Addis Abeba to Metema

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(no photos, memory card was formated)

Addis Ababa

Rattled around. Felt very alone, miserable. Tried to busy myself with little tasks, washing my sandals, mending my trousers, emailing. I wrote some gear rating in my journal then got tried of it. Printed off a sign in Amharic that read "no stone throwing," or at least I hope that's what it says. I felt empty and done with Africa, tired of being a stereotype of privilege, good only for some cash or maybe a little entertainment. I pined to ride through this beautiful continent unmolested.



I spent 6 hours waiting at the Sudanese embassy along with 600 other people. Sudan is doing well economically so Ethiopia is leaking people. Sadly, I was the single special case that the administration decided to deal with last. Not that it was easy for the Ethiopians either. Hundreds of people had to coordinate themselves. Each single fellow behind the glass with Africa grade wireless phone infrastructure would make a call to a Sudanese friend who would then talk to the officer and vouch for the Ethiopian. This embassy is famously rough. One certainly has time to get to know it. But other than the wait and the snarly door man, the staff were nice and everyone was doing the best they could.



I seemed to make a true friend with a fellow named Shimmalus. He is trained as a journalist, but, lacking freedom of the press, he earns his living writing public notices for the water utilities board. His plan is to get into a Sudanese refugee camp and wait it out until he's shipped to a better life in the "west."



I turned down a invitation to celebrate Fasica with Mr. Abebe’s family in Awasa. It would have been a great experience but spending even 3 extra days in Addis was to much.



There are things, many things I like about Addis Ababa. A few:
-cafes

-reading news papers

-bookshops (that don’t just sell elementary level school text books)

-having long discussions with locals behaving at the cafe with a book or newspaper on their laps


Finally my visa went through and I figured out where I could withdraw money (a ATM in the Sheraton hotel.) On the road again at last!



The Road

Day 1

7 hours in the saddle

1304m of ascent and 1340m of decent

Out of Addis, the road north climbed over a ridge which caused my lungs to scream. Fortunately there were no troublesome kids to ruin the nice ride through the trees out of the pollutions of Addis Abeba. On this first day out there were more friendly waves that demanding shouts. The vistas were fantastic over the pastures, tree plantations, valleys and off to the mountains. It is ideal camping territory and I would so much like to spend a few nights outdoors. Though I am certain I will regret trying. If I try to sneak off, within 30 minutes I expect there will be 50-100 people, mostly rude children, staring, shouting, begging, fingering and, as later experience will show, stealing. Asking for a place to camp seems like a bit of a stretch when folks of all stripes will come tearing out of their houses, demanding. During lunch, someone again unloaded on me about the lack of freedom and the State repression in this country. I arrived to Fiche exhausted, likely due to the last week of inactivity and constant consumption of junk food and air pollution. Fiche is an unremarkable, cleanish highway town in a fantastic setting. The pillows smell like solvent but I’m too tired to care. In these cooler climates, people don’t flock into the shade but still they wait for evening to take the day’s stroll. On the way to Fiche, I saw that the rural people live in extended family “compounds”: nice fenced and treed “villages” made up of a variety of mud and thatch buildings serving different purposes. These dwellings are usually built on the top of a ridge or hill overlooking the crops and cattle. It all seems like a fairytale portrayal of medieval Europe in a child’s picture book. Strong, handsome people carrying loads of water and wood on their backs. Donkeys loaded with hay, goats grazing and the occasional horseman. Only the tarmac with its buses and the power lines distorted the fantasy. I would’ve loved to step inside but even the thought of the ensuing circus made me cringe.



Costs:

Hotel $2

Lunch $1

3 Drafts $2

Chai 20cents



Day 2

Great riding today. Went down, down, down into the Blue Nine gorge. Some 2000m down and back up. The temperature at the top was 20 degrees C and on the bridge it was 46 degrees. I stopped to take a photo but a guy with a machine gun started yelling at me when I stopped, so I didn’t. The Japanese-built bridge must be a state secret. I didn’t expect the heat and soon my water was gone so I grabbed onto the back of a lorry and held on for as long as I could. The last half up was a long angry walk because the bastard kids could keep up.



Day 3

Short easy day of 84 km of long moderate climbs and descents with the occasional stretches of gravel. 25 degrees, part cloudy. I met a German cyclist and we agreed to meet in Debre Markos as I was going that way and he was turning back on account of a puking issue. He was going south from Cairo and he furnished me with information on Sudan and Egypt. There are sheep and goats everywhere. Strapped on top of Land Cruisers and tethered to every post. In two days, they will all get their throats cut for Fasica. Ethiopian Easter! A big deal: families reuniting, new clothes for the kids, fresh green felt blankets/cloaks for the herders, food and merriment. To me this means that I will stop eating injera with beans, potatoes, salad, tomatoes, corn, beets and other things I can’t identify, all wonderfully prepared, and start eating just goat meat as the “fast” is over. Saw some gutted tanks that had been parked forever on the side of the road, evidence of past “aid” and local conflict.



Day 4

To Kosober

Day of cycling.



Day 5

Badir Dar

Fine riding, quite flat. Badir Dar is on the shores of Lake Tana. I took a lovely walk on a footpath that followed the shore to the northeast. It passes flower and vegetable gardens and big old trees. It is so European, complete with defunct public toilettes and refreshment kiosks. Clearly it was transplanted from over there. My legs are bitching now. Ethiopians dance like they are suffering from an epileptic fit but somehow manage to remain on their feet. On the tourist map, I counted over 80 churches or monasteries in the immediate area. This is the “must see” of the area. The Orthodox church is a central component of Ethiopian society. It begs its existence from an impoverished country and gives hope in the afterlife.



Day 6

Shit day. Crossing the bridge over the blue Nile, I tried to snap a photo of the outlet from lake Tana and the surrounding parks. But a solder chased me away. A km or so further on, I climbed up to a strange and interesting monument to those that had died fighting the Derg, a socialist/military regime that seized power in the 1970 with a leader that looks like a character actor from the same era. Of course the guy with the big gun and camos sitting on a plastic lawn chair was present and accounted for. I though I should ask about taking photos this time. What could be wrong with snapping a public monument. I asked, made a camera pitcher taking gesture with my hands. The conscript didn't get it, put on a menacing face and demanded ID. I gave him the photocopy of my passport I keep in my wallet. He wanted the original. That document was buried deep in my panniers, where a light finger couldn't get it quickly. Seriously, are your public monuments state secrets too? Isn't that too ironic to bear? My Pissed off-O-Meter, which had been stuck around the 6 out of 10 level (identifiable by wringing of hands, refusing to make eye contact, never socializing and a willingness to return sticks and stones and word that hurt me with little hesitation, and greater or equal force) popped to a 8, maybe 8.5. We were in clenched fists, menacing gestures, steady eye contact and yelling. I took off before I, and consequently "things," got out of hand. Is there some plaque hanging somewhere in this country with a mission statement that reads "We undertake with up most diligence and consistency to provide the visiting tourist one hell of a time for the entire duration of their stay" that everyone is misinterpreting?



Had some huge rocks thrown at me. I encountered a British cyclist (the 5th cyclist now) and we had a great chat. During this pause, crowds of children materialized. They got really close and were fingering everything. 5 minutes or so into exchanging information on roads, climate, locals etc., Tom alerted me that one of the brats had grabbed something. I got it back but it was the last item to be nicked out of the rear pocket of my panniers. They got my glasses, water filter, water treatment iodine, sunscreen, chain oil, hat, rags, and hat. That was the last straw. I’ve stopped caring and trying. I also hit 10 on the Piss Off-O-Metre and I decline to describe the events that followed for the remainder of the day as I am not proud of my actions.



Gondar.

There is a castle in this town, like something straight out of Germany, that brings the tourists. I picked up some zinc oxide for sun block as I was suddenly out. It smears on shiny white like fresh plaster and stays that way. I confined it to my nose. I'd hate to think that it will cause people to stare. Like in Addis, I will spend just under a week waiting to enter Sudan because if I understood the embassy folk right, I am only permitted 2 weeks in Sudan. The ferry, the only open crossing to Egypt, leaves on Wednesday so the sensible thing to do would be to time my 3-day ride out of the mountains and into the sand so I would enter Sudan on a Thursday.



A side trip would be a nice way to soak up the downtime. I’ll take a 2 day round trip down to the north side of lake Tana. Anything more I can’t stomach. I’m caught between loneliness and boredom in the city or hassle and hard roads in the countryside. I took the side trip and regretted it. The best thing about Gagora is its name. A bumpy road to a town with little in it. On the way, I had one of my worst Ethiopian experiences. I found myself riding back and forth through a village looking for food and water. I don't like being in an Ethiopian village for more than 10 minutes as the crowds get oppressive. So, by my 4th or 5th unsuccessful sweep, I was surrounded by more than 100 people. The crowd grew tighter and started grabbing at me and my bike. I tried to kick some but slipped of my broken pedal and removed some skin. I snapped, screaming and chasing people down. It took a few minutes to recover and get back on my bike and give up on the water and food. I was chased out of town by 50 or so people as I was becoming more entertaining to the natives. Ride 100 meters, sit on the road and want to puke for a few minutes until they catch-up, ride a 100 meters more, repeat. They followed me for over a km. There was little water front as the town was squeezed between to ridges and the little lake view available was exploited by a gaudy government hotel. I slept in the hills and ate in someone’s house. I snuck into the castle compound and avoided the entrance fee. Not intentionally: as I couldn’t get directions to the gates, I used the wall. Once inside, I wouldn’t have resisted paying, but no one asked so I didn’t. The day before, I had stumbled onto the gates by chance at around 4:30 and chatted with the booth drone.

-when do you close?

-you! give me 50 birr!

-bitch, when do you close? (I was swearing lots in those days)

-no close, give 50 birr!

I didn't give her 50 birr.



Quite a ride down out of the highlands. The towns seemed forgotten and poor, even by Ethiopian standards. 70 km of tarmac then down, down, down over the rocks. 42 degrees out seemed like everything was too dry to burn. Then unbelievably, just as I was looking for a place to camp, the rains came. And they came fast and hard. Dirt road now a river of mud. I stood next to some construction equipment and threw my tarp over my bike. There were huts on the other side of the road but that involved Ethiopians! Yikes! So I got wetter. The rains just got harder and now it was dark so I reasoned, weighed my options and pondered. Fuck it, keep peddling and see what happens. Fuck it was the conclusion I found myself coming to a lot. Hell of a light show in those 20 hours of riding in the dark. I have never seen lightning like that before. It was like God was flickering the lightning switch, trying to break it off. I splashed into a dark town and reluctantly found myself spending the night in a cop’s house (he was dressed in a pink jogging outfit, the sweat pants cut off at upper thigh level and a Kalashnikov lazily slung over his shoulder).



50 klick to Sudan

Things hear on the road, in order of decreasing frequency

You! you! you!

Farenji! Farenji!

Give!

Where-are-you-go?

Give money!

Money! money!

Highland! (the local bottled water that I was carrying)

Give pen!

Birr! Birr! (local currency)

Welcome!

Fuck, fuck you!

I love you (once)

a solder smiled and clapped, I almost cried as it was so nice

And my favourite: "where is the rationality?!?" I only heard this once, sadly

Yet more negativity ...

The stares that on these faces take the form of a glare. There is an unwillingness to play, which is necessary for communication when there is no shared language. In Ethiopia there is a language barrier and it is often insurmountable and both parties must give up in frustration.

If a few English words are known (though communication can take place without a shared language), whether it is because of Amharic language structure or social customs, all I get are angry imperatives. What do you what! Sit! You pay! You give! Even the “hello”s have a menacing tone.

I don’t know a thing about child rearing here, I don’t care. But when children form circles, point and chant “Farenji! Farenji!” (white man) or “You! You! You!” or “Give money!” the parents smile at their antics.

There are many who can speak good English, and these are the educated, employed ones. The types that can only spare a glare for the white tourist. I attract the hoards -- the dumb masses love a spectacle and they will make one of me.
Ethiopia is top by far for public fights and urination.

God, Ethiopia.


It’s so damn interesting. The place is like a person that you really want to like, be friends with, but who constantly treats you like dirt. The whole time up until I was robbed I was thinking maybe we could work things out, start communicating, but.

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