Galabat (Sudan) --> Matama --> Gondar (with a day trip to see baboons) --> Shire --> Aksum --> Mekele --> Addis Ababa --> Dire Dawa --> Djibouti (Djibouti)
Leaving Khartoum we took the bus direct to the Sudanese border town of Galabat and, although we arrived at about 5.30pm get stamped straight through to the Ethiopian town of Matama on the other side of the bridge. Clearly our refusal to re-register our visas in Khartoum was not a problem: they just wanted us to pay to provide a copy of the paperwork that was sitting in a drawer in Wadi Halfa. Computers are not in vogue yet.
Crossing the bridge to Mekele in Ethiopia we stopped at the wee, unlit shack next to straw huts which Ethiopia uses as a passport control office. Night falls. After a short wait we get stamped in. We continue back up the main road (a dirt track) and are stopped again: customs. Despite it being pitch black some chap – in plain clothes – wants to check our bags right there which we aren't keen about (will something 'go missing'?). One of the soldiers behind him eventually tells him not to bother the tourists so we skip by customs.
The next step is to find a place to stay and to change our money. There is no official money changer in Matama so we have to find a local (or local shop) to change our Sudanese pounds for us. No worries: they find us, not the other way round. We're initially offered a laughably bad rate of 3.5 birr per pound (the interbank rate was nearly five) and after a bit of looking around (because there is some genuine competition there) we got a good rate and Ethiopian money. Dinner is some goat meat on a wholemeal, lemon-flavoured pancake called an injera – what turns out to be standard Ethiopian food - and we're off to bed.
We have to rise the next morning to catch the bus to Gondar – the nearest big city – at about 5.30am (we later found out the buses only run during daylight hours so often they start traveling at first light). The first big obstacle was just to leave our humble hotel: every door to the main building was bolted / padlocked. But wait! I spy a large, human-sized gap in the fence. It looks like an alleyway so I go through, turn and after a couple of paces see (illuminated by my powerful torch) prone forms lying on beds. I've just walked into someone's backyard cum outdoors bedroom. I turn to make a hasty retreat but they start waking up and I end up having to explain why I'm standing on the wrong side of the fence to the eldest son who has a rock in each hand. Ooops. No harm done (to me) and we cross back to the right side of the fence now with people – awake neighbours - genuinely interested in helping us get out and leave.
We reach the bus easily enough and ask the price. “31 birr,” says Ticket Man (this is about US$3). We join the queue / scrum of people handing him money and, following the locals' lead, thrust our money towards him. He serves all the Ethiopians first and then tells us his bus is full. “Go to the bus behind,” he suggests. This is a minibus and costs 40 birr. We get on and buy our tickets. As the bus is filling up Ticket Man 2 (different to the first) tells us we need to pay another 40 birr each to carry our bags. Naturally we refuse. He insists. We refuse. He gets his English-speaking mates in to talk to us: apparently everyone pays for their seat and their luggage (they don't: this much is obvious) and “you're tourists, you can afford it.” We refuse. The bus driver / manager turns up to argue his case in local Amheric (which we don't understand but we've already heard the same case in English for overcharging and know it well) and basically we either get removed from his bus or pay his tourist tax. It's at about this time that Paul discovers that his wallet – with all his credit cards inside, but thankfully only about a third of his cash - is not in his pocket. We decided to assume that Paul's wallet was long gone and not get off the bus to look for it (we really didn't want to hang around this town).
In the end we get the luggage price for an extra 30 birr (instead of 40) and managed to delay the bus by a good hour: our fault according to the manager.
We're going to Gondar! Although I couldn't help noting that the 31-birr bus which was “full” is still sitting in front of us as we left.
Once in Gondar we found a cheap hotel – Ethiopia Hotel – for 70 birr (for a double room) and settle in. The most apparent features are a lack of electricity and water. Not to worry! It's only temporary. Apparently in Ethiopia all the towns / regions (including Addis Ababa) take it in turns to 'go without' for a day or so. Water is intermittent all the time and so one grabs a shower when possible.
Gondar is quite a picturesque town and once home to some Ethiopian kings, notably Fasiledas, and contains a number of castles, an historic bath and the delightfully painted Debre Birhan Selassie church. It is also close to the Simian National Park, home of some of Ethiopia's top wildlife. We did the next best thing to going to the park and paying entrance fees and overpriced accommodation: we took a trip with a “guide” (ie a couple of English-speaking locals) to a very picturesque part of Ethiopia just over the road from the national park. By doing so we still got to see a troop of gelada baboons but, as it was very windy, no Colombus monkeys as they were hiding in their underground bunker.
It's also in Gondar that we found out about Ethiopian time when asking for the bus times at the station. “Come at 11 o'clock,” said an Important Man, “the bus to Shire leaves at 12.” This was confusing because we already knew that buses leave at the crack of dawn and don't travel during the hours of darkness; and we also knew that the ride to Shire was a good 10 hours. The Important Man revised his times: come at 5am. We now know (thanks to the helpful chap at the tourist office) that Ethiopian time (or 'Swahili time' in Kenya) is six hours behind the world time clock's local time. This means that 'midnight' is at about dawn so perhaps this is when the counting of a new day starts. This also means that the Important Man wanted us to come at 11pm (Ethiopian time) or 5am world time to catch the bus. The Ethiopian calendar also has 13 months hence the Ethiopian Tourist Board's slogan of “13 Months Of Sunshine” and is 8 years behind the Gregorian calendar so in Ethiopia it is 2001 and they have recently celebrated the “Ethiopian Millennium”. There are a lot of cafes called the Millennium Cafe around to cash in on this great event.
The trip to Shire was an experience. There is 300 km of road between Gondar and Shire and about 298 km of this road is unpaved, and is typically weaving and winding its way over and around mountains. Our bus driver was clearly in a hurry: he averaged 30 km/h and completed the journey in nine hours and fifteen minutes. A Swedish tourist in Gondar, who came the other way, told us the journey was 11 hours long. I should also point out that the views were awesome and that it's a good thing that the bus couldn't travel fast: there were enough sheer drops by the side of the road to make me giddy.
What's in Shire? Nothing. Nada. It's an 'in between' town for all those buses coming from Gondar which can't make it any further before darkness and the nearest town for farmers to go and sell their produce..
With our intended destination of Aksum (or Axum as spelled by the locals) was a mere 60 km away we were able to sleep in and take a local bus the next day. The bus ride is a mere two-and-a-half hours long (the road is being re-built) and we finally roll into Aksum, home of the ex-mighty Aksumite empire that, by exploiting its position between Sudan's gold fields, the Red Sea and the areas to the south, ruled what is now northern Ethiopia (and also parts of Arabia including what is now Yemen). It has history and it's history you can see.
The most prominent artifacts are Aksumite stelae: there are several 'fields' of obelisks, some of which are tens of metres high, all sitting together marking royal tombs. There was also one, 'borrowed' by the Italians for lengthy display in Rome, which had recently been returned to Aksum. Other sites are the tombs themselves (one with bats as extra) and an engraved stela housed in a little, unmarked, tin shed by the side of the road. Luckily we were passing when the caretaker, an elderly man in a delightful suit, was walking past so we were able to have the shed unlocked for us immediately.
As Aksum has tourists (not just us) it also has its fair share of little kids – often schoolchildren in uniform – trying to sell trinkets. Often these are 'Aksum crosses', a variation of the Christian cross (other variations are the Lalibela cross and the Gondar cross). If it's not a kid selling trinkets it a “self-appointed guide” (who will stick to you like glue, want to be your best friend and help you with even the tiniest thing and demand a tip for it) or a beggar (often blind or crippled) who will typically sit outside a church with palms outstretched.
Interestingly enough Lonely Planet counsels against giving anything – money, pens, notebooks / writing paper or whatever else is demanded – to children: apparently they take materials they are given (pens and notebooks) back to shops and sell them back to the shopkeeper for money and it's a reason to stay out of school. Also, we had a troubling experience in Egypt with giving pens which dissuaded us from ever giving pens (or pretty much anything) again: Paul's brother had traveled in Africa before and said to take lots of pens to give to children. As children in Dakhla Oasis asked for pens instead of money and with this advice fresh in his mind Paul bought about ten pens and gave them away within minutes. Once one pen is given a whole scrum appears out of the woodwork with palms outstretched or dad appears and asks for a pen for each of his 20 kids. Once an old lady dragged herself out of the family home on her arse and asked for new shoes too. It's impossible to keep giving so the best thing (especially with past experience and supporting guidebook advice) is to not give at all or alternatively (for example) to visit a school and give directly to the teacher to distribute amongst non-truants.
We had another interesting experience whilst in Aksum: walking home one evening a man on a bicycle stops us and asks if we want to come to his English class: he's an English teacher and it would be great for his students to talk to a native. Sure, why not? So at 7pm we both go to his classroom – it's pitch black due to a power cut but Teacher turns on some powerful lamps – and get stuck in. After a few minutes of introduction Teacher goes around his students and gets them to ask us questions, any question. We wrote down as many as we could later and, for posterity, we were asked the following (in no particular order and most certainly not made up!):
- What are your backgrounds and jobs?
- What do we think of Aksum? Do we know of the Aksumite civilisation? (Thankfully we had visited the museum that day.)
- What are the advantages and disadvantages of smoking? (It was hard to find an advantage: tax?)
- Why is there so much divorce?
- Which came first: the chicken or the egg? (I think both Paul and I went for the egg)
- What would you do to stop the spread of AIDS?
- What do you see as the differences between black and white men and why are there these differences?
- Are there black (Africans) in your country and do they have democratic rights? (When I explained equality laws the teacher was horrified to hear about homosexuals having equal rights and wanted to know why they want to marry fellow homosexuals. Ethiopians are visibly quite religious: there are many churches and religious schools and Teacher clearly embraced his religious education).
- Why is Stephen so skinny and Paul so podgey; and how can you change that?
- Ethiopia is a naturally rich country: what do you see as its problems (ie why is it not as developed as it could / should be)? (This from the same lady who asked the AIDS question: surely a future politician)
Teacher, despite his obvious conservatism, also managed to lob in a couple of lewd questions which have been redacted to keep this as an unrated blog.
Two hours after starting we finish and I'm pleased to say that we had a whale of a time.
Finishing with Aksum we headed next to Mekele for no apparent reason other than it was a main town – the capital of its region – and closer to where we were going. We found a good cheap hotel (30 birr pppn) and settled into some relaxation and gentle sight-seeing. We took in Emperor Yohannes IV's ex palace (now a museum and home now to the regional government) and a few churches.
Unfortunately we found, during a visit to an internet cafe that Paul's grandmother had died and Paul wanted to get to her funeral. We looked for flights direct from Mekele: the town doesn't even register on the searches. We took the decision that the best place to be was in Addis Ababa (as it has Ethiopia's only international airport) and caught a bus the next day. It's in fact a two day bus journey: we left one the first day at 6am and arrived at a small village with motel accommodation (and room to park buses) at 6pm. The next day the bus left at 4am and arrived at Addis Ababa at noon. We immediately hit the internet cafes – a flight left that night at 7.35 – and then went to the airport and bought the ticket three hours before take-off.
During Paul's absence I've had time to extend my visa, find out about visas to other countries, get my computer fixed (it had start-up problems and needed the dust cleaned out) and generally just relax having found some decent cafes. Although Ethiopia is probably officially third world there are some cafes and restaurants in Addis Ababa which wouldn't look out of place in England or France and thankfully they have Ethiopian prices.
Following Paul's return we did another circuit north this time only as far as Lalibela (rather than all the way up near Aksum. It still takes a two-day trip to get to Lalibela, stopping overnight in would-not-have-bothered-visiting-otherwise Dessie. We had a quick look around town – not much aside from roadworks and a market – and topped up on water and travel food (peanuts and glucose biscuits).
In the hotel Paul grabbed the last room with an en suite shower and then found that the water was not running – the whole town was dry – although he staff still insisted that he pay the full price for the room (it did, after all, have a shower in the room).
We were accompanied (quite by coincidence) by a local chap called Aboosh who lives in Lalibela and drives cars for a tour agency. On the way to Lalibela we stop in Woldia for breakfast (the bus crew take the opportunity to pick up some new tyres – the current set were mostly bald and causing problems).
Arriving in Lalibela we went to the hotel recommended by Aboosh – it was indeed fantastic and had hot running water thanks to a boiler in each room and didn't cost an arm and a leg. The next day we also picked up a guide (not so cut-price) for seeing the churches. There are eleven of them and it took most of the day (with a guide) to walk around them. Suffice to say the churches were amazing and most certainly as unique as you get. Apparently King Lalibela decided that they should be built and insisted on double-time: all eleven were built (said our guide) within about 30 years which means that several were being worked on at any one time. Look at the photos: they are worth it.
Leaving Lalibela after couple of days we headed west to Bahir Dar on Lake Tana. The journey wasn't so straight-forward. First we took a bus to the highly insignificant town of Ganesha where a group of local teenagers tried to find us a ride in a truck for far too much money. We refused, naturally, and waited for a bus to come along. We then heard that the next bus to Bahir Dar would be coming at 5pm (it was still about 9am when we heard this) and, when a bus to the town of Gayint, on the way to Bahir Dar came along we decided to take it. We arrived in Gayint to find that there was no more onwards transport to Bahir Dar and that Gayint is a larger version of Ganesha: at least big enough and interesting enough to have a choice of decent hotels and worth a look around. Searching for the internet to do a little catching up we found that there were, in fact, no functioning internet connection existed ... except, said some students, at their school. We went there and the headmaster brought us some tea and happily let us (well, Paul, as I declined) use his laptop and internet connection as we talked Ethiopia and education. Suffice to say that, compared to Western standards, education in Ethiopia comes cheap: if I remember the prices correctly then for about US$10 a year a student can get a higher education.
Bahir Dar is the big city in the region (about the same size as Gondar which is a short ride to the north). We arrive and are met by the usual group of touts offering us hotels: we went along with them and found a very decent hotel for the low price of 70 birr (about US$6) and decided to take it. The one downside was that the hotel then tried to sell us a boat ride on the lake for the following day to see the monasteries and spent about 30 minutes trying to convince us. The price they offered – 200 birr (US$18) /person - seemed quite steep so we refused. Later one of the hotel 'staff' followed us down the road and offered us the trip for 150 birr; later that night the price went down to 125 birr. We still refused.
I also developed a problem with my left eye: it became a little sore and quite bloodshot and stayed that way. I decided that it would be best to find a doctor and tourist information suggested the local hospital. Would it cost much? (I was running short of cash) No, was the reply. We found our way to the hospital and then to the eye clinic. There were about a dozen locals in the foyer, a number with bandages over their eyes and one little kid with an eye missing – no-one's waiting for new glasses. I find a doctor: first I need to register. I eventually find the registry office and register: they charge me 3 birr (about US$0.27). That's cheap! They get a blue folder and clips, the sort we used at school, and attach the completed form inside. I went back to the eye clinic and saw the doctor: apparently I had blepharitis (inflammation of the eyelid margins says Wikipedia) which is caused by foreign bodies getting under the eyelid (and apparently it's strongly associated with dandruff). I'm prescribed an antibiotic and a steroid. “How much do I pay for the consultation?” I ask the ophthalmologist. “You've paid already with the registration,” she replies. 3 birr? “Oh, you should have paid 25 birr [US$2.20],” she says, “but that's an administration error so don't worry about it.” I decided to pay the full 25 birr anyway and went back to the registrar: he had charged me 3 birr as this was the emergency registration fee (and also the fee for referrals eg from rural towns). Very nice of him and they seemed delighted that I was paying the full price. I then went and had my prescription filled which cost me another 9.40 birr (calculated by looking up the drugs in a binder full of hand-written, loose leaf pages) so the total price of my hospital visit and prescription was 34.40 birr, or about US$3.
We poked around the lake shore a little more and found that Ghion Hotel – with its delightful lakeside garden – does boat trips. We get a deal for 100 birr each going the next day. Our boat goes with Larry, a Canadian who has been doing strategic planning for an NGO in Addis Ababa and is now doing a holiday before heading home, and Sean, an American working for an NGO in Uganda and also on holiday. Sean's next contract was to review an aid contract for the Zaire government before they receive additional US aid and make sure that the correct milestones and obligations are included (and the Zaire government don't get in a pickle).
We stopped at three different monasteries, each of which has the same basic design as the typical Ethiopian church: round (or octagonal) with a number of entrances (which has some significance but I don't know what). Inside is basically a corridor surrounding another, highly decorated and always locked room, the Holy of Holies. The paintings are the usual Bible stories: Abraham about the sacrifice Isaac, Noah and his arc, Jesus being tempted by Satan although everyone aside from the central characters are Africans with identical afros.
Another highlight was, sticking with Sean and his Ethiopian friend, Thomas, going to a local pub in the 'shantytown' area just off the main road. The locals were playing bingo using wooden plywood boards and chalk to cross off the numbers and drinking home-made beer, which looked remarkably like muddy water but which had a strong ale / bitter taste. Local women also brought around snack food such as beans (that's it, beans and only beans) which often come with a spicy orange sauce (footnote: a lot of Ethiopian food is spicy as there's a local spice which is heavily used in all cooking). Tongue burned, the locals had a good laugh and I washed down the spicy sauce with another beer.
The next day we – still with Sean and Thomas – went to the Blue Nile falls. The falls are easy to reach as there's a local bus that goes to the park entrance. A little money for park entry and a boat ride along the river is all that's required and we walk the remaining short distance to the falls themselves. They are big (but not Niagara or Victoria big) but clearly could be bigger: we have visited in the dry season and the water's low. They're still impressive. It also turns out that Thomas the Ethiopian's family comes from very close by and they earn a living by growing qat (pronounced chat). Qat is the social drug of choice – a mild, non-narcotic stimulant – which is taken by chewing the fresh, green leaves of the qat plants. It is immensely popular and Ethiopia grows a lot of it and not just for local consumption: apparently locals in Djibouti and Somaliland are wild about it too. I tried a bit – well, not really a bit, quite a few leaves are required – and after a while achieved a tingling sensation in my scalp but that was it.
Our next stop was to go through Addis Ababa – collecting visas on the way – and then head east to Djibouti and Somaliland. The visas were straight-forward: Djibouti gave us a visa in 24 hours and, surely a new record, the Somaliland Liaison Office did our visas in ten minutes whilst we waited.
To get to Djibouti, our first side-trip, the best way for people using public transport is to catch the bus directly from Dire Dawa. Dire Dawa is quite a pleasant town and, a little unusually for Ethiopia seems to be a planned town: it's almost on a grid system. It's quite green with lots of trees along the roads. There's also not much there to see but that's not a problem with 400mL of beer costs 4.50 birr (US$0.40) and a large samosa costs 2 birr (US$0.18).
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