Matatu adventures and Korean food

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Why it is a very good idea to know where you’re going when you get on the matatu…

27 January 2007

Today was a lovely day. I awoke, did some laundry, got my clothes hung outside to dry and headed into the city centre for some postcards. Found some of those and settled in a coffee shop nearly worthy of Seattle, the Nairobi Java House. They serve all of the usual coffee and espresso drinks, a proper pot of tea (ironically what actually led me there to write), as well as the standard coffee shop pastries. What distinguishes them from their Seattle counterparts is the full menu, featuring a full range of American style breakfast fare including eggs, meat, home fries, pancakes, and French toast with sides such as guacamole and salsa. Tea at the YWCA emerges shot from a Nescafe machine. This morning I was a teensy bit exasperated with the Y as I had for the second time in twelve hours cold water for my shower and no bucket to do my laundry (the person who is in charge of the buckets doesn’t come in until Monday). When met with blank stares to requests for assistance, I decided to change my trajectory. Fortunately Rose, the very kind woman who looks after my small corner of this weird place, found a bucket for me and then I set out for adventure. From the NJH, I wrote some postcards, enjoyed an espresso milkshake and some spinach soup and then set off for more fun. I saw a market full of fun looking stuff and ventured across three boards precariously balanced across a ditch into the fray.

Well, I didn’t realize until later that I had strayed into the Masai Market. This is a bazaar full of people plying their wares. I was purposefully avoiding this place on the weekend because they specifically target tourists on Saturdays and had sought local company for a venture there on a Tuesday which is supposedly the time when the bargaining isn’t as hard and the prices are better. I immediately got adopted by a team of men who offered to “show me around”. Usually this results in my immediately heading the opposite direction, but for whatever reason I continued forth. I think I had been lulled into some kind of spinach-induced dream land or maybe because I naively thought this wasn’t the Masai Market and that I had happened upon a special event or something totally idiotic like that. Anyway, I shopped, found some great stuff, sat down with my team of guys (four total) under a tree, cracked open a Coke Light and prepared to bargain. In my mind, based on previous purchases I was thinking this stuff was worth 5000 Ksh so I was going to start at 2000. The first bargainer started off at 32000 Ksh. Now bargaining here is a theatrical art. I’ve been told to first, not take this first offer remotely seriously and as an end point cut the starting bid off in half and then in half again. I won’t bore Josh with the details, except to say that I went away with a full sack and also a white shawl whose proper name I can’t remember bought specifically to cover my burning chest and neck down only 7000 Ksh. When I went into my bag to fetch my money I only found 5500 shillings. Suprisingly the guys weren’t going for the change in price and so one of them kindly accompanied me to the ATM machine! He waited outside. ATMs are guarded 24/7.

I wandered into a few more places, managed to fend off one marriage proposal and the rest of the solicitations to “just look, looking is free, just come in my shop madam, just hold this, just try this”…Just leave me be, please! I made it back to the Y and set out to find some dinner. I thought perhaps I should just settle for the “restaurant” here to save money. And it was a sufficiently early hour that I might actually find some fare other than cabbage. Although I must say the cabbage is quite tasty. Well, I remembered some of the folks I met at the conference mentioning this Lebanese place that was outstanding. I thought I remembered them saying it was on the Ngong Road which is certainly well traveled territory now for me and within striking distance on foot. So, while it was still light outside I thought I’d venture out, see how far I could get walking and then hop a matatu the rest of the way, knowing I’d have to take a taxi home. I just really wanted a yummy meal. So, I walked up past my old place, Flora Hostel, and hopped a matatu.

I asked the matatu guy (a gentleman wearing a maroon vest who hangs out the sliding door of the matatu advertising their route, recruiting customers) to take me to Cedars, this restaurant I mentioned previously. He didn’t know it off the top of his head, but as he ushered me inside, he assured me that the driver would know. Well, the driver told me to ask the first guy. The driver’s buddy seated next to him didn’t know either. I asked the next woman who got on board, she didn’t know. So we drive to the next matatu stand. I ask the people getting on. They have no idea. 0/9 at this point. So I call the initial recommender of this restaurant. Not only am I on the wrong matatu, but I’m headed the wrong direction on the wrong road toward a completely different part of town.

Excellent.

At least I knew where I was. The kind woman sitting next to me is figuring out how I’m going to get to the restaurant which seems to perhaps be close to the church where she’s going. I’m not so sure about heading into an unknown part of town, alone, as it’s getting dark. My friend tells me he thinks there’s a Korean place off of a side street off of the road I happen to be on, next to a hospital that I and my matatu friends pass while I’m on the phone. So, I hit the glass with a shilling, the signal that I want to disembark, they pull over, I hop off. I can’t see the restaurant immediately from the road, so I strike off, walking with purpose. At the first side street, there’s actually a sign for Korean BBQ much to my delight as I’m starving now and it’s getting dark. About another 500 meters down this side street off the side street, I find the gate and walk into the most delicious smells. This compound is loaded with Koreans, which I take as a good sign. Some children swing five abreast on a swing. I see a curio shop and then six or seven white wooden huts with green roofs with tables inside. There are a few wooden tables covered with umbrellas in the grassy area between the huts. I’m delighted to eat outside, although I can’t really see where the “inside” tables might be. They are a bit confused that I’m alone, but seem to deal. Actually they doted on me.

I ordered my favorite BeBimBop, a Coke Light to quench my thirst and a Tusker with dinner. I crack open my book to wait the requisite thirty minutes or so between ordering and dinner. I hadn’t even removed my bookmark when my Coke Light arrives, with a glass and a lime. A huge assortment of kim chee follows and then not even ten minutes from my order, my meal arrives. This Be Bim Bop rivaled Aoeshe in Iowa City. Absolutely a fantastic meal. I ate with steel chop sticks. They even provided me extra chili garlic sauce! Heaven.

I had mentioned as an aside when I first arrived that I’d need a taxi to get home. When I had finished my meal, the waiter informed me now would be a good time for him to call the taxi if I’d like. He gave me some fresh pineapple and a yummy cup of black coffee, no charge. Right as I finished my coffee the taxi arrived. Now I’m home.

To my credit, I did try to find Cedars in my guidebook before I left. Good thing I didn’t find it.

Ciao.

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