No Reservations

But it is most profound in the game parks, especially in Samburu—a little-known town 360 km northeast of Nairobi. As you see lions stalk the path, flicking your jeep with their tails as they pass, the $250 (Rs 11,437) per night can actually seem worth it.

When you finally leave the safari van for the bush breakfast, you feel like the intruder, honoured to be allowed to encroach. And when a scampering monkey makes off with the butter, you take the hint and leave—as any polite guest should.

The transition from untouched wilderness—even the dead trees are left to crumble and decay—to five-star luxury is made with surreal ease. While there are bathtubs and unlimited hot water in every lodge, the lighting is dim, there are no fans or air-conditioners, never any TVs or newspapers, and often, even cellphones don’t work.

Between courses of Lobster Thermidor, veal, salmon and turkey, you even forget to phone home about the herds of zebra and families of giraffe you saw through the day.

A short drive from Samburu Lodge is the hamlet that houses the chief of the Samburu tribe—Ben Mantarian. For about $20 per head (Rs 915) he offers a tribal evening, complete with dance, a visit to the tiny ‘marketplace’ and a peek inside the huts. It’s a great time to buy handmade souvenirs. And as you leave, one of the women may even add a few more to your collection ‘‘as gifts, because you liked my bracelets’’.

After Samburu, head 200 km southwest to Lake Nakuru and the scattered pink dust of two million flamingoes. There are hot springs here, with mineral-sulphur vapours that feel better than the most exclusive spa.

On the drive there, you’ll cross the equator, where a local demonstrates how water drains in opposite directions just a few feet away—and offers a ‘diploma’ certificate to attest that you have been on the equator. This is also a great place to buy knick-knacks—everything from camel-bone necklaces to masks and handmade daggers.

And everywhere there is the staggering landscape. Under the explosion of cloud over an ink-blue sky, there are miles and miles of flat land dotted with umbrella acacias and wild gazelle. Here in the Rift Valley, there is no sign that Man has waged two World Wars, dropped atom bombs, tested nuclear weapons. In fact, in most of Kenya, there is no sign that Man exists at all.

Flamingoes crowd the shores of Lake Naivasha, 70 km southeast of Nakuru. And, if you’re living at the Naivasha Sopa Lodge, chances are you’ll look out of your verandah at night and see hippos chomping on grass.

Far more dangerous than the nocturnal rompers is staffer Tim Mogambi. He will straight-facedly offer a hippo ride and only five minutes after you excitedly yell, ‘‘Me first, me first’’, will you notice the tiny smile on his face as he quietly enjoys his joke.

A highlight of any trip to Kenya is the stay at the Mount Kenya Safari Club. With its log-cabinesque suites complete with roaring fireplaces and sunken tubs, a golf course, tennis courts and horse-riding, it’s the ultimate in luxury. The live dinner band has a repertoire of Hindi film songs and a shukriya in response to the applause.

To cheer you up on the way out, leave the lodge early so you can drive through Nairobi. With its colonial architecture alternated by monuments, parks and beautiful, modern buildings, it’s the perfect way to the ‘must meal’: Carnivore.

Carnivore serves every animal culled at the game reserves, including ostrich, camel and the favourite culinary adventure, croc. But be sure to surrender the little white flag on your table or the parade of animals will get rather overwhelming.

And finally, it’ll be time to head home. ‘‘You have a beautiful country,’’ I said to the immigration officer. ‘‘Oh, you’ll be back,’’ he smiled. Well, when you’ve left your heart in Kenya, I guess you’ve got to go back.