09.05.2009 - 09.05.2009
There is very little that is as frustrating being stuck somewhere sick when you are away traveling. Though you have the support and sympathy of other travelers and passers by, they are by nature transient people and not around much. You keep having to explain exactly what is wrong, and of course, you are basically stuck. And stuck somewhere not of your own choosing. Whilst I was at least in a decent hostel which was friendly and at least allowed some interaction with others (unlike the hotels and guest houses which had been the norm for the previous few weeks), it was still a hostel in the suburbs of a city I didn't know, and a fairly empty one to boot. My world is pretty much down to the hostel, hospital and taxi's between the two: my every movement is carefully calculated so that I am never far (in distance or time) from my constant current companion, the toilet. I am spending so long around certain toilets, that if I were married (those that know certain episodes from my past: Shut it) it could be used a grounds for divorce.
I like to think that I am a fairly patient person: If it takes you 3days to travel somewhere that you could fly in 3hours, you pretty much have to be. But after a week or so looking at the same walls and wishing there was paint drying that I could watch, and with Maaret briefly back and a cheery Northerner Johnny also onboard, a plan was hatched. And so it was that one Saturday morning, and after some very careful, erm, comfort-stop calculations, we went in search of Giraffe's.
Though not the cheapest, and, to be fair, a fairly limited amount of options and activities to be undertaken, I loved the giraffe park. Even more, I loved the smell of fresh air (and giraffe sh1t, but mostly air) and actually being pretty much anywhere else for the first time in a week.
I like Giraffe's.
Especially when you get to do things like this:
And whilst, sadly, I was too sick to even contemplate attempting it, of course this:
....Although Fred, as a gay giraffe, was somewhat disappointed that he didn't receive more attention than he did:
Happily covered in giraffe slime (Giraffe saliva is possibly the most gunky thing that I have come across since the bad old days of Noel Edmunds gunking people, a memory which oddly persists from TV in my much younger days) and comfort-breaked yet again, we then made a quick beeline to the Nairobi National Park Animal Sanctuary and more comfort break comfort.
The Animal sanctuary was odd. To be fair, I was increasingly in trouble by this point and so not as focused as I could have been, but for some reason I just found it mildly depressing. Yes, there were animals, and a full range of cats, including things like the Caracol ((XXXX spelling XXXX)) that I have never seen before. But it just didn't seem right. We were able to go into a Cheetah pen for a bit, but later discover that was only because the boss wasn't looking, and would we 'please show our appreciation' to the guards. There was one monkey who did a great Grinch impression, and another who had escaped and amused himself by rattling the outside of the enclosure he had escaped from – to the irritation of the remaining inmates – and taking grass from tourists. But even though it was feeding time, i think the thing that really showed how interested I was in the place was that the animals i spent most time watching, weren't even attractions:
Yup, I went to an animal sanctuary and spent as much of my time looking at Dung-beetles as anything else. Hmmmm. Still, at least I had made it out of my own miserable enclosure for a few hours. With luck,i may be allowed out on a leash again in a week's time.