On Wednesday we left the hotel around 8:30 and headed to the Lewi Cafe for breakfast. Dereje had injera with a tomato sauce, since Wednesday is a fasting day (so no meat allowed), T had a ham and cheese sandwich and I ordered a Spanish omelet; I had to wait a little longer for my dish, but it proved to be worth it in the end.
After breakfast, we checked out a relatively new and somewhat well-known orthodox cathedral in town, and then stopped by Lake Awasa where a few people were fishing offshore, out past the reeds. Before leaving Awasa, we stopped at a street stall selling leather goods where Dereje bought a new belt and T bought a new wallet and a coin pouch.
The drive back to Addis from Awasa is about 4 hours, so we stopped a few places on the way. The first stop was a resort that was sadly closed down earlier this year. The original owner grew up poor but became a successful hotel owner, running numerous places in the Rift Valley. Apparently he left the hotels to his children who ran them into the ground, and the hotel we stopped at was being auctioned off later that week for $9 million. Outside the hotel grounds, which takes up lakeside space with various cottages and a beach, complete with volleyball net, there were families that had make a living from the guests who would spend the day at the lake and then stay at cheaper accommodation nearby. Now that the hotel is closed and no customers will be coming, the place looked slightly deserted. One restaurant we passed was especially heart-breaking, with a sign out front that said Pizzaria, and a massive wood-burning pizza oven outdoors near some tables.
Dereje suggested we check out Sabana next, another resort hotel, but a new one that was looking prosperous already. During a walk through the grounds, we discovered an enclosed area with two giant tortoises and a baby, one which was kind enough to walk around very slowly for us. As we continued our walk, I noticed that even though it was the off-season, there were a dozen people staying there, some enjoying the lakeside beachfront. There was a park near the beach with a ping-pong table, which Dereje and I played on, and then we climbed the trees and posed for some pictures which T kindly took. After that, we headed up to the posh restaurant on the grounds that served excellent dishes, like the ricotta cheese & spinach stuffed pasta shells I had.
We left Sabana and drove another two hours before stopping in Debra Zeit at the Dreamland hotel for a drink in their outdoor cafe overlooking a huge caldera lake, formed long ago by volcanic activity. It was a fun way to end the day before getting back to Addis...just in time for dinner.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Beshu Hotel
You know in the movies where a white man, like Michael Caine, confronts some ancient tribe and is put on a throne and made king? We took the students out to dinner again last night and they sat us at the head of the table and went on and on about how wonderful it was of us to treat them to dinner -- even though it amounted to only about $1 per person. We did all eat like kings though, with platters of kitfo, tibbs and a variety of other wat stews, plus a few cases of beer and soft drinks. After dinner, we had a coffee ceremony performed by a young lady from Tigray, Her hair was pulled back, but she had a gold ring hanging at her hairline from a center braid.
It was the end to a great day. The second water supply facility we visited was completely gravity-operated so that the intake was directly from a rushing river, from which the pressure pushed the water through the treatment facility and then out to customers. That means the location of the facility was upriver near the mountains, located beyond lush coffee groves. On the way, we drove past people drying coffee berries, so Dereje stopped the car and a woman gave us a handful of them. T peeled on open and, indeed, there was a pale, raw coffee bean inside. This area of Ethiopia is known for the best coffee available (think Starbucks Sidamo), so I couldn't help but to imagine those berries being dried, processed, roasted and eventually shipped to cafes around the world.
It was the end to a great day. The second water supply facility we visited was completely gravity-operated so that the intake was directly from a rushing river, from which the pressure pushed the water through the treatment facility and then out to customers. That means the location of the facility was upriver near the mountains, located beyond lush coffee groves. On the way, we drove past people drying coffee berries, so Dereje stopped the car and a woman gave us a handful of them. T peeled on open and, indeed, there was a pale, raw coffee bean inside. This area of Ethiopia is known for the best coffee available (think Starbucks Sidamo), so I couldn't help but to imagine those berries being dried, processed, roasted and eventually shipped to cafes around the world.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Field Trip: Day Two - Shashemene
We left Meseret Hotel at 7:30 to get breakfast at Azeb Restaurant (or, in Oromian, spelled Reestooranti). After some scrambled eggs and a macchiato, we headed down to Shashemene to see the treatment facility there. I'd been interested to visit Shashemene since reading about it in my guidebook, which says that in 1948 Ethiopian Emperor, Haile Selassie, granted land here to settlers from Jamaica, notably to members of the Rastafari movement, who eventually came in the 1960s. (A quick background breakdown: before becoming Emperor, Haile Selassie's given name was Tafari, or Prince Tafari. In Amharic, Ras means Prince. Hence, Ras Tafari. See the connection?) Apparently, the community has only about 200 settlers now, so unfortunately we didn't notice anything even remotely related to this when we passed through town on the way to our field visits. When I asked Dereje, a devout Orthodox Christian, about the Rasta belief that Haile Selassie was "the second coming", he simply said, "He was a man and a politician."
However, we were amazed by the scenery driving up to the river and intake facility. Driving down a path lined with towering trees on both sides, it seemed like an approach to a Buddhist temple in Japan. The serenity of the area was overwhelming. When we stopped and got out of the car, a group of children approached us. However, unlike in the city, where kids will often beg for money, these kids wanted to say hello and have us to take their picture. I snapped a few shots and they excitedly looked at the results and laughed and cheered, posing for more pictures as we headed to the riverside.
After the instructors gave a brief lecture, we left that site and headed to the treatment facility 1.5 km away, to where the water is taken by gravitational force alone. There is it pumped through the sediment tanks and aerator, and through chemical treatment before supplied to the town.
I took a bit extra time exploring the chemical treatment facility, videotaping the upper floor of the facility, so I was the last one back downstairs. When I went to exit, however, I found that the door had been locked from the outside! Feeling like a kid stuffed in a locker at school, I called T on his cellphone and a guard rushed over to open the door, apologizing for the mistake. Maybe now I can say that I got locked up in the Shashemene monkey house if I ever need to prove my street cred!
However, we were amazed by the scenery driving up to the river and intake facility. Driving down a path lined with towering trees on both sides, it seemed like an approach to a Buddhist temple in Japan. The serenity of the area was overwhelming. When we stopped and got out of the car, a group of children approached us. However, unlike in the city, where kids will often beg for money, these kids wanted to say hello and have us to take their picture. I snapped a few shots and they excitedly looked at the results and laughed and cheered, posing for more pictures as we headed to the riverside.
After the instructors gave a brief lecture, we left that site and headed to the treatment facility 1.5 km away, to where the water is taken by gravitational force alone. There is it pumped through the sediment tanks and aerator, and through chemical treatment before supplied to the town.
I took a bit extra time exploring the chemical treatment facility, videotaping the upper floor of the facility, so I was the last one back downstairs. When I went to exit, however, I found that the door had been locked from the outside! Feeling like a kid stuffed in a locker at school, I called T on his cellphone and a guard rushed over to open the door, apologizing for the mistake. Maybe now I can say that I got locked up in the Shashemene monkey house if I ever need to prove my street cred!
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Under the Hood
Our hotel in Awasa, Gebrekristos Hotel, is a bit more expensive than
the hotel in Ziway, but that still means it's only $10. When we walked
in, T commented that it was a good sign that there were a couple
cleaning people at work. The people at the front desk were friendly and
professional, and we liked the rooms too. We decided to rest for a
couple hours before dinner, so I got my things from the car and took a
short nap.
When I awoke, I "used the facilities", but when I went to flush the
toilet (nope, no frog this time), I noticed there was no handle. The top
was already removed from the water tank, and I saw there was a sort of
pole sticking up, and also the floating device that measures the water
level. I tried pulling up the floating device, but instead of triggering
the flush, the thing came off in my hand and water started spraying out.
I quickly twisted it back on, but there was a steady leak. (Then I tried
the pole, and that worked).
Slightly embarrassed, I called Dereje, who had no better luck, so he
called down to the front desk. A few minutes later an attendant wearing
a tie and a technician in overalls came up. The technician had a
hacksaw, a file and a screwdriver, but he set these things down and
never had to use them. In about 90 seconds, he reattached the floating
head to the metal rod, put the plastic fastener back together with a
washer, pulled some twine out of his pocket, and tightened everything
back on. Good as...well, not new, but good enough. "Great!" I exclaimed,
glad they didn't ask who pulled the thing off to begin with.
the hotel in Ziway, but that still means it's only $10. When we walked
in, T commented that it was a good sign that there were a couple
cleaning people at work. The people at the front desk were friendly and
professional, and we liked the rooms too. We decided to rest for a
couple hours before dinner, so I got my things from the car and took a
short nap.
When I awoke, I "used the facilities", but when I went to flush the
toilet (nope, no frog this time), I noticed there was no handle. The top
was already removed from the water tank, and I saw there was a sort of
pole sticking up, and also the floating device that measures the water
level. I tried pulling up the floating device, but instead of triggering
the flush, the thing came off in my hand and water started spraying out.
I quickly twisted it back on, but there was a steady leak. (Then I tried
the pole, and that worked).
Slightly embarrassed, I called Dereje, who had no better luck, so he
called down to the front desk. A few minutes later an attendant wearing
a tie and a technician in overalls came up. The technician had a
hacksaw, a file and a screwdriver, but he set these things down and
never had to use them. In about 90 seconds, he reattached the floating
head to the metal rod, put the plastic fastener back together with a
washer, pulled some twine out of his pocket, and tightened everything
back on. Good as...well, not new, but good enough. "Great!" I exclaimed,
glad they didn't ask who pulled the thing off to begin with.
Life Story
When people name their kids in America, they often chose a name because they like the sound of it, or use the name of a relative. In Japan, they do the same, but they also take the kanji character(s) that will be used into serious consideration, wanting to convey a positive message, and sometimes a certain number of brush strokes.
In Ethiopia, some people name their children after people in the Bible, such as Dewit (David) and Yared (a 6th century musician and, later, saint), but many of the names have meanings related to what the parents are experiencing/feeling at the time. This differs to the American and Japanese examples, because there seems to be more emphasis on the parents. For example, Dereje said his name means prosperity, so maybe his parents felt things were going well for them at that point. His oldest brother's name is light (a form of the verb to shine), since they must've felt he was a gift from Heaven. Then the next child was a girl, and maybe feeling the same way, they just went ahead and named her Heaven, followed by Dereje/Prosperity. In the 70s, they had a girl they named "to replace" the old with the new. This was in reference to the Socialist government that had just come into power and replaced all the old officials (and, apparently, their hope of prosperity). The next child, a son, was named Sintayehu, meaning I have seen so much. The youngest two brothers are named Dewit and Yared, but he said his parents didn't chose these names. After the children were born, the neighbors began calling them by these names, and his parents simply agreed!
For Dereje's own daughters, his first one's name means in thanks to God, because he said he had gone through some troublesome times before that, and felt deep gratitude to God to deliver him to that happy point in his life. His second daughter's name, Eden, which is in reference to the biblical place and which Dereje considers to mean heaven, was actually suggested to him by his brother (possibly an ode to his sister Heaven, who died tragically young). Considering that Ethiopian families are quite large, it's interesting to imagine the reason they choose certain names; it's as if children are literally their life story.
In Ethiopia, some people name their children after people in the Bible, such as Dewit (David) and Yared (a 6th century musician and, later, saint), but many of the names have meanings related to what the parents are experiencing/feeling at the time. This differs to the American and Japanese examples, because there seems to be more emphasis on the parents. For example, Dereje said his name means prosperity, so maybe his parents felt things were going well for them at that point. His oldest brother's name is light (a form of the verb to shine), since they must've felt he was a gift from Heaven. Then the next child was a girl, and maybe feeling the same way, they just went ahead and named her Heaven, followed by Dereje/Prosperity. In the 70s, they had a girl they named "to replace" the old with the new. This was in reference to the Socialist government that had just come into power and replaced all the old officials (and, apparently, their hope of prosperity). The next child, a son, was named Sintayehu, meaning I have seen so much. The youngest two brothers are named Dewit and Yared, but he said his parents didn't chose these names. After the children were born, the neighbors began calling them by these names, and his parents simply agreed!
For Dereje's own daughters, his first one's name means in thanks to God, because he said he had gone through some troublesome times before that, and felt deep gratitude to God to deliver him to that happy point in his life. His second daughter's name, Eden, which is in reference to the biblical place and which Dereje considers to mean heaven, was actually suggested to him by his brother (possibly an ode to his sister Heaven, who died tragically young). Considering that Ethiopian families are quite large, it's interesting to imagine the reason they choose certain names; it's as if children are literally their life story.
Critters
Before we left Addis, T said he wanted to buy some insect repellent to spray in the hotel rooms in the countryside. That's partially my fault because I told him that when J and I went to Awasa last time, she was bitten up on her arms. We managed to find some spray, threw it in the back of the car and headed off.
When we arrived at the hotel, before going out for dinner, we took turns spraying our rooms. I sprayed in the bathroom, in the corners and under the bed, since I still remembered the "roach motel" in Gondar last year. Then I gave the spray to T and he did the same.
Later, when we got back from dinner, I walked into my room to find it reeked of insect repellent. I opened the window and used the curtains to get some air circulating. After a while, the room seemed a bit better, and with the mosquito net, I think I was fine.
The next morning, T said he had sprayed too much as well, and he ended up sleeping with a wet cloth over his mouth! He said he didn't want to open the window since mosquitoes and flies would come in. Then, remembering I had told him about my surprise visitor, he added, "not to mention the frog that jumped in through your window."
Luckily, the hotel we found in Awasa seems to be very clean and critter-free.
When we arrived at the hotel, before going out for dinner, we took turns spraying our rooms. I sprayed in the bathroom, in the corners and under the bed, since I still remembered the "roach motel" in Gondar last year. Then I gave the spray to T and he did the same.
Later, when we got back from dinner, I walked into my room to find it reeked of insect repellent. I opened the window and used the curtains to get some air circulating. After a while, the room seemed a bit better, and with the mosquito net, I think I was fine.
The next morning, T said he had sprayed too much as well, and he ended up sleeping with a wet cloth over his mouth! He said he didn't want to open the window since mosquitoes and flies would come in. Then, remembering I had told him about my surprise visitor, he added, "not to mention the frog that jumped in through your window."
Luckily, the hotel we found in Awasa seems to be very clean and critter-free.
Stocking Feet
At 6am, I crawl out from under the mosquito net and wander to the
bathroom in my stocking feet. I flip on the light, and heed the call of
nature. A moment later, I lean in to pull the silver handle, when I
notice, in the corner, near the shower, there is some sort of rock on
the floor. I lean in further and squint my eyes, when the "rock"
suddenly moves. It's legs struggle to push it forward, but it doesn't
get very far. Resisting a near heart attack, I let out a yelp and reel
back slightly. It sloppily jumps again and I scoot out quickly and put
on my shoes. Then, with a little more courage, I go back in and confirm,
yes, there's a small, spotted amphibian in my bathroom, commonly known
as a frog. I stomp my foot and he jumps again. Later, he poses for a few
photos, stars in a home video, and then returns to his "dressing room"
behind the waste basket.
bathroom in my stocking feet. I flip on the light, and heed the call of
nature. A moment later, I lean in to pull the silver handle, when I
notice, in the corner, near the shower, there is some sort of rock on
the floor. I lean in further and squint my eyes, when the "rock"
suddenly moves. It's legs struggle to push it forward, but it doesn't
get very far. Resisting a near heart attack, I let out a yelp and reel
back slightly. It sloppily jumps again and I scoot out quickly and put
on my shoes. Then, with a little more courage, I go back in and confirm,
yes, there's a small, spotted amphibian in my bathroom, commonly known
as a frog. I stomp my foot and he jumps again. Later, he poses for a few
photos, stars in a home video, and then returns to his "dressing room"
behind the waste basket.
Monday, September 13, 2010
Field Trip: Day One
This morning, my colleague T and I left Addis Ababa to join a group of students on their field trip to Southern Ethiopia. Dereje picked us up at the hotel and we had breakfast together at Mac Addis (french toast!) before leaving for Nazaret, about 120km east of the capital. Our first stop was the Nazaret Water Treatment Facility (previously here), where we received a thorough tour, starting at the pump station at the Awash River, looking at the sediment tanks where they mix in aluminum-sulfate, and then the aerator tank before seeing the control room and testing lab.
Before continuing on to the next location, Dereje took us to a restaurant for lunch. There must have been some dignitary visiting town, because there were military police stationed everywhere; there were even some MPs in the restaurant we went to having lunch and some beers. We grabbed a table and ordered kitfo, which is minced beef with butter, berbere spice and thyme, with injera and bread. After lunch and a macchiato, we piled back in the car and headed south toward Ziway. Despite the after-lunch caffeine, I quickly dozed off in the car for about an hour. When I awoke, we were already near our destination.
We drove through the town, along Lake Ziway, past a large, new hospital, a school, and a few acres of greenhouses which looked like they were growing flowers for export. We arrived at the water treatment facility for the tour. Ziway is at a much lower elevation than Addis Ababa, so they use surface pumps to pump water directly from the lake. It is pumped over to a huge, elevated aerator pool where the water springs up at the highest point, and then flows down a series of "steps", almost looking like a fountain.
After that, we looked for a hotel, finally settling on the third place we visited. The rooms are simple with a bed, desk and private bathroom with hot water showers, but a real steal at only 45 birr per night--less than $3! After checking in, we met the students again at a nearby restaurant and ordered kitfo, and tibbs (marinated cubes of beef) for the group. We pushed all the tables together so all 27 of us could sit together. When the drinks arrived, I stood up and made a toast, teaching them the word kampai ("cheers" in Japanese). At the end of the meal, a student representative stood up and gave a speech to thank us. The bill only came to about $1 per plate, including drinks, and everyone said they were stuffed, myself included.
At that, we called it a night. Tomorrow we have an early start to Shashemene and Awasa, another 150km south of here.
Before continuing on to the next location, Dereje took us to a restaurant for lunch. There must have been some dignitary visiting town, because there were military police stationed everywhere; there were even some MPs in the restaurant we went to having lunch and some beers. We grabbed a table and ordered kitfo, which is minced beef with butter, berbere spice and thyme, with injera and bread. After lunch and a macchiato, we piled back in the car and headed south toward Ziway. Despite the after-lunch caffeine, I quickly dozed off in the car for about an hour. When I awoke, we were already near our destination.
We drove through the town, along Lake Ziway, past a large, new hospital, a school, and a few acres of greenhouses which looked like they were growing flowers for export. We arrived at the water treatment facility for the tour. Ziway is at a much lower elevation than Addis Ababa, so they use surface pumps to pump water directly from the lake. It is pumped over to a huge, elevated aerator pool where the water springs up at the highest point, and then flows down a series of "steps", almost looking like a fountain.
After that, we looked for a hotel, finally settling on the third place we visited. The rooms are simple with a bed, desk and private bathroom with hot water showers, but a real steal at only 45 birr per night--less than $3! After checking in, we met the students again at a nearby restaurant and ordered kitfo, and tibbs (marinated cubes of beef) for the group. We pushed all the tables together so all 27 of us could sit together. When the drinks arrived, I stood up and made a toast, teaching them the word kampai ("cheers" in Japanese). At the end of the meal, a student representative stood up and gave a speech to thank us. The bill only came to about $1 per plate, including drinks, and everyone said they were stuffed, myself included.
At that, we called it a night. Tomorrow we have an early start to Shashemene and Awasa, another 150km south of here.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Mac Addis
A restaurant recently opened on the first floor of my guest house.
They serve a few pasta dishes, burgers, a steak sandwich, and a variety
of pizzas, so from the name I thought it was trying to brand itself as
an Ethiopian fast-food joint. The food is simple, but once I went inside
I realized the atmosphere is surprisingly classy, added to by the
newness of its interior. Someone obviously put a lot of thought into the
design and color scheme. There are comfortable booths along the front
wall with table cloths and small vases of flowers. There is also a low
"second level" after climbing a small set of stairs. Up there they put a
corner sofa area and some small, round tables for two. Against the far
wall is a big, classic looking coffee/espresso maker. Saturday, my
colleague T and I were killing time over a few cups of coffee, and they
even brought out some complimentary popcorn for us. I'm lovin' it.
They serve a few pasta dishes, burgers, a steak sandwich, and a variety
of pizzas, so from the name I thought it was trying to brand itself as
an Ethiopian fast-food joint. The food is simple, but once I went inside
I realized the atmosphere is surprisingly classy, added to by the
newness of its interior. Someone obviously put a lot of thought into the
design and color scheme. There are comfortable booths along the front
wall with table cloths and small vases of flowers. There is also a low
"second level" after climbing a small set of stairs. Up there they put a
corner sofa area and some small, round tables for two. Against the far
wall is a big, classic looking coffee/espresso maker. Saturday, my
colleague T and I were killing time over a few cups of coffee, and they
even brought out some complimentary popcorn for us. I'm lovin' it.
New Year's Coffee Ceremony
A coffee ceremony was held for the guests at the hotel where I'm staying. Ethiopian coffee is always served with popcorn, and they also served some toffee candies. In addition, there was a round bread that originated in Tigray called ambasha; one of the front desk attendants is a young Tigrinyan woman, and her aunt made it. The head of the household is usually in charge of cutting the ambasha, I was told, but the hotel owners are currently in the US. The hotel owner's brother is planning to move back to Ethiopia after living in the States for the past 30 years, so they went to help him move. Apparently, the uncle had bought a car in Washington D.C. that he plans to take back to Ethiopia, but first they drove it from D.C. to Minnesota, then on to California, and finally to Georgia--sounds like quite a trip! Anyway, Yared is taking care of the hotel while they're away. He cut and served the ambasha bread, handed around the popcorn and toffee, which we snacked on as we waited for the first cup of coffee to be served. Yared told me he had also been to America in 2008; he lived there for 18 months on the CIP Chicago program studying computer science. While we drank our coffees, I talked to him about the program and how he did a homestay near the United Center with a CIP alumnus from Brazil. It was a lot of fun.
New Year's Jazz
After New Year's dinner, I joined my coworker M to Bole Rock, a local jazz club on the east side of town. The saxophone player from last Wednesday's show is the headman for this group. We sat in the front near the stage, where I got an excellent view. It was great to watch these guys jam and improvise, and on a few songs include the Ethiopian five-note scales as well. Strange that I grew up in a city so well renown for jazz, but have finally gained an appreciation for the vitality of live jazz here in Addis Ababa.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
East Dragon
For New Year's Eve, I joined nine of my colleagues for dinner at the East Dragon Chinese restaurant near Bole Medhane Alem Cathedral. It's the seventh Chinese restaurant I've been to in Addis. Taste-wise, it probably ranks number three on my list. We sat in a private room located down a narrow hallway. After taking our seats and perusing the menu, we ordered spicy mapodofu, peppered pork, boiled dumplings, fried rice, and a few other dishes. Gradually, the Ethiopian waitresses placed the dishes on the large, glass lazy susan in the center of our table. After about 30 minutes, we realized the dumplings hadn't arrived, so I walked further down the narrow hallway, took a left and found myself at the kitchen. Four Chinese guys were busy cooking, but no dumplings in sight. I flagged down a waitress and reminded her of our order. Ten minutes later, a plate of about 40 dumplings arrived with one small bowl of dipping sauce. We slowly turned the food-merry-go-round (four times?) so each person could grab a dumpling, dip it and eat it--like some sort of dis-assembly line.
What'll It Be?
It was pouring rain and everyone had retreated indoors. From my balcony I could see the entire street was empty except for a herd of sheep. Most of them stood still, seeming to ignore the rain pelting their coats. A few of them wandered off a couple yards before cars drove by and they flocked back to safety.
When the rain stopped, I decided to run to a nearby bakery to get a doughnut (yes, I found a place that sells chocolate covered doughnuts!). To get there I walked through a nearby street market. There were dozens and dozens of chickens, some in cages, squawking around momentarily before being bought up to make batches of doro wat, said to be the "national dish" of Ethiopia (see recipe here). A few chickens were looking at the world upside-down as people carried them home by their feet.
I turned a corner and passed a man selling skinning knives that looked hand-made. A car was rolling down the street in my direction, and as it passed me I saw on the luggage rack was a huge sheep tied down on its side raising its head up to look around. I reached the road where the bakery is located. A few people were selling sheep skins on the side of the road nearby. I entered the bakery thinking doughnuts never looked so good!
When the rain stopped, I decided to run to a nearby bakery to get a doughnut (yes, I found a place that sells chocolate covered doughnuts!). To get there I walked through a nearby street market. There were dozens and dozens of chickens, some in cages, squawking around momentarily before being bought up to make batches of doro wat, said to be the "national dish" of Ethiopia (see recipe here). A few chickens were looking at the world upside-down as people carried them home by their feet.
I turned a corner and passed a man selling skinning knives that looked hand-made. A car was rolling down the street in my direction, and as it passed me I saw on the luggage rack was a huge sheep tied down on its side raising its head up to look around. I reached the road where the bakery is located. A few people were selling sheep skins on the side of the road nearby. I entered the bakery thinking doughnuts never looked so good!
Friday, September 10, 2010
Antica for four
Last night I went to the Italian restaurant Antica with 3 of my coworkers. We had a green salad and grilled aubergine as appetizers, followed by carbonara spaghetti, spinach and tomato lasagna and a pizza from their brick oven. As usual, the food there was superb, not to mention the red Pinotage from South Africa. I like Antica for its ambiance as well as the food since each dining room is decorated with colorful Ethiopian paintings. After dinner we decided that since the following day was a holiday, we'd get dessert and espresso. Two of us ordered the tiramisu, and the other two decided to split the chocolate mousse. It turned out that they only had one tiramisu left, so we all ended up sharing both desserts. The tiramisu turned out to be somewhat of a let-down, tasting too acidic to anyone's liking. The mousse was a rich chocolate with a slightly frosting-like texture and a hint of pistachio added. Probably too rich for one person to finish, but it was reasonable between four spoons and balanced well with the espresso.
Ethiopian Sparklers
The stove here is hooked up to a propane tank, so without a pilot
light, the hotel provides matches to light the burners. Luckily one of
my coworkers lent me a lighter because the Ethiopian matches seem much
more effective as sparklers than matches. You have to keep your eye
trained on the match head as you strike it. The flame fizzles out so
quickly, sometimes it's not possible to get it to the burner in time.
light, the hotel provides matches to light the burners. Luckily one of
my coworkers lent me a lighter because the Ethiopian matches seem much
more effective as sparklers than matches. You have to keep your eye
trained on the match head as you strike it. The flame fizzles out so
quickly, sometimes it's not possible to get it to the burner in time.
Eid Mubarak and Melkam Addis Amet
The Islamic holy month of Ramadan comes to a close today. It is the most important holiday of the year for Muslims, called Eid ul Fitr. Around 7 am, I heard chanting outside my window. Looking out, I saw a group of about 50 people. The men were wearing matching tee-shirts and the women wearing chador. They were doing a morning Eid prayer, chanting "God is Great" seven times. Also, this year, due the Islamic and Ethiopian calendars, Friday is both Eid ul Fitr (for Muslims) and the Ethiopian New Year's Eve (for Christians).
The calendar year in Ethiopia is behind the Gregorian calendar due to an eight-year difference in calculations for the birth of Christ. Europeans adopted calculations made by Dionysius in 525 AD, whereas Ethiopians stuck with the date given by Annianus of Alexandria over a hundred years earlier.
The other day I was speaking to one of the attendants at the hotel and he said excitedly, "I can't believe it is almost New Year's," and then, with a huge grin on his face, "It's going to be 2003!!" When he said the year, he dragged out the words, savoring each syllable, "Two, thou, sand and"...then rolling the "R", "thr-r-r-ree!!! Wow!"
The calendar year in Ethiopia is behind the Gregorian calendar due to an eight-year difference in calculations for the birth of Christ. Europeans adopted calculations made by Dionysius in 525 AD, whereas Ethiopians stuck with the date given by Annianus of Alexandria over a hundred years earlier.
The other day I was speaking to one of the attendants at the hotel and he said excitedly, "I can't believe it is almost New Year's," and then, with a huge grin on his face, "It's going to be 2003!!" When he said the year, he dragged out the words, savoring each syllable, "Two, thou, sand and"...then rolling the "R", "thr-r-r-ree!!! Wow!"
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Homecoming
Dereje's brother left Ethiopia for America when he was 19. Now, at 29
years old, he is a physician in Oakland, California. Although he's sent
money to his family back in Ethiopia, he'd never been back to visit.
Until last week. He arrived on Monday and is staying with Dereje for 2
months. Dereje said that his brother has been in America so long that he
completely forgot Ethiopian culture, and "when he gets emotional" he
tends to speak in a mix of Amharic and English. I asked Dereje if it was
cramped having his brother stay at his place for 2 months. "No, it's
okay. He sleeps with my other brother."
years old, he is a physician in Oakland, California. Although he's sent
money to his family back in Ethiopia, he'd never been back to visit.
Until last week. He arrived on Monday and is staying with Dereje for 2
months. Dereje said that his brother has been in America so long that he
completely forgot Ethiopian culture, and "when he gets emotional" he
tends to speak in a mix of Amharic and English. I asked Dereje if it was
cramped having his brother stay at his place for 2 months. "No, it's
okay. He sleeps with my other brother."
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Mix and Match
Sometimes a mix of things you wouldn't think go together turns out to hit the right note. The evening started at a Korean restaurant, Rainbow, where I tried the spicy fried white-fish, juk rice porridge, along with pan-cooked bulgogi. After we finished off the dishes and a few beers, my colleague M and I headed to a concert at Alliance éthio-française d'Addis Abeba of freestyle jazz and traditional Ethiopian rhythms.
The place probably held about 100 people, and it was packed when we arrived, but we found a place to stand until a couple of seats opened up. The band leader was a keyboard player who roared on his Roland, flanked by a bass player throwing down thick beats, a drummer, a percussionist, and then the horn section featuring a baritone sax, trumpet and trombone. They were joined by traditional musicians playing a masenqo (single-stringed instrument played with a curved bow) and a washint flute, as well as two Amharic vocalists who took turns wowing the crowd. M was busy taking pictures of the group, as he's friends with a few of them, and I soaked up the music along with the francophile crowd. At the end of their hour-long set, we rallied for an encore, which the band was kind enough to oblige.
After the band called it a wrap, the house lights came on. I took a few minutes to look around the hall, which I realized at that point doubled as an art gallery, showing an exhibit by an Ethiopian artist, Alemayeh Regrassa, titled l'enfant. It was getting late though, so soon enough M and I grabbed a taxi outside and headed back to Bole talking about jazz-fests and fusion.
The place probably held about 100 people, and it was packed when we arrived, but we found a place to stand until a couple of seats opened up. The band leader was a keyboard player who roared on his Roland, flanked by a bass player throwing down thick beats, a drummer, a percussionist, and then the horn section featuring a baritone sax, trumpet and trombone. They were joined by traditional musicians playing a masenqo (single-stringed instrument played with a curved bow) and a washint flute, as well as two Amharic vocalists who took turns wowing the crowd. M was busy taking pictures of the group, as he's friends with a few of them, and I soaked up the music along with the francophile crowd. At the end of their hour-long set, we rallied for an encore, which the band was kind enough to oblige.
After the band called it a wrap, the house lights came on. I took a few minutes to look around the hall, which I realized at that point doubled as an art gallery, showing an exhibit by an Ethiopian artist, Alemayeh Regrassa, titled l'enfant. It was getting late though, so soon enough M and I grabbed a taxi outside and headed back to Bole talking about jazz-fests and fusion.
Sir, Name?
The secretary of the head office came into my office with a pen and notepad and said, "Please tell me your father's name." At first I thought she must be doing some sort of sociological study, and figured it wouldn't do any harm, per se, to tell her my father's name, but asked, "Uh, why?" She explained that she was making some sort of list. The gears and cogs in my head were turning when it suddenly became clear; what we would call their "family name" in Ethiopia is their father's given name. In other words, it's as if Pretty Woman starred "Julia Robert". Sometimes a little cultural background goes a long way. So I made the mental leap and wrote down my surname, which, I suppose, is my father's name anyway.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Crash Dummies
From the Road Transport Authority in Ethiopia, they have an interesting choice of words to describe one of their training courses:
"This course is designed as introductory crash course..."
Woot! Sign me up for parking lot donuts 101!
"This course is designed as introductory crash course..."
Woot! Sign me up for parking lot donuts 101!
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