Addis. AGAIN

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The Sudanese Embassy. AGAIN
I went down to the Sudanese embassy the next day too see if there was the remotest possibility of getting the visa that would allow me to continue up to Egypt. Unfortunately not, but Monday was looking good. I did speak to a couple of other travellers that were also waiting.
One had his passport open and was looking lovingly at a page. He told me that he had been waiting 6 weeks and only got it by speaking to the ambassador, who issued one personally. He slowly reached out to caress the light blue sticker with the tips of his fingers barely able to believe he had it. There was a Japanese tourist who had spent the better part of 18 months travelling from Japan through China into Europe and then down through West Africa, round the horn and was also trying to get up to Cairo. All of this was over land, and his command of English was not that impressive. He came out of the administrators’ office and just said that he now had to catch a flight back to Japan. He couldn’t afford to take a flight from Addis to Cairo and then home and he had almost run out of time.

Then it was my turn to go and see the administrator. “Come back on Monday, Maybe it will be ready then” was the answer.

The rest of the day was spent just killing time and apart from becoming frustrated with the Hotel Wutma staff (they say yes just to be polite and then when you start doing something it becomes NO!) They were also charging me for drinks that I never had e.g. a beer! On Saturday the decision to move to another hotel around the corner was taken. The room was much nicer (it had a balcony overlooking the car park). It was also much cheaper. It still wasn’t a normal backpackers, but then there were none of those in Addis.
I also bumped into James a teacher from England that taught in an international school in Zambia that I had met during my first time in Addis. We caught up on his journey into the south.
Friday afternoon was the cinema. The Last Samurai was a welcome relief from Ethiopian television or football. Saturday saw a return to the cinema too see Flight Of The Phoenix.
Natalie and Renee had also had enough of Ethiopia and told me with great delight that they had managed to rearrange their ticket back to Nairobi to Sunday rather than having to spend another week in Ethiopia (Well the words were a little less polite than that but you get the message). They left Sunday morning and I was left killing time and for the first time since before Kilimanjaro on my own.

Will I Get The Visa?
Monday morning arrived. Excitedly I walked down to the Sudanese embassy. I went into the administrators office and was about to ask if the visa had arrived. Before I could open my mouth I was asked for my passport. It was light blue witha silver holographic sticker on it. They stamped the edge and signed it. The passport was handed back to me with a smile and a "Enjoy your stay in the Sudan." I slowly reached out to feel the smooth paper under the tips of my fingers, gently caressed the smooth cool holographic bit and as I lefted it to my nose to smell it, and opened my eyes.

I was still in the bed in my hotel. Damn it wasn't real.

Monday morning arrived and as I walked down to the Sudanese embassy for the 50 millionth time I noticed a travel agent another traveller had mentioned. It had a reputation for cheap flights. I popped in and asked how much for a single ticket to Heathrow. KLM was US$890, BA was $920, Ethiopian was $870, I was loosing hope of getting something below the 500GBP mark (How can a return tick to SA from London cost £400 but a single over three quarters the distance of one leg be twice as much?) when the sales assistant said “Just let me check Yemen Airways... Ah this one’s much better. Its US$596.”

“How much?” was my disbelieving surprise.
“I’ll just check.” Pause with baited breath as she reconfirmed the price. “Yes it’s definitely US$596.”
“Really!"How come? Is there a low baggage allowance?”
“No the baggage allowance is 40kg, however...” She paused and looked at me. “You cannot change the flight, and it’s a special price so you will have too book very soon.”
My mind was buzzing, what do I do? Book now or later? Do I wait for the visa to come through? I told hem that I may be back later. On my way down to the Sudanese embassy I made up my mind. If the visa isn’t there come back and buy the ticket. I had had enough of waiting in Addis. It was becoming demoralising.

Take a guess what the answer was at the embassy? As I walked out I turned round and asked him to cancel my application. I was definitely going home now.
Budget no longer a consideration I decided that it was time to start taking private taxi’s every where. Ticket booked I went over to the Sheraton (the place really is like an oasis in the middle of Addis). Then back to the hotel Wutma restaurant to see if any one I vaguely recognised was around, then bed.

I Might Have Rabies!
Tuesday saw me walking around with a funny smile on my face thoroughly unconcerned by the people around me. In the evening, while waiting for dinner I was playing with a cat. The cat got a bit friendly and bit me. Damn. A potential rabies scare was not what I needed. I went to see a doctor who explained to me in a very animated fashion that cats don’t carry rabies. If had been a mad dog then I should have gone to the very expensive tourist hospital.

Scare over I arranged for a taxi.

That’s when I bumped into James again. He told me that he would be flying back to England as well due to a family reason. It turned out that he took my advice (a questionable move at the best of times) and went to the same travel agent that I went to and was on the same flight.

One More Bitter Memory
At 5 am the taxi driver and I had an argument over how much to pay. He wanted to double the charge. I told him I wouldn’t be paying any more. We settled on one third above the original charge. Unfortunately I was going to tip him the rest of my Birr (what did I need them for now?). Then there was airport security. And then there was the coffee shop in the departures area of Bole Airport.

“Why is your coffee 10 times more expensive than in the city?”
“This is an international place, so these are international prices sir.”
“Does that mean you accept credit cards?”
“No.”
“But this is an international place, so surely you must follow international practice, and accept international cards?”

It’s amazing how people become very busy when they don’t want to talk to you.

Then there was the expensive gift shop that ONLY accepted US dollars. Some of the items in that shop where over $2000, they didn’t accept cards either...

I was thoroughly p****d off with this country. Any early enthusiasm I had was now a distant memory and I was so looking forward to never having to spend any more time in this country than I had too.

The flight boarded and I showed my usual excitement at taking off.

Ethiopia was a memory.

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