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11.Aug.03 We wake up to a heart-rending wail that is so terrible, we wonder if the source could be possibly a human being. The Chief reassures us: it is ‘only' a kid from Nairobi who just found out that it's mother died three days ago. It seems the grownups take these news relatively calm. Tough life, tough Africa.
Mr. Dido hops on a passing military jeep for a meeting of the Chiefs in Moyale. Hastily we bid fare-well, since this is his rare chance for a ride.
Our journey takes us now towards Marsabid, the next bigger sized town... Jan leads the two men party as suddenly a ‘nasty metallic sound' (o-tone Christian) lets his scooter slump down. He barely avoids crashing while his thoughts already race ahead: ‘please let it just be a flat tire...' without really believing it himself. A closer inspection reveals: his Bitubo shock absorber is broken! Actually, we had expected something major like this for a while, surprised at how well our Vespas had weathered the trip so far. But right now that doesn't make us feel any better: we're in the middle of nowhere and repairing it appears impossible. No possibility of transportation by car in sight. We did bring plenty of spare parts, but such a big piece would've been too cumbersome.
This might be a good moment to ponder the often asked question: could'nt we afford anything bigger than a scooter? Why not a dirt bike? To finance this trip Jan sold his Enduro BMW 1000 GS, and Christian has a registered 2003 GasGas EC 250 sitting in Hamburg. So why Vespa? We just felt like it. Now the question is: What to do? Any kind of makeshift continuation of the trip without shock absorber is out of the question. Jan's scooter is still working, but, because of its already maxed out load, it can't handle Christian and his luggage piled on top. Certainly we wouldn't want to abandon the defect machine in the desert, yet a physical separation of the two travellers should be avoided by all means. So we sit down in the dirt and, slightly frustrated, discuss further actions. We both agree that we need to get to the capital, Nairobi. We'll have to order the new shock absorber from Germany, and as we know from our japanese friend Hiroto, receiving spare parts in Kenia is quite an ordeal. He had to wait for his new Suzuki engine more than two month. That would be a desaster for our time schedule.
But first we have to get the hell out of here. We decide to wait a few hours for a passing car. After that Jan would have to leave alone to get help. Fortunately, after only 45 min. a Toyota Landcruiser appears and stops. We explain the situation and they spontaneously offer their help, though we have our doubts looking at the overloaded vehicle. But no problem: in no time the partly unpacked Vespa is lifted up and stowed away. That, plus luggage, plus 8 (!) people plus Christian - all disappears inside the car. What would be impossible in Germany - here it's no big deal. Totally overloaded and jammed in between sacks of potatos we're of to the next bigger village named Turbi. Jan hastily receives the tool-kit and, thanks to the sporty driving of the Landcruiser, finds himself quickly alone behind. We had just enough time to agree that, if Jan doesn't show up in Turbi within four hours, Christian will put together a search party. The Cruiser darts across the dirt road, every pothole giving a sharp jolt to the spine and elsewhere. Christian doesn't really envy Jan - and yet somehow he does. The car stops in a village far from the road. The other passengers come from a hospital run by Italians and do vaccinations and small first-aid. Customs out here in the bush seem more relaxed, as an older lady rearranges her large breasts into her blouse, in front of everybody. Christian relaxes when he sees Jan passing by in the distance. Later they'll pass him again. Both vehicles average a travel speed of 30-60 km/h, even under these road conditions.
So thanks to Jan's breezy driving style he arrives at Turbi shortly after Christian: Turbi turns out to be a small village without electricity, cell phone reception or telephone. The hospital crew will go back North, so they can't help us any further. We take a closer look at Christian's Vespa - there is no other damage to be found. Different story with Jan's scooter: during that mad chase to keep up with the cruiser it took a mean hit that put a huge dent into the exhaust pipe. Inspite - or maybe thanks to our newly acquired african attitude - we pull out the cards, as we've done many hundred times by now. It always provides thrilling relaxation. The big wait for another ride has begun. Besides safety concerns, Jan cannot go on alone, since some important spare parts are on Christian's Vespa, and he might get stuck out there without them. Some villagers tell us that sooner or later a vehicle that's going south will pass by. But it might be much later... So we're really thrilled when the second car that passes within a few hours stops at the village. The drivers tell us, that they'll have to continue today to another village, but they will come back tomorrow morning to take us to the village of Isiolo, a city in the South were infrastructure begins again. We agree to meet tomorrow morning at 7am.
Meanwhile our two issues of ‘Der Spiegel' make the rounds throughout the whole village. Lacking language skills prevent the locals from anything more than looking at the pictures, but they do so with great anticipation and manyfold interpretations. Mind you: they have no money to ever buy magazines, let alone TV or Internet (which would be impossible anyway, thanks to a lack of electricity). One villager posseses a single radio, which emits scratchy music and news - the sole source of information.
While we watch a military truck - only the fourth vehicle of the day - a guy from Kenia tells us that soldiers are moving in, because two weeks ago, ethiopean bandits installed a mine along the road to ambush a truck, but instead it blew up a police car, killing one and critically injuring another policeman. So much for safety along our route...
Early evening, after endless rounds of ‘Raeuber Romme', a humungus big-rigg appears from the South. We can hardly believe it, since even regular off road vehicles have a hard time around here. It's an old MAN rigg transporting a special crane back to Ethiopea.
The boss of the enterprise, a dutch guy, and his kenian employees seem to be immune to pain. To master this trip they build their own bridges, and if that's impossible they build their own bypass road. They tell us this trip (ca.2000 km ) will cost around 25.000 Euro. The Dutchman has lived and worked for years in southern Africa; a guy for extremely tough jobs. Some transports even took them to the roadless regions of Uganda and the Congo.
A tire from the big-rigg needs repair. To Jan's surprise, as he checks out the damage, a worker pulls his head out of the huge gap in the tire. But since there's no TUV (german safety control for automobiles) inside, they patch it up quickly.
The dutch guy tells us he used to ride a Vespa 180 SS. We're even more surprised as he reports helping an italian Vespa driver in this area about 1 ½ years ago. He had to end his Africa trip after some heavy duty damage to his scooter. Could it have been Alberto Venzago (see ‘Links', then ‘Travel Literature'), or maybe that Vespa traveler who introduced his book in 2002 at the Eurovespa in Viterbo/Rome?
This evening we cook up a ‘frustration dinner' to soften the shock absorber problem through a culinary treat: the chili con carne is a birthday gift from Christian's girl friend; thanks for the custard dessert goes to a friend of Jan. Rarely did packaged food taste so good, as fellow adventure travelers will know.
Our tent sits in the front yard of a mud hut, and since Kenians are good business men, a villager asks us for a little ‘bakshish' for security and night watch services. As soon as he receives payment he promtly retires to bed. This way we get to enjoy more or less alone the almost perfect night sky.
12.Aug.03 New shock: The guys with the pick up returned as agreed, but now they don't want to take us to Isiolo since 'the car wouldn't make it'. As scooter riding Africa travelers we're slightly astonished, but are unable to change their minds. The Land-Cruiser has to return to the border town of Moyale, so they offer us to take us there at least - for 150 bucks.
After weighing our choices and listening to advice from the Africa experienced Dutchman we take the offer, which will enable us to phone and reorganize. Here, in the middle of nowhere, we can't do anything. Hastily we gather our stuff, the drivers are impatient. We're really frustrated since we just hate to go back even one yard on these shitty roads.
We barely squeeze in with Vespas, luggage and all. Unfortunately, on top of everything else, we get a guy named Abdi assigned to us as a helper, but all he does is drive us batty with his endless chatter. A few hours later we arrive in Moyale - immediately we enter the local telephone office and call Christian's brother and Jan's father to order the spare parts. Once again they both take on in examplary fashion the unpleasant job of rounding up the shock absorber and other lost or worn out spare parts. Once we find out the exorbitant costs for a UPS package from Hamburg to Nairobi, we float the idea of someone adding a little extra cash and bringing the stuff along on a passenger plane. This option offers unforseable opportunities: Food. Italian Salami, chocolate, more ready made meals, gummy bears... we start drooling uncontrollably. Already two days ago we had ‘discussed' for hours what delicassies we'd devour first upon our return to Germany. Rye rolls from ‘Butter-Lindner' and ‘Pfeifer's Liverwurst' were on top of the list... and now all this could become reality?
But first we have to organize our transport to Nairobi. Our drivers offered to take us there on an alternative desert route for US Dollar 900,00. The price is nasty, plus, after this mornings disappointment we don't know if they'll keep their word. Returning to Ethiopea is impossible, since a) we only had a one-entry visa and b) the distance back to Addis Abeba is too enormous. We are approached by a villager who takes Christian to another man with a pick-up truck. This guy ‘only' asks for US Dollar 700,00 so we go back and renegotiate with our original drivers - with the result that they too agree now to take us for little more than US Dollar 700. For those Central Europeans who are baffled by our willingness to pay - consider: the North of Kenia is a total backwater. There are no roads, almost no cars, no acceptable hotels and barely any infrastructure. No car rental, ADAC, AAA, UPS or other amenities.
At least our drivers arrange for a campsite in a friends garden. We enjoy the serenity of the place, plus the owner's son is well educated and open minded. Dhahir, as he is called, passes one of his proverbs on to us: ‘Kwenda kwingi ndio kujua mengi' - the more you explore the more you will learn. Sometimes that even rings true for us.
13.Aug.03 Next morning: the scooters stayed on the pick-up, so we'd be ready to go, but we're stuck for another two hours in the village, since the gas station is supposedly closed. We use the time by letting a somalian truck driver prohibit us from photographing his totally deformed anchient Mercedes truck. Bans on photography are really big in Africa, and so Christian has to take the picture later secretely. We bum around the village and finally come to a stop in front of a house. This is the gas station, we learn. A door opens up and plenty of plastic barrels are rolled outside. In Moyale/Kenia one only uses smuggled gas from Moyale/Ethiopea.
The price difference - in Ethiopea about 10 Eurocents for a liter, just south of the border about 60 Eurocents for a liter - explains now why the gas stations near the border are as different as described earlier. Finally they toss another six large barrels of diesel onto the truck bed with us - which doesn't exactly help the cleanliness of our clothing. Fortunately, babble mouth Abdi leaves the pick-up after a small fee is paid to him and were back on the road. As mentioned, our drivers take a detour, which adds another 200 kilometers. That's a lot, considering the poor conditions of the road and the resulting slow advance. Desert heat and sudden cold fronts alternate and our beaten bodies curse the Vespa breakdown that kept us from driving this section on our own.
A break suddenly ends and we drive on; communications between our drivers and us is poor despite relatively good English skills. Later we find out that communications between our two drivers - father and son by the way - is also faulty. In a village we spot some vehicles with Somali license plates (which supposedly don't exist, right?), and we find out that our route will take us close to the border of this country which is torn by civil war. In the desert village of Wajir a sudden communications wonder: a radio tower, for the first time in weeks our cell phones work again. Well, only for twenty minutes. But it is enough to find out from Christian's brother that most of the spare parts are organized and the shipment is nearing completion.
While we doze the night away a huge and noisy shadow passes us all of a sudden. What the hell was that? A kilometer away, at the next police road block we find the answer: a big travel bus had passed us on this small sandy road with 80-100 km/h. On the roof of this typically overloaded vehicle sits a large group of Africans, hanging on for dear life.
Right after the control post we set up camp. We use the tent, our driver sleeps on the tarp from the pick-up.
14.Aug.03 After 3 hours sleep we are woken by our drivers talking. To start with we stay in bed, as it is still dark. However when they start the Land-Cruiser, we feel obliged to get up and are forced to pack our stuff as fast as possible. We jump on the cruiser's loading area and continue our martyrdom. Hence we end up sitting cramped together in the dark and being thrown around. To be honest the mood is not the best.
However as the sun rises and we can see giraffes while we have breakfast, we cheer up enormously. In addition we cross the equator with the consequence that we now continue our journey in the southern hemisphere. At noon we reach a city called Garrissa, which in itself is not particularly interesting. However it is certainly mentionable and we probably won't forget it for a long time. This will surely surprise the attentive readers: Why? The solution is simple: CONCRETE. Finally, after 800 kilometres, the bouncing, the shaking, the hurling, the permanent dust or as the Dutchman formulated it ‘the pain in the ass' is over. At first we can't believe it; too present are still the memories of Ethiopia, where the promised concrete road was only 3 kilometres long. But with each meter our confidence grows! From the loading area of the cruiser we buy ourselves small sausages from open sales cars and Jan jumps off briefly to buy a Coke. On the way to the dealer a woman stretches her hand out, begging - and Jan shook her hand without turning a hair, in order to wish her a good day. The Kenyan looked after him, shaking her head and open mouthed. Christian finds it difficult not to start laughing, the woman seemed to be so confused.
Around 6pm we finally reach Nairobi and to welcome us there was a real monsoon rainstorm (anyone who has already visited Christian in his adopted country or lives there, will know what that means), which transforms the roads into tumultuous rivers. However it seems as if most road users do not understand the meaning of aquaplaning. So they race on uninhibited. Hence it is not much later that we see the first accident. A ‘Matutu', a small bus usually made in Japan, which would transport a maximum of 9 people in Germany. And even then it would be very uncomfortable. However here the busses hold 18 people and sometimes more, which does not prevent the drivers from pushing the vehicles to their limit.
We suffer our next shock when the drivers tell us that they do not want to bring us to the hotel today as they consider it too dangerous. Our pleas and begging does not help. We have to forget our notion of a warm shower and a good meal. However our mourning does not last for long. We have already learned that in Africa everything happens differently than expected. So we have the pleasure to get to know to further members of our drivers' family, as they put us up in their house. However we are shocked when we reach their house: it is surrounded by a wall, 4 meters high with glass fragments set in the top. But these precautionary measures appear to be appropriate, as the road directly in front of the house is completely covered with waste. The waste is rummaged and set alight by totally drugged up street kids.
We are quite surprised that our hosts live in such an area because they obviously belong to the middle class. After all they are haulage contractor with a motor pool of several vehicles. The oldest son has got a high position at a bank. The accommodation is relatively simple, but clean and tidy. We get a very small room and spend our evening with cooking, playing cards and phoning. Before we go to bed we try to clarify whether the car which stands behind our pick-up would still block our car tomorrow early in the morning. The answer: ‘That should not be a problem at all'. Inschalah.
15.Aug.03 Half asleep we realise with pleasure that the car actually leaves. One less problem. Nevertheless we stay remain lying in our sleeping bags - ‘wait and drink tea' must be an African proverb. However a look outside shows us that the driver of the Land cruiser is already there. So we peel ourselves out of the sleeping backs and pack our seven bits together. While we are packing the pick-up is started. As you can probably imagine, the smell of a cold diesel engine within a small inner courtyard is not very pleasant.
Apparently we are the only ones wondering about this. This time our rush was not necessary. The land cruiser is still standing with its engine running and smelling more than half an hour in the inner court. The reason for this we will probably never know. We try to avoid the lack of oxygen by permanently crossing the small courtyard. At some stage our driver decides to park out the cruiser, which is done within a record-making 5 minutes.
Now we try fight our way through the chaos on the roads of Nairobi, searching for a bank so that we can pay our pick-up drivers for their efforts. Unfortunately due to their rule-compliant traffic behaviour (the only ones) it is impossible to find a central parking space, which is the reason why we drive directly to Christian's hotel (www.serenahotels.com/main_nairobi.html) to manage everything else from there. After Christian has checked in he walks to Barclays Bank, a visit that will take a long time. Amongst other things it seems to be quite complicated to verify a credit card transaction in Africa - even within the same bank. In the meantime Jan waits with the drivers in the hotel car park and slowly starts to become a little impatient, as Nairobi is not the best place to walk around with 1000 US Dollars cash in your pocket. After an endless two hours Christian comes back safe and armed with Kenyan money. We unload the Vespas, take a photo of the whole crew, pay und say goodbye.
The previous day we had found out that instead of a simple parcel, we should expect a personal courier for our spare parts - Jan's sister will fly in with the parts tomorrow night.
After having a snack together in Christian's hotel Jan leaves to search for a cheaper hostel. On his way he drives into a street control point and, exceptionally, he is controlled extensively. By this we mean that his baggage is actually checked. Afterwards we find out that the Israeli Embassy is located in this street, which explains the control. In the end Jan stays at the local youth hostel, which is up to European standards and even offers twin rooms. In the evening Jan sets out once more to his travel companion to give him, or better to give the hotel cleaning service, his dirty laundry. At Christian's place a few important calls are made and good chocolate is eaten. Well fed, and feeling little queasy, Jan sets off again back to his accommodation. To avoid any risks (it is said that one shouldn't be on ‘Nairobberi' streets at night) Jan pays no attention to red traffic lights and other similar impediments.
16.Aug.03 Jan is woken in the morning by a text message from our Swedish friends, who tell us that they have arrived in Mozambique. During the day Jan picks the other traveller up from his hotel in order to update the homepage and to take care of other important things. From the hotel we call one of Christian's friends who works as a doctor specialising in tropical medicine. The important question to be answered, is how best to protect our parts-courier Julia from malaria. During this conversation we discover that we, with the medicines used up until now, are not optimally protected against this disease. Accordingly we leave for a chemist so we can obtain the best precautionary medicine for the travellers and courier. Fortunately there is enough Malarone, a recommendable drug, in store. In dismay we realise that the medicine costs 20 Euros more than in Germany, and there you pay 50 Euros per pack. Accordingly we pay 700 Euros for the 10 packets we need, our supply until the end of our journey.
Later, while we sit in Jan's hostel so we can surf on the Internet, two young ladies sit next to us, also wanting to surf. As it is quite obvious they come from Scandinavia we ask them their nationality - perhaps Swedish? They are Norwegian, called Marte and Mona, but also understand Swedish. Thanks to their help we can finally translate the Swedish website of our Ethiopian travel partners and find out what has happened to our friends during the rest of their journey.
Early evening we are picked up by our taxi driver Albert so that we can pick up Jan's sister Julia from the airport - complete with spare parts and treats. She lands on time, we go together to Christian's hotel to have dinner and hear the latest news. The conversation is very one-sided as Christian and Jan talk nineteen to the dozen about their adventures. Lots of small details were passed on, which we forgot to put on this website, or just left out. However we will almost certainly badger our friends with a slide show and these details in Hamburg...
We are slightly unhappy when we open the shock absorber, which has been bought, and discover, that it is a slightly older model that cannot be tuned. Whatever, Christian will have to live with that.
17.Aug.03 After breakfast in their hostel, Jan and Julia drive to Christian in order to fit the new shock absorber and, finally, to get the Vespa to drive again. Our tinkering, as is often the case, arouses a lot of attention. Hence we work on the hotel car park with the precise monitoring and sympathy of the bystanders. The travellers have gotten used to this scenario during their travels. Julia is amused by the situation, us crawling around the scooters and then the whole scene being commented in Swahili. Two hours later everything is repaired. Fits, sits and has leeway, as we like to say in Hamburg.
In the afternoon we drive through Nairobi on the two scooters and look at the town and the people living there. In the evening we go to the ‘Carnivore', which was recommended to us as a restaurant with local specialities. Julia, a real ethnologist, is keen to treat her palate with these localities. On the other hand Christian is initially not keen on the idea of having to eat ‘snake-food' again - but as an old-school gentleman he doesn't refuse her wish. Having arrived in ‘Carnivore' Christians opinion is changed drastically, when he sees an enormous barbecue in the middle of the restaurant covered with loads of various sorts of meat, just waiting to be eaten. Our waiter puts a small flag on the table and explains, that we will be supplied with the delectabilities of the restaurant until we lop the flag, knock over the mast. A challenge, which we take on with starry-eyed. A culinary trip through the sights of a decent safari. As if the following were there: zebras, gazelles, cattle, crocodile, buffalos, antelopes, ostriches and lambs. Even Julia, she is a vegetarian, gets her fair share. The flora of the country is on her menu. However, as delicious all these things may be, with a heavy heart or perhaps better, stomach, we had to lop the flag and let ourselves be treated by ‘Doctor Dawa', a medicine man of the special sort. His medicine is based on an illustrious mix of vodka, ice, lime and honey. Beefed up in this way we turn to the dance floor and gaze at the dancers, who are making their way through the hits of the 80s.
The crowning glory of the evening is the taxi journey back to the quarters. The driver sees no necessity to clear the completely steamed up windscreen and hence he only manages to move the car away from curbs and other obstacles at the very last minute.
18.Aug.-21.Aug.03 The previous day Jan and Julia had decided to go on a four-day safari. As Christian has already made many trips in South Africa, he decides to stay in he capitol both for relaxation purposes and in order to catch up with various jobs. He tours Nairobi and enjoys the pool life in the hotel.
Jan and Julia spend the first three days of their venture in ‘Massai Mara'. That is the Kenyan side of the Serengeti in Tanzania. The fourth day is kept free for the ‘Lake Naguru'. This is also called the Pink Lake because there are so many flamingos that if you look at the lake from a distance it shines pink.
In the Massai Mara the two of them manage to see all the animals, which can be desired. The ‘Big Five': vultures with the carrions beneath them, cheetahs with their babies, Japanese with unlimited cameras, crocodiles, apes and all sorts of animals whose names are unknown. On the first evening we were visited by the local Massai, which performed various dances for a small fee. Julia was please to be asked to dance by one of the Massai, which was an even bigger bit of luck for her older brother and his camera...
The second day takes us towards the border to Tanzania and we spend more time filled with wonderful impressions and hopefully one or more good pictures. Unfortunately on this day it is not possible to get a photo of Julia dancing with the local young men again...
The third day of our safari starts with an early excursion that starts half an hour later because our driver Peter was delayed by half-an-hour. To start with this does not surprise us, after all we are in Africa, where time has little meaning. It is only as our driver stops at places where there is really nothing to see and he drives over every stone he passes, that we take a closer look. Peter is quite obviously completely pissed and keeps falling asleep while driving, which is not advantageous when the road is worse than dreadful. That is why our group (consistent of 2 Aussies, 3 Brits and us 2 Germans) decides to prevent Peter from driving further. Fortunately the two Australians, two brothers Paul and Bryan, are approximately 2 meters tall and almost as wide, so that the arguments against Peter are accepted. Hence we parked in the middle of the National Park with no driver. Fortunately the second bus from our travel organisation comes by, which then organises a second bus so that our safari can be continued.
This small incidence obviously affected the complete time-plan, which meant that on the one hand we couldn't complete the full safari time and on the other hand we arrived at Lake Nuguru when it was already dark. For Lake Nuguru the crew changed, as our escorts had to return to Nairobi. This means that we meet a young African lady from South Africa, who has been travelling through South Africa for a while. As is often the case we start talking. Partly she had been travelling along the same route as Christian and Jan, but with public transport. With one exception: in north Kenya she had travelled with a Dutchman who was driving a heavy load from Addis Ababa to Nairobi. When Jan asked her if the driver's name happened to be James she was very surprised. The good Natalie had spend the journey with the same Dutchman who we had met after our shock absorber maleur in Turbi. Jan is delighted with a text message he gets in the evening from a college friend, Thule: ‘es hat sich ausgeSchillt in Hamburg' (=an unpopular politician named Schill is out of business). The following day Julia and Jan can confirm that Lake Nuguru has earned it is synonym name ‘Pink Lake'. The lake is full of flamingos and thousands of other birds. In the surrounding park we also manage to see all numbers of lions, buffalos, rhinos, giraffes and also a lot of animals and plants, the names of which we didn't know.
That afternoon we return to Nairobi. We finish the day relaxed in the hostel and plan to meet Christian for breakfast.
22.Aug.03 In the morning Julia and Jan go to the German Embassy to ask if there are any specially required papers for entry into Malawi for Germans. The travellers have been playing with the idea of a change in travel plans. At the governmental representative is an Englishman, who has been living in Nairobi for 30 years and who can give us the address of the general importer for Vespa in Kenya, approaches Jan. Ravenous we drive to a long awaited breakfast and decide together and as expected decide to make a visit to the scooter supplier. When we arrive at the supplier we cannot stop grinning. Mainly mowers, power aggregates, water pups and also Vespas and Apes are sold. A very interesting (and appropriate?) mixture?
Following this we give ourselves over to the typical touristy things and drive to the ‘Embasaki Village Handcraft Market' to acquire some souvenirs. This bazaar is slightly outside Nairobi and was recommended to us as the sellers there do not attempt so aggressively to sell their ware to men and women. Surprisingly we were the only visitors (according to the guidebook ‘...biggest market in town') and not all the stands were open. Bit by bit we discover that the tip was right. The dealers are friendly and let us amble through the rows of containers. We use this to choose in peace. In the end we buy quite a lot and plan every little piece of space left in Julia's rucksack, so that we can transport the stuff back to Germany. We are not only disbanded gushingly, no we have an escort with carriers to the Vespas.
Our next goal is the Kenyan National museum. This contains amongst other things a large ethnological department, where we spend a lot of time. Christian and Jan keep seeing pre-historical artefacts, which are familiar, as these have crossed their journey in the African everyday life. In the orthinologic section Julia and her brother recognise many of the birds that they saw on the safari. Only today they are so quiet...
After the ‘culture shock' it is off to the local Interconti, which has an original Swahili Buffet on Friday evenings. We are pleased by the choice and everyone finds their own special palate-charmer in the several treats.
www.Hamburg-Capetown-by-Vespa.com