From Dubai airport (a little too long for a vignette)

The last few days in Addis Ababa were pretty busy, so I wasn't able to write much on the blog. Most of the time I had to stay in and work on my report, but Wednesday night my colleagues took me out to dinner. I chose the restaurant Aladdin, which serves great Middle Eastern food. We'd gone there about a month ago and I had been meaning to return, so was glad to have some great tabbouleh, fattoush salad, kebabs and fish palak again. We ended up hanging out and chatting over dessert too. I ordered lakma, which is basically a sweet fried Turkish donut hole. Stuffed and satisfied, we shuffled back to Chez Glo through the cool evening, passing through the fruit market where I'd bought my coffee jebana, a place usually packed with people, but now, after hours, was peaceful and quiet. We passed by Rainbow Korean restaurant, where we'd eaten at least half a dozen times. We walked down past AGGE guest house and along the road people call Rwanda, because the embassy is at the end of it. And soon we were back to our guest house and knocked on the gate.

The last day at work I said farewell to the people I saw and took some pictures, but was mostly stuck in my office writing a report about what I'd done work-wise over the past month. My colleague checked my Japanese and corrected the errors, and then I printed out a copy and read it over a few times in the car on the way to our meeting where I had to present the work I'd done and answer any questions about it. The meeting was rather long and dull (is there any other kind of meeting?), but when it was done I had some time to go souvenir shopping.

Dereje drove me to Friendship Square, where they have some pretty good shops. He parked the car and met me in the shop, which was good because he was able to negotiate the prices for me and tell me which items were actually dressed up junk. While I was looking over the items, there was a power outage. No one seemed surprised, and even myself, I hardly missed a beat and just kept on shopping. After shopping, Dereje and I took a picture together in the parking lot and then he surprised me by giving me his Ethiopia Millennium wristband. It's similar to those white poverty-awareness bands that were popular about 4 years ago, except that it says "Ethiopia 2000" on it and it's black. Dereje told me to keep it to remember him, and I replied that I'd remember him anyway but thanks for the thoughtful gift and then I put it on my wrist.

After shopping, I went back to Chez Glo, settled my bill and collected my luggage. The staff gathered out in the courtyard and we took pictures together. Ato Malica, the gardener and gatekeeper, was embarrassed because he didn't have on nice clothes, so I passed him my suit jacket and he put that on; it looked pretty good on him too. Even Max got in one of the pictures. Chez Glo really turned out to be a home away from home while in Addis Ababa. For a while the only guests were myself and my two colleagues, so we would just leave our doors open while we were in there, and people would stop by and say hello. It was almost like a bunch of friends living in a big house together. I told the staff that I would be back to Ethiopia later in the year and would surely see them then. Sintayehu, the manager, gave me his e-mail address and I told them I'd send the pictures when I got back to Japan and then bid them farewell and hopped in the car, headed for the airport.

So far the trip back is going as planned. I watched Quantum of Solace, the latest 007 movie, and ate the roasted duck. They even had the red wine that I liked when I flew Emirates last month and I had a couple glasses of that. In another hour I'll be back on an airplane and headed for Japan, where I have another layover in Osaka before flying up to Tokyo. About 13 hours to go!

Hee Haw Taxi

During my time in Ethiopia I've come to grow exceedingly fond of
donkeys. Yes, I am unashamed to say this. Apparently you can buy one for
3,000 Birr, which is only about $300. If I didn't have to buy an extra
seat on the airplane for it, I might even consider bringing a donkey
back to Japan. But seriously, it is a fine animal if I ever saw one.
First of all, they work harder than any other work animal in Ethiopia.
Horses draw carts and cows may pull plows, but the donkey is the one
that gets huge bundles tied to its back and marched down the side of the
road like a foot soldier.
An investment in ten donkeys will net an Ethiopian entrepreneur about
200 Birr per day, which isn't bad for wages here. Donkeys are used to
transport all sorts of goods from farm to market, store to store, and to
people's homes. A person can buy in bulk at the market and hire a couple
donkeys to bring it all home for you. In the countryside, a farmer will
have his own donkeys and use these to take his harvested produce to
market, sometimes traveling up to 30km to do so. Looking into a donkey's
sad face, it's hard not to feel some pity for them; the white circles
around their dark eyes make them look crestfallen and woeful. But then
you see them trotting along looking purposeful, with dedication in every
step, and instead they inspire a sense of admiration.

The children

Today on the way home I asked Dereje, our driver, if all school kids in
Ethiopia wear uniforms. He pointed to the sidewalk, "There, those four
guys. Those two girls over there. There's another one." I honestly
hadn't really noticed them before, but now that he pointed them out,
they were all over the place. The four boys, for instance, were all
wearing sky blue slacks. Apparently, kids in Ethiopia from grade school
to high school all wear uniforms, although university kids wear their
own threads. Then I asked him if the schools were co-ed or divided by
the sexes. He sort of laughed and said, "No, same school. Boys sit next
to girls. They sit together." From the tone of his voice, I could tell
he was wondering why anyone would ask such a thing. Why wouldn't you
allow them to go to school together, he seemed to be asking with his
eyes. I told him some private schools in America and Japan are all-boys
schools or all-girls schools and usually they were related to churches,
like Catholic schools. Then he said, "Ah yes," and that in Ethiopia
there were some religious groups, like Ethiopian Orthodox or Muslim,
that had their own schools, but that both boys and girls went there.

Inflight Entertainment

As is my habit, any time I'm about to embark on an international flight I always check the airline homepage for inflight entertainment that will be available. If the Internet connection wasn't so slow here, I probably would have also planned out my meals, perused the wine selection and checked the airplane specs while I was at it. It gives me immense pleasure to plan out 14 hours of airtime where I have nowhere to go except where I'm already headed. I kick of my shoes, tuck a pillow behind my head, order wine and switch on a movie. Ten hours later, when most people have dozed off, it's likely that I'll be on my fourth movie and fifth glass of wine. Anyway, my schedule for my two long-haul flights are addis ababa to dubai: quantum of solace; dubai to japan: city of ember, happy-go-lucky, pride and glory. That leaves me six hours to sleep in the airplane and another 7 hours to zone out in airport lounges, but I figure if you're going to be jet lagged, you might as well have fun in the process!

Ratatouille Lesson 101

We went for Indian food at Ajanta restaurant Sunday night. They've got great food there, but I decided to just have something simple, so I ordered the dal bhat. Bhat means rice, and dal is a mixture of lentils, tomatoes, onion, spices and herbs. It is about the simplest thing you'll find on an Indian menu. Usually there are dozens of other more enticing dishes that will steal your eye when scanning the menu at Ajanta, but a good restaurant should be able to serve up even the simplest dish in a way that challenges your expectations. It is a lesson straight out of the movie Ratatouille. Well, I don't know if they had Remy under someone's turban or what, but, indeed, the dal bhat turned out to be the best thing I've had so far at Ajanta. I have only ever seen dal served in something that resembles either a gravy dish or a small bowl before, so I was surprised when they brought out a container that resembled a mini champagne bucket and set it on the table. Instead of a bottle of champagne, of course, it was filled with rich colored dal and had a ladle enticingly sticking out.  Everyone scooped ample amounts over our steamed rice and began spooning it down. I think we all had to resist the temptation to ransack the kitchen for the recipe.

Clown car

After dinner at a Lebanese restaurant with people from the embassy last
night, we were offered a ride back to Chez Glo in a little yellow Suzuki
hatchback. It was a kind offer so we accepted. However, no sooner had we
accepted the lift than we realized that the two remaining people also
lived in the same area, so we were all essentially headed in the same
direction. We tried to suggest the three of them go in the Suzuki and
we'd just grab a taxi, but they wouldn't have it an insisted that we
could all fit, no problem. All 6 of us piled in: 3 in the back, 2 in the
passenger seat, plus the driver. The sheer weight of six people after
eating a few plates of kebabs and what seemed like half a tub of hummus
must have been quite a shock to the little Suzuki because it murmured
and wheezed before finally turning its wheels and moving forward. It was
just a short drive until we dropped off the first person, and I'm sure
she was relieved to be the first one out of the clown car. Still feeling
crowded, we headed to the next stop and then finally ours. The three of
us filed out of the back seat and said good night. You could almost
imagine the car coming to life, placing a hand(le) on its lower back and
saying "Holy heck, anyone know a good chiropractor?" But the little
Suzuki still managed to sputter up the hill and around the corner to its
home where it could rest for the night.

FYI about the water

Last night we met with some people from the Japanese embassy for dinner.
They are always well informed so they told us that last weekend the city
waterworks department was working on something and that's why the water
had such low-pressure for a few days. The water has been back on since
Sunday without fail now, but at least it's nice to know what the reason
was for the interruption last week.

iTunes to the rescue

It's a good thing I went to bed early last night because around 4:30am I was awoken by a couple of stray dogs outside; one had the most pitiful whimper you could possibly imagine, and the other was obviously as annoyed by it as I was and was barking fiercely, "Play me a violin, pal. We've all got problems!" I know it was all very unsympathetic of me to think this way, but did I mention it was 4:30am? Eventually the barker cooled his jets, but ol' whiner just wouldn't quit, so I heaved myself out of bed. I figured I had some work to do, and if nothing else, the Internet connection is faster at that hour so I could check my e-mail and facebook. Of course being preoccupied doesn't eradicate the annoyance of having a dog outside your window announcing to the neighborhood his personal sob story, occasionally interrupted by angry neighbor dogs barking emphatically for him to shaad'up. iTunes to the rescue, I can't tell you how happy I was to have brought some music with me. Soon ol' whiner was lost in an instrumental foray into piece of mind. I fired up my Internet browser, clicking the mouse and tapping my feet.

A pleasant surprise

This morning I walked into the bathroom and tried the faucet in the
sink. A pleasant surprise. I tried the shower and that seemed to be
working as well. Water had drizzled out of the tap before so I was still
somewhat unconvinced that it wouldn't just run dry again in a moment.
However, this time the water pressure seemed to be somewhat promising so
I plugged the tub and let the water fill it. Once there was enough
water--warm water, at that--to pass for a bath, I hopped in. I hadn't
had a real shower since almost a week ago, unless you count cold motel
showers or a self-administered wash cloth wipe down. The warm bath felt
great. The water was only up to my kneecaps, but it didn't matter. I
washed, I scrubbed, I got myself into a full lather; soap bubbles
attacking any possible speck of dirt. When I turned the water back on,
the water pressure stayed strong, so I yanked the plug to the tub and
pulled up the shower valve; the shower head came to life. I stood up and
rinsed all the soap off, feeling a little brighter every second. I even
washed my hair a second time just for good measure. Feeling better than
an infant after a baptism, 15 minutes later I had shaved, trimmed my
beard, brushed my teeth and put on some clean clothes.

Final stretch

There is much to do as I near the end of my assignment in Ethiopia. This
morning I took my laptop out on the balcony along with my iPod and a
bottle of water and began tapping out my report. The sun was shining,
but luckily the far wall of the balcony provided shade in one corner
where the chair is. I realize I only have about 4 days left, and it's
unfortunate that this will be the busiest part of my trip. That means I
only have limited time to take the last-minute pictures, go to the
restaurants I've still haven't had a chance to go to, go back to the
shops I've visited to pick up items I thought about buying before and so
forth. This is inevitable at the end of any trip, I suppose. In any
case, it is of some comfort to know I will come back to Ethiopia later
this year. That makes it easier to leave some things to do next time and
also easier to say "so long" to the many people I've met while here.

In the streets

I just got back from taking a walk to a cafe for lunch. On the way there I passed by a number of small shops. Peering into these shops, which sell bottled water, charcoal, pasta, sugar, rice and other staples, as well as some candies for the kids, you can usually see a young man or woman lounging inside, simply minding the store as it were. These places are open morning to night every single day.
I also passed a few hairdresser shops, easy to spot thanks to the headshots of lusty looking, well-groomed models covering the shopfront window.
I passed by a small shop called Mango Store, although it was closed and it didn't look like there was anything inside.
Blue minibus taxis passed by me every other minute, full of passengers. Some of the vehicles were carrying loads on their roof such as bags of grain or a mass of plastic containers stacked impossibly high.
I passed by man dragging something behind him. As he passed I saw it was an animal skin, and could make out the side and legs; it looked like it had been a goat. I looked back and saw in his other hand he was carrying a knife.
In the cafe I ate pasta with meat sauce and vegetables and stared out the window when a huge crowd came parading down the street. They were cheering and marching in front of a taxi carrying three soccer players wearing Siemens jerseys sitting on the roof holding onto the luggage rack and, one of them, holding a large victory trophy in the other hand high up for everyone to admire. The  jovial crowd carried on down the street and the street was quiet again.

No pressure

There is intermittent water at the guest house now, but the water
pressure is so weak that it doesn't quite reach the second floor, where
I am. If the water doesn't come back on today I'm thinking to move to
the large room downstairs. In any case, this whole experience has caused
M to tell me that when he lived in Bhutan he stayed in a tent for two
weeks in the mountains, and since it took two weeks to trek to that spot
and another two weeks to trek back, he was without a shower for about 2
months. Hence, he says he's okay without a shower for a few days.
M told me that his first time out of Japan was a trip he took by himself
to Bolivia during university. A few years later he was assigned to the
Kingdom of Bhutan for two years as a JOVC (Japanese Peacecorps)
volunteer to study and teach geology. He said he had requested Bhutan
because it is in Asia but they are said to have excellent English
language ability. He wanted to learn English at that time but he thought
living outside of Asia for two years would be too much for him, so this
was a happy medium.
In any case, it's true that living in an underdeveloped country and
spending a few days without a shower will hardly turn heads. You can
look pretty rough here and still pass for squeaky clean. Afterall, when
you're walking down the street next to a herd of goats, no one is going
to comment on a bit of stubble on your face.

School Dean

When we visited the tech school in Bahir Dar, the first thing we did was
go to the Dean's office as a courtesy and introduce ourselves. We were
received immediately and he called in his vice dean and the head of the
water technology department. There seemed to be a few other people in
the room as well, although I don't know what they were all doing there.
In any case, we were welcomed with a bit of fanfare. Nevertheless,
sitting there in a chair along the side of the office as the dean sat
behind his big desk I couldn't help but to feel like I was back in high
school and had done something to land me in the principle's office.

Minor interruption

While in Bahir Dar I visited a technical college to assess some of the
classes there. My plan was to simply observe a few of the classes in
progress, but I tend to be noticed when I walk into a classroom in
Ethiopia. On top of that, the guy assigned to show me around barged into
the class, and announced in a loud voice that I was there to ask them
questions and they should tell me what is wrong with the school so I
could fix it. I had no idea what I was supposed to say to this since it
wasn't my plan. One student stood up and asked me a series of questions
and requested that I answer each one in turn. I somehow managed to
remember all 4 questions and answered them, although I have no idea if
what I said was understandable. Everyone in the class spoke English, but
understanding each others' accents is another story entirely (even
though I am used to speaking slowly for people in such situations). In
any case, the guy told me that all his questions were answered and no
one else stood up so I went to the back of the room and sat down so the
teacher could continue his lecture.

Red China

We finally found a good Chinese restaurant in Addis Ababa, a place called Red China just 10 minutes from our guest house. Today we went there for lunch and although there weren't many customers there, there were plenty of people hanging out and watching television. It looked like a man and his wife ran the place, but there was a younger guy that looked like he could have been the chef, and another guy with shaggy long hair and a droopy face that I hoped was not the chef. We ordered a few dishes--garlic spinach, mabo tofu, fried rice, sliced pork and vegetables--and they all tasted authentic and full of flavor. As we finished our meal, the younger guy put a large metal pot in the middle of one of the tables and everyone gathered around with spoons and bowls and started eating up the noodles in it. They were a cordial and happy-looking group, chatting and watching a t.v. show that looked like the Chinese version of American Idol.

Bandits

I saved this post until after we got back from our trip to the
countryside so as not to deliver unnecessary anxiety to my loved ones.
This is a story one of our Ethiopian colleagues, Geb, told over lunch
and I thought I'd share it, followed by my own similar experience.

Geb said he had experienced a miracle a few years ago. At that time, Geb
and his driver were heading back to Addis Ababa from Dire Dewa, the
large city in west Ethiopia, down the only road between the two places
when a man appeared up ahead and waved frantically for them to stop
their car. Geb told his driver to keep driving past the man for fear
that it was a trick by bandits to stop the car. The driver agreed, but
as they neared the man they could see the real fear in his eyes.
Convinced by this, the driver slowed and stopped the car. Indeed, the
message was of vital importance. The man began to tell them a fierce
battle had broken out between people of Oromia and Amhara just up ahead
in the town of Mieso. Geb listened closely and could hear bullets being
fired. The battle was just 15 km up the road and they were advised to
either stay and wait or go back and stay somewhere for the night and see
how things turned out. They decided to drive a few miles back to Asbe
Teferi and spend the night there. Luckily the fighting didn't last too
long, and soon the road was reopened and lined with guards. Geb
considers it a true miracle that they stopped the car against their
first instinct and listen to the man trying to warn them, for otherwise
they would surely have driven straight into harm's way.

I had a similar experience in India, although I was in a large bus. I
was 19 years old at the time and probably did not appreciate the
seriousness of the situation at the time, although hearing Geb's story
made me reconsider. Our bus had stopped and someone informed us that we
would have to backtrack and take a detour due to a dispute on the road
up ahead. We had been scheduled to arrive at our guest house before
nightfall, but with the new route we would not arrive until almost 9pm
and would have to take a road where a bus full of Buddhist nuns had been
robbed and their driver killed only a month before. Since our group was
a mix of American students and Indian locals, all the Americans were
told to sit on the left side of the aisle and the Indians on the right.
Then they opened all the windows part-way on the right side and the
Indians sat close to the windows while they played the newest Bollywood
music at high volume; this way the bus looked like locals that would
have little to offer any bandits on the road. I remember being scared
but distracting myself by talking to my classmates. We were eventually
delivered safely to our guest house and after a few days the incident
was no longer a topic of conversation, but I realize now the miracle
that occurred and the latent gratitude I have for whomever stopped and
warned our bus driver of the danger ahead.

Comment on Roach Motel

New post since I can't easily respond to comments on the blog.

The Circle Hotel in Gondar was probably the worst hotel experience I've ever had. That said, my two colleagues said they fell asleep around midnight and slept well (unbelievable!), and barely noticed the cockroaches the cockroaches in Japan are four times the size of those in Ethiopia). In any case, they obviously didn't lift up the mattress to see the party going on down there like I did, unfortunately.
Earlier in the day our driver took us up to the highest hill in Gondar where the Goha Hotel was located and overlooked the town. That hotel was about 3 times the price of the Circle Hotel, but I would have gladly stayed there had I known at that time about the infestation of both roaches and soccer fans. I stayed up most of the night pacing around my room thinking if I should just grab a taxi and go to the Goha Hotel and see if they had a room or sleep in their lobby. Of course I paced around my room carefully because the floor was like a mine field of bug parts from the ones I smashed with a flip-flop I found sticking out from under the bed.
I truly salute my colleagues for feeling at ease in a place like that. Our Ethiopian colleagues went out of their way to suggest places they thought we would stay at while they stayed at less expensive (roachier?) hotels, and them being soccer fans maybe they thought we would join in the revelry.
In any case, for those who shuddered at the thought of staying even five minutes in the Circle Hotel, I am on your side. However, trying to look on the bright side, I guess it was better than, say, an Iraqi prison cell.

Looks can be deceiving

Previously I wrote about the Ghion Hotel in Bahir Dar where we stayed.
That hotel was fine, especially their garden and patio by the lake, but
the room was very basic. What I forgot to mention was that the double
bed was not "double" in size, but literally, two single beds pushed
together. You can't deny that this is a faithful rendering of "double
bed"! The hotel also provided a mosquito net that I hung from a hook on
the ceiling and tucked around the edge of the beds and behind the
headboards. A mosquito net hangs low near the edges of a bed and you
usually lie in the center so you're not touching it (otherwise the
mosquitoes just bit you through the net). However, I couldn't easily lie
in the center between the two beds, so I stuffed the pillows in the
space between and then lied diagonally across the two beds with my body
slightly bent so I didn't touch the net at all. This sounds more
contortionist than it was, but in any case, I was able to get a good
night sleep that way.

Every last drop

Today we have a senior official from Japan visiting the technology
center, so we had to look presentable, but the water at our guest house
is still not back on. Although there is no water coming from the taps,
management gave us each a large bucket of water and a scoop so we can
fill our sinks to wash our hands, etc. This morning I boiled some water
and mixed it with cold water until it was a good temperature and then
used this, along with a cloth and a bar of soap, to wash. I was careful
not to waste even a drop of water, especially the hot water I had, but I
was able to wash my hair and use some hot water to shave. Once I put on
my suit and tie, I doubt anyone could tell the difference from any other
day (not sure what that says about my usual hygiene, but...).
Anyway, we received the official and he was looking tired from his trip
from Japan to Kenya and now to Ethiopia. He wore a checkered shirt and
somewhat old-looking jacket and no necktie, so you could see his
u-shaped neck t-shirt sticking out. I don't mind if people want to look
casual, and even appreciate it when people who are at the senior level
dress down because, well, in that case, no one says anything about the
fact that my necktie doesn't match my only clean dress shirt.

Foosball

Along the road to Gondar, I look out the window at the towns we pass that are constructed along the road. Every so often I see boys crowded around a foosball table. They play two versus two and usually a few people crowded around to observe, cheer them on, and maybe awaiting their next turn.

Murphy's Law

We flew back to Addis Ababa from Gondar a day later than scheduled, and
our flight was even delayed again, but eventually we came back to the
capital and back to Chez Glo guest house. It felt good to be back to
these more comfortable surroundings and I was looking forward to a hot
shower, but was told upon entering my room that there was no water, hot
or cold, in the hotel today and it would be back on by tomorrow at the
latest. My longing for a shower would linger a little while, along with
the grit from Gondar.

Roach Motel

Somehow I had managed to fall asleep, the first thing I did when I woke
up was check my shoes for cockroaches. I had barely slept and still felt
frazzled from the hellish night at the Circle Hotel in the city of
Gondar. The night before, a soccer game between Madrid and Manchester
United started around 10:30, followed by another match between two other
teams, and they were showing these games on the 5th floor of our hotel.
The place was packed with people and every time a goal was scored, the
rafters shook under the stomping, jumping for joy and roar of the crowd.
I sat in the middle of the bed scanning the room for movement as I had
already slaughtered half a dozen cockroaches that ran across the floor,
the walls and all over the bathroom. Around 2am the soccer fans filed
outside and continued to party somewhere nearby so the drone of drunken
hooligans never ceased, but I turned on the television and curled up in
the middle of the bed with the lights on. The movie '9 to 5' with Lily
Tomlin and Dolly Parton came on and, in a sea of nostalgia, I must have
dozed off around 4am. When I awoke at 6am, Barney the purple dinosaur
was dancing on the television and I could hear traffic moving outside.

Hinterland

I'm not exactly sure where the word hinterland originates from, but maybe it is land that hints at hardship. If so, we are driving through the Ethiopian hinterlands between Bahir Dar and Gondar through rocky terrain and winding roads. When we pass by a group of people, you can see the younger children holding up a couple ears of maize or a handful of garlic bulbs, yelling in hopes that you will stop the car and buy their goods.

Cowboys

During the drive from Bahir Dar to Gondar, we saw many young boys herding their family's cattle down the side of the road. I couldn't help but to think of the image behind the word cowboy. In comparison, and considering their ages, these young Ethiopians seemed to be more appropriately called cowboys than a grown man from Texas with a lasso in one hand and spurs on his boots riding a horse. Ethiopian cowboys walk behind their herd and carry a stick to keep their cattle in line and off the road.

Low visibility

The flights out of Bahir Dar to Addis Ababa were canceled due to
bad weather. It was slightly cloudy out at best, although "occasionally
sunny" would be the more accurate description. Nevertheless, we went to
the Ethiopian airlines office and they confirmed that the cancellation
was due to low visibility and they could issue our ticket for the next
day. Instead we canceled that ticket and bought another ticket from
Gondar to Addis Ababa. Gondar is about a 3 hour drive from Bahir Dar, so
we drove to Gondar and did some sightseeing. It was nice to have a
chance to see the ancient administrative capital of Ethiopia, so maybe
the flight cancellation was a good thing after all.

Enkutatash Hotel restaurant

We had dinner our first night in Bahir Dar at the Enkutatash Hotel, which means 'new flower', in the town of Bahir Dar. It is a nice little restaurant frequented by both natives and foreigners, with a bubbly waitress that greeted us with a smile. We tried some Ethiopian dishes with fish--fish gulash, fish lubebe--and cut pieces of meat called tibs for dinner. Bahir Dar is known for its excellent fish dishes since it is located next to Lake Tana. In fact, the literal translation of Bahir Dar is seaside. Also, this is a very popular time to eat fish in Ethiopia since it is during the 55 days of fasting before Easter, and some people consider it allowable to eat fish during this time.
The fish gulash was small shreds of fried fish, breaded and served with a deep reddish-brown, slightly salty sauce. This sauce is also used to soak the tibs meat before it is cooked, cut into bite-sized pieces and dried. The fish lubebe was ground fish mixed with a spicy sauce and served with rice. The meal was good, so we returned there the following day for lunch, and I tried the shiro (with oil), a brown paste made from beans and mixed with oil and green pepper, served with Ethiopian injeera bread. 

pulling the pin

The hotel in Bahir Dar we stayed at was the Ghion Hotel. The room keys
were kept on wooden keychains shaped like small hand grenades with G.H.
carved in them. Of course this is designed to make it difficult to
forget to return the key, or to encourage you to take the key to the
front desk for them to keep it when you go out. Maybe they didn't
foresee anyone doing this, but I simply removed the key itself from this
keychain and left the little, wooden, grenade-looking keychain in my room.

Logical Ethiopia

In the morning I glanced at my Ethiopian colleague Shumet's wristwatch and it read 2:45, reminding me that time in Ethiopia is counted from 6am being zero, and 7am being 1 o' clock. Shumet explained that the sun rises at 6am so this is the start of the day, and the sun sets around 6pm, of course 12 hours later, so this was the beginning of the night. Also, the Ethiopian calendar has 12 months that are 30 days long and a 13th month that is 5 days long. That 13th month marks the time that Ethiopians begin to think about the new year. Ethiopian new year is in September, around the 11th or 12th, which is just before the spring season in this part of the world, and of course spring is when life comes back and the flowers bloom. All this was so extremely logical compared with the system used in the West where 12 midnight is placed in between the setting and rising of the sun, and the new year takes place in the dead of winter (in America, most of Europe) or the middle of summer (Australia, New Zealand, etc). The only seeming inconsistency with the Ethiopian calendar is that they consider the Gregorian\American calendar year of 2008 to be 2001, meaning that their calendar is 7 years behind ours. The reason, I was told, for this is that in Biblical times it took a long time for people to travel from the Middle East to Ethiopia and tell them of the birth of Jesus. In fact, this took 7 years time. So they marked their calendar, not from the time when Jesus was said to have been born, but from when they heard the news, which was 7 years later.

dinner in Bahir Dar

We had dinner our second night in Bahir Dar at the Awas Hotel. You can
tell the good restaurants and hotels by the large number of cars around
the place, and this hotel even had a car with UN painted on the side,
and another one with the tell-tale license plate for diplomatic
vehicles. We were seated in the outdoor patio, which seemed like a
rather lively night spot. I ordered the grilled fish, which came with
three lightly breaded fillet and a lime with a side of rice. I sat next
to one of the Ethiopian staff, Geb, and talked about the city of Harar,
in the east of Ethiopia. Even though Geb grew up in Addis Ababa, his
father came from Harar so he is familiar with that city as well. He told
me about the wall that used to surround the city hundreds of years ago,
but since then the city has expanded so now the wall simply surrounds
the center of the city. In fact, Geb said it is pretty easy to miss the
wall altogether since the place has developed far beyond this beginning.
He also told me a story of a French artist who used to live in Harar and
is credited for bringing some recognition to the city thanks to his keen
sense of history, collection of art and connections outside of Ethiopia.

Blue Nile

Between our hotel in Bahir Dar and the technical college we visited is a
bridge that leads out of town. This bridge straddles the blue Nile. The
Nile is fed by this river as well as the white Nile, which starts in
neighboring Sudan. I wanted to stop and take some pictures, but the
bridge is heavily guarded by armed guards in fatigues, holding their
rifles in their laps. Apparently this is the only bridge that connects
the town to the rest of the country, so for security reasons they don't
allow pictures. Of course there is another way out of town other than
the road that goes over the bridge, but you would have to drive many
miles out of the way and go back to the capital before you could access
another road that goes north. The guards looked pretty mean, so I
settled for taking some pictures of the blue Nile from the car when we
were in the center of the bridge and the guards couldn't see me.

one dollar birr

The one dollar birr has a picture of a young Ethiopian boy on it. When I
asked our Ethiopian colleagues if he is a famous political or historical
figure, they told me no, he is just a boy whose picture was taken when
he was young and used when they printed the money. Apparently, when he
got older, he knew that it was his picture that was used for the
national currency and demanded that he be compensated for their use of
his picture. I was told he was awarded some amount, but not exactly how
much. I suppose however much they gave him, it's feasible that they paid
him in single birr bills with his picture on them.

shopping

The second day in Bahir Dar, I had some time in the afternoon, so our
driver, Dereje, took me to some
souvenir shops on the side of the main road. I walked up to one shop and
took a look at what they had to offer: belts, coin purses, wallets,
leather keychains, t-shirts, etc. The person running the shop was a boy
of about 12 years of age, but he looked fully confident to run the shop
by himself. I asked him how much one of the items cost and he told me it
was 40 birr. I expected that he would give me a higher price than usual
so I offered him 5 birr. Dereje laughed a little and I said, "I know
he's only 12, but I have to try and bargain with him, right?" The boy
refused my bid and again stated his original offer, so I tried a
different tactic, showing him the flaws in the craftsmanship. They were
nothing more than pen marks where the leather was measured to be cut,
but I said I would give him 20 birr. He said I could have
the smaller item for 25 or the larger one for 35, and eventually I
talked him down to 30.
Actually, I'm not very good at negotiating, and felt a little bad trying
to negotiate with a little kid, but he seemed satisfied with the
price he got and I was satisfied with how much I spent, so I figure we
were square. Afterwards he agreed to pose for a picture with me, so I
got the item plus a little something to remember the moment by.

Bahir Dar Ghion Hotel: the shower

Over the bathroom sink there is a glass shelf that loosely hangs on the wall, looking ready to fall down should you place anything on it, although when I do it manages somehow to hold its position. The toilet is in the middle of the room and the shower next to that across from the sink, with virtually no space in between them. The shower and the toilet are so close together that when you turn on the water in the shower, it practically goes straight into the toilet. The hot water comes out as a dribble at first so I turn the knob over all the way and something that will pass for a shower begins to happen. I step onto the metal basin that has a drain cut in one corner and the metal depresses with a shlunking sound with my weight. I take my bar of soap in one hand and wash, using it for shampoo as well, and thank my lucky stars that the water doesn't turn cold until I am rinsed off. By the time I'm finished, the entire bathroom is drenched in water but I step out and find the towel and dry myself off. I take a deep breath, turn on the hot water in the sink and am pleased to find enough hot water to shave. Somehow, afterward when I look in the mirror ready to go out for the day, I have managed to look like myself.

Bahir Dar: the room

The Ghion Hotel in Bahir Dar looks like it's making the most of what
it's got, yet the rooms certainly leave something to be
desired. It is set up motel-style, one-story with the door to each room
leading in from the outside. I'm on the end of the building so just
outside my door is a watchman who sits on a small metal chair in a brown
uniform, his hat hanging on a nail in the wooden fence behind him. When
I swing open the door to my room, I see there is a double-sized bed on
the right, and on the left a small desk. On the desk is a telephone that
doesn't work, along with a lamp that doesn't work.
Above the desk is a drawing of what I assume to be an Ethiopian man and
woman. The man has a mustache and a big afro and is holding a walking
stick. He has no shirt on but a sheet draped around his neck like a
scarf. He stands facing a woman who has a broad smile on her face and
wears a white cloth wrapped around her leaving one shoulder exposed and
on her arm, just above the elbow, is a bracelet. Behind them is a rather
gallant-looking camel with a harness on his snout, and the man holds a
rope to keep him steady. The odd thing is that on the other side of the
room, just next to the bed, is the same exact picture. They are placed
across from each other as if they were mirror images.
On the far wall is a closet. The door is hung crooked or the wood has
warped because it doesn't close properly, but there is a note taped to
the door that says: "If you need extra blanket please ask and we will
supply you" and below that "Please do not wash your cloth in the bath
room"--although someone has crossed out "do not" and wrote beneath it
"feel free to". The closet has three hangers in it, one of which has one
of its corners snapped so it hangs open almost like a hook. I eventually
use this to hang my neck-tie.

Domestic flight

Today we flew on Ethiopian Airlines to Bahir Dar. The flight had been scheduled for 1:40pm, but we were contacted the day before that it would be delayed an hour until 2:40pm. Luckily my coworker "M" is plenty familiar with how schedules work here, so we arrived at the airport around 12:30 anyway. The flight monitor at the airport showed our flight to Bahir Dar at 2:40 blinking "On Time" and above that another flight leaving from gate 8A at 2:10. We grabbed a bite to eat at the airport first. I ordered a hamburger, but what arrived looked more like raw beef on toast, so I just ate the fries. The waitress asked if I wanted them to recook the meat, but I declined the offer. Around 1:20 we went over to gate 8A and they said that, yes, our flight would leave from that gate at...you guessed it, 1:40pm.
We boarded the two propeller aircraft and I looked for my seat, 19K. The right side of the aisle said A and B, and on the left was C and D, so we quickly realized that 19K effectively meant grab the first open seat you see, buddy!
Luckily I sat near the front of the plane because they served pound cake and the drink cart to about the 10th aisle, and then the captain told everyone to buckle up and put their tray tables in an upright position. As soon as I was given my apple juice, I downed it in two gulps, just in time for the aircraft to hit a few turbulent airstreams, which I did my best to ignore as I tried to steady my magazine and read about the wobbly economy.
Upon arrival, we exited the aircraft on the tarmac and sauntered to the airport building, grabbed our luggage and went outside to meet Dereje, our driver, who had arrived the day before in the truck. He drove us down the road to our hotel, where we checked in and then went to the patio cafe overlooking Lake Tana. We all ordered a round of Dashen, the local beer and took a minute to enjoy the view. It was sure nice to be back on land and be able to drink my beverage at a slow, leisurely pace.

Holy Day

A few times now I've seen the word holiday written as "holy day" in Ethiopia. Holidays in the US are usually nationalistic in origin, such as Presidents' Day or Labor Day. Japan also has holidays like this, such as Constitution Day and the Emperor's Birthday, in addition to what seem like purely thematic days--sports day, respect for the aged day, ocean day and so on--where no one actually does anything related to that theme (i.e. I don't see anyone lining up at senior citizen centers with baked goods eager to pay their respect). Likewise, the first holiday I experienced in Ethiopia was last week for Adwa Day to remember the victory over the Italians in 1896.
However, today is a holiday in the holy day sense of the word since everyone gets the day off for the birthday of the Prophet Muhammad. So I suppose it is only appropriate to wish everyone a Merry Muhammadmas! So far I haven't seen any special celebrations, no strings of lights or Muhammadmas trees in the town square, but I'm sure the Muslim population living in Ethiopia (about 35%) are observing this day, especially in the east near Jijiga and Harari where the Harar Mosque, a major pilgrimage site, is located.
For us, today we'll be headed west to the Amahara region for a few days. I'm looking forward to seeing Bahir Dar and Lake Tana, and hopefully posting about some more good restaurants.

Sunday lunch at Chez Glo

Today the housekeeper, Zed, made lunch for everyone at the guest house. We all gathered in the kitchen and there were half a dozen dishes spread out over the table. The main dish was doro kaiwat, a red curry-like sauce with chicken and whole boiled eggs, as well as a dish of sliced potato and carrot. They had prepared two dozen injera rolls, flatbread cut into long strips and rolled like little sleeping bags. The day manager, Sintayehu (pronounced Sun-tie-you), ate lunch with us while Zed and her assistant chatted on the other side of the kitchen where they had things set up for a coffee ceremony. After we finished lunch, we drank the customary three small cups of coffee and we ate some Japanese sweets that another colleague brought us from Tokyo the other day. The guest house staff tried the mochi an but all said it was too sweet for them. As we drank our coffee, Zed and her assistant ate their lunch. There was a bit of commotion over there and when we looked we saw Zed stealing the last hard-boiled egg from the other girl and stuffing the whole thing in her mouth. The assistant smacked her with a piece of cardboard and they both started laughing, Zed keeping her hand tightly over her mouth so as not to spit out the egg.

Nightlife

Tonight we decided to go to the Black Rose, a trendy bar downtown. After
having a drink there, I asked if we could go to a less up-scale place
that wasn't full of expats and couples, so we grabbed a taxi and went to
a local bar.
Inside we found a table next to a tree--seriously, a tree--that seemed
to be growing out of the floor and up to the high ceilings. This was
intentional, part of the interior design apparently, but it was
positioned so that it rose up between our table and the bar, so everyone
had to practically grab on to it as they squeezed between the tree and
our table. The music was too loud to have any kind of conversation in
there so my colleague suggested we try another local bar, a little
further down the scale.
We took another taxi just down the road and stopped near my favorite
Italian restaurant in Addis, Don Vito. We sauntered into a tiny room
with about 20 bottles of liquor behind the bar, a counter and stools
that ran along the side of one wall, and on the other side of the room,
what looked like an oversized phone booth with a DJ inside playing Black
Eyed Peas on the stereo. We ordered a round of St. George beers and a
guy came in with one of those boxes vendors use at ballparks, except
this guy was selling gum and cigarettes.
One of my colleagues asked for menthol cigarettes, which the guy didn't
seem to understand, so I suggested "mint cigarettes" and he nodded his
head okay and said he would go find some. He came back 5 minutes later
with a pack of menthol Pall Mall, which my coworker said he didn't like,
but he felt he should buy them anyway since the guy had run out to find
the pack. When he asked how much, what ensued was a fine example of
bargaining. The first price given was 75 birr, which is about $7 and
clearly inflated. My coworker suggested 15 birr, to which the vendor
suggested 70. The negotiations went back-and-forth like this:
20-->65-->nevermind, don't want them-->60-->30-->50-->don't want them,
forget it-->45-->20-->40-->20-->35-->20-->okay, 20. In the end my
coworker smoked half a Pall Mall, said it was too strong, and left the
pack on the table when we left.

road work

The main highway in Addis Ababa is kept relatively clean and free of
debris by the women who walk along the shoulder in orange overalls and
big straw hats carrying shovels, brooms and pushing wheelbarrows. They
work in groups of two or three and seem unconcerned as cars go speeding
past them at 80kph. Somehow they manage to get most of the grit and dirt
into their wheelbarrows and the rest of it collects on their faces. They
are not the only ones on the side of the road, though, as it seems there
is always someone hopping the concrete median wall and waiting to run
the rest of the way across to the other side of the highway. Some cars
tend to drive down the middle of the two-lane highway, giving themselves
a little leeway to slow down or avoid the people crossing the road.
Naturally, accidents do happen. Sometimes you can see a crack in the
median wall where a car must have hit. Of course it is the job of the
road workers to shovel all of this into their wheelbarrows and remove it
piece by piece as they walk along what must seem like an endless strip
of concrete.

New In Town

I just saw the movie "New In Town", which I thought would be fun since
it's about Minnesota. In the movie, Renee Zellweger goes from Miami to
Minnesota in the dead of winter and is repulsed by the weather, the
"uncivilized" people around her and the inconvenience of almost hitting
a moose in the road. Of course, over time she realizes that home-cooked
meals and homemade cards are special, finds a sense of community while
singing Christmas carols and becomes the spokesperson for the underdog
to fight against corporate culture.
Now, I'd like to see a re-make of this movie where she comes to
Ethiopia. At first she would be repulsed by the dusty roads, the beggars
in the streets and the inconvenience of having the electricity go out at
random. However, she would come to realize over time that you can't find
a better cup of coffee anywhere else on earth, she would find warmth in
how genuine people are, and then probably quit her cushy corporate job
to take a position with the World Food Program and try to feed children
in poverty.
Nevertheless, the Minnesota version was cute anyway.

When life sounds like a one-liner

At the end of the day today the receptionist was standing by the exit
holding a white basket. When I say basket, I actually mean a plastic
cage, sort of like what you would use to take a pet to the vet. "What's
that for?" I asked, and she answered, simply, "Chickens."

You said it pardner

Yesterday we had lunch with a few people from a local NGO working on
land management issues and two people from the Japanese embassy working
on grassroots projects in Ethiopia. We went to a place called 'Rodeo'
which was heavily decorated with Texan paraphernalia and the interior
used a lot of wood. The menus, and even the plates, were shaped like
cowboy hats. There was a cowboy boot stuck to one wall and all the
serving staff wore red cowboy shirts.
Our group had pushed two tables together. To my left was a Japanese
woman from the embassy and to my right an Ethiopian guy from the NGO. We
were celebrating his transfer to the World Bank at the end of the week
and the purpose of the lunch was to introduce everyone the guy he would
pass the baton to. The common language amongst everyone was English and
many of the people knew each other already so conversation was laid-back
and friendly, but at some point the Japanese people fell into Japanese
and the Ethiopian group fell into speaking Amharic. At one end of the
group there was an Ethiopian woman flanked by two Japanese people and
she sat there in silence, too far from anyone that could speak Amharic.
For a moment I considered telling her we could switch seats but
abandoned the idea when I realized that would completely divide the
groups. After briefly joining the Japanese conversation, I turned and
initiated conversation with the guy on my right in English, which
sparked others to switch to English. I glanced over and the Ethiopian
woman was now speaking with the Japanese woman in English and they were
sharing portions of their meals. I felt as if I'd helped wrangle this
rodeo back on track. Then someone ordered another bottled water in
English and the waitress brought tomato soup and bread rolls.

Slow life in the fasting lane

Yesterday I stopped in the cafeteria at the center to have coffee with
one of the course coordinators and talk about his class. I arrived a bit
early so I grabbed a seat with our driver, Dereje, and one of the
cafeteria staff. They were eating a vegetarian rice dish and passed me a
spoon. "Eat, eat" they told me. I dipped my spoon in and tried the rice
mixed with vegetables and mild spices; not bad. Dereje told me that
during fasting the idea is to "make yourself weak". He said that strict
fasting meant not only waiting until 3pm to eat and refraining from
meat, but also to refrain from alcohol or even going to night clubs.
"During fasting, we should not have fun," he said. I don't think this
description would be used by any Orthodox missionaries, but Dereje
explained, "We should not expend excess energy during this time. It is a
result of not taking in excess energy from food or stimulants. So we
should remain a bit quiet and not move around too much." I've gotten to
know Dereje a bit so I know he is devout and says this in all
seriousness. At the same time, he is aware of how impractical this may
be for some people and adds the caveat, "Of course that is the idea, but
what people may practice is different." A few minutes later I am
drinking my coffee with the course coordinator and across the room I see
Dereje sitting with a few others, talking and sneaking in what looks
like a bit of fun.

Across the hall

I moved to the room across the hall yesterday since it's a little more
spacious and gets better sunlight. I moved in the evening when I got
back from the office and the housekeeper helped me carry things so I was
finished in less than five minutes. Up until last Monday, a girl from
New York had been staying in this room. There is less closet space, but
that's a good thing since they are located across from the foot of the
bed instead of along the side so it's easier to get to my clothes. The
bathroom has a tub instead of a standing shower and a mirror over the
sink. My previous room had a window over the sink and the mirror was
next to that above the toilet--more than a few times one could find
fallen shaving cream on the seat. In the new room, the desk and chair
are located next to a large window and as I write this I can see the sun
rising in the distance. The neighborhood is still quiet this time of
day, with few cars rolling down the side streets that lead up to the
main trunk road. I can faintly hear singing, possibly a prayer, coming
from somewhere nearby. In Ethiopia they begin counting time from 6:00am
so at this time it is considered 1 o' clock and I suppose activity will
start picking up soon. However, we are in the middle of Lent, 55 days of
fasting in Ethiopia, so people might be a little more sluggish until
they eat at 3:00pm (8 o' clock Ethio-time).

Mangiamo

For lunch on Tuesday we stopped by an Italian restaurant on the second floor of the Yoly Hotel called Don Vito Pizzeria & Ristorante which, by far, serves the best Italian food in Ethiopia I've had so far. Right away, we were brought a bread basket with bread sticks and twists, as well as a plate full of tiny flat-rolls with a circle of tomato paste spread on top along with a dish of finely chopped, mildly spicy green peppers covered in olive oil. The menu was full of delicious looking primi piatti so we ordered two dishes to share--the spaghetti alla carbonara and the day's special, cannelloni de ricotta--along with a mixed salad with big wedges of tomato and black olives with a vinaigrette dressing. The chef prepared the dishes expertly and even put half of each order on two separate plates for us as requested. The spaghetti was wound around fluffy bits of yellow egg and fresh bits of ham, while the cannelloni was packed with ricotta cheese and bits of dark green spinach, all covered with a rich tomato sauce and crumbled parmesan. After we finished eating, we couldn't help but to order a cappuccino and comment on how amazing it all was.

Urban wildlife

Warning: sarcasm ensues

Addis Ababa is full of wildlife. In my opinion, cities in the West might
want to consider allowing livestock in city limits. For one, it's of
endless amusement to see donkeys running around downtown. I can imagine
people shopping on Chicago's Michigan Avenue and piling their shopping
bags onto the back of their mules. A sheep might hold an elevator as
people file inside. The city could commission a herd of goats to collect
trash on the side of the road. A cow would be great at directing traffic
in a congested intersection. Strategically located roosters might alert
you to an open parking spot. Call me altruistic, but I say the wild
kingdom still holds a great deal of untapped potential.

Buzzbomb

The taxi we took back to the guest house after dinner today looked like
it went through the Ethiopian version of Mtv's "Pimp My Ride" tv show.
The driver had covered the dashboard of his little blue taxi with fur.
The back window had tassels hanging along the top. In the middle of the
windshield was a window sticker showing Jesus on the cross. The steering
wheel had one of those knobs that you can attach, and the radio had some
Ethiopian hip-hop playing with the volume turned up.

Globetrotter

During an unbelievably slow-going meeting with a bureaucrat at the
Ministry, I couldn't help but to let my mind wander slightly as I
listened to him tell my coworker that he had spent six years in Cuba
during the 80s. I thought of all the different places in the world and
their connection to each other. Ah yes, in the 80s, Cuba, Soviet Union,
Ethiopia, China... such countries were all in idealogical cahoots with
each other.
My mind wandered further. I thought of the computer software Google
Earth and how it allows you to spin a globe on your computer screen and
then zoom in on any country, or even any city. It's similar to focusing
on our own bodies, first bringing our attention to our arm, then to our
hand, then zooming in on one point on our pinky finger. Where we are on
that globe at any one moment is just a small speck in the scheme of
things. Yet, places on this planet are all connected; all we have to do
is search our minds for those connections and soon we are mentally
globe-hopping.
We discussed ideas to visit different regions within Ethiopia--Tigray,
Amhara, Oromia--like a Harlem globetrotter basketball star: he faked
left to Jijiga city then passed up court, a teammate catches Mekele and
spins it on his finger before rolling it down his arm behind his back,
another player catches it and passes quickly to Bahir Dar, the capital
of Amhara near Lake Tana. He shoots and scores. That will be our first
stop on our trip to the vocational schools in Ethiopia. The meeting
comes to an end and people stand to their feet to shake hands. Good game.

Picture this

There were 5 of us at the coffee ceremony today: me, my coworker M, the day manager, the gatekeeper, and the housekeeper who was preparing the coffee/boonah. It was about 4:30pm and we were all sitting on the first floor balcony in the pre-dusk light. M brought out his camera and began to take a few pictures. The housekeeper and manager posed very patiently as M snapped dozens of shots, until the gatekeeper tapped him and sat back in a pose himself.
The gatekeeper told us today his name is Maliseh, although everyone calls him Ato Maliseh. Ato means "mister", while wayzero means "missus" and wayzerits means "miss" (again, I have no idea how you would actually spell these words).
After a few group shots, I took some pictures with M's camera of him with the staff too. Then we all sat back and snacked on popcorn and sipped boonah until the sun set.

Gasp

I've noticed lately that when Ethiopians are listening to someone's
opinion and want to give a sign of agreement without actually
interrupting the other person, they will make a gasping sound, slowly
taking air into their slightly open mouth. It is not unlike the sound
someone might make when startled, but slower, drawn-out and relaxed.
Although it's not something I have started doing myself (yet), I can
imagine this to be one of those things you would pick up without
realizing it after living here for a while. It is as if they are taking
in what you are saying, deep into their lungs and holding it there for a
short moment of consideration, and then they nod their head or say
something in agreement.

Javana

Don't quote me on the spelling, but a javana is a coffee pot used in the Ethiopian coffee ceremony. Today I went to the market nearby where there are a dozen fruit and vegetable stands and a handful of small, open-air shops selling various cooking supplies, utensils, and other odds and ends. I and walked up to one shop that looked like it had some of the ceremony paraphernalia and asked one woman if she had any javana. She held up a finger and said something that probably meant 'wait', because then she turned and high-tailed it out of there. At first I thought I was supposed to follow, but when I got to the end of the lane I didn't see her anywhere, so I went back to the shop where a few other women motioned for me to just stay put and she would be back soon. I knelt down and looked at some of the other things in the shop. One older woman, sitting half-way out of her shop, began to tickle her son who was sitting next to her and nibbling on a bread roll. This caused him to almost spit the bread out of his mouth as he howled with laughter turning away from her, but she reached around, covered his mouth with one hand and pulled him toward her with the other and tickled him again, just for a second to show him who was boss. After a minute or two, the first woman returned with two javana pots and a ceramic incense burner. I passed on the incense burner but thanked her for finding the little, black, ceramic javana and paid her 13 birr (about $1) and then waved good-bye. When I got back to Chez Glo, the housekeeper gave me a nod of approval on my javana and said she would buy me some green coffee beans to take back to Japan.

Thai themed Sunday

This weekend my coworker "M" showed me a place where we could go for Thai massage. I've heard Thai massage aptly described as "passive yoga" before, since a masseuse will turn and pose your body in combination with pushing pressure points with forearm, foot, thumb, palm, etc. They start with the legs, then arms and hands, before moving on to extended and deep back massage, then neck, head and face. Finally you sit up and she puts you in a full-nelson which makes pseudo-handles for her to turn your body from side to side, stretches your back, and then pull your arms up and back so it seems like every part of your body relaxes back into place by the end of the session. The place we went to charged only $15 for a 60 minute Thai massage. The lady came from Thailand over a year ago, she said, and we talked a little bit about Thailand; she came from Chang Mai and I had visited there for a couple days about 5 years ago. She said she didn't really like Ethiopian food and started talking about different Thai food dishes. Afterwards I suggested to M that get Thai for dinner and he knew a good place 10 minutes from Chez Glo called Gati Thai. We walked over there and ordered a couple beers with fried rice toped with big slices of cucumber, tom ka gai soup with coconut milk, lemongrass and chicken, and pad thai noodles with red pepper, sugar, crushed peanut and lime. I had almost forgotten how excellent Thai food can be. It was definitely a nice theme for one day of the weekend.

What's the skinny

The monthly zine in Addis, What's Up, featured a great article on current fashion trends in Ethiopia. The writer obviously has a strong command of English, but she uses familiar spoken language in a way you rarely see in American print, giving the article a less polished, and more down to earth tone. I noticed this in the daily news in Fiji as well, where their journalistic style is not bogged down with news-speak and they tend to write in a frank, open manner. Now, with no further adieu, the article reprinted, as is:

"How to Wear Your Skinny Pants"

Skinny jeans are simply jeans with tight legs all the way to the bottom and we all know that skinny pants are so in. It's like wide leg pants were never here. Everyone has bought themselves at least one. We don't blame you; they're comfy, go with almost anything and make you appear a lot slimmer.

Here are a few ways to make the most out of you skinnys.
1. If you new skinny is too long, which they usually are, get trusted tailors who can do the perfect hemming, because there's nothing worse than skinny pants hemmed too short.
2. Go for darker color; you all know the magic of the color black and make sure the pockets are placed centrally, if they are too high or too low, it will only make your behind look bigger.
3. When it comes to shoes, pair your skinnys with long or drooping boots, flats or heels. But don't risk appearing like you have gigantic feet by wearing them with sneakers.
4. Wear them with loose or long tops. In general, it's better to wear only one tight thing at a time, top or bottom, to give your look a sense of balance, but super skinny girls seem to carry the skinny pants with tight tops look.
5. If you skinny is leather, make sure the leather as a muted shine rather than a disco dancer's sparkle.

Of course, the thing about this article that probably won't be lost on anyone is the focus on looking slim in a country that experienced a devastating famine in the 1980s. But Ethiopia has been fortunate in the 21st century and seen their economy grow by leaps and bounds. Of course the poverty here overshadows fashion faux pas, and the country faces hard-hitting consequences in a world enveloped in economic crisis, but maybe that's what makes it so nice to see this simple little article with high spirits take a look at itself in the mirror and make the most out of life, heading out on the town with a muted shine.

Adwa holiday

March 1st marks the 113th year since Ethiopia defeated the Italian army in the Battle of Adwa in 1896. To remember the day, it is a designated holiday in Ethiopia. You can read more about the battle in a Wiki article here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Adwa

Also, in 1999, Haile Gerima made the documentary Adwa-An African Victory. He is also the writer and director of the movie Teza I saw recently, however I made a mistake the other day by writing that Mr. Gerima was no longer living. He is indeed alive and well and teaching film at Howard University in Washington D.C. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Haile_Gerima).

For those who are interested, a short review of Teza and comments by Haile Gerima after it won best screenplay and the jury prize at the Venice Filmfest last year.

VENICE, Italy (AFP) — Mengistu’s blood-drenched Ethiopia was the backdrop in Venice on Tuesday for filmmaker Haile Gerima’s “Teza,” his attempt to reconcile an idyllic childhood with modern realities.

“I dream my past, but the present is so powerful that it continues to hijack my sentimental journey to my childhood,” Gerima told a news conference.

In the film, Aron Arefe plays Anberber, an idealistic Ethiopian intellectual who studies medicine in Germany, then returns to his home village under Haile Mariam Mengistu’s brutal 1970s-80s regime.

Unable to put his expertise to good use, Anberber also faces an identity crisis arising from his “displacement between the village and the modern world,” said Gerima, who won a lifetime achievement award at the Washington Independent Film Festival in 2003.

“Contemporary reality continues to interfere, with silent violence as well as obvious violence,” he added.

A central challenge was harnessing the wealth inherited from generations of oral tradition, Gerima said, calling handed-down stories “our monuments.”

“My grandmother told stories around the fire. My father was a playwright. How do you reconcile that tradition with filmmaking? How is the form culminating my personal identity?” he asked.

“Teza” is one of two African films in the selection of 21 vying for the coveted Golden Lion here, along with “Gabbla” by Algeria’s Tariq Teguia, set in the north African country as it emerged from its civil war of the 1990s.