Barbed Wire Flowers?

Linda Lou Burton posting from Nairobi, Kenya –A free day! Strangely, even after missing all that sleep while wedged into a 16-inch space for more than 16-hours, we woke up feeling rather chipper. Maybe the excitement of finally BEING where we’d planned to be for so many months? A really, really difficult endeavor to pull off that we had, in fact, pulled off? And then, we heard the sound of a marching band! A parade? A football game? We ran to our window to see.

Our room was on the 4^th floor overlooking the front entry drive, and though we could see a bus on the street, and Liberty Insurance building across, no band appeared. I’d studied Google maps as I plotted our trip, so knew that Nairobi Serena was a short distance from the city center, backing up to Central Park, 22 acres containing a large monument to Kenya’s first president, Jomo Kenyatta (1889-1978). I knew that Kenya’s Parliament House was a mile away, and that Kenyatta’s Mausoleum was near that. Of course we’d arrived the night before at Jomo Kenyatta International Airport, and the main street going by our hotel was – you guessed it – Kenyatta Avenue.

No doubt, we were in political territory! And with the inauguration of new president William Ruto looming in three days, after a hard-fought election  that got really nasty and wound up in the hands of the Supreme Court. The OUTGOING (by a nose) president was the incumbent Uhuru Kenyatta, SON of Jomo, so as you might guess, emotions were running high! The comments we got from Douglas the night before assured us of that. We decided to head for breakfast and ask a few questions about the weekend happenings. We stopped at the concierge desk on the way – “Is there a parade near here today?” we asked. “No, they’re just rehearsing for Tuesday’s inauguration,” was the answer. Ahh.

Nairobi Serena is a 5-star hotel with 190 rooms; the State Suite, with its own lobby and dining room, goes for $5,000 per night. We were at the OTHER end of the spectrum, but nevertheless got to share the white-uniformed doorman, the eloquent lobby areas, and the dining rooms, pool, and gardens. First stop, Cafe Maghreb, for an enormous buffet breakfast. Is there any unique thing you can THINK of that you’d like for breakfast? It was there, spread out like the week’s wash over three levels – the cooking station at the top (omelet? crepes?); the main spread in the middle (meats, vegetables, fruits, juices, breads); and additional pampering on the lower level near the palm-surrounded pool. Service was elbow deep, meaning, someone always stood near, filling a glass, picking up a plate, inquiring as to our general happiness.

And then we wandered around the pool. It was a bit chilly, 60s maybe?, so no one was swimming. We admired the flowers, and listened to the sound of birds singing; it was a paradise, an Eden. We were feeling – no other words for it – spoiled rotten. Exorbitantly pampered.

We wandered through the Ethiopian-inspired bar, with its gold-trimmed upside-down umbrellas hanging from the ceiling. We perused the gift shop, with African carvings and paintings for sale. I took a picture of the leopard-on-a-pillow (my first African animal spotting, I commented). We propped our feet up and dinked with our photos.

And then it was time for lunch. Back to the Maghreb, only this time we chose a table under the palms by the pool, offering menu choices. The vegetable soup was butternut squash. Better than ambrosia! A bird was singing in the palm tree beside us. He was HAPPY. I was happy. We were surrounded by flowers.

I noticed a bottle of Tabasco Sauce on our table; picked it up to examine it; yep, there it was – McIlhenny Co Tabasco Pepper Sauce, Avery Island, LA. I motioned to our server, a young woman who had been particularly diligent in seeing to our needs. I pointed to the label on the bottle. “This tabasco sauce was made not too far from where I live,” I told her. “It has come all the way here to Africa so you can enjoy it too.” She smiled, and a conversation began; where I lived, what it was like in my country; where she lived; how far she had to drive to come to work; her family. I made a connection! I was still tickled over the idea that the tabasco sauce sitting on my lunch table in Nairobi, Kenya was also sitting in my refrigerator back in Arkansas when our bill arrived. Our servers name appeared at the top, as usual. It was “Nubia.” “Good grief Rick, look at this!” I said. “Nubia” is the name of the young woman who is house sitting and caring for Katy Cat while I am away. The world is actually pretty small, when you consider.

We wandered back to the pool, stretched out on the lounge chairs. We admired the flowers; the vines creeping over the beautiful stone walls. Rick got up to get more pictures. And then, a discovery. “I see barbed wire in here,” he said. He kept walking along the wall that separated the hotel grounds from Central Park. He took more pictures. “It is everywhere, we are surrounded by stone walls topped with beautiful flowers that cover coils of barbed wire inside.” I got up to look. Yes, it was true, the Serena grounds were a fortress; we recalled the locked gate, the guard with gun, the guard dog, all blocking our entry the night before until our identity was verified.

Our mood shifted. We spent our evening by the pool as well. The original plan was to celebrate in the fine dining room on the upper terrace; to dress up in our in our best duds and listen to the tinkling notes of the grand piano as we lived the high life. As the sky darkened and the birdsong quieted down, we chose instead to order pizza from the Pool Terrace Bar; to drink a Kenyan-brand Tusker beer instead of champagne; to get to bed early.

The real shock of barbed-wire walls would not be revealed until the next day however, when we ventured into the city.

Nairobi Serena Hotel, Kenyatta, Avenue: https://www.serenahotels.com/nairobi