I tried to call… he said in a hurry.

I loved how he called me sister. I must have been quite a chaos in person myself, in pyjamas, my hair was a mess and my eyes barely opened on a sleepy face.

– OMG, I overstepped! The safari, yes! I went crazy going in circles inside the dark room, trying to figure out what to grab first. What time it is?

-It’s 7! They came and….

– What??? 7? Only? They’re supposed to come for me at 8:30! I started to laugh, covering my eyes with one hand and leaning against the wall in relief.

The guy asked then three times if I permit him to enter in my room to check the phone. He stepped in very shy and saw it was actually unplugged.

In one hour I was ready to go. I met Josea again, my too early bird friend I met the day before, at my arrival. He and another guy drove me first to the centre of Nairobi, at the tour agency office. I recognised the narrow passages between the buildings, close to the place where the evening before I managed to change, with his help, 200 euro into Kenyan shillings. The whole operation seemed like a drug traffic scene in a thriller. The census that was taking place those days has been shutting down the whole city, closing all shops, banks and exchange offices very early. That evening, after asking around a few people with no success, Josea made me a discreet sign to wait where I was. He then approached two security officers, talked to them for a few seconds making sighs towards me. He followed one of them on a back street and made me a discreet sigh to follow them. I couldn’t see much because of the dark but enough to figure out that the place looked very grim and quite spooky, with dumpsters all around and trash spread on a dirty broken pavement between two old buildings with walls covered in old graffiti. It smelled like garbage. I was assessing how low was the level of my safety in those circumstances and it seemed what we were doing was illegal. The idea of being scammed came only second. Happily it all worked well, the “operation” was a success, I even got a good exchange rate and finally had Kenyan money in my pocket.

During the day it was different, except that garbage smell. We entered a building, got inside a small elevator, then passed through a corridor with a beauty salon where a few Kenyan ladies were doing their curly hair straight, and then a door opened to a small office:

– I’m Simon, welcome to Kenya!

Simon was the type of guy looking like those black male models that we see on fashion catwalks or Vogue magazines: tall, well build, killer sensual lips and a sexy smile on a very handsome face. That and his leather jacket brought that kind of smile on my face, the kind that attractive people can only bring, instinctively.

I payed all the expenses for the safari trip and stored my big luggage in their office till I was coming back. It felt so good that for the next days all was taken care of. All my safari outfits were in my polka dot backpack: the sunscreen, the hat and the 7 types of mosquito repellent. In my country Malarone, the prevention pills for malaria, was impossible to find, so my plan B strategy was to keep mosquitos away.

And off we were

One American couple from Carolina, one Spanish couple from Catalunya, two Chinese girls and myself. That was our group in the white old safari van with 8 seats, drove by Richard, our driver and guide, who’s grey hair and pronounced lines around his eyes were a guarantee for how much he saw and knew. Ohh, and how he exceeded all our expectations by the end of those 7 days and 6 nights! We were already set to become friends the moment we stepped in that van, as great experiences always create strong bonds between people that live them. I started off on the right foot and got the single seat in the front of the van. Well, again, the perks of traveling alone! Well, the downsides came later…

The van started to move, following the other 3 in the font, heading to Masai Mara. I kept staring outside, at the streets, the people, the buildings. I didn’t felt like talking, socialising, getting to know the other people in the van, blabla. At all! But when there’s a pure blood Spanish – Catalan around, this doesn’t last long. As soon the wheels started rolling, he started talking and by the time we left Nairobi we all got to know each other, our names (except the Chinese girls…), where do we came from, what we do for work, what languages do we speak and how our Kenyan holiday plan looked like. Hearing that the American couple was starting a 7 months long journey in Africa and Asia caused a loud awwww in the van. Then the Spanish couple was going to Serengeti, in Tanzania and after to Zanzibar. The Chinese girls and I only Kenya. Richard joined the conversation soon and the atmosphere became quite cheerful, and we talked until all of us got tired and some fell asleep. I continued watching Kenya revealing itself from my window seat.

market, Africa, Kenya trip
market in Kenya

As soon as we left the busy Nairobi and its concrete city vibe, the savannah started showing its patterns, one by one. First tree by tree, image by image, as if a video was loading, and then like an explosion of frames that turned all my previous imagination into reality: umbrella acacia trees, tall dry grass, vast horizons crossed by apparently endless roads passing through villages with the most colourful cottages I ever saw, built straight on that unbelievably red soil. The red continent was revealing its beauty rapidly, strong and tangible. Elegant women in beautiful and colourful dresses, wearing high heels and makeup on the dustiest roads I ever saw. These images were so contrasting. Later only I understood it was not a feminine statement as it is in the so called West. It was about being strong and fearless and elegant and feminine no matter what and where. Such power can only be profoundly admired and applauded.

For 8 long hours Kenya was showing itself to me as the rest of the group went quiet and asleep. I kept watching that movie playing on the screen of my window, with every town, village and markets we passed by, with every kid waving his hand, with every corner looking like a Pulitzer awarded photography.

trip to Kenya, Amazing
Kenya, Africa

Hell’s Gates, the door to Maasai Mara

After lunch in a restaurant where many other vans and safari jeeps were stopping in front, we made a short stop at Hell’s Gates, the point offering perfect views over Rift Valley, the vast savanna below, reaching far away as if it owned this world. Once here was a prehistoric lake that fed our human ancestors. We got sooo excited observing in the bushes some rodents looking like huge rats. Some Asian tourists started taking photos of them frenetically. We were all at the beginning of our journey and that seems to me now so funny, comparing to the photo opportunities that followed.

Maasai Mara starts here

The roads got dustier and bumpier and the landscape wilder. Richard announced that we were entering Maasai Mara. His voice came as a poke to reality to me: I was in Maasai Mara! Then the dust, the heat of the late afternoon and the constant same views of the savannah, still and quiet, made me sleepy. I was struggling not to close my eyes fearing that I will miss something great. What a premonition. And then I saw them, like two silhouettes from another world – tall, very slim, with unusual long legs and hands, with skin like black velvet and their bodies half covered with blood red rags, with high sharp swards in their hands and a fearless yet calm sight, with colourful large necklaces around their neck and long earrings hanging down their ears. I almost hurt my neck trying to gain one more second of this: two Maasai warriors watching us passing by in a cloud of dust, leaving them behind, vanishing into the immensity of Mara.

– Did you see that…??? I said seconds later, when I could again articulate.

No one did saw them but me and it was impossible to describe it in just words. Such a powerless instrument for such striking scenes. The image of those Maasai warriors was like a tattoo on the memory, two uncrowned gods of the wild who’s image is one of the strongest I have about Kenya.

This was how Maasai Mara, the land of Maasai tribes – in translation meaning the people that speak the language Maa, opened its doors to us. And I could feel that my moment – “I will go to Africa to see the lions. And when I’ll see them, I’ll cry.” was close….

Kenya, africa, Maasai Mara, Maasai tribe woman
Maasai woman in Kenya

I was watching ahead, with a far-off look, in silent, resting my chin against the front seat back next to Richard. For quite some time the sandy track we were following was just a pale yellow line crossing the dry fields. The afternoon heat was making the landscape blurry. Then I think I saw something… First I thought my eyes are wrong, then that it was because of the heat or maybe a piece of dry bush left there, in the middle of the road, by the wind. It was still there, right in the middle of the road, as the distance between us was reducing fast. I lift up my head and focused to that. It still wasn’t moving and a shape was slowly contouring now. The shape of a young impala was becoming a certainty. We were getting dangerously close and Richard didn’t seem to thing of slowing down. Before I could spell “Richard, watch out”, only when we got a few meters away, as if it was challenging its courage, the impala decided to jump away and instantly vanish. So Richard wasn’t risking to hit it, he just knew it will jump aside in the last moment. This time we all saw and got super excited. I saw a smile on Richard face in the mirror. How many people he must have drove like this, through their first safari experience, whitening their first reactions.

Now the wilderness around us was as cut off from the National Geo documentaries about Africa, those I used to watch sitting down, on the carpet, in our living-room, when I was a kid, so I could see better.

We didn’t even had the time to process what we just saw and finish all excitement exclamations when suddenly a large group of giraffes appeared out of nowhere. It happened so suddenly that it took us all by surprise and without phones or cameras at hand. In spite of all the promises and guarantees made on the tens of tours operators sites I checked while organising the trip, I never thought it could be quite like that: an abundance of wildlife in one place: about 20 giraffes, tens of zebras and even more wildebeests appeared out of no where. Richard stopped the car and the engine and let us wonder as the animals were just a few meters away from the road, doing what they do all day long: eating. They didn’t even blink seeing us. And there it happen. In front of a sight that no zoo could ever offer and no documentary can even get close to, in the middle of the savannah, my tears didn’t wait for that first lion. My eyes got wet. For feelings like that make days in our lives worth remembering there is no effort too big, no distance too long and no boundaries impossible to cross.

Maasai Mara safari, Kenya, African safari, giraffes, wildlife, nature, photography
Kenya

The camp

At the end of a 9 hours ride we arrived in the camp. Our neighbours for the next days were the inhabitants of a Maasai village. We passed by their settlement, followed by a cloud of dust, as a few young men were directing the cattle inside their village walls build of clay and soil. A large group of barefoot kids dressed very colourful stop their game in front of the village to salute us and didn’t seem to be bothered at all by the dust that came after us, leaving them invisible.

A few Maasai men in front of the camp helped us with the luggages in change of a tip. I only had my blue-marine polka dot backpack. This is how tourists coming to see the lions bring a benefit to the local community, besides buying hand made souvenirs or sometimes making small donations.

A few rows of large tents built on the ground, closed with a zipper, housing two beds covered with mosquito nests and in the back, a bricked up, well, almost up, bathroom with a shower in the wall, a toilet and a sink. One tent was mine alone. It was basic but having all it needs and the bed was clean. Cleaner then in other places where running water is not as precious as it is in the middle of the savannah. The water pressure at the sink was very low, it took a lot of patience for a hand wash, but the shower was good, with warm water. Outside, a kitchen, a small bar and a large room with white plastic tables and chairs where guests could serve the food from the buffet. Electricity was available only during the night. That was our camp, simple but filled with excited people.

We had one hour to leave our luggages and get ready for the first safari. I sit on my porch a bit. In the tent on the right the Spanish couple was laughing loud of something only they knew, on the left Elaine, the American woman saw doing some stretching.

The afternoon: the first safari

We jumped back in our white old van and headed straight into the wild. Richard opened the roof and like this it looked more as a safari car. Well, still quite far from the jeeps we’ve seen around. The cool air of the afternoon smelled like vast fields and dry grass. A few minutes only after we left the camp, we started meeting the animals. Wildebeests were everywhere, zebras came after, impala in small or bigger herds with many calves among them, a few warthogs with their funny walk and constantly on the move, an ostrich female. With every distance covered, advancing into the dry depths of Mara, we were more and more mind-blown. Like a dream you have for so long and when it becomes reality you realise it has exceeded any scenarios your imagination could have crafted.

Maasai Mara, Kenya safari

I got my camera out of the bag in a general “woww” from my safari companions. My new lens, a telezoom, bought especially for the trip, was one of the best acquisitions I ever made. Even though is the cheapest available from Sony, it totally made the difference when it comes to taking photos during a safari. The phones, even the newest models, were quite useless so I promised the others to share my photos when back home.

We were talking about that when I instinctively turned my head away and looked far, to an area where the dry grass was even taller growing by some bushes. I just couldn’t take my eyes off that spot, without seeing something there, as if I felt it. And there it was, perfectly blending in, part of that far away field, a lonely gorgeous lioness.

– A lion!

Only after long minutes and using Richard binoculars all the others manage to see her. Laying in the grass, with her mouth opened, breathing relaxed and calm.

– Girl, you got eyes for lions! I couldn’t see her not even after pointing the exact spot!

The first of the big 5 was that lioness. The 2nd came fast after, was a Cape buffalo in a swamp we passed by, looking angry at us with his dark massive horns covering its upper head and curving around its head like a true threat. Called the Black Death, it is known to have killed more game hunters than any other animal in Africa. It’s a karma weapon after all.

Maasai Mara buffalo, safari, Kenya
Cape Buffalo in Maasai Mara

A cloud of dust raising up in the sky was the target Richard was aiming. The old white van was running wild on the bumpy track and five other jeeps were following us. We arrived to what it seemed to be at first a jeeps an vans gathering in a cloud of dust. But that was not it. We saw the reason of this madness: two male cheetah laying in the grass a few meters away, totally ignoring us silly humans making excited noises and using phones, cameras and even half meter long lens to get an image of them. The sun was setting and it was the most perfect golden hour that our home, planet Earth, can offer as another gift to us.

Next: 12h safari and the Great Migration

Kenya – Nairobi: start of journey

The sun had almost completed its journey for that day. Just another one for it and an unforgettable one for me. It had nothing but the seize of a palm left to shine light and as I looked around, towards the huge umbrella acacias, I thought: if only I could stay like this forever, with my zebra print bracelet made of camel bone on the left wrist and the red beaded one from mama Masai on the right, with the image of the three lionesses resting in the golden grass, by the palm trees near the swamp, the 24 elephants crossing the path in a cloud of dust, the sleeping hyenas and the hypos in the swamp of Amboseli….

The savannah was like this: complete.

I wrote these lines a year ago, watching the sunset in Amboseli, at the foot of Mount Kilimanjaro with its white peak of snow, at the end of a 7 days safari in Kenya because I wanted to be able to read it after and feel what I felt then: completeness. 

27 days before

A safari in Africa was always a dream that seemed to big. Or should I say too expensive. After I came back from Puglia, Italy, in August, I was wandering online, looking for my second trip of last summer. It was when I found out about an event I did heard before, one of nature’s great wonders, The Great Migration, how it’s called the world’s largest migration of wildlife. Over two million animals migrate from Serengeti, in Tanzania, to the greener pastures of Maasai Mara, in Kenya. It’s the wildebeest who set the start, followed of course by other animals. I remembered my reaction when I read on a website the animals that was guaranteed to see in each park. Lions were called abundant and guaranteed to see in Mara. It seemed a marketing line at that moment…

I bought the tickets 20 days before the departure and what followed was a marathon of emails and messages to a significant number of tour operators. Some didn’t answer, some were starting the conversation from 4000 euro for 3 days of safari, others had packages of 10-25K. I soon found out Kenia is not a cheap destinations when it comes to safari, but absolutely doable if you work enough to plan the trip. So I meet Rachel, the one that at the end of 37 emails in a week had me as her customer. I started from a 2 days safari and she got me sent the advance for a 7 days safari: Masai Mara, Amboseli, Nakuru.

The plan was done, the reservations made, my safari wardrobe bought, plus a telephoto lens for my camera, the vaccine for yellow fever checked, the visa obtained. After the 7 days safari, I planned a few days on the coast, in Diani beach, close to Mombasa, for some relaxing beach time. Kenia was already giving me butterflies like no other destination before. 

Arriving

After a few hours stop in a hot like hell Doha, I arrived in Nairobi at midday. The airport seemed a lot smaller than others I’ve been before in Europe or Asia. My name written on a sheet of paper at the entrance was what I was looking for. Josea was my driver from the airport to my hotel. I was so excited and talkative and we became friends very quickly and by the time I reached the hotel we had the plan for that day. He needed extra money for his girl that needed a heart surgery in India and I needed to see Nairobi with a local.

A 3m high concrete wall and an iron gate opened when we arrived. Three men with riffles came out and check the car, only after we were allowed to enter. I was going to find out that this is common in Kenia for places destinated to tourists. 

– Hello sister, was the salute that made me smile so many times in Kenya. Welcome to Nairobi! First time here?

Kibera – o glimpse on life in the largest urban slum in Africa

I felt immediately as I landed in Nairobi what it feels like to feel different because of the color of your skin. As soon as I left the airport, I saw no other white people on the streets, in the cars, in the shops, in the markets. It felt strange. 

Josea and I we drove on the streets in Nairobi center that looked as if it could be placed in any other country: tall buildings of offices, large boulevards, parks, fountains, busy crossroads. Then we left the central area and continue until a sea of rusty roofs appeared out of nowhere.

Kibera slum, Nairobi, Kenya,
Top view over Kibera, Nairobi

I was curious to see it the moment I read that there were walking tours organized there. Tours for white people in clean clothes to see the black in extreme poverty. As if we all don’t have our poors in our own cities in every single country on this earth. But as a friend who came back from Mumbai once said, their poverty is more of a poverty then ours. 

Kibera, one of the largest slums in the world and the largest in Africa is home to, some say 1M, others 1.4M, Josea said almost 2M  Actually, a look from the above tells the truth: only God can know. 

Kibera slum, Nairobi, Kenya
Street in Kibera, Nairobi, Kenya

A fact is that 60% of Kenya’s capital, Nairobi, 4.4 million people, live in low income settlements, meaning slums. They occupy occupying 6% of the land. So 60% on 6%. There’s no need of Communist ideology to see this gap is too deep and too dark. And so was the life in Kibera the day I was there and all the others that followed. Poverty can’t be described and I won’t even dare to try it. It can be seen but will continue to be never understood by those who were offered more simply by birth. Because one with a full belly will never understood the one who’s starving. 

I left ashamed towards the people in Kibera we drove by that day. Ashamed because it’s not fair. I didn’t leave the car and took no photos except thiese on the street we first entered the area. 

Kibera, Nairobi, Africa
Kibera, Nairobi

After I went quiet, as the street got more and more narrow and I saw the cobweb of streets that were only accessible by foot and that went deep into the heart of Kibera, from which I stole images of faces and little fragments of life scenes. I was just a passing view of a car with a white woman that day. But for me it was a thousand of perspective changing images. The start of a lesson offered by Africa, a place it’s impossible to come back from the same as you left.

Nairobi for tourists

The Giraffe Centre, established to protect the endangered giraffe that is found only in the grasslands of East Africa, a place where you can feed the giraffes, was just closing. As we left, a warthog was crossing the little alley to the parking lot. This was my first encounter with the African wild life and got me head over flip-flops excited. Josea was amused by my reactions. Next, he had to stop the car by the road for the second encounter: a tree filled with marabou storks. I crossed a heavy circulated road just to get closer to a gate where I could see them better. It started to look like the Africa I was dreaming about.

Giraffe Manor

My phantasy of visiting this place and see the giraffes sneaking their heads on the windows and chewing bites on the plates on the beautifully arranged table, stayed a phantasy. The place was accessible only for guests, which in perfectly understandable when you pay between 500-1000 $ for a room. Maybe some other time. As Josea started telling me about the fields of Mara packed with wild life, I instantly forgot about it. He took me after to a shop selling Maasai art. Those masks and mahogany sculptures were fantastic but all was very expensive. A great sculpture piece could cost up to 15k $. I bought my zebra bracelet made of camel bone there, for about 12$. The one I wore after in every single day of that trip.

Carnivore is the most famous restaurant in town. Opened since 1980 and included on the list of the best 50 restaurants in the world, the place is a heaven for meat eaters, with its all you can eat buffet and the huge round barbecue in the middle and a hell on earth for vegetarians. It used to be very exotic in terms of menu, in the past, until Kenia imposed a ban on game meat. 

It was packed with white tourists wearing safari outfits  and the gates kept opening and the armed guards kept checking on the jeeps bringing the guests for that night. It was nice but too Westerner for the taste of someone like me, too hungry for the Kenyan culture.

Dinner in Nairobi

Josea fulfilled my wish: we went for dinner in a local restaurant, “where he would go for good local food”. We entered a large covered terrace with white plastic tables and chairs. Nothing posh. All eyes turned to the entrance, to us. The clientele was entirely formed by locals. We stopped at the counter where a refrigerated display case was full with pieces of raw meat. I let Josea made the choice but as I saw him picking a piece of ribs with more bones then meat and not looking good at all, I started thinking that the biscuits I bought with me from home, for emergency reasons only, might be my dinner that evening. The meat was taken to the barbecue. I was so hungry… A lady came for the order and stayed for a conversation. She looked at me smiling as I was exposing all my excitement for finally being in Kenia, “to see the lions”.-

– When I see you people flying here from the other side of the world to see the lions, and I see them every day from my kitchen window! she laughed and made a move in the air with her hand while my jaw just dropped.

We talk and talk and my dinner was no where to be seen. I started reaching my eyes for it every 5 minutes. When a tall men carrying a large plate approached our table, with a big piece of meat on it that was so hot it was still frying, spreading a steam of barbecue all around, I fixed my eyes on it. He cuts it into pieces and the lady brings a few bowls with cabbage salad, tomato, pepper and onion salad and a plate with the African polenta as I named it, only their ugali is white not yellow. It didn’t look fabulous. The first bite totally changed my philosophy about food: it was the best, sweetest, juiciest, crunchiest barbecue I ever had. It absolutely confirmed all the rumours I have heard before about Africans the masters of barbecue. Those goat ribs in that evening in Nairobi were so much praised in all the stories I’ve told my gourmand friends after. We ate and talk and laughed and I knew that Carnivore couldn’t offer me that. It was the perfect start of a week long safari in Kenya.

Next: 3 days safari in Masai Mara

The Best Beaches in Europe or where to find serenity

The beach was the first place I went after 4 months of quarantine. That wide horizon, the endless sea where two shades of blue meet in the middle, far away, is the absolute definition of freedom. In normal times and even more in different times.

I’m not picky. As long as there’s a blue sea, waves, sand, seagulls and a breeze, that is my place. And my beloved Europe has so many of my places, my favourite beaches, each one for its own reasons.

I don’t make tops or charts or rankings or whatever. I make a list of some of my favourite beaches in Europe discovered and enjoyed in 11 countries.

Malta

The only place I was during one summer and went back the next one. The first place I did snorkelling and still consider it’s the best in Europe for underwater life. And the first place I started to do beach hopping: more then 3 beaches in one day.

First time I went to Ramla Bay, walked on the red soft sand and watched the waves as white lines on a cobalt blue sea, I called it my favourite beach in the world. I loved it so much I came back a year after.

Ramla Beach on Gozo island, Malta

The turquoise waters, the ideal swim from one shore to the other, the calm waters, the white sand and the schools of fish I was swimming with makes The Blue Lagoon the most exotic beach in Europe. And one of my favourite places to swim.

The Blue Lagoon, Malta

Croatia

A morning walk with medieval scent in Dubrovnik followed by a cooling swim and beach time on Banje Beach. The incredible blue of the Adriatic, where you can see your toes while swimming and the white sand many meters beneath, all framed by St John Fortress walls in Dubrovnik’s port on the right and fuchsia bougainvillea, huge aloe vera with 4 meters high flowers and palm trees on the left, made me wonder if this image truly exists.

Dubrovnik, Croatia, sea view, Banje Beach

Belgium

This place has much more to offer besides thousands o types of beer (the best in the world) and delicious chocolates. For a real cooling, head North until you meet the North Sea in Ostend. Mariakerke Beach, with orange sand and moody breeze where kids run barefoot even in winter months and where cold is not felt. And where the best mussels with fries are served in all restaurants on the long promenade.

Ostend Beach, Belgium

Italy

La bella Italia is always a good idea. You can’t go wrong anywhere you’ll head. Rapallo, Portofino, Santa Margerita Ligure, Camogli, Amalfi, Capri, Cinque Terre, Polignato a Mare in Puglia… choosing a place – that’s a hard choice. I had the best swim in Marina Picola, in Capri, with the hypnotising Med blue and tens of yachts around, the scent of pine and the tztztztz song of the cicadas.

Marina Picola, Capri, Italy

Or should I call it the fanciest, on the island where people drink champagne in the port and on all the other terraces and the restaurants with white pianos behind translucent voiles moved by the breeze gives the island a heaven feel. I was so spoilt in Capri!

For a swim with a view in Italy, I can’t possibly decide between Amalfi, Positano and Manarola, in Cinque Terre. Swim away from the shore in any of these places and admire the breathtaking views of the coast, with coloured houses, all that la grande bellezza.

Amalfi coast, Positano, Italy

France

One of my favourite countries for all the reasons in the world, France, has one of the top summer destinations in Europe. The French Riviera, like its neighbour Italian Riviera, is a must go anytime. Though I consider Saint Tropez overrated, maybe because I was there without a car, helicopter and yacht, Pampelonne Beach beach has a few things to say to beach lovers. As the absolute playground for the rich and famous from all over the world, Pampelonne Beach has been the epicentre of glam, sparkle and shine ever since the 50s. Literally, this beach is a legend that has seen many stars on two feet wandering around. C’est chic et c’est cher (chic and expensive) but it’s totally worth a swim and a beach stroll between Nikki Beach and Club 55. Sante! (Cheers)

Pampelonne Beach, St Tropez, France

From St Tropez to Cannes, passing by Cap d’Antibes, Beaulieu sur Mer, and up to Monaco there are plenty of places to enjoy some quiet time or some loud time. One I will always remember is a swim from sunset to full moon rise in Nice, by the famous Promenades des Anglais. For that and much more I will always vote for France in summer.

Netherlands

Beach lovers are of many kinds, but two categories are the main ones: those who like to just lay on the sand all day long and do nothing more exhausting then sipping a lemonade and those who, the moment they see water, their heart starts pumping harder and no matter the outside temperatures, the sea is their playground. Scheveningen, the seaside resort close to The Hague, with its long sandy beach, an esplanade, a pier, and a lighthouse, is the playground for water-sports lovers that come here in great numbers for windsurfing and kiteboarding. No matter the season, it has the beach vibe I need after some time spent inland.

The Hague beach, Scheveningen

Greece

When it comes to summer love and beach addiction, Greece is a top destination in the world. Sail there until you find its beauty, that where white houses meet the dark Mediterranean blue and where the breeze whispers legends of the Gods among bougainvillea pink flowers pouring down on white walls, where the therm instagrammable is defined and where each corner is made for a beautiful framed memory. Where my roots are coming from and where, hopefully, I can fly again for a few days until this summer ends.

Santorini, Oia, Greece

For me, Santorini is the representation of all I have ever dreamed about Greece. Not the ideal Greek island for beaches though. The Red Beach is curious but looks dangerous, with rocks ready to fall down on your head from the steep wall of rocks above. Perissa Beach on the other hand is lovely, with its black volcanic sand that gets so hot it burns your feet.

Portugal

From the sweet Porto wine and Fado music heard on narrow colourful streets in Lisbon in a hot August afternoon, to the fairytales castles up in Sintra and then down to its fabulous Algarve coast, with hidden beaches and the white houses in Albufeira, I carry Portugal in my heart forever. My favourite coast in Europe for the highest number of beaches and the most spectacular. Close to Lagos, Praia de Dona Ana is one of the most photographed but my most favourite is Praia de Camilo, with its 93 stairs down to a gorgeous beach.

Praia do Camilo, Algarve, Portugal

Close to Albufeira, one of the most picturesque beaches on Algarve coast, Praia da Marinha, with yellow sand, calm waters and with striking colourful cliff-sides and rocks raising up from the blue Atlantic waters.

The best is Praia de Benagil, a beach inside a cave accessible only by sea, with turquoise waters touching the golden sand, two entrances from the ocean and an open roof with views to the blue sky on top. This beach is spectacular and will blow your mind.

Braia de Benagil, Portugal

Portugal is the place I would go back 3 times every summer. And winter, to watch the best surfers in the world coming here to Nazare, on Praia do Norte, to ride the big waves and break the records. The biggest wave ever surfed till now happened in November 2017 in Nazare: 24,38m.

Spain

Spoiled by the sun with long summers and caressed by the waves of the Mediterranean and the Atlantic, Spain was my first summer destination abroad. On Playa del Duque in Costa Adeje, Tenerife, I was stunned by the exotic beauty of the place. Then brought back to reality by the Atlantic waves, never before seen so strong, making fun of everyone entering the waters, rolling people over the beach. I got sand deep into my soul after those whirlpools and laughter to remember a lifetime.

Tenerife, Playa de las Americas

On La Barcelonetta I felt the vibes of a beach between the sea and the city and on La Malaguetta the magic of Costa del Sol (Sun Coast).

La Malagueta Beach, Malaga, Spain

I caught the last days of summer in September, right before it leaves Europe to move to further places on the beaches of Marbella and walk the Golden Mile from Puerto Banus to Marbella, 7,6km by the sea where you can lay your towel everywhere you please.

Puerto Banus, Marbella, Cost del Sol, Spain

I got stung by a Moon jellyfish and thought I just lost a finger judging by the stubbing pain. But it didn’t stop me an hour later from trying SUP for the first time in a sea full of those purple nasty creatures.

The best shades of blue and the softest sand meet the crazy parties at night and day in Mallorca. If the beauty of its beaches won’t get you drunk, for sure the alcohol cocktails drank from plastic big buckets will. Don’t try it unless in a large group.

Marbella, Arenal

Romania

Enjoy the silence in the wild, among cormorants and pelicans, in the middle of a bird’s paradise on one of Romania’s well kept secrets, Sfantu Gheorghe (St George) beach, formed where the river Danube ends its journey through 10 countries and meets the Black Sea. A beach in a delta gives a new sweet and salty and amazing perspective.

Sfantu Gheorghe, Delta, Romania

Iceland

If July and August in Europe seem too hot and some want to escape the heat and find a cold refuge in the North, the land of fire and ice, Iceland, has the place: Diamond Beach.

Diamond Beach, Iceland

A black picture perfect line of sand decorated with small icebergs and pieces of 1,000 year old ice calved off from the Breiðamerkurjökull glacier and washed away into the Atlantic freezing waters. It looks just as phenomenal as sparkling diamonds on black velvet. Maybe not ideal for a swim, but I guarantee it’s one of the most spectacular beaches I’ve seen.

Copenhagen: Hygge & 10 little big secrets

The Friday

I smelled pot. Not like in Amsterdam but strong enough. In a few meters I saw where the smell was coming from. The street I entered was full of dealers with small stalls improvised where piles of different types of dry marijuana were waiting to make someone happy.

– Come, wanna try? It’s good stuff, come try and see. Here… said a loud voice.

I ignored the invitation. If I didn’t know I was in one of the safest capitals in Europe, I might have felt very insecure in that underground area. Was just one of the colourful sides of Copenhagen.


When there’s an avalanche forecast and terrible weather in Lofoten, Norway, good old Europe has always a treat to offer for a freezing weekend at the end of January. I got the ticket three days before the flight.

A chilly Friday morning in a city with deserted streets after the cold winter rain. The kind of welcome typical for the North that I so deeply love.

The icon, Nyhavn

With very little preparation since it was a last minute decision, I decided to see the city by going with the flow and see what happens. I took my camera and left the room from the hotel near by the Central Station. I took a cold deep breath before what was to be a whole day long walk, my favourite thing to do when I’m away. I followed the flow of people, passed by Tivoli Gardens, City Hall Square, Rådhuspladsen and found a pedestrian street that seemed nice to walk, filled with stores. I later found out it was the famous Strøget Street, one of the longest shopping streets in Europe, of 1,1km, also one of the most high-profile streets of “København”.

When a student doing a poll among those looking like tourists asked if I liked the city and why, I replied I still don’t now, it’s been 2h only. But I already felt I will.

I was quickly convinced a few meters in the front, where I smelled something delicious coming from on oven. I was hungry so I entered the place and bought a Kanelstang, a cinnamon rod. It was a bakery with an impossible name: Lagkagehuset. The next second I thought why didn’t I know this exists?! This famous, old and very traditional Danish delicious pastry, I’ve learned after, a cinnamon twist but much larger and cut in slices, is a wonder of taste with two types of filling, vanilla cream and cinnamon filling. From that moment I’ve found my obsession in Copenhagen and every day I had 2-3 slices, even bought a few pieces for home.

In King’s New Square, enjoying my street food lunch, a hotdog, (another reason why I like Northern Europe), I watched the sky getting clear and the rays of sun enhancing the colours of Nyhavn, the symbol of the city. A picture perfect view in a place where you’d wish your stroll to be a never-ending one.

Nyhavn, best of Copenhagen, Denmark

I continued by the water, in a quiet area, crossing a bridge and arriving in a place where the Nordic architecture, perfect in its minimalism, was at home. I crossed a street following the indicator for the place I was searching for. A few steps further another world has opened: old buildings, abandoned warehouses with rusty walls covered in graffiti and impressive street art murals, little streets with cosy little eateries and bars – Freetown Christiania. An autonomous anarchist district and most hippie neighbourhood in Denmark’s capital. Placed in a once abandoned military base, where in the 70’s a group of hippies broke down the barricades and declared the place as their own, completely independent of the Danish government and laws. Since then it stays like this. Nowadays 1000 people live there, by their own rules, once published at the entrance: “Dear friends, There are three rules in the green light district: have fun; don’t run—it causes panic; no photos—buying and selling hash is still illegal.”

Christiania, free town in Copenhagen

The so called Green Light District was that day ,as in most days when the police is not coming for a visit that ends in multiple arrests, covered in a cloud of pot smoke. Some were selling, some were buying, many were smoking. Everywhere. All in the open. In spite this taste of freedom, cannabis is illegal in Denmark and  consumption, possession and selling will get one in prison if caught. If…but until then, freedom gets translated here is disobedience.

Besides the dizzying clouds lifting up in the air, over the roofs, the place is also known for adopting a way of living that discourages consumerism, mass production and many other sins of our modern world. Here those are replaced with a slow living garnished with its benefits: hand crafted products, bio foods and the serenity of those 1000 living far from the madding crowds working 9 to 5 and more to pay for what they, and myself included here, don’t even need. After all, Christiania has a strong point, besides being a controversial commune.

The blue hour in Nyhavn is magical. Has so much of that charm from the old times. As the lights in each of the coloured houses are turned on, the guests occupy their tables in restaurants, voices and laughs and kitchen noises begin and the scent of delicious meals fill the air of an almost there Friday night.

Nyhavn restaurants, Copenhagen

A light cold drizzle fell over the streets, the roofs and all those people wandering the city just as I arrived back at my hotel.

Learning Hygge in Copenhagen 

Meeting new people is one of the best things that happen when traveling solo. So I got an invitation for a late drink that I accepted.

– Happy New Year!

I raised my eyes from my tom yom soup, in the Thai restaurant across my hotel where we met.

– It’s almost February, for how long are people going to continue make this wish? I said amused.

– Exactly why I said it.

It was almost midnight and I didn’t feel the next hours vanishing. I had a lovely night, with great company, conversation and beer, in a bar decorated as if for one main purpose: to explain to foreigners the principles of hygge concept. From the warm atmosphere as we entered the place, completely hidden in dark, with the only source of light from the white candles placed on black tables or by the large windows facing the street, were rare passers by were moving as shadows in the dark, to the low nice music. The minimal design inside, with simple yet smart chosen pieces, cozy pillows and candles everywhere, still maintaining a diffused light, was the perfect picture of the famous Danish way of life that took in recent years the world by storm, with books, classes and masters promising to explaining basically how to live slow and enjoy the moments of peace. Hygge is about enjoying the good things in life with dear people around, lighting a candle in a long cold winter night, have a glass of wine or movie. Candlelight is hygge, cosying up with a loved one is hygge, relax is hygge….

– What we are doing right now, this is hygge. Now you understand it.

By the end of that Friday night the drizzle stopped, the streets got empty and I have learned hot to pronounce the word HYGGE like Danish do. Somehow similar to the English word “hiccup” .

The Saturday

I took a long walk in that cold sunny day. Rød pølse (red sausage) from one of the the ubiquitous stalls selling hot dogs and kanelstang (cinnamon rod) from Lagkagehuset for my Danish breakfast.

Strøget Street was entirely packed with people, Nyhavn even more. The normal Saturday mood in any European capital, busy and madly crowded. A waiter was cleaning the tables outside the restaurant opened in the former St. Nicholas Church, just in case the sunny day will encourage anyone to eat al fresco. The oldest church in town is used now also as a gallery for a contemporary art centre. In the North, this kind of metamorphoses of churches is not rare.

I continued my stroll from Amalienborg, the home of the Danish royal family where the serious guards were the subject of tourists thousands of photos, to Kastellet, a star shaped old military fortress, with the near-by beautiful Anglican church St Alban, built in grey stone, with a high spire and gorgeous stained glass windows. I couldn’t decide which side is best, the one facing the green park, next to an old tree, or the one by the lake behind it. With its peace and green in the middle of winter, the white clouds mirroring the lake, this place is probably my favourite in Copenhagen.

St Alban's Church, Copenhagen, Denmark

Langeline Park for a little stop and then another long walk, by the sea, to Copenhagen most photographed stop: The Little Mermaid, inspired by the Danish author Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy tale about a mermaid who gives up immortality in the depths for the love of a prince on land. The rays of sun right before sunset were penetrating the heavy grey clouds and the little statue in bronze, caught in the middle of the scene, with the sea as a background, like the celebrity of the city, which indeed she is. It took me about 20 minutes to get a chance to take a single photo without having many people by the statue.

Copenhagen, Denmark, the mermaid

Known as the oldest and most beautiful street in Copenhagen, there is no wonder why  Magstræde, with its coloured old houses and cobbled pavement is the most instagrammed, photographed, shared, posted and liked. Little adorable shops like one in the basement of an old building, with baby blue wooden old windows, where a woman was creating arrangements made of dry flowers while I stoped in front that pretty window and couldn’t stop watching her, the bar with in an old library, the shining old silverware shop. I went up and down the street a few times until blue hour covered again the city.

Snaregade and Magstræde street

I waited 30 minutes for a bubble tea inside Tase of Taiwan just because I got convinced by the line in front. I got taro milk tea just because it was purple. And just because I wanted to try something new, I discovered my next crush. I fell in love with the taste of taro.

Tivoli, the 176 years old amusement park, right in the middle of the city, was closed for guests in those days. To see it just a little bit I entered through a restaurant, then access the terrace outside, facing the park. With cold hands in a freezing windy evening, I sipped my taro ice bubble tea in the most dreamy winter wonderland….of fake snow. The park was being painted in white for Winter in Tivoli, an event meant to bring the white winter in a city that so far that winter have seen no snow.

– In my first winter here, 8 years ago, it was snow starting November and lasted a few months. In recent years…global worming…and now, this year, no snow at all.

Was the answer to my silly question: does it snow in Copenhagen. Sure it does.

I met my good old friend from Nepal in a cozy 18th-century basement venue with ceiling beams: Puk restaurant. A place well known for the delicious traditional food it serves. We had the famous Smørrebrød, open-faced sandwich with rye bread topped with all kind of toppings, pickled herring, wild salmon, flæskesteg – Danish pork roast, Leverpostej – Danish liver pate, frikadeller – Danish meatballs and so many dishes in small portions so we can taste more. In the end, I felt like a balloon. but I knew the memories of this dinner will make me crave for it many times later.

We said fair well when the night was turning to morning, after 2 more bars and 2 more beers with long and pleasant conversations about Denmark, his life as a Nepalese in Copenhagen, about Nepal wonders and caste traditions and our more then 10 years friendship. I renewed my promise to visit his country. At that time we draw a plan for next year.

Nothing did I know in that weekend at the end of January 2020, with crowded streets, Saturday night out, dining in restaurants and so many travels on the list for the year that has just begun. That reality seemed forever. Copenhagen was wonderful in all means, was like a deep breath before a long dive. How much I now miss what I never thought I will one day: flying

Next: my favourite beaches in Europe.

Istanbul: the city I once fell in love with

7 years ago in December I found a cheap ticket to a new destination, a city I haven’t seen yet. I went with a friend and I had one of the best weekends in my life. This is how and why I fell in love with Istanbul, the city on two continents. The surprise city that got me from having no expectations to being thrilled, drunk and ultimately in love. With its cobbled narrow streets on a rainy day, its tasty food, its mosques and sound of prayers, the colours of the Grand Bazar, its nightlife and, finally…. one of its inhabitant. What else could I have asked from a city?!


15h in Istanbul

Any return to a city I love is pure joy and Istanbul is on top of that list, even for a 3rd visit. So a 15h layover was an opportunity I couldn’t miss even-though I had to pay the price of a sleepless night. After all, layovers are nothing but free visit and a chance to see more of the world.

At 7:30am Taksim Square was sleeping. The restaurants on the little streets around were all closed. And I was hungry and needed wifi and a place to leave my luggage for 10h. Anywhere this would be a challenge but not in Turkey, a country were hospitality is the way of living. One shy question to a waiter arranging the chairs in a restaurant and the door opened for me and soon the food was served and the wifi turned on. I left a big tip and multiple thank you.

Now getting rid of my luggage for the next hours. The only options I found online were either too far or closed. I got the idea to ask for information a person that could actually offer the solution, a guy in a travel agency. He got the idea and came with the suggestion to store my suitcase for 10$. Problem solved. I was now free as a seagull to wander the city until evening and discover new places or see again my already favourite ones. Some call it most instagrammable spots, I call them simply my beautiful places.

The Old Tram

In Taxim Square there was something I missed on my previous two visits in the city: Nostalgic İstiklal Caddesi Tram, shortly the Old Tram, that brings the mood of the 19th century straingt to 2020. You know it’s coming when the busy street gets empty in the middle. It’s fun to watch people jumping on its back and makes great photos too. 

Sultanahmet wonders

The heart of the city and one of the places that I could visit 1000 times and more and love it every time. I took the metro from Taksim to Kabataş and then change the line straight to Sultanahmet, in front of the gorgeous Hagia Sofia.

The Blue Mosque, Istanbul, Sultanahmet

For the first time, the line to enter inside the famous Blue Mosque was this time doable so I entered inside. Usually it’s a wait of at least 1h and a discouraging line. I walked barefoot on the soft carpet covering the pavement inside the dark interior where high stained-glass windows allowed little light inside, among worshippers whispering the morning prayers. 

Ohh the perks of being a morning person, which I will never be! The early hour got me inside a place I first time missed because I didn’t know about it, the second time I confused it with another but the 3rd one was the lucky one for Basilica Cistern, used in the old times to supply water to the Great Palace of Constantinople. Now used for great photos mostly.

Basilica Cistern, Istanbul, Sultanahmet

As a bonus of the area are the colourful houses a few meters away from the entrance to Basilica Cistern, on Yerebatan street, just in case there is not enough time to go to Balat and Fener, famous for their rainbow like streets.

The Grand Bazaar

Wandering the little streets around the bazar until I find an entrance, playing this search and find game is one of my favourite activities in Istanbul and I do it every time I am in the city.

Getting lost inside it’s the next most favourite. Being one of the largest and oldest covered markets in the world, with 61 streets and more then 4.000 shops spread on an area of 30K m², the place is a labyrinth. It is huge, colourful and vivid. My favourite are the stores with hundreds of Turkish lamps. Enter inside one and feel just as dreamy as in a story from One Thousand and One Nights. Taking photos is forbidden but if you start with a conversation and ask nicely, they will allow it gladly.

The Grand Bazar, Istanbul, Turkish lamps

The afternoon found me in Eminönü, one of the oldest neighbourhoods of Istanbul which also stands as the city’s crossroads. Probably my favourite area for expressing the very essence of the entire city in one place. A live photo as seen from the Galata Bridge, with its spectacular views to its iconic landmarks: Bosphorus Bridge and the Süleymaniye Mosque, with the boats moving up and down between the docks, the crowds wandering the streets from the Spice Bazar nearby and the seagulls singing their songs over the sea, people, mosques and bridges. An always stop to my favourite baklava place in town, discovered by chance during visit no 2: Acemoglu Baklavari. It’s totally worth risking a diabetes here once you decide how many types of sweets to try (J)

Istanbul desert, Turkish sweets

I took my box of treats and devoured them while walking on Galata Bridge, among its tens of fishermen reaching their fishing poles for the catch of the day. This street show is all about life in the old Istanbul, of past, present and future, for a long as the bridge will stand there and the sea beneath it.

Galata Bridge, Istanbul, fishermen

Karaköy

Men at bar in Karakoy neighbourhood, Istanbul

Located on the other side of the harbour, this is the place for funky cafes, cocktail bars mix, hipster boutiques, old family-run shops in Ottoman-era buildings tattooed with street art and graffiti, a veritable art gallery in open air. Galata Tower watches over with a restless eye since the 13th century until nowadays.

Karakoi, old Galata, Istanbul, Turkey,

My hours in Istanbul were blown away in the air by the Bosphorus breeze. Evening came with grey clouds of the forecasted rain for that day. I left the city sinking in a silent blue hour, spreading over the mosques, the bazars, the fishermen on Galata Bridge and all the other favourite places I have there. I wished I had another glass of wine with a view at 360 Istanbul, the bar in Taksim Square. Next time.

Next: Hygge in Copenhagen

Abu Dhabi: Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque and more

My feet were burning! A hot long day of wandering got me exhausted. I touched the sea and felt it as if it was a step to heaven. Cold and calm. I entered knee deep with a Hmmm whispered to myself only. The sunset light melted the skyscrapers on Corniche Street into liquid gold, ready to ooze into the sea. It was my long expected moment. And then I heard in the back, someone was approaching:

– Excuse me, please step out of the sea. Is forbidden after 6pm. I’m sorry…the law…

“Ohh, Abu Dhabi, don’t do this to me!”…


Almost midnight

A never-ending 3h night bus ride took me from Dubai to Abu Dhabi the night before. Finding a taxi driver that spoke good English, with no Indian accent, was the first big and good difference that happened in the second Emirates city I came to see: Abu Dhabi. He was from Uganda and my 3 Swahili words turned our conversation into a friendly one.

The second difference, a lavish one this time, was the 4 stars hotel by the sea in central Abu Dhabi I afforded. In Dubai that would have been a fantasy. Thanks to the late room service and the Indonesian restaurant downstairs I had chicken satay with peanut sauce and nasi goreng, Indonesian fried rice. What a dinner at 2am!

12pm

I overslept, damn it! Or my phone didn’t rang… Or maybe I ate too much to late…

I took a look at the hotel pool and fancy interiors and left. I lost more then an hour looking for an exchange office. After the posh Dubai, Abu Dhabi was just another city: large empty boulevards, a few fast food restaurants, shops with ugly dirty windows and an unbearable heat.

After sweeting 2l I finally jumped in a taxi and drove to the very reason of my visit there: Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque, ranked by travellers in the last 2 years as the world’s second favourite landmark, according to TripAdvisor, after Angkor Wat in Cambodia. (about that one soon). A place I found about from Instagram….

After a 30min drive the white minarets of the Grand Mosque started to be visible and soon was clear why it is called Grand, cause it’s huge!

No entrance fee, all man and women were split in groups to the changing rooms. I wanted a burgundy abayas, a robe, those looked prettier, but I got a light brown one instead. Only two colours available to rent, for free as well. The garment had a hood so you can cover your head, which is mandatory inside. The rule is simple: no visible ankles or head. If anyone wants to wear her own clothes, no problem, as long as that rule is applied.

I then joined the row of hundreds of people going in, passing by the other hundreds getting out. When I stepped out into the light and all became suddenly bright white around, I know I have arrived to another beautiful place I so much wanted to see: Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque was sublime!

Abu Dhabi, Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque

The strong sun shining right above and the perfect blue sky made the whole place look like an Arabian Nights white palace. The details were gorgeous.

Abu Dhabi, Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque

The interior yard was surrounded by a no crossing tape so that no one could pass over the limit, on the mosaic forming large flowers spreading all over the white yard. There were special spots where photos could be taken, so photographers, instagrammers, likes addicts and others have all the conditions they needed for the perfect shot and the best memory.

Well that for a change was a struggle to me: I was alone. And I only wanted one nice photo of myself with the mosque large yard in the back. If possible no minaret getting straight out of my head. Simple? Nop! It took me an hour to get it and 7 people who tried. In vain. I got either an ID type photo, either one without my feet, one without my forehead, of course the one where a minaret coming straight out of my head, a few with my eyes closed and many on the move… I felt discouraged after all the options I could think of for how to ruin a photo ran out. I thank everyone for their (usually) one photo taken. The 3pm free tour was lost. I stood in a corner and admire the place. It was too beautiful to care about a photo. The photo opportunity spot I was sitting got empty, when a Japanese couple came. He had a camera. I thought I should ask him nicely for a photo, like I did previously with other 3 people carrying good cameras…. He accepted smiling. That’s a good start, some people look interrupted… I found my place. He made a two steps more in the back. Hmm…another good sign, not a close up photo this time, huh! He gave me back my camera and they leave before I could check the result. I never do this on the spot, my reactions can hurt feelings.

I catch them up in a few minutes, among the crowds.

– You take great photos, thank you so much. I love it.

– Yes he does indeed, isn’t it, his wife confirmed smiling.

Abu Dhabi, Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque

He was one of those rare begins born with a natural gift for framing a photo. We changed a few words and they told me about another free tour starting in 30 minutes and what they saw during the previous one where they can enter inside the mosque.

It was getting late and after a wandered around a little bit more, I decided to follow the crowds and see the interior of the mosque without a tour inside.

Abu Dhabi, Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque

The interior was just as dreamy as the white yard, with the biggest chandeliers I ever saw.  After all, 545M $ for 22K square meters, about 4 football fields, do look fabulous, inside and outside!

Marathon walk on Corniche St

It looked like this beautiful! I almost destroyed my Havaiannas flip-flops rushing on the endless boardwalk, from Al Ain Palace all the way up to Corniche Beach, 5,2km in less then 30min. Passing by passers by, runners, playing kids, The Lake Park, and then Abu Dhabi Beach.

Sunset on Corniche street, Abu Dhabi

When my feet were hurting me close to an unbearable level, I arrived.  I crossed the beach, threw by flip flops on the sand and stop when I reached the see. What a feeling! It was too cold for a swim and too empty but perfect to cool away a hot long day. The beach at sunset looked fantastic, surrounded by glass skyscrapers on one side and the silver sea on the other, quiet like a hot day in the desert. I was happy there, all I had was all I needed. I didn’t even noticed the guardian:

– Excuse me, please step out of the sea. Is forbidden after 6pm. I’m sorry…the law…

So I found out in Abu Dhabi you can’t swim at sunset. That’s why there was no one in the water. The sea was cold anyway. I sit on the sand and admire the place and enjoy my peace and excitement: I finally was in Abu Dhabi.

Abu Dhabi, Corniche Beach

I left the beach when was already dark. I took a taxi and asked him for a good restaurant with local food. I almost wanted to kiss him 10 minutes later when I saw in front of my eyes 3 big letters: GAD. My favourite place to eat in Hurghada, Egypt was in Abu Dhabi too. I ate until I couldn’t breath any more and talked about Egypt with the waiter there.

I walked on Sheyk Zayed Bin Sultan Street that evening, happy I added a new country to by beautiful collection and more new beautiful places. That evening of January, with 28C temperatures, the streets were filled with people, the restaurants, the terraces, the bars, the coffee shops… The heart of the city was beating. The big world was there and I was part of it, me and my wanderlust, ready for my next flight. How I will miss that feeling of perfect freedom later this year.

PS: lesson learned – always check the check in conditions when I book a room inside the airport. I didn’t that time and it cost me tones of stress, 100 euro lost for another room, outside the airport and almost my connection flight for back home.

Next: one day in Istanbul

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dubai – the desert and the city (Day 3)

An invisible sun lit up the horizon. Earth and Sky, soon that everything will be melted together in one shade of fire I adore, cut in halves by a straight line ready to explode: the far horizon. A sparkle slipped out behind the dark mountain silhouette, like a promise for more. I left the jeep and the cold air gave me goosebumps as my feet sank deep into the freezing sand. It didn’t matter. It was time for a rising sun. Time to welcome a new day….


5am

The window in my room was still dark. I was afraid to count how little time I’ve slept. Maybe 2 h and a yawn. Dubai was becoming the newest city to keep me awake, I thought, while making efforts to accommodate my sight and get dressed. Fast! 15min later I was out in the hotel lobby, where my friend, the Indian who’s shift was always during the night, every night, 365 nights a year, welcomed me with the same kind and joyful smile.

– Ohh…you can’t sleep?…

– I could’ve very well slept, but I have a sunrise to catch in the desert! I won’t leave Dubai without it! I answered him in a hurry, closing the big entrance door behind me.

There I was 30 min later, with three other Indians: the driver and another couple we picked up from the opposite side of the city, driving to catch the sunrise on the red dunes, leaving the city behind, still sleeping and still quiet. I thought then of another fact about Dubai: there are more Indians there then Arabs. It surely looked so from where I stayed. On the road I listened to those three companions talking about their India and the region there they all called home.

We stopped in a gas station after a while of running on a straight and empty road crossing the desert. Surprise for the fool of me: it was freezing outside! Damn it! Of course it was, it was in the desert! If only I haven’t had forgotten that slight detail…. With all the glam and spam of Dubai it seemed I lost my head completely. With nothing to do or buy, I got some candies from the store to sweeten my cold dark morning. At least it worked for that pain in the bum flu, a Christmas Eve present, that had followed me all the way to Dubai and was still bothering me with an awkward cough. I was struggling to keep it under some control and avoid weird looks by pumping sugar in my blood while constantly eating candies until my tongue hurt.

the wait….

From all the waitings in my life, there’s one I love most: the wait for the sun to rise. Living on the bottom of a valley surrounded by mountains and high hills, where the sun rose bright and set even brighter, I was a kid that grew up without sunsets and sunrises. The once in a year occasions in summer when my family and I drove for 2 days to see the sea , set the ground for my eternal admiration for the sun in its first and last moments every day. It turned me into a sunset & sunrise chaser for life. One that fights sleepless nights, desert cold, chilly sand and more only to see that first sparkle of fire in the horizon and watch it growing until it becomes too bright to see. From the top of the large red dune, like a wave in a see of sand dunes, I forgot all but that: sunrise in the desert. Always fantastic.

Dubai, sunrise in the desert

riding the dunes

Sandboarding was not my thing. I tried it, got sand in my mouth and I was fine with it. Plus carrying the huge board all the way back on top of the dune, climbing it in a run on a moving sand was a hell of a workout at 6am. If there were no people watching probably it would have taken me the whole day. At least I didn’t felt cold anymore after. Next, please!

Our driver reduced the tire pressure, a manoeuvre meant to enable smooth movement over the dunes. And the dunes bashing started. First smoother and then faster and furious until my entire stomach was upside down. My front seat offered the best feelings of this crazy ride among waves of sand. A big like for it.

oh, not camels again….

Oh, yes! I was wandering how many times I said it was the last time…

– Did you ever do this?

– About 5 times in the last 2 years…. And I hate it, I then whispered to her, the Indian girl.

Her experience was much worse then mine, trying not to fall and break all bones. She had a zoophobia or animal phobia. Of all animals. So when my camel tried to scratch her cheek on the back of her camel, reaching her foot, this turned into a mix of hysteria and screams. It took a few long second to the rest of us, while her partner was repeating that she’s afraid of animals. Finally our driver saved the day and remove my camel away from her leg. Back home I have two good friends who are terrified of birds so this was no so uncommon.

the falcon

Falcons have eyesight eight times as sharp as humans. Peregrine falcons can dive at speeds over 300km/h. Seeing such a majestic bird imprisoned, with its eyes covered by the leather telwah, so it couldn’t fly, was heartbreaking to me. I know about speeches evoking country’s culture and history, the people of the desert traditions. But this is 2020 and entertainments from hundreds of years before can be also updated and creatures that belong to the sky will be better left where they belong: free.

We had breakfast in a Bedouin camp that looked like the scene of a long and loud party the night before. It was. Two women dancers still wearing their costumes crossed from one tent to another with sleepy faces and messed up hair. A few tourists came out blinded by the sun light and ran inside quickly. I took my plate and went outside the tent, sit down on a wet pillow and enjoyed my breakfast struggling to keep the cats away. The Indian couple joined me later, after he convinced her that the cats are harmless. It was such a nice morning in the desert and the sun was just perfectly warm.

the Old

The place was deserted. The 30+C temperatures of a hot start of January in Dubai have left the streets empty. The old limestone buildings, the narrow dirty streets in the back, the small shops and the merchants carrying huge bags had nothing in common with the city of Dubai that shone bright from just a few km away, across the river. Two worlds of the same city set apart from the very river that once gave life to a small fishermen village in these desert lands, the foundation of all that it is now.

Dubai Old Town, Deira

The Gold Souk, The Perfume Souk and The Spice Souk are now the pride of Deira, the most mainstream in the old town. Unfortunately most of the stalls were closed, but those still opened offered a clear view of the place. I politely refused all the invitations to get inside the shops filled with sparkling jewelries just because I knew I wasn’t going to buy any. Just because gold’s just not for me.

Naif Souk I found it by chance, looking for a bracelet for my collection gathered from all the countries I go. Two levels filled with shops selling everything from pashmina scarfs to colourful hijabs or cheap jewelries and frequented by locals. The only thing I found came in set with a matched ring. About 5$ each, I decided to take two. but  first.

– I promise you next year at this time they will look just the same! the merchant wearing too much Arab perfume said approaching. I did a step back only to get some air.

– That’s quite a hazardous promise at this price, don’t you think…? I like them even if they won’t last long.

– What phone you have?

And so I got the price I wanted using my good 4 years old iPhone. Never thought it can be helpful in negotiations. But in Dubai the image is everything and the phone is the financial business card.

coconut green, mango and sugar cane juice

….were the treats of my afternoon, enjoyed on a dirty street in front of a small fast food with 3 white plastic table in front. At one a large Indian family with kids, at the second an Arab old man was cleaning the dirt between its toes, leaving too much to see under his thobe.  Before seeing him I was sure that the poor of  Dubai where only Indian, Pakistani, Filipinos. I left the old Dubai live its live in Banyias Square and headed to the beach.

sunset on Kite Beach

A taxi from Mall of The Emirates took me straight to Kite Beach, when the sun was ready to hide behind Burj al Arab and soon enter the sea. I bought snacks and devoured them all on the beach, upset that I missed the chance to take a swim in Dubai and comforting myself that the water was too cold anyway. Indeed it was but I swam colder waters before.

Sunset at Kite Beach, Dubai

I walked all the boardwalk from Kite Beach to Jumeirah Beach and Burj Al Arab. Again Google Maps fooled me about the distances in Dubai that seem small online and you finally walk till you drop.

I couldn’t find a bus to get me to Dubai Marina. Instead I took a taxi and decided to get to Atlantis. The last hot spot on my to do list in Dubai. I just wanted to see the hotel up-close.

We drove from the roots al the way up to the top of The Palm. The taxi left me in the front, on the left side main entrance. What a difference compared to the old Deira I left only a couple of hours before. The beautiful architecture, like a palace from The Arabian Nights, surrounded by lush gardens with palm trees and frangipani is one of the luxury hot spots not just in Dubai but the world. And of course with many taking selfies in the front… I left The Palm and Atlantis like all mortals, by train, the one that crosses the island and I found out about only then, offering great views to all the leaves filled with villas of The Palm.

Dubai Marina, again

Dubai Marina view by night

For the third time I came to one of my favourite places in Dubai, I couldn’t leave without one last boardwalk stroll. After all, where else you get to see parked in line 3 or 5 cars that together worth more then 1M, or 2, or 3, if not here? I like the place for its mood of eternal holiday that few places manage to induce. I found wasabi peas in one market near by and finished the whole pack staring at the skyscrapers curtain of lights surrounding the Marina, thinking about the two handsome men dressed in immaculate thobs I saw before, by the beach.

And that was Dubai: recalibrating my expectations about what money can built, tracing higher limits between luxury and poverty and raising the bar so high when it comes to what entertainment a city can offer. Two sleepless nights and for long days let me discover my Dubai. From the serene desert to the noisy downtown, from the old souks to level 148 in Burj Khalifa, from Jumeirah beach to The Palm and Dubai Maria, it fascinates me.

I will come back for that missed swim in the sea.

Next: 24h in Abu Dhabi

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dubai – All that money can buy (Day 2)

In a city that offers all that money can buy, it can be difficult to decide what you want and how to spent the most precious currency that exists: time. But I knew: my first helicopter ride. I will fly above Dubai.


Morning: High in Dubai

Dubai Marina, Dubai, UAE

A breakfast with a view, Dubai Marina view. Not on a terrace, but a bridge. And not a real breakfast actually, but definitely one to remember. The day started like this, with dates milkshake and gazing at the grey curtain of skyscrapers mirroring their shapes in the silver waters where luxury white yachts slid up and down the Marina. Doing this cost me 30 minutes of my second day in Dubai.

12pm

The taxi dropped me in front of Dubai Police Academy, close to Jumeirah beach. A jeep was already for me at the gates, to drive me inside through the security zone. It looked like a highly protected area. I knew by the noise, minutes later, that we’ve reached the starting point: a white helicopter was just landing.

The preparation for the helicopter ride took about an hour, inside the centre, with a session of safety instructions and technical info, including how to get in and off the helicopter when it lands on land or water. After the theoretical part, waiting for my ride and watching other customers coming and going, I observed how the whole thing was happening. I’ve noticed there was also a second helicopter operating, a black one that landed later. That looked so cool, I instantly wished my ride will be with that one. There were 5 seats in a helicopter, so only one seat in front, near the pilot. A kind of VIP seat… No matter the colour of the helicopter, I thought, I just hoped I won’t be sitting on a middle seat…. Seeing people leaving and the expressions of thrilled they had when they were landing back was not just fun to watch, but also increasing my impatience.

Finally my turn came. Me and 3 other girls were forming the group. The white helicopter was on the helipad, waiting for the next group. We were waiting in line and I thought that one it’ll be ours… And then I heard the noise. The trees outside started moving. The black one was landing back and the white helicopter just took off. I heard someone from the security telling us to wait in line inside.

– You’re alone so you’ll be sitting in the front, he told me.

These were the words I wanted to hear after paying almost 200$ for a few minutes ride. I was so happy.

The next minute my hair was blowing all over my face as I approached the black and cool helicopter. I took my seat in the front with a smile reaching from one ear to the other, that got even bigger when I laid my eyes on the so very good looking pilot: dark haired, with a short beard, wearing a pilot uniform and a fab smile.

Dubai, helicopter ride

– Hi, welcome! And there we were, all 5, ready to fly up in the sky.

I got the headset on, receiving the last indications from the security stuff as they closed the door. I heard the noise increasing and felt the moment we took off, leaving the ground, going up and up until the cars got smaller and the highway above became a line beneath us. Seen from the sky, the distances didn’t seem so large and the map of Dubai started imprinting on my mind. The Palm and The Atlantis, Dubai Marina, then we turned right and headed towards downtown, where Burj Khalifa was guarding the city from its heart, the middle of the skyscrapers that look tinny compared to the 160 levels sharp structure. It was a clear day with great visibility for this mind-blowing desert city where this is a rare gift.

Dubai, downtown, Burj Khalifa

The views were spectacular. We were communicating through the headset and I was the one asking questions: how close can you get to the downtown and Burj Al Arab – not very unless you have a permit to land there, where was the famous Kite Beach. Then we turned back, flying along the coast line, Jumeirah beach, Kite Beach and then Burj Al Arab, half a circle around the 7th stars hotel passing a little over the legal limit of distance for helicopters that are not landing on its helipad. We saw again the huge The Palm, the man made complex of islands forming the shape of a palm tree, we saw The World, the artificial archipelago of 300 islands laid out in the Persian Golf in the shape of Earth’s continents.

Dubai, The Palm, aerial view

Two more breath takes and we were heading back, getting closer to the helipad, ready to land. I was thrilled! It was worth every scent and choosing Dubai for my first helicopter ride was a great idea for the unique landmarks.

At the end of the ride, as we step out the helicopter, a few cameras jumped in as if we got famous while up there in the air. Then I found out our memories came with a price. I took the cheapest version, 2 photos (only) for 50bucks. It wasn’t allowed to do any photo shooting around the helicopter but of course I got my selfie with the pilot up in the sky 😉 In Dubai, even memories come with a price.

3pm

Afternoon: Man made miracle  

Another taxi dropped me an hour later in front of Miracle Garden. I wandered among structures of all shapes, from a castle to a plane and cartoon characters, all made of flowers. With 28C, the garden smelled like summer, the January summer in the Golf. This place is another superlative of Dubai: the world’s largest natural flower garden, 72K square metres with over 50 million flowers and 250 million plants.

Miracle Garden, Dubai

In the middle of the desert, open for visitors between November and March, before the burning summer temperatures start turning all into dust. My battle here was a classic one for single travellers: obtaining 2-3 decently framed photos that, as an exception, will include myself. An exception because I prefer the photos of beautiful places with no people in the picture, an achievement that in most places takes a lot of patience. But the biggest challenge when traveling alone is people’s natural gift for ruining a photo. Of course, many of my friends are too in this category but at least I can ask nicely for a new try and help with indications. With strangers, that would be rude…. I can talk a whole day about these funny yet annoying fails that happened to me, like for ex. the best panoramic pic of Dubrovnik where my feet were cut off or the one with the RIP Blue Window in Gozo, Malta, (now gone into the see) where the natural monument, the window, the reason of the photo, was cut in half… Still, I never give up and eventually I get the photo I want. And so I did in Miracle Garden, though people were swarming everywhere at that hour.

Miracle Garden, Dubai

 

6pm

Evening: At the top

45 minutes of waiting for a bus that didn’t come change my plans for saving some budget using the public transport. I jumped in a taxi to get right in time in Dubai Mall, for my VIP entrance for At The Top of Burj Khalifa at 7pm. I got the ticket the day before, from an open office I saw in the mall, where people were waiting in line. I thought that must be the place. I almost had a heart attack when I heard the price: almost 100 euro. My credit card was in pain. Only long after I realised IT was a good deal, because most people go to see level 128. My crazy pricey ticket offered priority access and the chance to see Dubai from level no 148.

We were about 5 people in the line: two Russian women, beautiful and very branded, a French couple, both very tall and good looking, him looking more young. And myself, this time dressed for a helicopter ride + a drink in the highest lounge in the world, so nicely. On the other side, for normal tickets line, tens of people were waiting.  We entered through a separate door after they checked our passes, the stuff repeated the check later.  In a hall a long line of people were waiting. We passed by them and went further. It felt nice that VIP status. I very soon realised Burj Khalifa is not just a huge building of 160 floors, there are 160 levels of luxury and the most perfect finishes, the contractor save no penny when it came to materials and designs. It’s spotless from what I’ve seen this entire private property where the only access is through the mall, buying a ticket, or the main entrance if you have a reservation at one of the restaurants inside.

We took two elevators and in seconds we were at level 148. From the moment the doors opened, it is jaw dropping. The lounge is small but cosy, with scattered light, candles and orchid as decorations. The closed balcony that surrounds the place offers views that makes you feel you’re on top of the world.

At The Top, Burj Khalifa, downtown Dubai by night

 

It was getting dark and I think it was the best moment, to see as the blue hour turns into night into millions of lights from the skyscrapers beneath and the multitude of highways and boulevards. What a city, indeed! I had to admit, I was impressed. An ambition made reality but with a good dose of good taste and elegance. I admired the views and I just couldn’t get enough.

At The Top, Burj Khalifa, Dubai city lights

Level 128, crowded and closer to the earth seemed quite ordinary after I finally decided to leave level 148. I didn’t even wanna take many photos. The best part here was that the water fountain, the Dubai Fountain started the show of lights and music and seen from above it looked gorgeous.

Due to the large number of people, the place feels very touristy, compared to the laid back and spoiled mood from the previous level. A souvenir shop covers most of the place, where the price for a box of chocolate gives you ideas that it might be gold, leaving a little room for an interactive floor made of a screen with image of the city above that cracks under people’s feet as they step on it.

I felt overwhelmed enough and I wanted to leave. Hundreds were forming an endless line to the elevators. Oh God, I will sleep here tonight… I thought. But my 100 euro ticket saved me, the VIP guests had priority using another elevator, smaller and faster. Suddenly, adding this too, plus the whole experience, those 100 euro I payed for didn’t hurt any more. I’m glad that just by chance I made the best choice.

9pm

Dubai Fountain was playing the moment I got out the mall. With people filling every single place at the tables around, with waiters from the restaurants running with plates filled with dishes, with crowds gathered around Burj Khalifa lake, the music, the water jets up the sky, the night sky with the moon watching down to us. When the show of water and light stopped, the lake was completely covered with little lights, as a replica of the sky above.

11pm

The day was done, with every minute from morning till night spent so perfectly – Carpe Diem. A summer night mood was filling the city with its warm breeze. In this city of so many worlds where all that money could buy has been build, created and raised from the desert sand, I wished I had more… not money, but time.

Next: Dubai day 3 – sunrise in the desert, Old Town, Jumeirah beach

Traveling solo since 2010