Ethiopia's line to attract tourists is to say that Ethiopia has 13 months of sunshine... LIE my friends, big fat lie.
Yes there is 13 months, but from June to September, you only see the sun from 6am to 7 am, when you are lucky. Two weeks of proper heavy rain, and I am just craving for some sun (I know, it is not fair, I already had 9 months of awsome weather!). But the rain here is just... very very wet. It gets extremely cold in a few minutes, the road are becoming rivers. Yesterday, I saw people contructing a bridge to be able to cross the road! Every path becomes muddy and you can't see any thing when you drive. The problem is that people to avoid to get wet walk in the middle of the road!
Also, the rainy season is accompanied by twice more power cut, weird bugs, very scary storms, hale etc...
3 months to go! Can't wait...
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Going to the bank in Addis
Going to the bank in Ethiopia is once again a genuine cultural experience. I had to go 4 times now and I am still struggling to understand how it works. The first time I went, I think the doorman was so surprise to see a farengi in its establishment that he forgot to check my bag, took me in front of the queue and before I had time to look around, I was out. Last time I went, I spent 1 hour and 20 minutes before to give up!
The second time was a bit more of an adventure. And follows what I understood from the all experience. Bank in Ethiopia are always full with people, behind and in front of the many counters. I could count 9 different counters, but I have no idea who does what, and to be fair, Ethiopian neither despite the Amharic poster in front of each. Sometimes a cashier takes cheque, the next day, he doesn’t anymore. If there is a power cut, don’t stay, their system will be down. A good indication of a power cut is the inactivity of the cashier (not that he is much more active when there is electricity), or the rain outside.
So, here is the secret of depositing a cheque. You have to leave it at the bottom of the pile at one of the cashier. Do ask him if he takes cheque on that day (when I ask it sounds like Now, I show my cheque, works?), it will save you time. Do also leave your ID with the cheque or it might get lost or discarded. Then, you can sit for the 20 minutes it is going to take to proceed the operation.
Ethiopians are just so patient. Actually, I can spot farengis from the back because they are the only one to be fidgety, moving their legs, standing up every 3 minutes.
When I am finally called on by the cashier, I have 5 or 6 Ethiopians behind me, they would not miss my broken Amharic, they can giggle about it for hours! I can finally get my birrs, and no they are not any cleaner because they come directly from the bank.
The second time was a bit more of an adventure. And follows what I understood from the all experience. Bank in Ethiopia are always full with people, behind and in front of the many counters. I could count 9 different counters, but I have no idea who does what, and to be fair, Ethiopian neither despite the Amharic poster in front of each. Sometimes a cashier takes cheque, the next day, he doesn’t anymore. If there is a power cut, don’t stay, their system will be down. A good indication of a power cut is the inactivity of the cashier (not that he is much more active when there is electricity), or the rain outside.
So, here is the secret of depositing a cheque. You have to leave it at the bottom of the pile at one of the cashier. Do ask him if he takes cheque on that day (when I ask it sounds like Now, I show my cheque, works?), it will save you time. Do also leave your ID with the cheque or it might get lost or discarded. Then, you can sit for the 20 minutes it is going to take to proceed the operation.
Ethiopians are just so patient. Actually, I can spot farengis from the back because they are the only one to be fidgety, moving their legs, standing up every 3 minutes.
When I am finally called on by the cashier, I have 5 or 6 Ethiopians behind me, they would not miss my broken Amharic, they can giggle about it for hours! I can finally get my birrs, and no they are not any cleaner because they come directly from the bank.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Wedding dress shopping
Friday, my friend Yasmin took me for my first wedding dress shopping, and in Ethiopia believe me, wedding dresses is no small matters. Pass the first choc of seeing myself in a full bridal gown; I have to say it was certainly one of the funniest afternoons ever!
Tiara, lead glass, beads, layer and layer of crinoline, taffeta, satin, veils and trains did make me look like a princess escaping a fairy tale book. I tried on 5 dresses, and looked pretty ridiculous in most of them! I wish I had taken pictures.
I also learned a lot about the wedding industry in Ethiopia. Wedding are expensive everywhere, and Ethiopia is no exception. Apparently, Ethiopian men build on astronomical debt to give their beloved one the day (actually the three days) of their dream:
-wedding dress, to RENT for 1 day, between 4000 and 9000 birr (= 150 to 300 pounds)
-bridesmaid dresses, between 2000 and 5000 birr (80 to 230 pounds)
-rented car for the day (Mercedes or Limousine) between 20,000 and 40,000 birr a day! (750 to 1400 pounds)
-cameraman, 4000 birr a day (150 pounds)
Also, the married couple will need two different venues for the two official dinners they have to hold. Their party will generally be composed of 1500 people (family tied are pretty immense in this country) that they will need to feed and water (actually water needs to be read here as T’allat for this case, which is a locally made beer or T’ej, the locally made honey wine). They will need a band, flowers and a DJ. Ethiopian’s salary, for the very lucky ones, goes from 1200 birr to 30,000 birr a year… How do they do it?
Tiara, lead glass, beads, layer and layer of crinoline, taffeta, satin, veils and trains did make me look like a princess escaping a fairy tale book. I tried on 5 dresses, and looked pretty ridiculous in most of them! I wish I had taken pictures.
I also learned a lot about the wedding industry in Ethiopia. Wedding are expensive everywhere, and Ethiopia is no exception. Apparently, Ethiopian men build on astronomical debt to give their beloved one the day (actually the three days) of their dream:
-wedding dress, to RENT for 1 day, between 4000 and 9000 birr (= 150 to 300 pounds)
-bridesmaid dresses, between 2000 and 5000 birr (80 to 230 pounds)
-rented car for the day (Mercedes or Limousine) between 20,000 and 40,000 birr a day! (750 to 1400 pounds)
-cameraman, 4000 birr a day (150 pounds)
Also, the married couple will need two different venues for the two official dinners they have to hold. Their party will generally be composed of 1500 people (family tied are pretty immense in this country) that they will need to feed and water (actually water needs to be read here as T’allat for this case, which is a locally made beer or T’ej, the locally made honey wine). They will need a band, flowers and a DJ. Ethiopian’s salary, for the very lucky ones, goes from 1200 birr to 30,000 birr a year… How do they do it?
Monday, May 9, 2011
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Djibouti, my first business trip
Last Sunday, my working status took an unexpected turn when I was sent to Djibouti to interpret for Igad. My flights were bought for me, my hotel was booked for me and I was even given some per diem! Suddenly, I was becoming an interpreter of international standard… Well, I should mention that Djibouti apparently has no interpreters at all, which is very bizarre for people who naturally speak at least four languages.
Anyway, here I am leaving Ethiopia for the first time in 7 months and going to this old French colony, bordering the red sea. All I can think about is eating fish and going to Casino to buy some cheese and saucisson! I am also pretty excited by the perspective to visit Djibouti, famous for its lovely town center and the Kempinsky, luxurious hotel where the conference will be held.
In the flight, I meet with Pascaline, my fellow interpreter, a lovely French girl who has already been to Djibouti many times. After a chaotic flight (apparently, Orangina-sponsored landings are a big hit in Djibouti), and a very long wait for our visa, I am entering a new country… Well, at least a new city, Djibouti is really really small, and so is Djibouti city. The first thing I notice is the heat, after 1 minute 30 seconds, every ounce of my skin is covered in sweat (yes, nice), it is 8 pm and it must at least be 35 degree. After dropping my stuff at the hotel, a very ugly carpeted building (I am not kidding, there even was carpet on the outside wall, because of course it is a well known fact that nothing better than carpet can keep the coolness), I am ready to get out again.
A short taxi ride later, costing 1000 djibouti franc, and I am walking along the only two lighted streets of Djibouti. I am slightly disappointed. It is very dirty, not that pretty, and people, under the influence of ch’at are aggressive. Every body talks to you: “t’es francaise?”, and men are very flirty. I end up in a greasy spoon at the end of a road called Blue Nile. The fish, a creamy sea bream, is excellent despite the low hygiene of the place. I take a picture of the place, and two veiled ladies just shout at me, “if my husband see the pictures, he will beat me…”, how lovely. I show them the picture I took, the hall were I ate, with two shadow completely covered, how on earth is someone going to be able to identify you on that, and why would your husband see it? Does not matter, is the answer, you erase. HUM, I am definitely not so sure about Djibouti, I am hot, I found the people incredibly unpleasant, I am hot, I don’t find the city that attractive, and also, I am way too hot.
The morning after, following a long debate with myself on what is worse, the heat or the noise of the air con?, I am ready to go to work. The Kempinsky is beautiful, the sea is so tempting, the food is delicious, a much better day, especially after a small nap near the pool. In the evening, my colleague takes me out with her Djibouti friend to a lovely restaurant on the sea shore. The place is beautiful, very oriental and lighted by a full moon. The temperature has also dropped to a reasonable 28. Pascaline’s friends are lovely, the three of them are wearing a veil, they switch non stop between French and Arabic, and they are really good fun. I hear about aquagym in a burkini, about husband left at home for this girl evening, about working for the education sector, about putting on weight after getting married. The cultural experience is really unique and my respect for Djibouti people increases a lot.
Last day of translation, we finish at 4pm. I jump in a swimming suit and Pascaline and her friend take me to the sea. After a quick stop in the poorest area of Djibouti (Djibouti a middle income country, not so convinced about it), we arrive at the beach. The red sea… warm, salty, lovely. It is a real pleasure, despite the rocks which are very hard to avoid (ask my knee). That is the one thing missing in Ethiopia, no access whatsoever to the sea. To finish the trip, a calm evening at the hotel watching a Bollywood and thinking that it is a lot more fun with my sister!
So to conclude this long post, Djibouti? Not really my cup of tea, but I am sure it is a fantastic place for snorkeling and whale shark swimming if you can afford the Kempinsky!
Anyway, here I am leaving Ethiopia for the first time in 7 months and going to this old French colony, bordering the red sea. All I can think about is eating fish and going to Casino to buy some cheese and saucisson! I am also pretty excited by the perspective to visit Djibouti, famous for its lovely town center and the Kempinsky, luxurious hotel where the conference will be held.
In the flight, I meet with Pascaline, my fellow interpreter, a lovely French girl who has already been to Djibouti many times. After a chaotic flight (apparently, Orangina-sponsored landings are a big hit in Djibouti), and a very long wait for our visa, I am entering a new country… Well, at least a new city, Djibouti is really really small, and so is Djibouti city. The first thing I notice is the heat, after 1 minute 30 seconds, every ounce of my skin is covered in sweat (yes, nice), it is 8 pm and it must at least be 35 degree. After dropping my stuff at the hotel, a very ugly carpeted building (I am not kidding, there even was carpet on the outside wall, because of course it is a well known fact that nothing better than carpet can keep the coolness), I am ready to get out again.
A short taxi ride later, costing 1000 djibouti franc, and I am walking along the only two lighted streets of Djibouti. I am slightly disappointed. It is very dirty, not that pretty, and people, under the influence of ch’at are aggressive. Every body talks to you: “t’es francaise?”, and men are very flirty. I end up in a greasy spoon at the end of a road called Blue Nile. The fish, a creamy sea bream, is excellent despite the low hygiene of the place. I take a picture of the place, and two veiled ladies just shout at me, “if my husband see the pictures, he will beat me…”, how lovely. I show them the picture I took, the hall were I ate, with two shadow completely covered, how on earth is someone going to be able to identify you on that, and why would your husband see it? Does not matter, is the answer, you erase. HUM, I am definitely not so sure about Djibouti, I am hot, I found the people incredibly unpleasant, I am hot, I don’t find the city that attractive, and also, I am way too hot.
The morning after, following a long debate with myself on what is worse, the heat or the noise of the air con?, I am ready to go to work. The Kempinsky is beautiful, the sea is so tempting, the food is delicious, a much better day, especially after a small nap near the pool. In the evening, my colleague takes me out with her Djibouti friend to a lovely restaurant on the sea shore. The place is beautiful, very oriental and lighted by a full moon. The temperature has also dropped to a reasonable 28. Pascaline’s friends are lovely, the three of them are wearing a veil, they switch non stop between French and Arabic, and they are really good fun. I hear about aquagym in a burkini, about husband left at home for this girl evening, about working for the education sector, about putting on weight after getting married. The cultural experience is really unique and my respect for Djibouti people increases a lot.
Last day of translation, we finish at 4pm. I jump in a swimming suit and Pascaline and her friend take me to the sea. After a quick stop in the poorest area of Djibouti (Djibouti a middle income country, not so convinced about it), we arrive at the beach. The red sea… warm, salty, lovely. It is a real pleasure, despite the rocks which are very hard to avoid (ask my knee). That is the one thing missing in Ethiopia, no access whatsoever to the sea. To finish the trip, a calm evening at the hotel watching a Bollywood and thinking that it is a lot more fun with my sister!
So to conclude this long post, Djibouti? Not really my cup of tea, but I am sure it is a fantastic place for snorkeling and whale shark swimming if you can afford the Kempinsky!
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
To be continued...
- I have hand-fed the second most dangerous predator in Africa (Harar, january 2011)
- Like Orpheus, I have been through hell, and came out alive. (lalibela, October 2010)
- I have sat on top of the world twice (east of Lalibela, October 2010, Tigray, April 2011)
- I have sang New York New York on top of the Empire State building (NYC, December 2005)
- I have survived Katrina, and got a lot more than a lousy tee-shirt out of it (Louisiana, August 2005)
- Like Orpheus, I have been through hell, and came out alive. (lalibela, October 2010)
- I have sat on top of the world twice (east of Lalibela, October 2010, Tigray, April 2011)
- I have sang New York New York on top of the Empire State building (NYC, December 2005)
- I have survived Katrina, and got a lot more than a lousy tee-shirt out of it (Louisiana, August 2005)
Dare you?
I have already written in these pages about Tigray. The golden colour of the landscape, the dark skin of the people, the hair style of the women, the hidden churches and of course the poverty of this deserted place. So I will focus this blog on one church, the incredible Abuna Yemata Guh.
Abuna Yematah Guh is another church, hidden in the Gheralta Mountain. Another church? Not quite. Only the bravest, the fiercest, the strongest can discover it… Ok, that is a bit dramatic, but only the people who don’t have any symptom of vertigo can ascend the path that lead to this church.
Carved into the side of a 600 meters spire of rock, the 45 minutes walk to the top is already a challenge. Especially if your guide is Haile, with his flip flop, especially if it is hot, and therefore he wants to make it to the church as quickly as possible. After 40 minutes straight up (no detour to get to Yematah shall be found, straight from bottom to top you shall go), we arrived at a wall, a proper wall. No rope, no harness, nothing. My local guide gave me very complete explanations about how to pass this small obstacles. My problem, he only speaks Amharic. I understood right, and left, and right again, and then something about a chiken (I am not so sure about this part). So, I guessed he said here is where your left foot go, and that is for the right, then, your right hand move here and there is for your left hand, or may be he was just saying, you silly silly girl, you think with your Dana nah you can speak Amharic? Here is what you get for playing smart.
Any way, here I am climbing for 2 or 3 meters, already thinking this is not that difficult, I can do it, but how on earth I am going to get down???
Once I am on top, the view is absolutely fabulous, kilometers of blue sky, kilometers of cultivated land, everything is gold in this region, it is frankly breathtaking. From now on, I have to get my shoes off. So here I am climbing in socks the last few obstacles before the mysterious church. That is how I discovered that you have more grip in socks than in walking shoes! Finally on top, I can see what every body has warned me again. An 40 centimeters wide, 4 meters long edge with its shire drop of 50 to 100 meters.
I never had vertigo, and we are only talking about a few strides. But I am finding myself hesitating. It is very intimidating. Enough, I can’t chicken out now, and more than anything, I don’t want to think yet about the descent, so I start walking again, holding the wall as strongly as I can. I risk a look: I am suspended in the emptiness, I am walking along heaven, I am as high as a bird, and I can see the entire world at my feet… I am shit scared, I have to face the wall! Any way, I am already getting at the entrance of the church.
It is a beautifully painted 13th century church with 24 pillars, small and intimate, if I could I would get married there (I have a smile just to think about my 100 guests in high heels walking up the mountain). All I can think of is Why, why here? How, how did they carve at this height? How did they paint in this darkness? Who is THAT crazy? Faith can be a very powerful tool and used appropriately, it can accomplish miracle. The priest who need 20 minutes to get there arrives fresh as the morning dew, and show us the various paintings. I miss Ben terribly as I can’t share the intense emotion that the climb has provoked.
Unfortunately, we can’t stay there all day and we are already crossing back to the human world. The way down is not that terrible, except for the famous wall, I really need to learn to differentiate my right from my left. I am down in 30 minutes, hoping that this experience will have change me forever.
If you come to Ethiopia, you have to climb that mountain, the beauty of this place can not be express with world, and I apologize for the weak attempt you can see above.
Abuna Yematah Guh is another church, hidden in the Gheralta Mountain. Another church? Not quite. Only the bravest, the fiercest, the strongest can discover it… Ok, that is a bit dramatic, but only the people who don’t have any symptom of vertigo can ascend the path that lead to this church.
Carved into the side of a 600 meters spire of rock, the 45 minutes walk to the top is already a challenge. Especially if your guide is Haile, with his flip flop, especially if it is hot, and therefore he wants to make it to the church as quickly as possible. After 40 minutes straight up (no detour to get to Yematah shall be found, straight from bottom to top you shall go), we arrived at a wall, a proper wall. No rope, no harness, nothing. My local guide gave me very complete explanations about how to pass this small obstacles. My problem, he only speaks Amharic. I understood right, and left, and right again, and then something about a chiken (I am not so sure about this part). So, I guessed he said here is where your left foot go, and that is for the right, then, your right hand move here and there is for your left hand, or may be he was just saying, you silly silly girl, you think with your Dana nah you can speak Amharic? Here is what you get for playing smart.
Any way, here I am climbing for 2 or 3 meters, already thinking this is not that difficult, I can do it, but how on earth I am going to get down???
Once I am on top, the view is absolutely fabulous, kilometers of blue sky, kilometers of cultivated land, everything is gold in this region, it is frankly breathtaking. From now on, I have to get my shoes off. So here I am climbing in socks the last few obstacles before the mysterious church. That is how I discovered that you have more grip in socks than in walking shoes! Finally on top, I can see what every body has warned me again. An 40 centimeters wide, 4 meters long edge with its shire drop of 50 to 100 meters.
I never had vertigo, and we are only talking about a few strides. But I am finding myself hesitating. It is very intimidating. Enough, I can’t chicken out now, and more than anything, I don’t want to think yet about the descent, so I start walking again, holding the wall as strongly as I can. I risk a look: I am suspended in the emptiness, I am walking along heaven, I am as high as a bird, and I can see the entire world at my feet… I am shit scared, I have to face the wall! Any way, I am already getting at the entrance of the church.
It is a beautifully painted 13th century church with 24 pillars, small and intimate, if I could I would get married there (I have a smile just to think about my 100 guests in high heels walking up the mountain). All I can think of is Why, why here? How, how did they carve at this height? How did they paint in this darkness? Who is THAT crazy? Faith can be a very powerful tool and used appropriately, it can accomplish miracle. The priest who need 20 minutes to get there arrives fresh as the morning dew, and show us the various paintings. I miss Ben terribly as I can’t share the intense emotion that the climb has provoked.
Unfortunately, we can’t stay there all day and we are already crossing back to the human world. The way down is not that terrible, except for the famous wall, I really need to learn to differentiate my right from my left. I am down in 30 minutes, hoping that this experience will have change me forever.
If you come to Ethiopia, you have to climb that mountain, the beauty of this place can not be express with world, and I apologize for the weak attempt you can see above.
Monday, April 11, 2011
A mismatch made in heaven
As you may know, I am car sick. I have two ways to fight it, sleeping (great for short journey, boring highways and rainy days) or listening to music (works exclusively if there is lyrics). In Ethiopia of course, sleeping would really be a shame as most of the time, the car journey is a unique part of the experience. In addition, it is always sunny (remember the 13 months of sunshine?), they have no highways and no short ways either.
One of my favorite activities in a car is therefore to find the perfect music for the perfect landscape. I have noticed that Bob Dylan works perfectly well near Lalibela (with a special mention for Knocking on heavens door on top of the mountains), Muse is better for greener sites such as the North, and weirdly enough rap fits perfectly the dry land of Tigray.
However, my ipod having stopped working normally, I now can only listen to it in shuffle. And some of the song just does not fit at all, example being Michael Jackson on the way to Harar, Zazie on the way to Langano and the Wombat on the delicate road to Wenchi.
As I was driving back from the Gheralta mountain (see following post), David Getta came on (don’t ask why it is on my ipod) in the middle of the desert as we were crossing the tiny villages before the lodge. I was going to press forward when I realised how out of place the song felt in a place where they have nothing. “Get rich or die trying”, in front of houses made of cow excrements, around girls of 6 to 12 walking to the well to get water, amid young man sitting around in the same ancestral position… Here the slogan would be survive or die trying, get food of die trying, get water or die trying. I never thought David Getta would actually make me think about anything, but actually, his song made me reflect on my own materialistic approach to life. I am not going to change of course, my way of life is so different from Mulugeta from Worku in the middle of nowhere, but may be it is time for me to understand better what money really represents and what money can buy...
One of my favorite activities in a car is therefore to find the perfect music for the perfect landscape. I have noticed that Bob Dylan works perfectly well near Lalibela (with a special mention for Knocking on heavens door on top of the mountains), Muse is better for greener sites such as the North, and weirdly enough rap fits perfectly the dry land of Tigray.
However, my ipod having stopped working normally, I now can only listen to it in shuffle. And some of the song just does not fit at all, example being Michael Jackson on the way to Harar, Zazie on the way to Langano and the Wombat on the delicate road to Wenchi.
As I was driving back from the Gheralta mountain (see following post), David Getta came on (don’t ask why it is on my ipod) in the middle of the desert as we were crossing the tiny villages before the lodge. I was going to press forward when I realised how out of place the song felt in a place where they have nothing. “Get rich or die trying”, in front of houses made of cow excrements, around girls of 6 to 12 walking to the well to get water, amid young man sitting around in the same ancestral position… Here the slogan would be survive or die trying, get food of die trying, get water or die trying. I never thought David Getta would actually make me think about anything, but actually, his song made me reflect on my own materialistic approach to life. I am not going to change of course, my way of life is so different from Mulugeta from Worku in the middle of nowhere, but may be it is time for me to understand better what money really represents and what money can buy...
Friday, March 11, 2011
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Bahir Dar, the not Nice effect
During our Christmas frenzy, the Herrmann +1 went to Bahir Dar. Bahir Dar is the capital of the Amhara region (where guess what, they speak Amharic) and is located at the source of the Blue Nile, on the biggest lake in Ethiopia believed to cover 3000 km2. Because of the lake, Bahir Dar is very much a beach resort with big avenues surrounded by palm trees, a bit like Nice in France (as it certainly was 50 years ago).
We were coming from Lalibella, the city of an old visionary king who decided to reproduce Jerusalem, the Abyssinian style, with its fantastic churches, its amazing culture, its magnificent hotel, the Tukul village and its lack of touristic vision, so it was a bit of a cultural choc. Bahir Dar is pretty but nothing really unique. The lake is impressive and apparently (we unfortunately missed that) hosts hundreds of small islands, each shelter to a monastery. Unfortunately, you need three hours of boat to get to the interesting ones and we had a busy schedule.
After an extremely quick stop at the Bahir Dar market, (might be a good attraction on Saturdays but weekdays, it is not worth mentioning), we headed to the Blue Nile Source, situated 5 minutes from the town center. After a small ride in a tuktuk, we arrived on a bridge where, our driver swore, the Blue Nile starts… well well… Great birds and an enormous hippos made the trip worthwhile, but for the rest! You can't stop on the bridge (policemen actually chased us up and down to make sure we were not taking any pictures, that was without counting on my cunning father and his under-the-arm technique!), you can not take pictures on/of/around the bridge, the water isn’t that pretty anyway and I did not see one crocodile!
That also make me think about revealing a secret to you. Hippos? Overrated. Yes they are very very very big animals, and birds do like to seat on their back, but they don’t do nothing! They don’t move, they don’t swim, they don’t eat, ours didn’t even bother making a noise! They are amazing at imitating rocks, but that is pretty much it. Oh, sorry, and they move their ears… great!
We then went on to see the Blue Nile Falls. They used to compete with the Victoria falls, apparently once the pride of Ethiopia, but an hydro-electric station has now been built and takes most of the water away from the falls. Once a month, they open the tap, and the falls regain their reputation as the Tis Abay (smoking water), or during rainy season it might be a bit more impressive. The walk to the falls is beautiful, a bit of real Ethiopian countryside life, and another Portuguese bridge made of ostrich eggs. However, it is clearly THE attraction and it is full of tourists and tourist spotters (birr, food, tee-shirt, shoes, football, children will ask you for anything they can think of!). But it was a nice afternoon, with a small boat trip to cross a branch of Lake Tana, which was most appreciated after the walk. The falls are pretty, not that impressive for big travellers, but still smoking!
We then went back to the hotel, the (in)famous Ghion hotel, apparently one of the older hotel in Ethiopia. Well, I say apparently, but surely the oldest hotel and they clearly haven’t done any thing to renovate it. We had the terrible rooms at the back, disgusting, horrible and stinking. Marion made us laugh by sleeping in her “meat bag”, protecting her from any contact with the room and Ben bravely thought for 2 seconds about taking a shower but gave up when he saw the grey/wet towels!
So here is my recommendation for you future abyssinian travelers, don’t loose too much time in Bahir Dar and definitely don’t go to the Ghion! You might want to stop by to see the monasteries on the lake, but a day is enough.
We were coming from Lalibella, the city of an old visionary king who decided to reproduce Jerusalem, the Abyssinian style, with its fantastic churches, its amazing culture, its magnificent hotel, the Tukul village and its lack of touristic vision, so it was a bit of a cultural choc. Bahir Dar is pretty but nothing really unique. The lake is impressive and apparently (we unfortunately missed that) hosts hundreds of small islands, each shelter to a monastery. Unfortunately, you need three hours of boat to get to the interesting ones and we had a busy schedule.
After an extremely quick stop at the Bahir Dar market, (might be a good attraction on Saturdays but weekdays, it is not worth mentioning), we headed to the Blue Nile Source, situated 5 minutes from the town center. After a small ride in a tuktuk, we arrived on a bridge where, our driver swore, the Blue Nile starts… well well… Great birds and an enormous hippos made the trip worthwhile, but for the rest! You can't stop on the bridge (policemen actually chased us up and down to make sure we were not taking any pictures, that was without counting on my cunning father and his under-the-arm technique!), you can not take pictures on/of/around the bridge, the water isn’t that pretty anyway and I did not see one crocodile!
That also make me think about revealing a secret to you. Hippos? Overrated. Yes they are very very very big animals, and birds do like to seat on their back, but they don’t do nothing! They don’t move, they don’t swim, they don’t eat, ours didn’t even bother making a noise! They are amazing at imitating rocks, but that is pretty much it. Oh, sorry, and they move their ears… great!
We then went on to see the Blue Nile Falls. They used to compete with the Victoria falls, apparently once the pride of Ethiopia, but an hydro-electric station has now been built and takes most of the water away from the falls. Once a month, they open the tap, and the falls regain their reputation as the Tis Abay (smoking water), or during rainy season it might be a bit more impressive. The walk to the falls is beautiful, a bit of real Ethiopian countryside life, and another Portuguese bridge made of ostrich eggs. However, it is clearly THE attraction and it is full of tourists and tourist spotters (birr, food, tee-shirt, shoes, football, children will ask you for anything they can think of!). But it was a nice afternoon, with a small boat trip to cross a branch of Lake Tana, which was most appreciated after the walk. The falls are pretty, not that impressive for big travellers, but still smoking!
We then went back to the hotel, the (in)famous Ghion hotel, apparently one of the older hotel in Ethiopia. Well, I say apparently, but surely the oldest hotel and they clearly haven’t done any thing to renovate it. We had the terrible rooms at the back, disgusting, horrible and stinking. Marion made us laugh by sleeping in her “meat bag”, protecting her from any contact with the room and Ben bravely thought for 2 seconds about taking a shower but gave up when he saw the grey/wet towels!
So here is my recommendation for you future abyssinian travelers, don’t loose too much time in Bahir Dar and definitely don’t go to the Ghion! You might want to stop by to see the monasteries on the lake, but a day is enough.
Lesson learnt the hard way...
You know how sometimes, you take things for granted, especially in the 21st century and regarding technology. Example, broadband. A fast internet may appear to be a basic human right but, in some countries such as Ethiopia, dial up is still the main source for internet, giving you a slow, very slow, way to slow access to the web.
Well, I had a similar experience with a lift. Lifts, to be operating, need electricity. So when you live in a country which suffers frequently of power cut, and you work in building without a generator, use your legs and walk the stairs or be stranded in the elevator for an indefinite amount of time!
Well, I had a similar experience with a lift. Lifts, to be operating, need electricity. So when you live in a country which suffers frequently of power cut, and you work in building without a generator, use your legs and walk the stairs or be stranded in the elevator for an indefinite amount of time!
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Harar, the wild things…
My parents, Abel and I went to Harar just after New Year for our last trip together. It took us 9 hours ½ by car to reach our destination. And let me tell you, 9 hours ½ of beautiful scenery, going from t’eff fields to coffee plantations, from flat plains to the ridge of a mountain, is still 9 hours ½ in a very small space, and even worse for me, a small space in motion.
We had been driving in the dark for 45 minutes when we reached our destination. You know when Borringer says, a town at night is beautiful, well, he surely is not talking about Ethiopian’s city. Because, a town by night, in Ethiopia is… pitch black when there is a power cut. So, the arrival was certainly adventurous, we could not see a thing, and finding our hotel was a crusade. We did finally get there to discover that hotel in Ethiopia are all the same, whatever standards they claim to have: ugly and dirty.
In the morning, we met with our “French speaking” guide (still not sure what language she was speaking) and started our adventure in Harar. The old city is a little jewel. Built as a Medina in the 8th – 9th century, Harar is home to 110 mosques and around 150 shrines. It is a maze of small streets, all paved, with white traditional Harar houses and green mosques. Most streets are completely empty, except for the ones which host a market. These are full of people wearing very bright colors buying hundreds of spices, pots, cloths etc… There really is a buzz to this town and it is beautiful.
Harar is famous for its coffee (I will let my dad comment on that) and ch’at production. Ch’at is a leave that people chew to get high. It is legal in Ethiopia, Somalia and the region, but also in the UK. Someone would need to chew it for 6 hours before to see the “benefit” of this drug. It is apparently energizing and keeps you awake. From what we saw, it is more mind-numbing than anything else. Most people have green lips and teeth and can’t focus any more. They are lying on the ground, chewing and smiling. When I asked Abel if he would ever try Ch’at he answered me with disgust that he was no sheep, so no, he was not going to chew on leaves for hours. I think he did not have much respect for the chewer, as he tried to take his picture with the most ridiculous ones. When Ethiopia wonders why its economy is not growing faster, I think one of the reasons laid in front of our eyes during this trip: ch’at kills entrepreneurs, kills businesses, kills employees and definitely kills brain cells.
Harar is also famous for being home to Arthur Rimbaud. We visited his museum to learn his incapability as a business man. Ah, realizing you are a genius to young is definitely bad for your health (look how he finished), I am glad I haven’t found yet what I am really good at (contract law does not count).
Finally, Harar is unique for its hyenas feeding spots. The tradition started not that long ago, but it is very popular. You have to understand that hyenas in Ethiopia are dreaded animals. They kill children in every city and decimate life stock. Two men feed hyenas on a daily basis in Harar. They come 15 kilometers for a bit of fresh meet, you can hear their laugh from miles. So, we went to feed the hyenas. The parents weren’t that impressed, but I am sure they were playing cool. Abel and I were subjugated. We had to brace ourselves to get in the queue to feed the wilds. You feed them from a stick around 15 centimeters that you can hold in your hand, or for the bravest, in your mouth. I did the hand, and then, the show man fed them next to my ear!!! I very courageously closed my eyes and just focused on the noise and the smell… enough adventure for the month!
We had been driving in the dark for 45 minutes when we reached our destination. You know when Borringer says, a town at night is beautiful, well, he surely is not talking about Ethiopian’s city. Because, a town by night, in Ethiopia is… pitch black when there is a power cut. So, the arrival was certainly adventurous, we could not see a thing, and finding our hotel was a crusade. We did finally get there to discover that hotel in Ethiopia are all the same, whatever standards they claim to have: ugly and dirty.
In the morning, we met with our “French speaking” guide (still not sure what language she was speaking) and started our adventure in Harar. The old city is a little jewel. Built as a Medina in the 8th – 9th century, Harar is home to 110 mosques and around 150 shrines. It is a maze of small streets, all paved, with white traditional Harar houses and green mosques. Most streets are completely empty, except for the ones which host a market. These are full of people wearing very bright colors buying hundreds of spices, pots, cloths etc… There really is a buzz to this town and it is beautiful.
Harar is famous for its coffee (I will let my dad comment on that) and ch’at production. Ch’at is a leave that people chew to get high. It is legal in Ethiopia, Somalia and the region, but also in the UK. Someone would need to chew it for 6 hours before to see the “benefit” of this drug. It is apparently energizing and keeps you awake. From what we saw, it is more mind-numbing than anything else. Most people have green lips and teeth and can’t focus any more. They are lying on the ground, chewing and smiling. When I asked Abel if he would ever try Ch’at he answered me with disgust that he was no sheep, so no, he was not going to chew on leaves for hours. I think he did not have much respect for the chewer, as he tried to take his picture with the most ridiculous ones. When Ethiopia wonders why its economy is not growing faster, I think one of the reasons laid in front of our eyes during this trip: ch’at kills entrepreneurs, kills businesses, kills employees and definitely kills brain cells.
Harar is also famous for being home to Arthur Rimbaud. We visited his museum to learn his incapability as a business man. Ah, realizing you are a genius to young is definitely bad for your health (look how he finished), I am glad I haven’t found yet what I am really good at (contract law does not count).
Finally, Harar is unique for its hyenas feeding spots. The tradition started not that long ago, but it is very popular. You have to understand that hyenas in Ethiopia are dreaded animals. They kill children in every city and decimate life stock. Two men feed hyenas on a daily basis in Harar. They come 15 kilometers for a bit of fresh meet, you can hear their laugh from miles. So, we went to feed the hyenas. The parents weren’t that impressed, but I am sure they were playing cool. Abel and I were subjugated. We had to brace ourselves to get in the queue to feed the wilds. You feed them from a stick around 15 centimeters that you can hold in your hand, or for the bravest, in your mouth. I did the hand, and then, the show man fed them next to my ear!!! I very courageously closed my eyes and just focused on the noise and the smell… enough adventure for the month!
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