A few years ago I took a holiday in Kenya – principally to go on a safari, but the last few days were spent at a beach resort near Mombasa. The ho...tel was right on the beach which was frequented by the usual groups of hawkers selling local crafts and, more to the point, the occasional hooker looking out for foreign tourists. One afternoon I went for a stroll and once past the hotel complex the beach gradually emptied out so that I was the only person walking on the shoreline with the local. Her shirt is tucked into some beige chinos her feet bare and out of her well worn deck shoes. She pads over and slowly leans across my body, reaching for her wine. We sit in silence for a moment and then we start to giggle. "you are taller than you look in your pictures" she says with a grin. We slowly begin to relax as we start to enjoy each others company, relieved that our online raport has translated to real life. she talks excitedly about her plans for her next voyage and where she wants. . Tumhara ofc . Main kaha.. Lat chala jaungaFir hum 15 min me waha r auto rickshaw pakad k nikle.. As I was also new to city to . Mere paas bike nahi thiAuto me gaye. Kaafi bhid thi.. To hume wait number aane tak wait karna pada and main unko support deke baitha tha. Fir number aaya n hum auto se wapas aaye..Main jaan bhuj k unke sath distance maintain karraha tha.. Taaki unhe yeh feel na ho ki.. Bimari k bahane main unka faida utha raha hu nyways hum ghar pahuch.. Raste me humne medicine b. The owner, a tiny ginger girl, always arrives just before 6:30am and wrestles with heavy security blinds. The rattle is unbelievable and probably wakes up the whole street. I feel as if watching this is just as important part of my morning, as my coffee. So anyway, the owner wrestles with the lock, but then usually flips up the metal barrier in one swift move. After she drags inside the deliveries of milk and newspapers, she disappears inside to continue her pre-opening routine. I usually watch.