New flower

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As I wait for the minibus to take me to the airport, I chat with the gate boy, who has been eager to please throughout my stay. In fact, I'm fairly sure he has been stalking me, as he has always been within five yards of my door whenever I've opened it, including when I poked my nose out of my room the previous night during an impressive thunderstorm. He repeats the story he had regaled me with then - that he comes from a village 36km away with such poor access that approaching on foot is the only possibility, that he is paid B150 (~$14) per month for working 24 hours a day, and that his parents are too old to work so there is little family income. Despite these unpromising circumstances, he wants to become a doctor. He then shows me his results certificate for the Ethiopian equivalent of GCSEs (if that's even what they're called in England these days). It's a mediocrity of Cs, heading downhill to D-land and finally an F-bomb - not the stuff that doctors are made from. I look at him closely, his battered baseball cap and torn striped shirt framing a shy smile, and hope my eyes don't betray the hard future I see in store for him. The minibus arrives, and I head for a flight costing barely less than his annual salary.

A crisis of confidence has resulted in me taking my second flight in a row, a choice that's both environmentally suspect and not quite in keeping with the concept of overlanding. Lalibela to Addis Ababa is a two day bus journey and I didn't think twice before handing over my credit card to the man at the Ethiopian Airlines office. The taster I've had of bus trips here has scarred me, the hours and hours of hot, cramped conditions to travel such short distances a rebuttal of the idea that it's the journey that matters, not the destination. (Later in Addis I will meet again the backpackers I first met in Sudan - their budget has not extended to flying, and they calculate that they have spent one third of their time in Ethiopia on buses.)

At check-in, I am asked if I am aware that my surname is a book in the Old Testament. I am amused, as the last time anyone mentioned this was at secondary school. I point out that the similarity in spelling masks a larger cultural difference between an Israeli tribe and an Irish clan, but the check-in guy ignores me, and mutters "Maccabees, Maccabees" to himself as he writes out my luggage label. A large Chinese tour group causes an enormous delay getting through to the departure lounge, as none of them seem to realise just what kind of material a metal detector is designed to detect. I wait impatiently as a guy sets off the detector due to some coins in his left trouser pocket. He removes the coins, then sets it off again because of ones in his right. Further passes are necessary to identify his cell phone, belt, and boots respectively. I could almost swear he was doing it deliberately, especially as he must have previously gone through exactly the same process in order to enter the terminal.

The flight arrives in Addis in the rain, which perversely lifts my mood as it would seem to suggest a cooler climate. I share a taxi into the centre with an American girl, maybe two years out of university and, armed with an English Literature degree, now working in the financial department of some charity. She is staying at the Hilton and is as clueless as I am about how much the taxi should cost, as she normally has a car and driver. I see some parallels with the early years in my old job - first class treatment for a kid who knows nothing. I clearly had an entitlement mentality at the time, as it's only now that I can see the embarrassment value inherent in that situation.

The bright lights of the Hilton blur in the rear window as the taxi continues onward to the area of Addis called Piazza, named after its Italian origins. The windscreen wipers fight valiantly but vainly against the downpour, and the city slides by in a watery kaleidoscope. I've picked a hotel solely on the basis that the WLP has stopped recommending it and fortunately they have a room. It's a grubby and dim affair. I am given no soap or bog roll but do receive the dubious freebie of a packet of condoms - I'm unsure if this is a hint as to the hotel's usual clientele or a sensible anti-HIV/STDs/pregnancy precaution. There are numerous whities in residence, and I eye the many bearded ones suspiciously. Next door is a shop called "Bed, Bath and Things", just one word away from potential litigation.

In fact the hotel turns out to be one of the strangest places I've stayed in on my travels. In amongst the run of the mill backpackers such as myself are a number of significantly more interesting guests. There's Guy, an English painter now living in France who spends his time in Addis sketching in brothels. He knew Wilfred Thesiger and appears to have high-up family connections in several countries. He describes how he escaped from a pair of would-be murderers in South America, and somehow I'm not surprised when he reveals that this happened in Ecuador. Norwegian Paul was brought up in Addis - though he has forgotten most of his Amharic, he still retains a clear fondness for the country. I see, but don't speak to, a Frenchman who has been producing a CD series of Ethiopian music over the years - famous local musicians apparently visit him regularly in his room. Assorted charity workers round out the eclectic mix.

I participate in the conversations almost purely in a listening capacity, with the main exception to that occurring when I meet two Australian backpackers who've just come up from Nairobi via the reverse route to that which I intend taking. They mention that bandit activity near the border means that most of the transport is taking a longer road that curves out close to Somalia. They also say that their truck driver smoked weed the entire journey, and sexually harassed the female passengers until the husband of one of them belted him in the chops. I wasn't expecting this next leg to be a barrel of laughs anyway, but the more info I get the less appealing it becomes.

Countries generally only have one capital city but Ethiopia must be in a very small minority in that it only has one city - the capital, Addis. It's a sign of how little urbanisation there has been here that, in a country of over 75 million people, the capital has a modest 3 million inhabitants, and the second largest conurbation (Dire Dawa) has only just over a quarter of a million. Unfortunately it's hard to avoid the conclusion that Addis is simply a larger version of the small towns that I've seen so far in Ethiopia - Internet access is still horrendously slow (though with the added annoyance that none of the cybercafes I visit can calculate the cost correctly) and I still can't find a Diet Coke anywhere. Yes, those are my measures of modernity.

I finally find an ATM that will accept my card, but I have to enter the limbo world of the Sheraton in order to do that. The interior of this $200+ per night piece of incongruousness is pure luxury, though the guests are almost exclusively foreign and appear to be in the employ of aid organisations. I am approached by a besuited local man and asked if I am from UNICEF - he looks relieved when I say no. I see 4WDs belonging to the UN and various NGOs in the carpark. Many millions of dollars in aid have been given to Ethiopia in recent years, and it would be interesting to know just how much of that has been funnelled into the Sheraton's coffers.

Addis manifests the "big city" syndrome in the usual ways, and there is quite a different vibe from the other parts of the country I have seen. Children don't smile or wave - they just ask for money (or, in the case of one little bugger, deliberately crash their bike into me). There is a large increase in the number of people who fall into step with me and then unleash a barrage of questions as though I'm a contestant on a quiz show - I find this incredibly irritating and it's rare that anyone actually bothers asking me if I mind, even though I'm sure that would be the polite thing to do in Ethiopian society just as it is in English society (and indeed is what happened outside of Addis). Amusingly, one of these "companions" asks if I am Japanese.

If I wander out at night, I can be sure that I'll be found by drug dealers and/or pimps. One of the dealers is keen to emphasise his Rasta heritage, as if that is a guarantee of the quality of his produce. I've read that the clubs of Addis tend to be more about prostitution than music, however I've heard so little Western music here (and what I have heard has been hip hop or R&B) that I don't think I'd be tempted by a club anyway. It's surprisingly difficult to convince the pimps that I, as a male backpacker travelling alone, have no interest in their services, but then I think back to the free condoms in my room and wonder if I'm in a minority. I also read that, for bachelors, there's less of a stigma attached to visiting hookers than there is in the West. Some of these guys know where I'm staying, which gives me a slightly eerie feeling.

More hauntingly, there are plenty of beggars, some of whom have the kind of heart-rending disabilities that you wouldn't wish on anyone. My travels have only strengthened my conviction that I've had an excessive amount of good luck in my life, and Addis reinforces that further. In the West, it's a trite comfort to say "At least you have your health", when our ambitions reach so much beyond that, but here there's a good number of people who've been hit with the double blow of both poverty and disability, and with no welfare state to assist with either misfortune. I also read that HIV affects 1 in 7 of the general population of Addis, a staggering figure that's keeping average life expectancy below 50 but is sadly no worse than many countries in sub-Saharan Africa.

Addis isn't exactly bursting with tourist sites, but I do the main trail.

The highlight of the National Museum is the exhibit relating to human evolution, from pre-human beginnings about 4.4 million years ago to the earliest "modern" human (Homo sapiens idaltu), a mere 160,000 years in the past. Ethiopia has a more comprehensive fossil record for this timeline than any other country, though there is intriguing evidence that the "Cradle of Humanity" may actually have been in Chad. This is more thought-provoking than it might appear as, before the Chad discovery, it was assumed that the savannah plains east of the Rift Valley had prompted the evolution of bipedalism - the dense forests to the west had been (and still are) the home of our ape relations such as chimps and gorillas, who had (and have - at least while they still have some forest to live in) little need to be predominantly upright. However Chad also lies in the west, so the implications of the discovery there may cause adjustments to that theory.

Star of the exhibit is (a copy of) the reconstructed skeleton of Lucy, aka Dinknesh (Wonderful), the 3.2 million year old specimen of Australopithecus afarensis discovered in northeastern Ethiopia in 1974 that, at the time, was the oldest pre-human yet dated. It perhaps indicates just how much more we have to unearth about our past that, in the intervening 35 years to the present, that "oldest" title has been pushed back on three further occasions to be 1.2 million years older than Lucy.

At the museum, I am approached by three young men who tell me that they are tour guides in training. They are painfully keen to practise their English, so much so that my responses to each of their questions are ignored in their rush to articulate the next one, plus they all speak at once. One tells me that his brother lives in London and - seemingly confusing England's capital with its namesake in Pope County, Arkansas - wonders if perhaps I might have met him. His friend realises the ludicrousness of this question and laughs, but I cover my own surprise by saying that I had never met any Ethiopians before I came to Ethiopia. Our conversation has shattered what was previously a peaceful silence in the galleries, and eventually one of the museum guardians tells us to shut up or get out.

I then visit the Ethnological Museum, in the former palace of Emperor Haile Selassie in the grounds of the University of Addis Ababa. The leafy environs of the university are dotted with young people apparently doing nothing but chat, which brings back a flood of memories that could only be stronger if they were also playing Hearts and eating toast at 2:30 in the morning. Having read that visiting the Omo Valley - home to many of Africa's most distinctive tribes - is something of a circus nowadays, it's convenient to see some displays about the peoples and their customs without having to make the long journey down there and pay B5 per photo to see them.

I also learn a little more about Ethiopian Orthodox Christianity. There are apparently 250 potential fasting days in the year, though "only" 180 are obligatory, including every Wednesday and Friday and the periods of Lent (56 days) and Advent (40 days). "Fasting" in this sense means no meat, fat, eggs, or milk.

Rounding out the museum are the disappointingly unimpressive bedrooms and bathrooms of Emperor Selassie and his wife.

For whatever reason, Ethiopia has broken the mould set in Egypt and Sudan of the issue of loose change - here, I can accumulate small money as easily as I do in England. But, like in those countries, small change is generally all you need for everyday purchases.

Though my original plan had been to see some of the south of Ethiopia, I am weary of travel here and also realise that my stay in Addis has pushed me past 3 weeks in the country. It's time to go.

Dull but possibly useful info
i. A shared minibus from Lalibela town to the airport was B40 and took about 35 minutes.
ii. The plane from Lalibela to Addis Ababa left at 4:30PM. It cost B1690 (you CAN pay by credit card) and took 2 hours, with a stop in Bahir Dar after about 30 minutes.
iii. A taxi from the airport to the Hilton and then Baro Hotel (in the Piazza area) was B80. This seemed excessive but the guy wouldn't budge and, as far as I could tell, there are no other ways of getting into town.
iv. I stayed at the Baro Hotel in the Piazza area, paying B95 for a room with double bed and en suite bathroom. However it was rather dark and poky. I had the spaghetti with tomato sauce twice at the restaurant and, perhaps coincidentally, twice got diarrhoea.
v. Internet is hardly better here than in the rest of the country. Make sure you do your own calculation for how much you should be paying (rates are generally per minute) as all the Internet places I went to tried to overcharge me by anything from 25% upwards.
vi. You can get yellow fever and meningitis vaccinations for B42 combined at the Black Lion Hospital. From Piazza, head south down Churchill and turn right (west) at the junction before (north of) the Derg monument. Three gates along on the left is the vaccination centre for the hospital. Note that, strictly speaking, the accompanying yellow fever certificate only becomes valid 10 days after the vaccination.
vii. Kenya visas (single entry, valid for 3 months) were $50 (or B438 - at current exchange rates, that's just under $40 so best to pay in birr) but have now gone down to $25 (not sure if it's still better to pay in birr). They take 24 hours to process (though I met a guy who had his done in just 1 hour). You will need one passport photo. I also heard that, contrary to what you might read on the web, a transit visa is only for 3 days (and costs $20) and overstaying it will (probably) result in a fine of $50.
viii. The ATM in the Sheraton accepts Mastercard debit cards.
ix. The Sheraton (unbelievably) has no barber, but you can get a haircut at the Hilton for a mere B39.
x. I sent home a parcel but the Post Office worker refused to allow it to go surface mail, saying that it was too light. I don't know if this was true (it was 1.6kg) or whether he just wanted to make sure I paid five times more than necessary.

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Photos

Yekatit 12 monument detail
To the people who were slaughtered in reprisals for the attempted assassination of the Italian viceroy in the run-up to WWII

Derg monument
From Ethiopia's communist period in the '70s and '80s. Would not look out of place in Moscow.

Detail
Holy Trinity Cathedral

Familiar phonebox
Sheraton hotel

Skull
National Museum

Skull of Australopithecus garhi (2.5 million years old)
National Museum

Clearly the Beatles don't translate to Amharic
Description of Lucy, National Musem

Reconstruction of Selam, an Australopithecus afarensis child even older than Lucy
National Museum

Painting
National Museum

Shell art
National Museum

Cat at play
Baro Hotel

Rice and vegetables
Baro Hotel

Grave
Holy Trinity Cathedral

Detail
Holy Trinity Cathedral

Comments

[Alemseged]

i like it, keep it up.
you done well.