The following in no particular order are some impressions of attractions around Nairobi that I visited.
Giraffe Centre
After paying admission, you are let into the browsing area. A guide gives you a handful of pellets which are to be fed to the giraffes. Each paying guest is entitled to two. You are instructed to feed one "peanut" at a time to the giraffes, who are noticeably not given the same instructions. The giraffes are eager to get their tongues around the pellets and they know you are holding. This allows you some great up close and personal interactions and photo opportunities with the giraffes. The guides are there to remind everyone that giraffes don't like being petted, and to caution you against turning your back on Salma to take a selfie. Salma is evidently temperamental these days due to her pregnancy and doesn't mind expressing her opinions by shoving unwary tourists, a fact that warning the public about seems to occupy the entire working day of one unfortunate young woman. Braver visitors than myself can take a pellet between their own lips and let a giraffe retrieve it with a "kiss". There is a roundish building with an informational display about the giraffes and the center. You can also attend a brief educational lecture here which is predictably giraffe themed. There is a deck surrounding the building which permits you to encounter the giraffes at eye level. This fun, photogenic and slightly slobbery attraction is the public face of the African Fund for Endangered Wildlife (Kenya), a nonprofit organization dedicated to education, conservation, and The captive breeding and re- population of the extremely rare Rothschild giraffe. On the grounds you can see the luxurious and stately Giraffe Manor. Giraffe Manor is famous for having the giraffes join you at the breakfast table via sticking their heads through the open windows. it is probably the most unique and opulent places to stay in Nairobi. I don't think I can even afford to look directly at it for too long.
Nairobi Museum
Perhaps it was because I visited on Valentine's Day, but the Nairobi Museum was an oddly popular date spot. Well dressed couples milled around the taxidermy animals, cultural artifacts and artworks hand in hand an taking pictures of each other. The museum features a good selection of native birds and mammals (with some slight taxonomic inaccuracies). an exhibit about bones, artifacts from various tribal cultures, contemporary Kenyan artwork, Joy Adamson's ethnographic and natural history watercolors, a hall dedicated to hominid evolution, A hall of Kenyan history, and a display on the history of money. The collection is good and interesting, but at times not displayed to its best advantage and had some minor quirks. In the hall of hominid development, there are a few representations of advanced technology to show how far we as a species have come. One of these is a large model of a spacecraft. The label proudly declares it to be a space shuttle. The only problem is that the model is clearly an Apollo series rocket. In the money exhibit, there are various items used as mediums of exchange displayed. My personal favorite was a taxidermy goat whose label read in its entirety: "Goat".
Masai Market
For a long time during this trip, I had ambivalent feelings about the Masai as a whole. They are a proud fearless nomadic culture of herders and warriors with a deep connection to the land. They are a picturesque people who emphatically do not want to be photographed. They could hardly be clearer about this point. I respect and like most of these concepts. For a while, however my entire personal experience with the Masai was to have beads brandished at me and old women looking at me as though I had personally insulted their ancestors by not buying this wooden giraffe. Fortunately I got the chance to meet some Masai in a situation where they weren't selling anything and my view of them has become broader and more nuanced.
The Masai Market is a labyrinth of souvenirs and handicrafts. The stall owners use the same tried and true hustles as people trying to bilk money from unsuspecting tourists. They pretend to be your best friend an are willing to dismantle the entire shop just to show you something you might like and that they will let you have at a loss of merely three times the value of the merchandise because they like you so much. They just want to see what money from your country looks like because they collect foreign currency, Really! They point out how cheap this thing is with the exchange rate and how easily it packs into your bags. Fortunately for me, I am protected by the fact that i genuinely don't want anything and am a wise-ass. When a sweetly smiling woman tried the "I remember you from the last time you were here" ploy, I pointed out that this was my very first time here and to the amusement of her and her peers, asked if she was a witch who could tell the future. When someone insisted that I needed a Masai spear, I told him that I couldn't possibly use it as there were no lions in my country. As peddlers of lines, the salespeople seem to appreciate when you have a good one in return and it does help to diffuse the heroic persistence. One of my friends expressed a mild interest in some shirts before we went to lunch. After we had finished eating, we found a couple of salesmen had followed us across the street and were waiting outside the restaurant with a fresh selection of shirts.
David Sheldrick Elephant Orphanage
The Elephant Orphanage is only open to the public for an hour a day, so unless you time it right, it can be a little difficult to visit. You follow the crowds into a garden area filled with birds and hyrax. The orphanage is in Nairobi National park, so there is occasional meandering warthogs and Thomson's gazelle as well. After you pay, you are led to a muddy roped off circle and stand around the perimeter. Some attendants in green jumpsuits are standing around near a bucket of over-sized bottles. One of the attendants explains that it is absolutely imperative that we remain absolutely silent and listen to every word he says so as to not spook the elephants or miss out on crucial information. This point is emphasized in a way that makes me suspect that the speaker has physically fought at least two of his colleagues for the P.A system this morning. The baby elephants will come down in two groups, he tells the assembled crowd. The first group will be the younger ones and the second half are slightly older. The assembled crowd is told that, yes you will be allowed to pet the elephants, but to stay standing so they don't sit on you or let them shove into you. During a brief synopsis of the mission and methods of the David Sheldrick Foundation in the rescue, rearing and eventual re-release of young elephants, a radio call is made and the pachyderms are released. The babies come barreling in to the makeshift corral and attach themselves to the trainer's proffered bottles making delighted gurgling noises. They gulp down the milk, which we are informed is actually human baby formula, with a gustatory zeal. After they finish breakfast, they mill about, making halfhearted attempts to browse, greeting their admirers and herdmates, or stand around adorably sucking the tips of their trunks. The narrator is now in full swing introducing each elephant by name, age location and circumstances of their rescue. The other attendants try to coax the elephants closer to the ropes where visitors can touch the rough bristly hides of the babies. The attendants will also silently take your camera and photograph you petting the elephant. Adult elephants are majestic and awe inspiring. The young are improbably captivating and adorable. Even the tiniest one easily outweighs me, yet this doesn't stop them from seeming small and cuddly. I wonder to myself whether our monologist notices that he is being completely upstaged by one baby's determined attempts to stick his trunk behind his smaller neighbor's ear. The little ones are called away and the entire process is repeated with their older siblings. We are told how we might adopt an elephant and thanked for our visit the second group is escorted away and we are free to exit through the gift shop with memories that will last a lifetime and an adhesive coating of red mud that promises to stay cake on our shoes for nearly as long.
Karen Blixen Museum
In most cities, you encounter the same names over again. These could either be the names of some prominent citizen of the metropolis, geographic features or reference to some historical event. In Nairobi, there are a surprisingly large number of things called Karen somewhat idiosyncratically. This is in honor Karen Blixen, a Danish colonist, author, would be coffee grower. She is perhaps most familiar for writing the book "Out of Africa" based on her experiences in Kenya and later turned into a film starring Meryl Streep and Robert Redford.
We are greeted at the door by a young woman who is assigned to be our tour guide. She takes us onto the grounds and seats us in plastic lawn chairs.We are regaled with the outlines of Karen's exploits, those of her husband, her lover, her brother the Karen Coffee Company. Once everyone has been brought up to speed the tour begins in earnest. We are shown around the grounds where farm equipment and significant plants are patiently pointed out and explained. Next we are led into the house itself where our guide welcomes us into each room as though it were a tiny nation. Karen's furniture possessions and various portraits are all indicated and explained in loving detail. The parts about colonial era racism and syphilis are neatly glossed over. I am not so much impressed by the rugged grandeur of the house or the implied literary romance and pastiche. What forcibly comes to mind as our escort recites the contents of Karen's paintings or shows us the menu of a meal once served in this house to Edward, Prince of Wales, is how much effort was put into keeping up appearances. The colonists, if the Blixen house is any indication, strove to hold on to every vestige of their lifestyle and culture. They may have been in a remote outpost of the frontier, but through what must have been great effort and expense, a massive grandfather clock and similar large and impractical furnishings. Everything implied about the lifestyle of this house's residents says unambiguously that while they chose to seek their fortune on African soil, they were determined to stay European at any cost. With the trademark arrogance of invaders everywhere, their intent was to reshape the land in their own image. In the end, the land conquered those who strove to master it. The empires fell leaving only small vestiges behind for tourists to wander through, leaving dried clumps of elephant orphanage soil behind in their tracks
Giraffe Centre
After paying admission, you are let into the browsing area. A guide gives you a handful of pellets which are to be fed to the giraffes. Each paying guest is entitled to two. You are instructed to feed one "peanut" at a time to the giraffes, who are noticeably not given the same instructions. The giraffes are eager to get their tongues around the pellets and they know you are holding. This allows you some great up close and personal interactions and photo opportunities with the giraffes. The guides are there to remind everyone that giraffes don't like being petted, and to caution you against turning your back on Salma to take a selfie. Salma is evidently temperamental these days due to her pregnancy and doesn't mind expressing her opinions by shoving unwary tourists, a fact that warning the public about seems to occupy the entire working day of one unfortunate young woman. Braver visitors than myself can take a pellet between their own lips and let a giraffe retrieve it with a "kiss". There is a roundish building with an informational display about the giraffes and the center. You can also attend a brief educational lecture here which is predictably giraffe themed. There is a deck surrounding the building which permits you to encounter the giraffes at eye level. This fun, photogenic and slightly slobbery attraction is the public face of the African Fund for Endangered Wildlife (Kenya), a nonprofit organization dedicated to education, conservation, and The captive breeding and re- population of the extremely rare Rothschild giraffe. On the grounds you can see the luxurious and stately Giraffe Manor. Giraffe Manor is famous for having the giraffes join you at the breakfast table via sticking their heads through the open windows. it is probably the most unique and opulent places to stay in Nairobi. I don't think I can even afford to look directly at it for too long.
Nairobi Museum
Perhaps it was because I visited on Valentine's Day, but the Nairobi Museum was an oddly popular date spot. Well dressed couples milled around the taxidermy animals, cultural artifacts and artworks hand in hand an taking pictures of each other. The museum features a good selection of native birds and mammals (with some slight taxonomic inaccuracies). an exhibit about bones, artifacts from various tribal cultures, contemporary Kenyan artwork, Joy Adamson's ethnographic and natural history watercolors, a hall dedicated to hominid evolution, A hall of Kenyan history, and a display on the history of money. The collection is good and interesting, but at times not displayed to its best advantage and had some minor quirks. In the hall of hominid development, there are a few representations of advanced technology to show how far we as a species have come. One of these is a large model of a spacecraft. The label proudly declares it to be a space shuttle. The only problem is that the model is clearly an Apollo series rocket. In the money exhibit, there are various items used as mediums of exchange displayed. My personal favorite was a taxidermy goat whose label read in its entirety: "Goat".
Masai Market
For a long time during this trip, I had ambivalent feelings about the Masai as a whole. They are a proud fearless nomadic culture of herders and warriors with a deep connection to the land. They are a picturesque people who emphatically do not want to be photographed. They could hardly be clearer about this point. I respect and like most of these concepts. For a while, however my entire personal experience with the Masai was to have beads brandished at me and old women looking at me as though I had personally insulted their ancestors by not buying this wooden giraffe. Fortunately I got the chance to meet some Masai in a situation where they weren't selling anything and my view of them has become broader and more nuanced.
The Masai Market is a labyrinth of souvenirs and handicrafts. The stall owners use the same tried and true hustles as people trying to bilk money from unsuspecting tourists. They pretend to be your best friend an are willing to dismantle the entire shop just to show you something you might like and that they will let you have at a loss of merely three times the value of the merchandise because they like you so much. They just want to see what money from your country looks like because they collect foreign currency, Really! They point out how cheap this thing is with the exchange rate and how easily it packs into your bags. Fortunately for me, I am protected by the fact that i genuinely don't want anything and am a wise-ass. When a sweetly smiling woman tried the "I remember you from the last time you were here" ploy, I pointed out that this was my very first time here and to the amusement of her and her peers, asked if she was a witch who could tell the future. When someone insisted that I needed a Masai spear, I told him that I couldn't possibly use it as there were no lions in my country. As peddlers of lines, the salespeople seem to appreciate when you have a good one in return and it does help to diffuse the heroic persistence. One of my friends expressed a mild interest in some shirts before we went to lunch. After we had finished eating, we found a couple of salesmen had followed us across the street and were waiting outside the restaurant with a fresh selection of shirts.
David Sheldrick Elephant Orphanage
The Elephant Orphanage is only open to the public for an hour a day, so unless you time it right, it can be a little difficult to visit. You follow the crowds into a garden area filled with birds and hyrax. The orphanage is in Nairobi National park, so there is occasional meandering warthogs and Thomson's gazelle as well. After you pay, you are led to a muddy roped off circle and stand around the perimeter. Some attendants in green jumpsuits are standing around near a bucket of over-sized bottles. One of the attendants explains that it is absolutely imperative that we remain absolutely silent and listen to every word he says so as to not spook the elephants or miss out on crucial information. This point is emphasized in a way that makes me suspect that the speaker has physically fought at least two of his colleagues for the P.A system this morning. The baby elephants will come down in two groups, he tells the assembled crowd. The first group will be the younger ones and the second half are slightly older. The assembled crowd is told that, yes you will be allowed to pet the elephants, but to stay standing so they don't sit on you or let them shove into you. During a brief synopsis of the mission and methods of the David Sheldrick Foundation in the rescue, rearing and eventual re-release of young elephants, a radio call is made and the pachyderms are released. The babies come barreling in to the makeshift corral and attach themselves to the trainer's proffered bottles making delighted gurgling noises. They gulp down the milk, which we are informed is actually human baby formula, with a gustatory zeal. After they finish breakfast, they mill about, making halfhearted attempts to browse, greeting their admirers and herdmates, or stand around adorably sucking the tips of their trunks. The narrator is now in full swing introducing each elephant by name, age location and circumstances of their rescue. The other attendants try to coax the elephants closer to the ropes where visitors can touch the rough bristly hides of the babies. The attendants will also silently take your camera and photograph you petting the elephant. Adult elephants are majestic and awe inspiring. The young are improbably captivating and adorable. Even the tiniest one easily outweighs me, yet this doesn't stop them from seeming small and cuddly. I wonder to myself whether our monologist notices that he is being completely upstaged by one baby's determined attempts to stick his trunk behind his smaller neighbor's ear. The little ones are called away and the entire process is repeated with their older siblings. We are told how we might adopt an elephant and thanked for our visit the second group is escorted away and we are free to exit through the gift shop with memories that will last a lifetime and an adhesive coating of red mud that promises to stay cake on our shoes for nearly as long.
Karen Blixen Museum
In most cities, you encounter the same names over again. These could either be the names of some prominent citizen of the metropolis, geographic features or reference to some historical event. In Nairobi, there are a surprisingly large number of things called Karen somewhat idiosyncratically. This is in honor Karen Blixen, a Danish colonist, author, would be coffee grower. She is perhaps most familiar for writing the book "Out of Africa" based on her experiences in Kenya and later turned into a film starring Meryl Streep and Robert Redford.
We are greeted at the door by a young woman who is assigned to be our tour guide. She takes us onto the grounds and seats us in plastic lawn chairs.We are regaled with the outlines of Karen's exploits, those of her husband, her lover, her brother the Karen Coffee Company. Once everyone has been brought up to speed the tour begins in earnest. We are shown around the grounds where farm equipment and significant plants are patiently pointed out and explained. Next we are led into the house itself where our guide welcomes us into each room as though it were a tiny nation. Karen's furniture possessions and various portraits are all indicated and explained in loving detail. The parts about colonial era racism and syphilis are neatly glossed over. I am not so much impressed by the rugged grandeur of the house or the implied literary romance and pastiche. What forcibly comes to mind as our escort recites the contents of Karen's paintings or shows us the menu of a meal once served in this house to Edward, Prince of Wales, is how much effort was put into keeping up appearances. The colonists, if the Blixen house is any indication, strove to hold on to every vestige of their lifestyle and culture. They may have been in a remote outpost of the frontier, but through what must have been great effort and expense, a massive grandfather clock and similar large and impractical furnishings. Everything implied about the lifestyle of this house's residents says unambiguously that while they chose to seek their fortune on African soil, they were determined to stay European at any cost. With the trademark arrogance of invaders everywhere, their intent was to reshape the land in their own image. In the end, the land conquered those who strove to master it. The empires fell leaving only small vestiges behind for tourists to wander through, leaving dried clumps of elephant orphanage soil behind in their tracks
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