RovingMind: The Seashore And The Serpents

The villa in Watamu. The hostels were closed so I had to settle for this.

It was all Covid's fault. Usually I stay in hostels in countries that I visit. That means half-a-dozen people or more cramped into a room, generally in bunk beds. Yes, it can get crowded, but you can travel inexpensively as well, six, eight or ten dollars a night, including breakfast. In India a few years ago I was paying four and that was in one of the best places I'd ever stayed!

But not so on this trip. Because of the pandemic, the Kenyan government had mandated that only two or so people could share a room. Most hostels were closed as a result. I had to adapt or before long I'd be breaking the bank.

Then along came Hendrik, the German guy who I met on the train. So that we both could save on expenses, we decided to team up for a week at the shore. Soon after we were inserting the key into the lock of a villa compound, a whole compound...in Watamu ("Waa-taa-moo"), a beach town along the Kenyan coast.

Hendrik at the door to the villa compound; he was bound for the beach, a ten-minute walk.

Seven Islands Beach, Watamu

Hendrik and others were jumping off here, but not me. Note black, volcanic-type rock.

The villa was an Airbnb rental. My first. It was owned by a wealthy Italian who used it during the winter and rented it out while he was up north. In fact, the whole neighborhood was villas owned by wealthy Italians who lived up north. It was a veritable Little Italy, replete with Italian restaurants and stores with wines from Tuscany and cases of pasta and olive oil.

Courtesy of Airbnb's website, the cost per night was $38 U.S. That's $19 apiece. I thought that I had died and gone to heaven.

Interesting how my attitude changed while staying in this semi-luxury. Hendrik and I went out to dinner one evening to the Coconut Beach Restaurant & Bar. I had forgotten my glasses and was holding the menu at arm's length, squinting over the offerings...I thought that I was ordering the Linguine Tuna. Imagine my surprise when, almost an hour later, the waiter presented me the Seafood Extravaganza.

I'll spare you the exact number, but it cost more than a night a the villa!

Normally I would've had a fit at my mistake. Instead I just shrugged it off. "Ehh," I told Hendrik, "it's only money." (We people of wealth are like that.)

Nice place to eat overlooking Watamu Bay.

The Extravaganza. It cost a lot, took forever to get, but maybe the best I ever had.

Hendrik, the German guy.

Because of problems with skin cancer, I can't take the sun much anymore. Usually I stroll the beaches early mornings or evenings and find something else to do midday. One thing else that I found there was to visit the Watamu Snake Farm. It's one of the most renowned in Africa, containing dozens of the most deadly snakes on the continent. Various other reptiles as well.

Now this may cause some of you to recoil. But remember -- I, your humble correspondent, tend to venture where others fear to go. For instance, I'm the guy who ate street food for five weeks in India a few years ago -- and survived. Didn't even get sick! So I have a history of courting danger.

Street food in India in 2019.

If you do like to see dangerous though, the Farm is the place. It houses approximately fifty different snake species; kept in wooden enclosures with glass fronts for viewing. Among them, spitting cobras, tree-dwelling Boomslangs and the dreaded Black Mambas. Also tortoises, chameleons, monitor lizards, boa constrictors, pythons and more -- a reptile-lovers paradise!

But the place is not only for show. They "milk" the most poisonous of snakes -- to help produce anti-venom to save victims from bites that can kill or maim. You can even order up some for the species in your area. It's a research and education center as well with the mission to save both people and reptiles.

I took the tour and was fascinated as the guide walked me past the displays and exhibits.

Venom extraction (photo courtesy Watamu S.F.)

A Black Mamba, a.k.a. the "Smiling Death"

Chameleon that transitions to a camo coloring. Hard to spot, eh?

Afraid of snakes? We hope to change your mind before you leave, states the Farm's website. To accomplish this, the guide explained the behaviors of the most lethal of the residents. Also how to avoid and cope with them.

Knowledge is power, as they say. And in this case it helped me be more at ease about the slimy buggers. But I can tell you, I was watching where I was stepping when I left the place!

Your humble correspondent.

At any rate, my time at the seashore was over. Hendrik tipped me to a woman who had a farm in the far west of Kenya, almost to the border with Uganda. She offered home-stays, where you live for a while with a local family. In this manner, you get out of the tourist zones and experience the life of regular folks.

I bid a reluctant good-bye to the coast and boarded a flight of JamboJet. Next stop, the far side of Kenya.