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As expected, I was awakened at 5:30 by the howling from the mosque's loudspeakers. I still had some diarrhea, so I took another Immodium and went downstairs at 6:00. The lobby was dark and the door was locked. While I tried unsuccessfully to open the door, a man in his underwear emerged behind the desk and said he would awaken Abdullah. He came down, and we set off for the dock, taking the most direct route through Stone Town, a way I hadn't found before. The man who issues the $5 port stamps wasn't in yet, and we had to wait for him to arrive on a scooter. In the meantime, Abdullah asked for my address so he could send me a post card. He said he would like a post card from the US in return. I got the stamp and we carried the bag to the dock. The sky and water were pretty from the rising sun. Abdullah stayed until the boat arrived, and I paid him the $5 I promised.
The ferry ride took longer on the way back to Dar Es Salaam, arriving shortly before 9 AM. Mercifully, the ride was cooler in the morning. Plenty of taxis awaited our arrival, and I got a ride to the bus station, with a stop at a bank on the way to change a traveler's check. They wouldn't change it, saying they needed to see the receipt, so I went to a hotel instead. The taxi driver found me a bus to Mombasa for 7000 shillings, which he said was a good price, on a Tawfiq bus. It was a video bus, but not as fancy as the last one I rode. I paid the taxi driver 5000 shillings for his help, and boarded, finding a mother and two children (one an infant) already in the next seat. This made for a tight ride, with four people in two seats. The mother was breast-feeding her baby.
The bus departed at 10 AM. The ride was fast, but the road was sometimes bumpy. Fortunately, the woman and children departed at Tanga, where we stopped for lunch. As I walked on the street during the break, I was mobbed by taxi drivers and bus ticket salesmen. I bought a potato samosa from a street vendor, then went to a small restaurant and got two meat samosas, a sweet roll and a Fanta. I was thirsty, and still had some Tanzanian shillings to spend, so I bought a Stony Tangawizi as well, plus two big packs of cookies: cardamom cream and orange cream.
We arrived at the Kenya border, and stopped. Entering Kenya was not a simple matter: the crossing took almost two hours. First we had to get everyone through the Tanzanian exit forms and customs, and then through Kenyan immigration and customs. The Kenyan immigration official took some time with my passport, first claiming he couldn't find the visa, then that he didn't understand the January 6 issue date (I had got it in advance), and then saying that it was "too faint". I think he was trying to get me to give him a bribe to approve it, but finally he quit complaining and stamped it. Customs was friendlier. The beefy officer was in a jovial mood. He said I should have arms like Mike Tyson from carrying my big duffel bag. Another man wanted to write in his records that I was a student, but I said I was a professor. The beefy man asked some questions about what I worked on, and told me to take my bag of "professorly things" back to the bus.
The sun had set by the time we got to the ferry to Mombasa, which was a smooth, fast ride. It was very stuffy again in the bus, since Africans seem to like being hot, and have an aversion to fresh air. They rarely opened the windows. It was 7:30 and dark when we reached our first stop in Mombasa. I decided I wanted to stay somewhere nice tonight, my last night in Africa, and I had been reading my guidebooks to find the best place. When I got off the bus, a cab driver immediately latched onto me, and I asked him to take me to the Royal Court Hotel. He was an elderly Indian man who seemed to have trouble understanding me. He kept saying he knew a nice cheap hotel, and I guess he had some relation with them, but I insisted on going to Royal Court. Eventually he took me there, and I paid him $5 for the ride. I did not yet have any Kenyan money.
In fact, the Royal Court surprised me, being strikingly luxurious, with marble and carved wood in the lobby. It was far beyond any place I had stayed on the entire trip, even the White Horse Inn in Kabale. This would be a nice hotel by American standards, and I was immediately nervous to ask about the price. It turned out that the price for a single room was only $38, an incredible bargain. The room was on the fifth (top) floor, but there was an elevator. The room was beautiful and cool - it had air conditioning! I felt filthy from the hot, dusty bus ride, and quickly showered.
The hotel had two Indian restaurants, said to be among the best in Mombasa in my books. I checked the menus of both, choosing the Tawa Terrace on the roof, which featured Tandoori and stir-fried dishes, as well as a great view. I ordered a chicken stir-fry (tawa) Punjabi-style dish, and asked them to make it very spicy. I also ordered a naan and a Tusker. The waiter seemed pleased that I chose a Kenyan beer. The meal was spicy and excellent, and the naans perfectly cooked. Some tasty chutneys were served on the side. The night view of Mombasa reminded me more of a modern American city than any so far on this trip, though Dar Es Salaam was similar, perhaps. I fell asleep almost immediately after dinner, without undoing the bed covers. I awoke around midnight, packed for the trip home, and went to bed properly at 1 AM.
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