Sunbird Cafe

For lunch today I had a vegetarian club sandwich. On the menu, next to the vegetarian dishes it said in parentheses "(fasting)", an common piece of information since most Ethiopians fast on Wednesdays or Fridays until 3 or 6pm, and I was told the reason was that Jesus was crucified and rose from the dead at these times, so people observe one of these times.In addition, it is currently Lent in Ethiopia. Unlike Lent in America, which lasts 40 days before Easter, the Ethiopian Orthodox Church designated 55 days, although I haven't been able to find out yet why. During Ethiopian Lent, people are not supposed to eat meat or drink alcohol at all and observe more strict fasting guidelines.
Having been a vegetarian for a couple years in my twenties, I'm always interested to try dishes without meat just for variety, and the vegetable sandwich did not disappoint. It came in the conventional triangle cut with a toothpick through all four slices arranged around the plate with french fries in the middle. It was packed with green beans, cucumber, boiled spinach and a few veggies I actually couldn't identify. I listened to NPR on my iPod while I ate (a great program on WBUR 'On Point' about the 1,000 year old novel Tale of Genji, written in Heian Era Japan), looking out the window at the passersby. Every so often a waitress would lean forward into my line of sight to see if I needed anything and I'd pull out my ear buds. I ordered a cup of espresso and sipped it slowly watching people come and go, couples walk by hand-in-hand, mothers carrying their infants on their backs using a large cloth, and beyond the sidewalk, buses and trucks rumble past, people talking on their cell phones sitting in SUVs and little blue taxis whizzing by trying to keep up with traffic.

Pirates

I went to the bookstore this afternoon and, as usual, waved off young
kids offering to polish my sneakers, newspaper boys selling the Amharic
daily news, and DVD pirates selling their wares. These guys always hang
out by this shopping center because there is a day spa, a bookstore and
Lime Tree cafe is there, which attracts fairly affluent people with some
time on their hands. Walking up to the entrance my ears are fill with
their calls, "Mister", "Hello", "Sir, sir!" I usually nod no and they
don't pursue it, but I have to admit I looked a little too long at that
Slumdog disc. He was a middle-aged guy with slightly graying hair. He
was dressed well but his clothes, after weeks (months?) of wear-n-tear,
were nearly blackened. "Sir, take a look. All good movies, very good,
guaranteed," and he put on his best smile. I told him no thanks, not
interested, but he came back trying a different tactic, "I also have
Ethiopian culture movie." Thinking I should ask him if he had Teza, the
Ethiopian movie I saw last week, since I'd probably never find it in
Japan, I looked sideways at him, but then he continued, "African weenie
and lady," and then lifted his shirt to reveal a few DVDs he had shoved
under his belt buckle, "Better than Hollywood." Almost laughing at the
misunderstanding, all I could do was put my head down. Now near the
entrance, I hopped up the stairs and past the guards stationed at the
front door of the shopping center.

Hyundai Event

Walking down Bole Road I saw the sign for a local NGO hung on a building
on the other side of a parking lot. There was a road that led wound down
and behind the parking lot and when I got closer to take a look, I
noticed there was an event in progress. It was actually by the Korean
automaker Hyundai. I noticed a guard wearing a beret walking down the
side of the parking lot I was on toward where I was, although not
necessarily toward me. I decided to walk back and avoid any warning from
the guard, but when he saw me turn away he said in a clear voice, "It's
an even to unveil a new car." I turned and he was smiling, just making a
friendly gesture that I could stay if I wanted. I paused and replied,
mostly out of politeness, "Oh, it's a new model they're showing?" He
pointed down to a car and I attempted to confirm by also pointing, "That
one?" "No, no, that one over there," he said and pointed again, but this
time at a big, flatbed truck that was probably used to transport the new
car to this location. I looked at the truck and then back at him; he was
laughing. Pretty good, I thought, and laughed too. He started walking
again and I waved and headed back down the road myself.

McLovin it

The cable channel here for Fox Movies is broadcast out of Egypt, just north of here, so a lot of the commercials are for that market. During the Oscars it felt like they kept showing the same three commercials: Samsung, Cadillac and 7-Up. The Samsung one is for a new cell phone, whereas the Cadillac one is for a new truck marketed to Egyptian women, showing one woman with long, dark, curly hair driving through the streets, and a voice-over of her saying, "Women want more than just cup holders." I'm not kidding.
The 7-Up ad shows a girl in a red and white striped dress who drinks from the new and improved bottle for 7-Up, now more curvy and fun, and suddenly the design on her dress turns into a fresh, youthful pattern. Her old boxy car turns into a curvy green Volkswagen as she gets behind the wheel and drives down a curvy road, only to stop and pick up a black&white, hand-drawn character from the 7-Up bottle who has come to life, sits in the passenger seat and puts the new 7-Up bottle on her dashboard. (Maybe she actually does need a cup holder?)
However, by far, my favorite Egyptian commercial is the one for McDonald's. It shows a young Egyptian wife in a huge, shiny kitchen getting ready to prepare a meal for her family. As she pulls out the hamburger meat, suddenly a man in a dark uniform and hat appears to assist her, but only briefly before he fades back into the shadows. She puts the lettuce in a bowl to wash and suddenly finds herself surrounded by young, male McDonald's workers who hand her a bowl of perfect veggies and another one across the kitchen island chopping the onions before they again fade away. The young woman continues to build the burgers on a gleamingly clean metal tray, putting down the toasted bottom bun, when suddenly the burgers begin to build themselves as if by magic: a meat patty appears, the onions and tomato pop in from nowhere, the sesame bun on top. Then the woman is transported, effortlessly, to a McDonald's restaurant, smiling and looking proud as she and her children watch her husband, in full Arab dress, pick up the burger and bite into it looking satisfied. Something is said in Egyptian as the scene fades to black and the Golden Arches appear with a deep male voice saying what sounds like "Mac Do-nol" cheerily to end the commercial and cut back to the Rikki Lake film, Matters of Life and Dating.

Barney Rubble

If I were to pick a cartoon character to represent Ethiopia, I think I might select Barney Rubble from the Flintstones. Barney Rubble is a bit more conservative than his wily neighbor Fred Flintstone, both in character and in dress. Fred wears a bright orange suit, yells Yaba-daba and jumps into situations head first, whereas Barney wears earthy colors and gives great consideration to any action, which reminds me of the fastidious demeanor shown here by people in meetings as they discuss the various angles of any issue. Sure, Barney has his faults, but for the most part he is a voice or reason to quell Fred's antics. This resembles Ethiopia's position as capital of the African Union, which they helped to establish, trying to pull the continent towards more unity and development.
Another reason for the Barney Rubble comparison is that there is a great deal of construction going on in Addis and it seems like everything is in a permanent state of being one-third done, with broken slabs of concrete and stones piled up near the construction sites. The bare columns of these construction projects are all decorated with long, wooden poles tied into a complex array of criss-crossing scaffolding. Although these look nice when silhouetted against the sky at dusk, you could probably disassemble these and build a new fleet of cars for the town of Bedrock.
Also, as I have mentioned before, the main roads are paved and well-maintained, but the side roads in Addis Ababa are nothing but earth and rubble. Vehicles, pedestrians and herds of animals kick up dust and dirt as they make their way down these streets, driving or stepping over rubble the whole way. On one road, a capped manhole rose a good 1/2 meter straight up above the middle of a road and our taxi had to slow and veer right through a pothole. Not over it, but through it--maybe more aptly described as a "road canyon".

laundry line

Minutes after I get back to my guest house I hear drops of rain falling
on the iron roofs of the shanty houses nearby, tip-tapping and first and
then it began to fall harder. I looked out the window and saw women
darting into their yards to grab laundry hanging on the lines outside.
They didn't carry laundry baskets and there was no need to collect
clothes pins since the clothes were simply draped over the line. The
women swung half a shirt or the legs of a pair of pants up and over the
line and caught the items in one arm before dashing back into their homes.

Slow service

Yesterday we had a streak of bad luck with slow service at restaurants.
We had long finished our small appetizers before they brought the
entrees, and the rice that arrived earlier was cold by then. It then
took 15 minutes for them to bring us the check and another 10 minutes
for them to come collect the money and bring the change. This wouldn't
be so bad if our purpose had been to go out and muse about work issues
and Ethiopia in general, but there were four of us last night and it
seemed everyone was pretty tuckered out with long lulls in conversation.
There were moments when I actually analyzed the ceiling in great detail,
pausing momentarily only to sip my glass of flat, lukewarm coca-cola.

Pronunciation

Words in Amharic present a considerable challenge to pronounce without spitting your tongue out of your mouth. The other day when I asked our driver about the movie Teza, he had no idea what I was talking about. "Never heard of it," he said. This morning he told me that he had read an article in the paper about the movie and now realized what I was talking about, and not to say "tease-ah" but "tay-za" with a plosive stress on the "t".
I tried it, "TTT-ay-za", almost spitting on myself. He repeated and I said it again, this time with less spittle. He nodded his head.
I then got a lightning-fast lesson in the letter T. There are seven sounds related to "t" in Amharic: Ta - Toe - Tu - Tay and so on. He gave me an example of each and told me what the words meant, such as "slanted roof of a house" or "a breast", and then Tay-za, which of course is "dew".
I brought the conversation back to the movie and, although he hadn't seen the movie, he also agreed there was some metaphor in the title; he was sure. I asked him to again describe the meaning of the word for "dew" and he said something that you can only see in the early morning and then is gone. Thinking about the movie a bit more, it might not be as much about hope as it is about losing the innocence of childhood. There were a number of scenes where Anberber, the main character, had nightmares that he was killed as a child and it tormented him to see young men from his village be taken away by rebel armies to fight for someone else's cause. Our driver then told me that the movie took something like 18 years to film and was released after Haile Gerima, the director, had passed away. So again, it's possible that the reference is to Haile himself, who is now gone like dew in the afternoon.

Lime Tree cafe

Today for lunch we went to a cafe in town called Lime Tree. It's a
popular lunch spot, apparently, as the place was packed, mostly with
cafe-savvy out-of-towners. The menu featured pizza and pasta as well as
some Indian "thali" lunches, but there was also had a large selection of
sandwiches and choice of white, wheat or onion bread. I ordered the
hummus, tomato, garlic and fig sandwich thinking that sounded
interesting, and a lentil and tomato soup. After ordering, my coworker
recognized someone he knew from a major NGO in the water sector here, "a
key person" according to him. The woman was British, I believe, and
introduced us to the man she was standing next to. They had been married
the previous Saturday she said, and she pointed to the table they were
headed where her father and brother were seated. We told them
congratulations and then briefly made an appointment to meet with her
once she was back to the office next week. Our food arrived a little
late but the hummus was great on wheat and the fig and garlic was a
better match than I had imagined. However, there was a small sliver of
plastic in my soup so that ruined my good impression of the place. I
alerted the staff to the plastic bit and suggested they not refrigerate
things in plastic containers. He shook his head yes and took the little
piece of plastic in his hand and disappeared. The manager apologized for
the food being late and then asked me how everything was, so I don't
think anyone told him about the plastic soup. Glancing over at the "key
person" from the NGO, I decided not to make a big deal out of it, but I
don't think I'll frequent Lime Tree even if it is where all the cool
people hang out.

Excuse me

This post is not about Ethiopia but about the Japanese language, although it took place in Ethiopia.

As most people know or can imagine, the Japanese language is full of polite niceties and phrases that you would never hear in English. For example, at a full-service gas station (a rarity in Japan, but attendants are still common), they will happily open your car door for you so you don't have to bother opening your window. They will then take payment and give you change and so on, and just before closing the door they will actually announce in a friendly, almost jovial tone, "I will close the door!"
To frame the beginning and end to any activity, it would not be all that odd for someone to say, "Start!" and then, "That's all" to signal the end. In the same way, when entering someone's office, it is commonplace to say, "Excuse me" and then repeat the same phrase in the past tense when leaving the room.
Today in the men's room, my coworker surprised me by saying, "Ojyama shimasu", which means something like sorry to bother you or sorry to get in your way as he stepped up to the urinal next to the one I was at. This is a phrase you would normally use when entering a friend's house and is merely a formal saying like the one above, repeated in past tense when leaving. It's never used in the bathroom and I knew that he was saying this to simply signal that he was in the bathroom and about to step up next to me, maybe so as not to surprise me. I probably didn't need to say anything, but my immediate response was, "Ojyama shiNAI de!" (DON'T get in the way!) which, considering the situation, I thought was the appropriate thing to say. Luckily, he got the joke.

Max

Here at Chez Glo we have a friendly staff made up of the day manager, a
housekeeper and her assistant, the gate attendant, a gardener and,
finally, a dog named Max. Although Max is probably no purebred, he's a
good looking dog and probably still young in his years. The manager
didn't know exactly how old Max is, but he did say they've had him for
about 2 years now. Every morning when I walk out of the guest house and
into the courtyard, Max starts wagging his tail and running in circles.
The gate attendant usually calls Max over and tells him to sit, which
more often than not results in Max jumping up on his hind legs begging
to be pet. When I get back from the office, the gardener usually lets us
in the gate and Max is always lounging in the fading sunlight and, as
soon as he sees my coworker and I, rolls on his back and puts his paws
up in the air, both his tail and his tongue wagging, welcoming us home.

Interior decorator wanted

Tonight we met up with another colleague of ours in town and decided to
hit Jian Tao, a Chinese restaurant on Bole Road. The restaurant has a
courtyard with is surrounded by a wall with a gate for cars to pull in,
and when our driver turned into the lot, the inside of the car was
flooded in blue light. There were strings of blue lights, like large
Christmas lights, draped over the courtyard and two large red paper
lanterns hanging among them. When we walked into the restaurant, we
grabbed a small table for four and looked over the menus we were handed.
We ordered "sweat and sour" pork (seriously), egg drop soup, "eggplant
iron plate", vegetable fried rice and spicy ground beef and tofu, all of
which tasted excellent. Our table was barely large enough to handle all
the plates, but we made due. The purple table cloth matched the cloth
napkins, although the table cloth was stained and the napkins had
cigarette burns in them. I glanced around at the restaurant interior. As
one would expect from the courtyard, the inside of the place was
equally, as one of my coworkers described it, "loud". There were the
typical decorations, such as red and gold, diamond-shaped posters with
the character for "luck" hung upside-down (on purpose) and a miniature
Chinese flag together with a flag for the Beijing Olympics. There was
also a television in the middle of the room playing a Chinese news
channel and the restaurant owner plunked herself down at a table in
front of it to watch as she balanced the books. However, the feature
that threw off my senses completely were the large, three-dimensional
snowflakes stuck to the walls. Considering we were in Africa, this
seemed akin to a restaurant in Canada decorating its walls with pictures
of camels and cacti.

Afternoon stroll

After lunch today I walked around the premises with one of the course
coordinators. He told me what the companies across the road were making,
like the soap/detergent factory and a tannery, or what organizations
were in other buildings, like the CRDA or Christian (R?) Development
Association which is a large umbrella NGO in Ethiopia. We walked by some
old machinery on Center grounds that was no longer functional, like the
rusting 80m drilling rig donated by Russia. He told me that when he was
younger he lived in the Soviet Union, in present-day Kyrgyzstan. After
that he lived in Norway for a year or so before returning to Ethiopia in
the 90s. Considering the destination of his travels, it was a little
surprising when we started talking about music and he told me he liked
Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton and that American country music was very
popular among people of his generation. After that we were talking about
names and I found out his name means "appointment" in English. He was
named as such because as soon as he was born, his father, a policeman,
was appointed to a higher position. While many Americans have three
names (first, middle and family), Ethiopians also use three names but
these are their given name, their father's given name and their
grandfather's given name, so technically no single "family name" is
handed down. When a man and woman get married there is no custom of
taking the other person's name; each of them maintains his or her own
name, father's name and grandfather's name. After that we had gone full
circle and were back at the entrance of the Center, but it was a nice
afternoon stroll.

Minibus taxis

On two occasions I have used the little blue taxis to get around town,
but yesterday for the first time my coworker "M" and I got in the blue
minbus taxis that are so popular in Addis. Walking down Bole Road, the
main strip, you see dozens of these minibuses filled with passengers
rolling along in the outside lane, frequently stopping at various
destinations along the way where people either file inside or jump out.
The cost of a personal taxi is 20 birr at a minimum (about $2), but
these minibuses will cost you about 0.6 birr to go the same distance,
(that's right, less than a nickel). They are operated by a driver and
one attendant in the back that yells out the window to pedestrians to
let them know where the vehicle is headed and signals the driver where
to stop. He also collects the money and makes change in rapid succession
from the approximately 15 people squeezed into the minibus at any one
time. On the way back from dinner last night we told them our
destination and clamored in, M having to climb over a few people to an
open seat in the back while I grabbed a spot near the door. When we were
less than 200 meters from our place we stopped to pick up more
passengers. Even though M signaled that we wanted to go a little
further, the attendant waved for us to hop out to make room for the
people waiting. These minibuses are a reasonable and cheap way to get
around the city. The passengers range from school kids to young mothers
and toddlers to young urbanite party-goers, but the atmosphere inside is
one of camaraderie and respect, and a nice experience for the outsider
wanting to look inside.

Makush Art Gallery

Last evening I went to a restaurant in downtown Addis Ababa called
Makush Art Gallery. As you can tell from the name, the restaurant
doubled as a place for artists to display and sell their work so the
walls were covered with various paintings of scenes from both the urban
and rural landscape, as well as abstract paintings, traditional art and
some human portraits. The menu was mostly Italian with some steak
selections as well. To make up for the horrible lunch we had yesterday,
I again ordered tortellini, this time with fresh cream sauce and ham (I
couldn't allow that to be my coworkers only impression of one of my
favorite pasta dishes), along with a cheese, mushroom and ham calzone
and a green salad with oil and vinegar dressing and tomato slices,
chopped onions and black olives. As is customary in Japan, we got extra
plates to share the meal, which I washed down with a glass of red wine
from S. Africa and my coworker ordered a St. George beer brewed here in
Addis. The other diners were mostly European but it seemed like a
popular getaway for locals as well. The paintings were modestly priced
between $100~$300 on average with some slightly lower priced ones just
outside the gallery in the entrance hall. One I liked in particular was
an urban scene stripped of complexity, simply featuring the blue minibus
taxis parked in a cluster on a mustard yellow canvas, and in the
foreground were two healthy but solemn-faced donkeys in black and gray
carrying a load on their backs. I thought that one was able to
skillfully utilize both subdued and bright colors to highlight the
conventional and technological methods used to transport people and
things around this congested urban landscape.

Edison's hiccup

Everything suddenly goes quiet and the room goes dim. Unannounced, the
power has gone out for the second time in two days. It's lucky that I'm
on a laptop with a good battery since the power seems to take these
little 20-minute coffee breaks once or twice a week. Suddenly devoid of
electricity, people make the necessary adjustments to try and keep doing
whatever it was they were involved in until, abruptly, the power hiccups
back on and the machines burp and wheeze back to life. People show
absolutely no surprise during these times, indicative of how accustomed
to this they are. All the electronics are plugged in through surge
protectors that beep occasionally to warn that their power supply has
been cut off, although generally there is no damage done. Today,
however, the power went out for 5 minutes and then, a few minutes later,
went out again for 10 minutes. Maybe it forgot something on it's way out?

p.s. After writing this and before sending this e-mail to the blog, the
power went out two more times, again only briefly. Electricity here is
like a sleeping fat man snoring through the night who's breathing is
suddenly suspended for a few moments and then resumes with a full snort
to announce its rhythmical return. Good night and good luck.

Not tortellini

I order the tortellini at the small restaurant we go to for lunch today, a place named "Pasta Resturant". Like the "a" on their signboard, I realize there is something missing once my order arrives...namely, a good-tasting lunch. It tastes as if someone used a can opener to prepare this meal, and when I take a bite of the stale bread on the table, I'm convinced of it. The other problem is that my tortellini is actually ravioli, but all this is excusable in comparison to the mushroom tagliatelle my coworker ordered which has a total of two mushroom slices and tastes like it was mixed with rotten yoghurt.

Lonely, Lonely Planet

I just got back from the Hilton. This was part of my latest attempt to
find a travel guide, such as Lonely Planet, for Ethiopia. I had checked
two English language bookstores over the weekend, both of which were
full of textbooks and a selection of fiction, but neither had travel
guides of any kind. Thinking this was strange, I figured at least they
would have something available at the shops located within the posh
hotel Hilton. There are all sorts of souvenir shops selling Ethiopian
CDs and jewelery in addition to precious stones, earthenware and
fabrics; they even have novels and non-fiction bestsellers, but not a
single travel guide. There are also travel agents located in the Hilton,
but they didn't even have any information to offer. It seems such a
shame since Ethiopia does indeed have so much to offer, but in the
meantime I'm simply glad that I have people around here at the Center
that I can ask for good recommendations. So I will probably check out
the national museum sometime soon and also ask around to find out if
it's possible to get a tour of the presidential palace located smack in
the center of the city which apparently even has a Japanese garden.

...and on the seventh day...

Again, a warning to sensitive readers, this post recognizes the
existence of the small intestine.

Any time you go overseas to a far-away land, you're bound to find your
body has to struggle to adjust a little. So I wasn't too surprised to
face a minor "gastrointestinal adjustment"(*) after being in Ethiopia
for a week. The larger shock was the fact that--as I mentioned in a
previous post--toilet paper seems to be of short supply here. I made a
mental note that the roll of t.p. was not replaced in the Center
lavatory since last Wednesday and wondered if ever again the powers that
be would replenish the supply. Day after day, out of pure curiosity, I
glanced in the stall and, still nothing. However, on the seventh day, a
miracle! A half-roll of low-quality one-ply was installed by the
cleaning woman this morning. And so, even though my body has made the
necessary adjustments, just the knowledge that that little roll of t.p.
hangs in waiting, gives me a sense of comfort. So as for that particular
anxiety, on the seventh day there was rest.

(*) as a side note, unlike Americans who would rather resort to speaking
of personal journals in pig-Latin that be caught using a certain word
featured on a Pepto Bismol bottle (granted, it's not the easiest word in
the English language to spell), the Japanese have no reservations about
such issues and readily announce that they have "g-e-r-i" without regard
to piety or respect for, say, when people are enjoying the smell of
fresh flowers or dipping their naan in a curry.

Living in America

Yesterday during lunch, the center coordinator and I spoke about more
than just movies. One thing he said was that he has two brothers and two
sisters living in America near Washington D.C. Most people probably
don't realize how many Ethiopian immigrants there are in America.
According to the 2000 census, the number was 72,000, although the number
is mostly much, much higher, possibly around 1.2 million. According to
my Ethiopian coworker, Amharic is the 5th language of the U.S. capital.
He admitted that many Ethiopians go to America on student visas to
study, many of them end up working 12-hour days doing manual labor, he
said that his brother has a degree in economics from Ireland and now
works at a U.S. bank. Both of his brothers are married and have children
now, and although his sisters are still single, they all live nearby one
another. One can only hope that the current recession won't affect his
siblings too badly.

Meaning of the word "teza"

Today my colleague was out of the office so I ate lunch with the
Ethiopian course coordinators. They speak English so communication was
no problem and I always enjoy hearing what they have to say. Today I
chatted with one of the guys that I hadn't spoken to before. I asked him
if he'd heard of the movie Teza and he said he had but hadn't seen it,
but I finally found out what the word "teza" means. Although he didn't
know the exact word in English, he explained like this: "You know, in
the morning, on the grass, there is a moisture... and by the afternoon
it is gone away." I understood what he meant immediately, but had to
think what the movie Teza had to do with dew. I asked him if there was
some metaphor in the word and asked him if he thought it could mean that
the hope we have in our youth eventually evaporates as we age. He said
maybe, but he'd have to see the movie. As you can tell, I'm quite
intrigued to hear what an Ethiopian native has to say about this movie.

Academy Awards

This morning I turned on the Academy Awards just as they were announcing
the best Foreign Language Film. I could hardly believe my eyes when I
saw the director and cast for the Japanese film "Departures" take the
stage. BBC World News had been predicting that the Israeli film "Waltz
with Bashir" or France's "The Class" were the contenders to win and
hardly gave Departures a mention. This past year I haven't seen many
films, including Departures, but of course it's on my must-watch list
now. I'm still baffled by BBC's description of the storyline that an out
of work cellist takes a job preparing the dead for burial. As far as I
know, everyone is cremated in Japan. Well, I'll watch it and see for
myself.

Elephant Walk

I ventured out by myself to explore Addis Ababa this afternoon, or at
least the main road that runs through it. Chez Glo, my guest house, is
just a short walk from Bole Road which pretty much runs from the airport
straight north through the city. I put on some sunscreen, grabbed my
book and headed out, stopping along the way for lunch. I chose a place
called Elephant Walk since a) it looked inviting and b) after just 20
minutes in the sun I needed a big glass of water. I grabbed a seat out
on the patio but noticed that occasionally beggars would stroll through
and hold out their hands to the guest. I moved my seat to one inside the
restaurant and opened the menu. The waitress took my order: a greek
salad, a chicken sandwich and a cold bottled water. The salad had large
chunks of feta cheese, big slices of tomato, red onion, crisp shards of
lettuce and some peppers that added a little spice and balance to the
whole dish. The chicken sandwich came on a large bread roll with
shredded chicken and tomato and a side of french fries. Everything was
excellent and I took my time with it, relaxing and reading my book.
Afterwards I ordered a cappuccino and finished the chapter I was on
before heading back out to Bole Road and continue my walk. I continued
walking another 90 minutes, straight ahead, just taking in the sights
and everything that was going on around me. When my legs felt like they
were about to give out, I crossed the street, hailed a little blue taxi
and watched my whole walk in reverse from the backseat.

Doha Debates

I'm just watching the Doha Debates on BBC World News right now. The
discussion at hand is on whether or not Arab unity exists and if there
is any hope after Gaza. Of course I'm in Ethiopia, not rightly part of
the Arab world, but much of what was said reminded me the theme in Teza,
the movie I saw yesterday. One Doha panelist, part of a research
institute in Qatar, made the statement that when he was 20 he was full
of hope, but by the time he was 25 he only had a sliver of hope left.
Now, at his current age (40s?) he said he has zero hope for Arab unity
and change, and the audience showed their agreement with the sentiment
through applause. The character in Teza, Anberber, grew up full of hope
to transform Ethiopian leadership and society into something prosperous,
but as he came of age and tried to make a difference, his hope slowly
died, and the movie shows his struggle to keep his hope alive. The
fanfare the surrounds the movie here and the throngs of young Ethiopians
going to see this movie show they also agree with the sentiment. In
reflection, the American "vote for change" (i.e. hope) shows this
sentiment is now thriving worldwide, and our struggle to keep it alive
as the world faces multiple challenges.

Teza

This evening I went to go see the movie Teza by Ethiopian director Haile
Gerima. I had heard very good reviews and was not disappointed. The
movie opens showing its main character, Anberber, wrapped in bandages,
bloodied and frantically fighting to stay alive. He somehow recovers,
and the movie follows the life of Anberber, mostly through flashbacks of
him and his peers as young, progressive-minded Marxists studying in
Germany in the 1970s. They return to Ethiopia in the 1980s after the
autocratic monarchy is overthrown with hopes to conduct medical research
and fight disease in their homeland, but get wrapped up fighting for
their own lives amongst political turmoil under the Derg dictatorship.
The film made you think and had dark moments, but at the same time was
uplifting to see this character go through so much madness and face so
much insanity and never back down. You can check more at:
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1284592/

Armenian cuisine

For dinner tonight, two of my colleagues and I went to a place called
Aladdin for Armenian food. It is probably the most expensive place I've
been to since I arrived in Addis Ababa, but it was well worth it. We
ordered some mutabal (like baba ghanoush) and pita bread, chicken and
mince kebabs, fattoush salad and grilled fish with vegetables. My only
disappointment was I didn't get to try the greek salad this time, but
I'll have to drop in on Aladdin again.

Russian-made taxis

The side roads in Addis Ababa are mostly dirt roads scattered with small
rocks and potholes. Most people drive trucks and SUVs here (they
actually serve a purpose here), but it's amazing to see the taxis in
Addis which are all impossibly small, blue, four-door cars from Russia.
Some drivers decorate their wheels with Honda stickers or Peugeot decals
(note: I can't imagine why they choose Peugeot except that they also
make bicycles and maybe it's better to imagine you're driving a
glorified bicycle than the best Soviet car manufacturers had to offer).
They creep along bad patches of road as slow as they can, the engine
sputtering and choking when faced with even a minor slope. I took one of
these taxis for the first time last night to go to the German
restaurant. When we motioned to the driver that we wanted to hire the
car, his friend in the passenger seat got out and waved goodbye. We told
him where we wanted to go and he gave the engine some gas to get the car
off the side of the road on rolling along with traffic. Five minutes and
30 birr (about $3) later, we were standing outside Edna Mall, from where
the German restaurant was supposedly nearby. We asked around and one
security guard told us to walk down another 10 meters, "about 5 minutes"
he said. Figuring he had better judgment of time than distance, it
wasn't long before we found Garden Brau and settled into our seats.
Afterwards I asked if we should grab a taxi back home, but my coworker
and I looked at those little blue taxis and decided we might as well walk.

Juice

I just went to the roadside stall where I buy juice and whatnot. Today I
was trying to buy a phone card but none of them were effective until 7pm
tonight or something. I was pointless to try to ask why so I just bought
some juice and moved on. When I got back to my room I noticed the juice
brand is "Tropique". I suppose this is the African version of Tropicana?
I also saw the stall had some herbal flavored toothpaste, not by
Colgate, but by "College".

40 Thieves

Today I went to a great German restaurant for dinner. The place was
packed with Germans and Ethiopians alike, all drinking blonde and ebony
beer brewed on the premises. The food was beyond excellent--we tried the
bratwurst and jaeger schnitzel. One of our other coworkers was coming
back to Addis Ababa after being out in the field and maybe going to join
us, but he called and said he was going to just grab a quick dinner
somewhere and go straight back to the guest house since he was beat.
Later, we walked back to Chez Glo and knocked on the first floor suite.
He had the last vacant room and it was probably three times larger than
the rest, but we all laughed that the television screen was still only
13 inches.
After a few minutes we went to grab something from the kitchen and then
everyone said goodnight. But as I started up the stairs I heard my
colleague rattle the door knob to his suite and mutter something in
Japanese. I stopped and turned around, "Did you lock yourself out?" I
asked him. The manager told us there was only one key for this room and
he clamored onto the first floor balcony, trying to open the shutters
that were pulled down over the sliding glass doors, but everything was
locked up tight. I wandered back in and looked at the door again.
Maybe I've seen too many movies, but almost instinctively, I pulled out
my AmEx card and slipped it between the door and the doorframe. As if
Ali Baba himself had made the command, the door swung open effortlessly.
I turned around and everyone stood there, stunned, mouths agape. I could
do little but smile a little sheepishly until my coworker began to voice
concerns for his security. "Sleep tight, buddy!" I said and slapped my
coworker on the back before scooting up the stairs.

Devotion

Today in the car we passed a group of teenagers wearing Islamic head
scarves waiting to cross the street. They were laughing together about
something, one of them obviously the most popular of the group. Another
girl, who stood at the end, was quickly trying to pick something out of
her teeth while her friends weren't looking.

Zoro Zoro

Another new word in Ahmeric: zoro zoro. We've been having meetings all week and the Ethiopian guys often discuss things at length in Ahmeric before then discussing things with me and my colleague in English. Sometimes one person is particularly animate about his opinion and what seems like an argument breaks out, but in the end, everyone chuckles a little bit and calms down. At this point I can usually catch the word "zoro zoro". Afterwards I found out that this means something akin to "well, anyway..." and is said to move the conversation along to a new topic. Knowing this, during today's meeting, I found that after I heard zoro zoro once or twice, they were coming to a conclusion and would soon speak in English again.

"What's Up"

Last night I spoke with another guest staying at Chez Glo. She is American and hails from New York who is in Ethiopia doing a project on education working with NGOs and grassroots organizations teaching them how to use digital video and providing equipment. She said that although she was born and bred American, her parents both came from Ethiopia. This is her second time to Ethiopia, the first time being a few years ago when she visited the city where her parents originally hail from, a place called Jima where she still has some relatives. Apparently, Jima used to be a great city, greater than the current capital, but fell to ruin after The Derg took control in Ethiopia. I don't know that much about Ethiopian history, but I'm interested in it. She suggested I go see an Ethiopian produced movie that is playing now in a theater near the guest house. She said she saw it and it has subtitles in English, and is immensely popular right now. She also provided me with a copy of a monthly zine called "What's Up" that you can find in town and shows all the good restaurants and things to do around town. I looked through there and circled some other suggestions she had so for my remaining month in Ethiopia, I hope I get a chance to check out lots of different places and activities here.

Server down

For the past 24 hours or so, the Internet server we have an account with
has been down so I haven't had access to e-mail or Internet. I asked my
colleague if this happens often and he said all the time. He suspects
that the telecoms in Ethiopia are so bad because there is no competition
to motivate improvements in the infrastructure and services. I suppose
the only option is to keep trying to connect to see when things come
back online, or otherwise try and hunt down an Internet cafe with a good
connection. It sure makes you appreciate having such good access back home.

cotton swabs

I finally found cotton swabs! Of all the things I decided to bring and
not to bring, I didn't realize how much I would miss cotton swabs. Would
people in Ethiopia be more likely to understand "cotton swab" or should
I say "Q-tip"? I imagined how I would have to gesture this to someone,
but I was surprised at how easily I was able to communicate this to the
guy at the roadside stand near the guest house that sells bottled water
and other odds and ends. I pointed to my ear and then pretended I was
holding a cotton swab and vigorously started moving my hand around in an
ear-cleaning motion. The guy reached over and grabbed something from his
case, then smirked and said, "cotton swabs?"

water supply

Lately I've noticed that here at the water technology center there is no
water available from the faucets in the afternoon. The irony of this is
obvious, although I suppose it does emphasize the need for improved
water supply in Ethiopia, which is why the center exists. In the
meantime, I've learned I can usually get a drop or two out of the faucet
if I tap it a few times.

Doro

The word for chicken in Amharic I've learned is doro. Last night as we were going out for dinner, the housekeeper was coming back in with a bag of vegetables and a live chicken. She was grasping both in the same hand effortlessly. It took me a moment to notice, and she laughed when she saw the surprised look on my face. Today at breakfast the manager left us a note asking if we'd like to join them for dinner to have doro kaiwat. I glanced over at the kitchen sink and saw there was a fry pan sitting in it with a freshly plucked chicken laid to rest covered in water. It looked like any chicken you'd see in a grocery store except that the neck was still intact. No doubt Col. Sanders would have looked upon this scene with delight, and I confess that I have a penchant for good chicken bbq, but this time I couldn't help but to feel for a loss of words looking at that featherless doro. Would we join them for dinner tonight? Actually, I have a previous engagement, sorry.

short leash

Forgive the topic, but this post is about toilet paper. Nothing graphic
here, but I just wanted to alert sensitive readers of the fact.

For the most part, Chez Glo has been wonderful in every way, from the
fresh fruits provided at breakfast to the weekly coffee ceremony and
friendly staff. The maid service cleans my room daily, and although I
keep it pretty tidy myself, they fluff the pillows and make the bed with
machine-like precision and straighten out the bathroom. I only wish they
would take note of the amount of toilet paper left on the roll. When
overseas eating new foods, it is of endless comfort to have plenty of
soft 2-ply on hand, if you will. However, last week when the roll was
down to just a few squares, it was not replenished, and I had finally
left the bare cardboard core sitting on top of the toilet tank. In what
reminded me of what a dog on a short leash must feel like, I came back
that evening to find a replacement roll had been provided, but one with
only maybe 20% left on the roll. Today the roll is down to maybe 5% and
I'm faced with the decision of just unrolling the rest of it and hiding
it somewhere so they replace it, or actually take the roll downstairs to
find the maid and gesture my need for a new roll immediately.

Donkey run

I'm still getting a kick out of seeing lots of new stuff here, even
though my coworker says a half dozen donkeys hustling through a busy
intersection with bundles of hay on their backs now seems commonplace to
him. I tried to snap a quick picture but I only got a picture of the
ass' asses.
Following further discussion, my coworker finally conceded that he could
not imagine ever seeing such a thing in Japan and complimented me on my
quick camera work.

Indian restaurant

It's hard to beat certain American cities where people have immigrated
from all over the world and started restaurants providing authentic
cuisine from their former home, however I've found Addis Ababa also
offers an excellent variety of different foods. I've mentioned the
plethora of Italian restaurants already, and no one is surprised to hear
there are Chinese restaurants in every corner of the world. The Turkish
restaurant I went to last week was run by a Turk and the Indian
restaurant I went to last night was run by two men from India. I didn't
know what to expect from the Indian restaurant as we approached the high
wall that surrounded it, only the signboard visible announcing the name
of the restaurant, Ajanta, and below that "The Jewel of India". Inside,
the place was ornately but tastefully decorated. On one side was a
fireplace with a mantle above it that had wines from South Africa and
Australia prominently displayed (although I would later find no wine on
the menu). I had lentil soup, palak paneer, steamed rice and naan, and a
Sprite. The food was excellent and after dinner my co-worker M and I
discussed various places we've been around the world. He told vivid
stories of Bolivia, Hawaii, Australia and Bhutan and how at 18 he'd
never even considered going overseas at all. And now here was an
American and a Japanese sitting at an Indian restaurant in the back
streets of Addis Ababa discussing traditional musical instruments of
Bhutan, the Australian didgeridoo and circular breathing and recording
original music on cassette tapes.

The namesake

The name had to mean something, although I couldn't imagine what. Finally, last night we were told that the owner of Chez Glo, the guest house we are staying at, is named Gloria and all the pieces fell into place. Sitting in the kitchen at "Gloria's House", having just finished cooking a meal, eating and cleaning up after myself, I suddenly felt as if I was somehow invading her space. Naturally, since I was paying a fair amount of money as a "boarder" at this house, it was my right, but now I had a sense that Gloria could possibly walk in to "Kitchen Glo" at any time and see this random American rifling through the cabinets looking for a potato peeler. I imagined such a moment would be awkward, however this feeling was immediately diminished when I realized that I actually had met Gloria the previous day when she popped into the coffee ceremony. She didn't introduce herself, but you could tell she was the owner as soon as she walked into the room. A guest walks into a room and scans it to see what's going on and if they are welcome; an owner strolls into a room talking on her cell phone and puts her bag down on the chair before clicking off and saying hello, discussing something in Amharic with the staff and then giving a friendly wave goodbye.

Disconnected

In Japan I almost always have Internet access, so it feels a little odd
to learn about a culture only through what I hear from the people around
me. Most of what you hear must be taken at face value and to make sure
you understood correctly the best thing to do is ask a few more people.
Also, since Amharic is written in a different alphabet, it's hard to
figure out the exact pronunciation of words used here. Of course I
contended with this challenge when I first studied Japanese, but
comparatively Japanese pronunciation is pretty straightforward whereas
Amharic has inflections and clicks of the tongue I don't usually relate
with words. In any case, I spoke with the manager at Chez Glo and since
his English is pretty clear I was able to ascertain that the 1st day of
the month is known as "Ludata" and they refer to Mary Magdalene as
"Mariam". He then told me nonchalantly, "By the way, all 30 days of the
month have a specific meaning". I've got a lot of learnin' to do!
Something has to be really important to take the time to look it up on
the Internet--each item of a page virtually loading one-by-one on their
own sweet time--so I will use my time talking with people to try and
explore these cultural specifics a little more. Each piece of
information is malleable and subjective, yet, at the same time, primary
and significant as it is passed from person to person without resorting
to Google or Wikipedia to mindlessly cough up "the answer".

Today is not the 16th

After lunch today I ordered "boonah" (regular coffee) and spoke with one
of the course coordinators about the coffee ceremony last night. He
asked me what was special about yesterday and I told him the ceremony
was just to show those of us from overseas the tradition, but then I
asked him what days it is usually performed. He told me it is
traditionally held on the first of every month because that is the
birthday of Magdalene (which took me a minute to figure out was Mary
Magdalene). I think he said this day is pronounced "Hidada", although
the volume of the television in the cafeteria made it hard to hear him
clearly. The coffee ceremony is also performed on the 12th, 19th, 21st
and 23rd of the month (although I didn't catch the reason for all of
these), and when I said that was a lot of coffee at the end of the month
he replied, "Yes, but you just pick one of those". Then he reminded me
that the Ethiopian calendar has 12 months of 30 days (none of them have
28 or 31 days like our calendar) and today was not the 16th but the 9th,
so in 3 more days it would be the 12th (this Thursday) and I should ask
the guest house to do another boonah ceremony then.

p.s. He also corrected me that the popcorn snack eaten before the coffee
is pronounced "/ko-low/", not /koolah /like I wrote before.
p.p.s. Not having ready Internet access, I can not verify most of this
information on Wikipedia and the like, so if anyone wants to do some
fact checking, feel free to leave a comment with corrections :)

coffee ceremony

Around 6 p.m. there was a knock on my door and I was invited down to the
garden level floor for a coffee ceremony. I threw on a sweater and my
shoes and headed downstairs where I found two of my colleagues waiting
on the sofa. The housekeeper was dressed in a traditional white dress
with head scarf and she sat on a low stool preparing the coffee. The
process began by roasting green coffee beans on an iron plate over an
open flame until they were blackened. Then she used a wooden mortar and
pestle to pulverize the beans into grounds and scoop them into a small
black jug with a spout and handle. As she did this she had boiled water
in a kettle on the fire to pour into the jug as well. The jug was set on
a 2cm thick ring so it sat on an angle and you could see coffee bubbling
at times from the spout. As we waited she put a few burning embers from
the fire into a large bronze cup that contained incense so that it began
to smoke and fill the room with a light, sweet scent. Finally, we were
given some 'koolah', which is a snack eaten before coffee and in this
case was popcorn piled up on a large dish. Then she put a spoonful of
sugar in small white cups with gold rims and handles on matching saucers
and poured in the coffee. The coffee was dark and rich and served at
just the right temperature to bring out the flavor but not burn even
sensitive lips.

other people's habits

My coworker "M" has a slightly unusual, although not necessarily bad
habit. I'm not sure if it's conscious or simply a matter of necessity,
but every so often M closes his eyes, puts a finger over each eye and
begins to rub them vigorously side-to-side. As a second step, he then he
places his middle and ring fingers over each eye and rubs them
up-and-down. This wouldn't be such a noticeable habit except that he
does not refrain from doing this during social interactions. The other
day when we were at a restaurant, we were talking to the waitress about
her recommendations trying to figure out what to order. Suddenly the
waitress broke out in laughter and when I looked up, M was unabashedly
rubbing his eyes. The waitress must have thought this was some sort of a
joke at first, but when M entered the second, vertical stage you could
see the expression on her face change from amusement to disbelief, and
she continued to laugh, but now somewhat uncomfortably. This reminded me
of the first time I was confronted with this habit of his, so I had to
stifle my own laughter. Eventually we had all six eyes back on the menu
and sorted out our order, but now every time M does this, I am reminded
of the waitress' reaction and can hardly hide the smirk on my face. Good
thing his eyes are closed.

After the wedding ceremony

We were told to come to the wedding ceremony on Saturday at 3:00, but
"M" (my coworker) had been to two Ethiopian weddings before and
negotiated it to 3:30. However, as expected, it was 4:30 before things
really got started and the couple showed up. Everything took place in a
little over two hours, and around 7pm the couple clamored back in their
limo and the guests filed out the gates as well. M and I went to an
Italian restaurant called Zola that had been recommended by a guy at the
Italian Embassy as a good place for homestyle pasta. Zola was packed but
the waiter held up two fingers and when we nodded he waved us on in. We
were sat at a table for four facing a young Ethiopian couple obviously
on a date. They looked like they had been dating a while though and were
rather relaxed so I didn't feel too bad about sharing their table on
Valentine's Day of all things. We all said hello to each other politely
and then minded our own conversations; them speaking in Amharic and we
spoke in Japanese. After perusing the menu which had spaghetti, penne
and tagliatelle--which I now understood was baseline for Italian menus
in Addis Ababa--among other things, I ordered the lasagna, (which was
good, but I lamented that the poor guy at the Embassy had never tasted
/my mom's/ lasagna). After a while the couple left and two Ethiopian
guys sat down and ordered some national dishes which they ate with their
hands.

Turkish food and bar

Last Friday I went with my coworker to a Turkish restaurant located
about 5 minutes from our guest house. There must have been 25 people
working there, which is a lot anyway but considering the size of the
place and number of customers was just overkill. Nevertheless, service
was fast and friendly and we tried Turkish pizza, called /pide/, and a
mix grill plate of assorted meats. We also tried ordering beer but the
restaurant didn't serve any alcohol. Being Friday night, after we
finished our food my coworker brought me to a popular bar in town.
It was dimly lit with tables scattered around the center filled with
lively groups of Ethiopians and sofas along the walls where couples were
cuddling. We grabbed a table near the bar and ordered gin & tonics and
took in the atmosphere. Music was playing but not anything I recognized
(local bands?) and the chatter around us gave the bar a trendy, popular
feel. We drank our cocktails and discussed music, cool day trips in
Japan and what there was to do on the weekend in Ethiopia. To our left
was a table of three with one girl leading the conversation and a guy
and a girl nodding in agreement. Behind us was a table of four--maybe a
double date but they were all speaking in the native tongue so I
couldn't make out what they were talking about. We looked over the menu
and I ordered an Absolute Citroen and tonic and we continued to chatter:
there was a wedding Saturday I could go to if I was interested and on
Sundays the Japanese Embassy and U.S. military played softball in town
if I was interested. As we talked, I overheard two guys at the bar. One
was an Ethiopian and the other was a white ex-pat who was bragging about
his grandkids. They had obviously just met because they left an open
seat between them and I couldn't help but to notice that the ex-pat had
gotten out pictures from his wallet, which caused me to scowl, but then
the Ethiopian guy started bragging about his own children and soon they
were telling each other how lucky they were and patting each other on
the back. We had finished our drinks and it was getting late so we
shuffled off and strolled back to the guest house. It was a nice look at
night life in Addis Ababa, and thanks to the cocktails I slept very well.

coffee

I had coffee with my breakfast this morning and noticed how
full-flavored and strong the taste was. The housekeeper/cook showed me
the stovetop Italian-made coffee maker she used to make coffee. It is a
pecolator mechanism where two chambers--top and bottom--fit together,
and in the middle is coffee packed into a funnel-like cup (for a better
description: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coffee_percolator). Boiling
water is forced up through the grounds, bubbling dark, rich coffee
through a little chimney in the top chamber ready to be poured into your
coffee cup. The housekeeper suggested copious amounts of milk and sugar,
which I also tried and enjoyed, but I still prefer my coffee black.
Later this evening I heard the guest house will hold a coffee ceremony
where they roast green coffee beans into a few cups of coffee. More on
that later I suppose.

Internet cafe

This afternoon I tried going to an Internet cafe to see if they had a
faster connection. I stepped in to a room filled with about 7 computers
and was waved over by one of the guys. He motioned for me to sit at one
computer, which I did and started to open my email, but the connection
was too slow. I was signaled to try a different computer that could read
Japanese and I tried that. The Japanese text showed properly this time
but still the connection was too slow, so after 15 minutes or so I gave
up. The attendant didn't charge me anything and we waved good-bye.

wedding

Today I went to an Ethiopian wedding of a woman at the office. There were between 300 and 400 people there easily, but I was told that was a small wedding for Ethiopia where the head count can go up to two or three thousand in the rural areas. The wedding was outdoors and the guests were seated under 6 massive tents spread out around the yard. Off to one side was a stage, ornately decorated in white. After waiting for over an hour, a white Cadillac limousine carrying the bride and groom pulled in amid much fanfare. There was a camera crew taking video and photos as they stepped out of the car and slowly walked up to the stage. The actual ceremony was subdued and intimate, the guests staying seated around the yard while the bridesmaids and groomsmen joined the couple on stage with an Orthodox Christian priest who prayed with them. Then they walked around the grounds once, stopping along the way to pose for some pictures. Later in the evening the live band started playing with a singer crooning in Amharic along with an alto saxophone. The newlyweds started dancing surrounded by their closest friends forming a circle around them. Slowly the rest of the guests came to surround the couple and everyone danced in a critical mass of guests, moving as one body almost and responding to the band which was playing traditional and beautiful Ethiopian tunes. At the end of the night the couple slowly moved to their limousine, the guests moving with them, still singing and calling out yo-le-le-le-le-le-le. It was truly an energizing and uplifting ceremony to experience and take part in.

cable

The room at Chez Glo is rigged with cable television. Apparently only 2
months ago there were only 2 channels available, but now there is a
black box sitting on the t.v. that goes from 001 to 297! Most of the
channels are satellite reception from other countries in Africa and the
Middle East and in their native languages, but I still have access to
about 16 channels in English. In the mornings I've been watching BBC
world news and Aljazeera english news. I also found NHK, news from
Japan, although I prefer the first two. It's interesting to watch BBC
and Aljazeera back to back since they cover the same stories but usually
from slightly different angles. In any case, these days it's all news
about Hamas and Israel, India and Pakistan, Sri Lanka and Tamil Tigers,
Zimbabwe politics, fires in Victoria and suspect of arson, bombing in
Iraq, and now the jet crash in New York. How uplifting!

meatless fridays

Every Wednesday and Friday, Ethiopians refrain from eating any meat, so
lunch today consisted of injera (the sour flatbread) with sauces (wat)
made of potato, lentils and vegetables. There was also an enormous green
pepper sitting on the plate, but it looked spicy so I didn't try it.
After lunch we had macchiato again. It comes in a short glass sitting on
a small glass saucer. There is a dark top foamy layer of coffee and
steamed milk with a lot of sugar settled on the bottom of the glass. I
stirred it up and drank down the sweet concoction, wide-eyed and ready
for the afternoon.

sudan to the north-west

The other evening I returned to Chez Clo and when I got to the top of
the stairs I saw two men sitting out on the balcony off the hallway. One
of the men immediately stood up and introduced himself. He was a tall
man with a broad smile and wearing a long, white traditional shirt and
white pants, and on top of his head a rounded white hat. He said he was
from Sudan and he looked like a holy man, but his friend and him were
sitting and enjoying a beer together. I introduced myself to both of
them and the other man said he was from Ethiopia--from Addis Ababa. We
chatted about some general topics and then they invited me to join them
for a glass of beer, but I excused myself. It was a brief encounter but
they both seemed like nice gentlemen.

This morning I saw the Sudanese man at breakfast. He said hello and
remembered my name. He probably noticed that I responded without using
his name, although I think it had a "w" in it. As soon as he came
through the door, though, I thought how odd to see him here in the
kitchen. Out on the balcony with his friend he seemed to be in his
element. There are some plants out on the balcony that warmed the
atmosphere and they were relaxed in comfortable chairs. But in the
kitchen, it was as if he walked onto the wrong movie set. He took a seat
next to me and picked up his spoon to eat the papaya on the plate before
him. My colleague continued talking to me in Japanese so we didn't speak
with the Sudanese man and I felt bad that I wasn't showing him the same
hospitality as I had received previously. After a couple minutes we
excused ourselves and headed to the office.

excerpt of a letter

The guest house I'm staying at, "Chez Clo", is pretty good. I went to
breakfast this morning and was served fruit, an omelet and coffee and
tea along with guava juice. It was nice. We have breakfast prepared
anytime between 7:30 and 8:30 and then a car picks us up to take us to
the office. I think it was only a10 minute drive or so. I haven't had a
chance to look around the guest house much, but it looks like there are
lots of shops in the area.
Ethiopia is interesting in that it seems quite different from the rest
of Africa, or at least my image of it. I have been told this by others
and it seems true that Ethiopia is more articulate and meticulous in the
way they do things. They are pretty serious about paper work and getting
certifications for skills, etc. They also wear more earthy colors rather
than the colorful clothes that you generally see in, say, Kenya or
Ghana. Most of the guys wear button down shirts and slacks, others
trousers and t-shirts. Women wear western clothes too, although you see
some cover their heads with cloth; I'm not sure if this is related to
religion or if it's to protect themselves from the heat, or maybe since
some people do carry stuff on their heads it protects their heads?? not
sure. haha
Addis Ababa is a big city so there don't seem to be too many bugs or
creepy crawly things about, although I did see some herds of cattle and
goats in town! Even though it's a big city, people still have their
animals in the city I guess.
The native language in Ethiopia is called Amharic. Most people also
speak English though, so that's the language people use in meetings and
whatnot. But my Japanese colleagues speak in Japanese when they're
meeting with just other Japanese, and I'm included in that group, so I'm
speaking a lot of Japanese over here as well. But everyone including the
Japanese here have pretty good English and the Ehtiopian accent isn't
too hard to get used to.
The weather here is really mild, which is unique in Africa apparently.
In the daytime it is in the 70s and in the evening it drops to maybe the
50s like you said. I brought some light sweaters and one zip-up sweater
so I'm pretty much prepared for the weather here. In the morning I put
on a light sweater and in the evening I can add the heavier sweater or
just wear it as a jacket. It's not humid here at all though. I suppose
it is dry, but basically pleasant all the way around.
For dinner tonight I went with a coworker to a Korean restaurant. It's
run by a Korean lady and had really good food. There were three
different dining areas, so kind of interesting. One part of the
restaurant was indoors with tables, and another part was outdoors with
booths along a wall, but separated by walls for privacy. Then there was
another section that was also a big dining area, but different decor - I
didn't really get a good look at that room though. Anyway, apparently
there are lots of Chinese and Italian restaurants around, plus some
Turkish and Arabic food. Then of course there are the Ethiopian places.
I haven't had any Ethiopian food yet, but probably will tomorrow for
lunch. Should be interesting; I'll let you know.

excerpt of a letter

Hi

Today is my second full day in Ethiopia so I'm still getting a feel for
it. I read some African newspapers before coming to get a feel for the
region, and Addis Ababa being the capital, it's pretty modern for such a
poor country. My sense is that even though people are poor here, they
hold their heads up high and value their communities. Food here is
interesting because, aside from regular Ethiopian fare, they have a lot
of Italian restaurants. I had some good ravioli yesterday for lunch,
believe it or not.

Anyway, I'm involved in helping improve management of a center for water
technology education. The center has been running for about 10 years so
they're moving toward becoming more independent and increasing the
number of students and attracting more from the private sector as well.
My colleagues here have been working on this for about 3 years so I'm
just getting up to speed on everything, but it seems like a successful
project.

7 years

During lunch I spoke with the head of the center where we work. He sat across from me as we both scooped up our wat with injera bread. We began to talk about the national holiday coming up next month, Awade Day, which is to commemorate a 19^th century victory of the Ethiopian army over Italian colonialists. According to the western “Gregorian” calendar, the battle took place in 1896, but the Ethiopian “Julian” calendar marks it at 1889. That’s because the Ethiopian calendar is 7 to 8 years behind the western one, and they just celebrated the millennium last year--on September 11, 2008 on our calendar. So from January to September the calendars are 8 years apart, and September to December are 7 years apart.

Injera and Wat

Injera b'waht b'law-ho: today I ate the Ethiopian staple foods, injera
and wat, for the first time. Injera is a sour flatbread with the
consistency of a thin pancake and eaten with wat, which is a stew-like
sauce. I had the "red sauce" which had some spice to it. Floating in the
red sauce were chunks of meat, although I never did figure out what
kind. After lunch my colleague ordered me a macchiato, which didn't
necessarily go well with the injera and wat, but still tasted great.

Shampoo

I brought a packet of shampoo and body soap from a hotel to cover the
first few days in Ethiopia, but this morning I realized that it wasn't
going to last another day. After a very long meeting of international
donors that promised to promote more cooperation, we went to a local
supermarket and I searched for shampoo that might be suitable for my
hair. Understandably there were plenty of shampoos for full-body curls,
but I finally found one that promised to promote soft, healthier hair.

Rush Hour

Even Addis Ababa has a morning rush hour. It took 30 minutes to get to the office this morning, but along the way I enjoyed people watching. The roadways cut through communities with few pedestrian bridges. Even the few bridges that you see are hardly used since it’s customary for people to simply dash across the road and hop the median wall in the middle. This morning two men were carrying a wooden door across the road. They set it on top of the median wall as they waited for a lull in traffic and then ran across the rest of the way.

View Point

We ate lunch at a restaurant called View Point on the edge of town that was situated on a hill that overlooked Addis Ababa. Our driver dropped us off and we climbed the stairs up to the restaurant. Along one wall was a long bar where the staff was situated; they had been using it in the afternoon to place menus, silverware and the like. We took a table in the middle of the room and perused the menu, which mainly featured Italian dishes. The waiter asked us what we’d like to drink and we all ordered water. The smile on his face faded. He returned to take our order and we told him we’d share a few dishes and I ordered ravioli, tagliatelle and a green salad. He looked at the next person to continue taking orders and we said again we would share. He walked away looking dejected. Another waiter brought the water in a large plastic bottle with the label taped back on upside down and filled all our glasses before setting the bottle on the table.

52.0 Kbs

It's possible to dial up to the Internet at Chez Clo. The manager gave
me a telephone line that I could hook up to my computer from the phone
plug in the wall last night. It's been a long time since I used dial up
and the whirr, beeps and static that blurt out of the speakers made me
reminiscent of another time. The connection worked fine, though, and I
sent out a few e-mails before going to bed and falling asleep while
watching a movie on cable.

In the morning I woke up and flipped the light switch. This room is dark
even in the morning, but the light switch did nothing. The power was
out. Luckily the window in the shower captured a gleam of light that
allowed me to take a shower and clean up before leaving for work. When I
returned in the evening the power was back on. My bed was made and the
shirt, socks and boxer shorts I had left on the bed were gone along with
the laundry form I'd filled out for them. It was only .55 cents for a
t-shirt and the socks and boxers were .22 cents. I thought I'd check my
email, but the phone cord I'd gotten the evening before from the manager
was gone; he must have taken it back. I looked around and the bathroom
had been cleaned. I couldn't tell if I'd gotten a new towel, but it was
folded in half and draped neatly on the towel bar. The bath mat I'd
quickly flung over the shower curtain rod was untouched.

airport security

The airport is a relatively new, stately structure, with high ceilings
of empty space on the inside. Only passengers are allowed out of the
parking lot that sits in front and into the airport itself. A guard sits
on a low stone wall and asks if all five of us are passengers, even
though only three of us carry luggage, and when we say yes he waves us
on with a look that he knows we're lying but decides to let it slide and
remains sitting on his wall.

Sounds

Sitting in my room at the Chez Clo, situated along a lively street
filled with people and storefronts, I can hear children playing, a car
honking, the sound of an announcement or maybe a television playing
loudly in the distance, an occasional cow mooing, a dog barking, faint
music, the guest house manager speaking to a new guest out in the
hallway, and what sounds like someone playing a flute or a recorder
somewhere.