Nairobi may be nicknamed Nairobbery but hanging out in the Westlands area for a couple of days was hip, happening and certainly didn't feel dangerous. Yes, you have to be more vigilant and careful but staying in the brand-new Sankara hotel right in the heart of Westlands — well there could not have been a better location, especially with the best café in town just five minutes away.
So I headed to Art Caffe on my first afternoon in the Kenyan capital.
With 24 tables inside — a few more spilling on to the balcony — and long lights hanging from the high ceiling, Art Caffe might be rather expansive but there's something about the constant buzz in here — coupled with the use of wood and dim lighting — that lends this place a warm cosiness and makes a coffee-shop enthusiast like me want to sit there all day.
As I tried to differentiate between the South African and the Australian accents on the table to my right, I sensed a wave in my direction from the small group of Indian women sitting diagonally opposite me. Their eyes followed in two other women who entered from behind me.
My soya cappuccino arrived promptly and again, I scanned the two tables with plug points — both still occupied.
"Don't worry," said Leonard, the waiter, in his strong Kenyan accent. "I keep checking those tables. I think those ladies are about to leave soon."
I sipped my coffee as slowly as possible and waited keenly, with eyes on the table with the blonde lady, who was still typing away, constantly looking as though she would finish with that rushed edginess about her any moment.
But the table with the Indian ladies, close enough to the plug point, was freed and I snapped my laptop shut, grabbed my phones and pounced as soon as they walked past me.
Plug in socket, laptop charging and internet on, my eyes settled on the table opposite, with a couple of Kenyan girls and boys, a European boy, two Indians and a girl with tanned skin, schoolfriends, perhaps, engaged in some sort of teenage banter.
I checked my mail and started working until a man in suit and trainers with rather arresting looks joined his friend at the table beside me.
His momentary good looks would have remained just that — momentary — had I not heard that strong Irish accent floating through the crests and troughs of his voice.
Coupled with his rather manly voice, I couldn't help but inch closer to try and overhear their conversation.
The words "configuration", "selection", "testing score" did not exactly grab my attention and I returned to my mails, letting his voice join the hum of music and chatter around me.
— Check out Meera's blog (www.meera-ashish.com) for more on Nairobi.
