Travels in Modern Day Ethiopia

After 40 years I was back in Ethiopia – it was 40 years to the month since I was discharged from the U.S. Army Security Agency in the highlands city of Asmara, now the capital of Eritrea. I had spent 37 months as an Italian translator at Kagnew Station in Asmara, one of the army’s best kept secrets (in more ways than one). Now, in late 2008, I was back for five weeks of travel and exploration, mostly to visit places I had never seen before.

Addis Ababa, the capital, was a disappointment – sprawling, unattractive, devoid of any charm whatsoever. I didn’t meet a single Westerner who liked the city. But the place did have some interesting attractions, and even though I had never been there, it invoked a vague sense of familiarity. One constant was the role of the church, and how simply touching the cathedral seemed so important to the devout. As was reading the bible on cathedral grounds.




Something else that hadn’t changed was how kids could so totally enjoy a game using just a few pebbles. Or seeing women carrying firewood. Though I did find that a bit surprising in a capital city of three million.












But where the sense of familiarity was particularly strong was in the countryside and smaller towns. I had taken an overnight minibus from Addis up to Bahar Dar, and as the sun came up it was as if nothing had changed – people streamed along the highway out to the fields, some carrying a wooden plow, others driving a herd of goats, men with their arms propped on the staff they carried across the shoulders, some barefoot . . . beneath the surface almost nothing had changed.

Bahar Dar is on the tourist trail for good reason – Tisisat Falls and the monasteries on Lake Tana’s islands are so very colorful. But one of the things I found most interesting was how the monks and priests seemed to genuinely relish showing the tourist their biblical manuscripts and processional crosses.



Another pleasant surprise was the genuine hospitality of so many people. So many times as I was walking down the street, someone would invite me in for coffee, for no apparent commercial purpose. As did these three women.





Across the street from my Bahar Dar Hotel (Taken from in front of my hotel, located to the right, and out of the picture) were a series of small shops. These were basically little rectangular stalls, from 6-10' wide, maybe 4' deep, along the side of the street. They were open only on one side, and only above the counter. A few had display cases under the counter. Some were made of corrugated tin, some of old boards, some a combination of materials. One shop that I passed daily was operated by two sisters (Their place is down toward the end on the left). Whenever I passed by, they would smile and say hello and wave me over. Despite their limited English, it was fun joking and talking with the two sisters in their little stall. Unlike a shop, that you have to enter, you're closer and much more connected to stall keepers as you walk along. In fact you're much more connected to other people in Ethiopia just about everywhere.

















Unchanged, too, was the kids’ desire to be photographed - so many of them are hams. Like this bunch in Bahar Dar.



To be continued .......

Jamaican Holiday

Preface:

Saturday afternoon I related, in a telephone conversation with my World Traveling friend Dave, a story about my experiences on my first trip to Jamaica. This story tied in with a Blog that I wrote about two weeks ago.

I finished writing this Blog Saturday afternoon, but did not post it because it tied in with another Blog that I was planning to write. But the other Blog should follow (for continuity purposes) this Blog and not precede it. If you understand what I am trying to say here, you are as off kilter as I am.

The Blog:

The first time that I visited Jamaica was in January 1987. At that time, I was working 70 plus hours per week and my partner told me that I should get away from the business for a while and take a vacation. He told me that I was burning out and that it was time for me to recharge my batteries. It was a slow time for our business, so I agreed.

My eldest daughter was working for a travel agency, so I called her to set me up with a 5 day vacation, leaving on Sunday and returning on Thursday. I was thinking Fort Lauderdale or even the Bahamas (I had been to the Bahamas before). But she said “No Dad, go to Jamaica”.

So I called the seventh “Love of my Life”; she was at home watching Soaps. I said “I have good news.” She replied quickly “Call back in 20 minutes when Days (The Days of Our Lives) is over.” and hung up. I was a little bit put off, but I knew better than to push the point. We had lived together for nearly 4 years at this time, and I knew her ins and outs and ups and downs. I called back 25 minutes later.

I told her that we were going to Jamaica on Sunday. Her response was “Great, we’ll have to go shopping for new clothes tomorrow.”

When we left BWI Airport it was 18 degrees and when we arrived in Montego Bay it was 80 degrees. We had changed clothes in the airplane lavatory and stashed our winter clothes in my carry-on.

The first thing that you notice when you enter Customs at Sangster Airport is a large wall size sign that list about 10 to 12 slang terms for Marijuana (number one is Ganja). At the bottom of the sign it was clearly stated that possession of the above substances was illegal and punishable by imprisonment.

After we cleared Customs we moved on to the lower level Baggage Claim. From there we went to our tour operators Kiosk about 25 feet away. While waiting in line, we were approached by a man who asked if we wanted to buy some Ganja. We figured that it was a set-up, and said no, and that we didn’t use drugs. That night we were approached on the beach by another Jamaican trying to sell us Ganja. We said no thanks.

The next morning we were walking to the Resort's Restaurant that served Breakfast and we notice several employees of the Resort smoking Ganja. After breakfast I questioned the Desk Clerk about this. He laughed and said that as long as we did in private it would be “No Problem, Mon.” He also cautioned us about trying to take it out of the Country.

The following day we took a trip to Dunns River Falls. On the way there I noticed a large field of Hemp plants, visible from the road. When we arrived at the Falls our Tour Guide (the guy who walks you up the Falls) was a big Jamaican man in his forties. While waiting for the tour group to assemble he lit up one of the largest joints that I had ever seen. He asked me if I wanted a drag, I said no but the 7th Love of My Life (pictured above) took him up on his offer.

After we returned to the Resort we were again approached with the offer of Ganja for sale; this time we accepted. Two days later we left the remainder of our stash with a $50J (about $8 US) as a tip for the maid.

The Beach Bum

Eating Out in Greece

One of my old Army buddies returned from a trip to Europe last week. During the past three years he has made several 6 to 8 week trips to Asia. This is the first time that I can recall him going to Europe.

In his email he said that the trip was OK but not a great trip. He writes “Europe is kind of expensive to start with, but with the dollar down so much against the euro it gets almost ridiculous at times. There's like a 60% tax on everything just because you're American. Greece was particularly bad. Now this morning I see U.S. prices are up by the largest amount in 26 years.”

I have been to Greece twice. One time for 1 day and the second time for two days. Both were layovers on my flights to and from Kagnew Station, Asmara, Eritrea, Ethiopia.
On my first trip I did all of the normal tourist things that you could do in one day. I visited the Acropolis, bought souvenirs for my family, took two rolls of slides and ate in a restaurant across from Constitution Square (The food that I had eaten at the Greek Islands Restaurant on Halsted St. in Chicago was better and a lot less expensive).

On my return trip I had the good fortune to be seated next to a gentleman who was attached to the Diplomatic Corps at the US Embassy in Athens. He had just spent three weeks at the American Consulate in Asmara. He spoke several languages including Greek. Being that I was in the Army Intelligence Service (AIS not MI), I knew better than to ask him what he was doing in Asmara.

He asked where I would be staying and I told him the Niki Hotel on Nikis Street in Athens. He told me that he knew where it was and that it was a nice small hotel. He asked me if I wanted to partake in some Athens nightlife and I said sure. He said he would meet me in the Hotel Lobby at 1930 hours.

The Hotel Niki was just a few blocks away from Constitution Square and not far from the Acropolis. They had put me in the penthouse. The bathroom was larger than the entire room that I had been in the last time that I was in Athens. Plus I had a private stairwell leading to a rooftop patio.

When my new friend arrived, I told him that I needed to eat and suggested that we walk to one of the nearby restaurants across from the Square. He asked me if I was crazy. First, he said, those restaurants carry menus in several different languages with varying prices according to language. The French was the most expensive, followed by the English and the least expensive was the Greek. But better yet, he would take me to a local Taverna.

The Taverna was less than a mile away, so we walked. He told me several interesting facts about Athens and Greece. When we arrived at the Taverna it was virtually deserted, we seated ourselves and were given small cardboard menus (in Greek). My friend asked me what kind of food was I interested in eating. I said anything local. He suggested the mixed grill. I said OK.

The mixed grill was a combination of raw organ meats and lamb chunks. It was served with a fondue pot full of hot olive oil and several skewers. It was very tasty. It came with broasted seasoned potatoes and a bowl of lemon chicken soup.

By the time we were finished eating, the Taverna started to fill up with locals. We decided to move on to a bar which we had passed along the way to the Taverna. The entire bill for two dinners was just slightly more than what I paid for my dinner on my previous trip to Athens.

The bar we went to had an outdoor patio. Inside there was a three piece string band playing Greek music, we sat outside. We both ordered Fix Beer and a small bottle (I think 300ml) of Ouzo. By midnight we had had about 5 beers each and were sharing a second bottle of Ouzo. Men were outside, on the patio, dancing to the music, in a circle with arms on one another’s shoulders. One of the men spoke English and asked me if I would care to try to dance. Egged on by my friend, I reluctantly joined in. It was a lot of fun.

Since my friend had paid for dinner, I insisted on paying the Bar Bill. It was less than US$12 (in 1968). The next day I paid dearly with one of the worse hangovers that I had ever encountered.

Several years later I ran into my friend again, this time in the Executive Dining Room at No Such Agency. He was a Major in the Air Force. I thanked him again for showing me such a great time in Athens.

The Beach Bum