In Nairobi, an American bloke recommended me staying at a hostel on Diani beach, where the cottages stand on stilts. His day job was running a backpackers in Mombasa until, just the week prior, he was kicked out by the powers that be.
In a rematch, he was now teaming up with the owner of the backpackers in Nairobi to, at least, have a local businesswoman on his side, when re-establishing his business on the coast.
The stilts were fully booked, but a nearby venue still had some lovely cottages available at not unreasonable rates.
Most of the resorts in Diani are off the beach, meaning that the peddlers jump on you like flies once you head out to the shore. And, for some reason, plenty of people have euro coins or one dollar bills they want to change for shillings.
The beach, here, is very similar to the ones around Dar, with the same bathtub-warm water. But the general feel is more like a Mediterranean tourist trap on some distant coast, complete with almost western style supermarkets and blond Europeans strolling the beach, hand in hand with their local conquests.